Oldalképek
PDF
ePub

Mon. (Courtesying.) Sweet sir, down to the very ground I return your gallantry.

Flor. Hist! don't I hear footsteps in the wood? Swift! help me swift to bar the door!

Mon. Ah! 'tis forced already! (Two bravoes spring upon Florian. Bertrand seizes the woman.)

Mon. Murder! murder!

Bert.

Flor.

Silence, or you die!

(Florian struggles, and falls upon one knee.)

Is it plunder that you seek? What is your purpose with me? Speak!

Sang. Learn it by this! (Raises his dagger.)
Bert. Hold! Not here; drag him to the wood!

Flo. Inhuman villains! by your souls' best hope--I charge you-I implore you—'

Bert. (Stamping and casting Monica from him.) Towards the wood! follow me!

(A female enters, and passes exactly opposite to Bertrand; his limbs shake, and he reels backward.)

Bert. Support me, ah, save me, or I die!

(The bravoes fly to Bertrand, the female crosses to Florian, and spreads her wild drapery before him, in the attitude of protection.)

Bert. Look, look, she rises from the grave! Heaven itself forbids the deed! (Exeunt.)

Scene 7.-A Room in the Chateau.

(Enter Longueville and Bertrand.)

Long. Traitor! Florian has arrived!-Every way I have been betrayed.

Bert. Hear me, my lord! As I have life, so have I spoken truly; the grave yawned to forbid the blow-I saw—I distinctly saw it was Eugenia!

Long. Villain! still would you deceive me?

Bert. Ah, my lord, you would deceive yourself. I swear it was Eugenia !

(Enter De Valmont, conversing with Florian and Geraldine.) Long. We are interrupted, quick! change those ruffled features into smiles, quick!

De Val. My boy, your preservation was indeed a miracle. Long. Florian! a thousand welcomes. Tell me—can it be possible you were assailed last night by ruffians in the wood?

Flor. Yes, my dear baron, yes! but let us banish gloomy retrospections.

De Val. Not so-these men of blood shall be pursued to

justice. Long. Be that my task. (To Florian.) Should you recognize their persons?

Flor. Positively, no-their disguises were impenetrable. Ger. But their voices, Florian? you heard them speak? Flor. True, sweet Geraldine; but their accents were not framed like thine, to touch the ear but once, yet vibrate on the memory forever.

Long. Indulge my curiosity; how were you preserved ?

Flor. Well, baron, since you force me to act the hero in my own drama, thus runs my story :-I was defenseless, helpless, hopeless :-two sturdy knaves had mastered my struggling arms, and the dagger of a third gleamed against my throat, when suddenly a female form appeared before us; in an instant, as if by magic, the murderers relaxed their hold, shuddered, recoiled, uttered cries, and fled the spot; the female, mute and motionless, remained.

Bert. (To Longueville.) You mark !

Long. Silence!

This

Flor. Cowardice is ever found the mate of cruelty. stranger was doubtless regarded by the villains as a preternatural agent. She proved, however, a mere mortal, frail and palpable as ourselves.

Bert. God! living!

Long. (Bertrand draws behind.) Whence came this woman? what was she?

Flor. Alas! the most pitiable object in nature-an unhappy maniac. She resides at the same cottage where I found shelter from the storm.

Berl. (As if electrified.) Direct me, heaven! (He glides out, unobserved.)

Long. Were not any other circumstances linked with this adventure?

Flor. None of consequence; but I suspect one of the ruffians was known to this wretched woman.

Long. Florian! it is necessary this woman should be interrogated. Not a moment must be lost--I will myself visit this cottage instantly. (Exit.)

Ger. Uncle, recollect it is to be at noon exactly.
Flor. And what at noon, dear Geraldine?

De Val.

Florian, you are destined to be our hero in peace, as well as war. My niece has planned a little fête-

Ger. Fie, uncle! you have betrayed my secret; as a due punishment, I impose upon you to appear at our fête in person. De Val. What a demand! I, who never-

Ger. Nay, if it be only for a minute--I cannot be denied. De Val. Well, you reign a fairy sovereign for the day. Ger. There's my kindest uncle !--Florian, I warn you, beware, I have the power to punish.

Flor. And to reward also.

Ger. Ah! at least I have the inclination: it will be your own fault, if Geraldine refuses a boon, when Florian is the suitor. (Exit.)

Flor. Lovely Geraldine! Ah, sir, is she not admirable? De Val. The last fond wish left clinging to this heart, is Geraldine's felicity. I shall endeavor to secure it, by uniting her in marriage with a worthy object.

Flor. Sir, marriage, did you say? gracious heavens! marriage?

De Val. What! does the idea of Geraldine's marriage afflict you?

Flor. I am not such an ingrate-her happiness is the prayer of my soul.

De Val. (After a pause.) Florian, draw yourself a seat. (Florian presents a chair to the count, and then seats himself.) You behold me, such as I have seemed, even from your infancy

-a suffering, broken-hearted man.-I once possessed a heart for enterprise, an arm for achievement. Grief, not time, has palsied those endowments. Like the eaglet, rushing from his nest against the sun, I entered upon life.

Flor. Ah, that malignant clouds should obscure so bright a dawn!

De Val. My spirit panted for a career of arms: at the age of twenty, I embraced the cause of my religion and my king. Then, Florian, it was, I welcomed love! a first, a last, and eternal passion!

Flor. Oh, sir, desist--these recollections shake your mind too strongly.

De Val. No, let me proceed, Florian! I wooed and won an angel-a lovely infant blessed our union. My felicity seemed perfect! Now, Florian, mark! My country a second time called me to her battles; I left my kinsman, Longueville, to guard the dear ones of my soul--I was wounded and made

prisoner-a rumor of my death prevailed through France. I trembled lest Eugenia should receive the tale, and flew to prevent her terrors.-Oh! oh! the blood now curdles round my heart-the wolves of war had rushed upon my slumbering foldmy wife-my infant-I trampled on their ashes!

Flor. Tremendous hour! so dire a shock might paralyze a Roman firmness.

De Val. Florian, there is a grief that never found its image yet in words. I prayed for death; I plunged into the deepest solitudes. At the close of a sultry day, I entered a forest at the foot of the Cevennes. On the sudden, a faint and feeble moan pierced my ear; and, lo! a desolate infant, left to perish in the wilderness! It was famishing! I raised it to my breast; its little arms twined feebly round my neck. Florian, thou wert heaven's gracious instrument to reclaim a truant to his duties! Eighteen years have followed that event.

Flor. Sir, those years shall not pass forgotten. An orphan's blessing wafts their eulogy to heaven. (He casts himself at De Valmont's feet.)

De Val. Rise, young man! your virtues have repaid my cares. Florian, let Geraldine become your wife-be you hereafter the protector of my people.

Flor. Merciful powers! I! the child of accident and mys. tery a wretched foundling !I!—

De Val. Young man, fortune forbade you to inherit a name, but she has granted you a prouder boast; you have founded one. Your marriage shall receive my blessing. Farewell. (Exit suddenly.)

Flor. Heard I aright? Yes, he pronounced it, "Geraldine is thine." Earth's gross substantial touch is felt no more-I mount in air, and rest on sunbeams! Oh, if I dream now, royal Mab! abuse me ever with thy dear deceits! (Enter L'Clair.)

L'C. So, captain! you are well encountered. I have sad forebodings that our shining course of arms is threatened with eclipse.

Flor. How now, my doughty squire-what may be our present jeopardy?

L'C. Ah, captain, the sex-the dear, enchanting sex; captain, heroes are but men, men but flesh, and flesh but weakness.

Flor. Knave! I am to be married; varlet, wish me joy. L'C. Certainly, captain, I do wish you joy: for when a man has once determined upon matrimony, he acts wisely to

collect the congratulations of his friends beforehand. May I take the freedom to inquire the lady?

Flor. L'Clair, the peerless, priceless Geraldine.

L'C. Peerless, I grant the lady, but as to priceless, I should think, for my own poor particular, that when I bartered my liberty, I was paying full value for my goods, besides a swinging overcharge for the fashion of the make.

Flor. Tush, man! 'tis not by form or feature I compute my prize. Geraldine's mind, not her beauty, is the magnet of my love. (Exeunt.)

Scene 8.-The Cottage.

(Enter Monica and Bertrand.)

Mon. In truth, sir, I have told you every circumstance.
Bert. Seventeen years ago, I think you said?

Mon. Ay, ay, I was accurate, seventeen years.

Bert. Gracious heaven! My good woman, I suspect this unfortunate person is known to me-bring me directly to the sight of her!

Mon. Hold, sir! I must know you first-who knows but you may be her enemy?

Bert. No, no, her friend-her firm and faithful friend!

Mon. I doubt whether she will receive you; her mind is ill at ease; all last night I heard her pacing up and down her chamber, moaning piteously.

Bert. Does she still keep her chamber?

Mon. Hark! I think I hear her stir-(looks,)—ay, her door now stands open, her face is turned towards us, but her eyes are fixed upon a writing in her hands.

(Bertrand looks, and casts himself upon his knee.) Bert. She lives ! eternal mercy! thanks! thanks! Mon. Holy St. Dennis! the sight of her has strangely moved you.

Bert.

Oh, let me cast myself before her feet!

Mon. Hold, sir!-back, back. (Bertrand withdraws.) (Enter Eugenia, with a folded paper.)

Eugenia. My kind mother! this is perhaps our last embrace we must part.

Mon. Part! My child, what mean you?

Eug. Mother, I have an enemy, a dreadful one! Oh! thought of horror! no, no, here I dare not stay.

Mon. My poor innocent! whither would you go?

« ElőzőTovább »