University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Still night.—A room in the house of Count De Baradas, lighted, &c.
Orleans, De Beringhen.
DE BERINGHEN.
I understand. Mauprat kept guard without:
Knows nought of the despatch—but heads the troop
Whom the poor Cardinal fancies his protectors.
Save us from such protection!

ORLEANS.
Yet, if Huguet,
By whose advice and proffers we renounced
Our earlier scheme, should still be Richelieu's minion,
And play us false—

DE BERINGHEN.
The fox must then devour
The geese he gripes, (I'm out of it, thank Heaven!)
And you must swear you smelt the trick, but seem'd
To approve the deed—to render up the doers.

Enter Baradas.
BARADAS.
Julie is fled:—the King, whom now I left
To a most thorny pillow, vows revenge
On her—on Mauprat—and on Richelieu! Well;
We loyal men anticipate his wish
Upon the last—and as for Mauprat,—

(Showing a writ.)
DE BERINGHEN.
Hum!
They say the devil invented printing! Faith,
He has some hand in writing parchment—eh, Count?
What mischief now?

BARADAS.
The King, at Julie's flight
Enraged, will brook no rival in a subject—
So on this old offence—the affair of Faviaux—
Ere Mauprat can tell tales of us, we build
His bridge between the dungeon and the grave.

ORLEANS.
Well; if our courier can but reach the army,
The cards are ours!—and yet, I own, I tremble.
Our names are in the scroll—discovery, death!

BARADAS.
Success, a crown!

DE BERINGHEN
(apart to Baradas).
Our future regent is
No hero.

BARADAS
(to De Beringhen).
But his rank makes others valiant;
And on his cowardice I mount to power.
Were Orleans Regent—what were Baradas?
Oh! by the way—I had forgot, your highness,
Friend Huguet whisper'd me, “Beware of Marion:
I've seen her lurking near the Cardinal's palace.”
Upon that hint—I've found her lodgings elsewhere.

ORLEANS.
You wrong her, Count:—Poor Marion!—she adores me.

BARADAS
(apologetically).
Forgive me, but—

Enter Page.
PAGE.
My Lord, a rude, strange soldier,
Breathless with haste, demands an audience.

BARADAS.
—So!
The archers?

PAGE.
In the ante-room, my Lord,
As you desired.

BARADAS.
'Tis well—admit the soldier.
[Exit Page.
Huguet! I bade him seek me here!

Enter Huguet.
HUGUET.
My Lords,
The deed is done. Now, Count, fulfil your word,
And make me noble!

BARADAS.
Richelieu dead?—art sure?
How died he?

HUGUET.
Strangled in his sleep:—no blood,
No tell-tale violence.

BARADAS.
Strangled? monstrous villain!
Reward for murder! Ho, there!

[Stamping.
Enter Captain, with five Archers.
HUGUET.
No, thou durst not!

BARADAS.
Seize on the ruffian—bind him—gag him! Off
To the Bastile!

HUGUET.
Your word—your plighted faith!

BARADAS.
Insolent liar!—ho, away!

HUGUET.
Nay, Count;
I have that about me, which—

BARADAS.
Away with him!
[Exeunt Huguet and Archers.
Now, then, all's safe; Huguet must die in prison,
So Mauprat:—coax or force the meaner crew
To fly the country. Ha, ha! thus, your highness,
Great men make use of little men.

DE BERINGHEN.
My Lords,
Since our suspense is ended—you'll excuse me;
'Tis late—and, entre nous, I have not supp'd yet!
I'm one of the new Council now, remember;
I feel the public stirring here already;
A very craving monster. Au revoir!
[Exit de Beringhen.

ORLEANS.
No fear, now Richelieu's dead.

BARADAS.
And could he come
To life again, he could not keep life's life—
His power,—nor save De Mauprat from the scaffold,—
Nor Julie from these arms—nor Paris from
The Spaniard—nor your highness from the throne!
All ours! all ours! in spite of my Lord Cardinal!

Enter Page.
PAGE.
A gentleman, my Lord, of better mien
Than he who last—

BARADAS.
Well, he may enter.

[Exit Page.
ORLEANS.
Who
Can this be?

BARADAS.
One of the conspirators:
Mauprat himself, perhaps.

Enter François.
FRANCOIS.
My Lord—

BARADAS.
Ha, traitor!
In Paris still?

FRANCOIS.
The packet—the despatch—
Some knave play'd spy without, and reft it from me,
Ere I could draw my sword.

BARADAS.
Play'd spy without!
Did he wear armour?

FRANCOIS.
Ay, from head to heel.

ORLEANS.
One of our band. Oh, heavens!

BARADAS.
Could it be Mauprat?
Kept guard at the door—knew nought of the despatch—
How HE?—and yet, who other?

FRANCOIS.
Ha, De Mauprat!
The night was dark—his vizor closed.

BARADAS.
'Twas he!
How could he guess?—'sdeath! if he should betray us.
His hate to Richelieu dies with Richelieu—and
He was not great enough for treason.—Hence!
Find Mauprat—beg, steal, filch, or force it back,
Or, as I live, the halter—

FRANCOIS.
By the morrow
I will regain it, (aside)
and redeem my honour!
(Exit Francois.)

ORLEANS.
Oh! we are lost—

BARADAS.
Not so! But cause on cause
For Mauprat's seizure—silence—death! Take courage.

ORLEANS.
Should it once reach the King, the Cardinal's arm
Could smite us from the grave.

BARADAS.
Sir, think it not!
I hold De Mauprat in my grasp. To-morrow
And France is ours!—Thou dark and fallen Angel,
Whose name on earth's Ambition—thou that mak'st
Thy throne on treasons, stratagems, and murder—
And with thy fierce and blood-red smile canst quench
The guiding stars of solemn empire—hear us—
(For we are thine)—and light us to the goal!