Kitabı oku: «The Comedies of Carlo Goldoni», sayfa 12

Tail. No, friend; I did not mean you, but – look to see if we have no listeners. [Slily gives Frontino a crown.]

Front. [Aside.] A crown! It is long since I had so much.

Tail. Sir, I comprehend the nature of your project. You are not naturally inclined to pomp; but, sagacious and prudent as you are, you willingly sacrifice to appearance and convenience. I esteem myself most fortunate in having the honour to serve you. I admire gentlemen who think like you, and laugh at those who ruin themselves, while I give them every aid in my power, that they may be ruined in style. In me you have discovered the only man fit for your purpose: set your heart at rest; I have the means to satisfy you.

Count. [Aside.] If I do not mistake, this is a most smooth-tongued, artful – [Aloud.] Well, then, you will make my four suits!

Tail. Pardon me, sir, your idea is not practicable. I could not avoid paying extremely dear for the embroidery; and my delicate conscience would never permit me to sell it again as new.

Count. [Aside.] His delicate conscience! Why did he come to me?

Tail. I will confide a secret to you which I have treasured jealously; for, were it known, I cannot tell you how much it would prejudice my character and credit. I, who am the court-tailor, tailor to the principal nobility of Paris, I secretly, and under a borrowed name, carry on a flourishing trade in old clothes.

Count. An old clothesman keep his coach?

Tail. Which is maintained by that very means.

Front. [To the Count.] You see, sir, I have found you a man of sincerity; a man whose heart is as open as his face; a man who merits all your confidence.

Count. [Aside.] I perceive. – [Aloud.] Should I find this to be to my interest?

Tail. I will show you two dozen of most magnificent suits, all new, that never were worn but once or twice at the most.

Count. Will they be known again?

Tail. No danger of that; everything that enters my magazine assumes a new face. I export the most splendid samples that France produces, and I import the spoils and riches of the principal cities in Europe. You shall see suits the most superb, and stuffs of the greatest rarity. It is a pity you will have neither gold nor silver.

Count. Nay, should it be anything of uncommon beauty and taste, gold and silver would not offend me.

Front. To be sure, if the streets were to be paved with gold, we must walk.

Count. But the price.

Tail. See, admire, and select; act just as you please. – [Aside.] I have found the very man I wished for. – I will soon be back, dear sir. – [Aside.] Paris is the place; everything a man wants is there to be found.

Front. Have you by chance anything that will sit genteel, and make me look like a gentleman's gentleman?

Tail. [Aside.] I will clothe you from head to foot, only be my friend.

Front. Your friend! On such conditions, who could refuse?

END OF THE FIRST ACT

ACT II

Scene I. – Dorimene and Eleonora

Dor. Come here, my dear Eleonora; I wish to speak to you alone. My brother, I believe, is gone out. [Looks out.] He is not in his cabinet.

Eleon. [Aside.] What can she have to say? She has a friendship for me, but I believe her interest is more for her brother. I can expect no consolation.

Dor. We are alone, and may speak freely. Permit me first to observe that within these few days you have had a serious, melancholy air, which seems but little to suit your expectations.

Eleon. It is natural to me, Madame; more or less, I am always so.

Dor. Excuse me; but on your arrival at Paris you had no such gloomy expression. You are entirely changed, and certainly not without cause.

Eleon. But really there is no such change.

Dor. My good young friend, you conceal the truth, and want confidence in me. Be a little more just, and rest assured that, though I proposed a marriage between you and my brother, no foolish ambition makes me wish it should succeed at the expense of your heart. Tell me openly what are your wishes; speak freely, and you shall see whether I am your friend.

Eleon. [Aside.] If I durst, but – No, no.

Dor. Have you any dislike to my brother?

Eleon. I have not long had the honour of his acquaintance, Madame.

Dor. His age, for example, may seem a little too great when compared with your own.

Eleon. The age of a man does not appear to me a thing of great importance.

Dor. You perhaps think that my brother is rather too economical.

Eleon. You know, Madame, I have been educated in economy.

Dor. If so, my dear Eleonora, to my great satisfaction, I have been entirely mistaken, and you will be perfectly happy with my brother.

Eleon. I! – Do you think so?

Dor. No doubt; it cannot be otherwise. I have questioned you with the best intentions, and you have answered – sincerely, as I must believe.

Eleon. Oh, certainly.

Dor. Then be at peace; your heart tells me you will be happy.

Eleon. [Affected.] My heart, Madame!

Dor. Your heart.

Eleon. Ah! I do not understand my own heart.

Dor. Why are you so much moved?

Eleon. [Looking off the stage.] Did not some one call me?

Dor. Called? Where? By whom?

Eleon. [Going.] Perhaps my mother – perhaps somebody —

Dor. No, no; pray stay. Your mother knows you are with me, and therefore cannot be in fear. I have something more to say to you.

Eleon. [Aside.] How difficult to disguise my feelings!

Dor. Remember, your heart has told me —

Eleon. [Timorously.] What, Madame?

Dor. You are in love with another.

Eleon. [Confused.] I, Madame!

Dor. You; your blushes confirm it.

Eleon. [Aside.] Heavens! have I betrayed myself? – [Aloud.] You will not tell this to my mother? I shall be lost!

Dor. No, no; fear nothing. Though you have discovered that you cannot confide in me, I love you tenderly, and am incapable of giving you needless pain. Here your mother comes; let us consider between ourselves.

Eleon. Ah, Madame! [Embracing.]

Scene II. —Enter Araminta

Aram. Well, child; I fear you are troublesome.

Eleon. Pardon me, but —

Dor. We are friends, and I entreated her to keep me company.

Aram. You are kinder to her than she deserves. I cannot understand her; she is become so melancholy and dull.

Dor. The air of Paris may not agree with her.

Aram. Do you think so? Since she left the place of her education, she is no longer the same. Nothing pleases, nothing diverts her. Music, reading, and drawing are all forsaken. I have spared no expense, and have taken no little delight in perceiving her progress; while, at present, I am equally surprised to see her thus negligent. I willingly incur expense for any good purpose; but no one can be more angry than I am at squandering money.

Eleon. [Aside.] It is very true. I no longer know myself.

Dor. Nay, Madame.

Aram. If she wishes to return to her retirement, why not say so?

Dor. Oh, no, Madame; she has no such wish.

Aram. But why, then, child, are you so gloomy, so indolent? You are soon to be married, and to direct a family; this requires activity, attention, and order, as you may see by my example. I am busy from morning to evening, here and there, going, coming, helping, commanding, and sometimes obliged to find fault; but, by these means, all goes well.

Eleon. [Aside.] I hoped to do the same, but all my hopes are flown!

Dor. Oh, Madame, when your daughter's heart shall be at ease —

Aram. At ease! What does she want? Is not the marriage contract to be signed to-day?

Dor. Here comes my brother! He can best inform you —

Eleon. [Aside.] How miserable am I!

Scene III. —Enter the Count and a Jeweller

Count. I am happy, ladies, to find you together. I came purposely to ask your advice.

Aram. On what subject? Ladies are sometimes excellent advisers.

Count. [To the Jeweller.] Show your case of jewels.

Aram. [Aside.] Jewels! He may well ask advice in such articles; it is easy to be cheated.

Jew. [Presenting the case to Dorimene.] Please examine if there can be purer and more perfect diamonds.

Count. Pray give me your opinion.

Dor. I think them admirable! What say you, Eleonora?

Eleon. [With indifference.] I do not understand such things.

Aram. I do – show them to me. Though I never wore any diamonds, trade has made me well acquainted with them. [Taking the case.] These are fine, indeed! Perfectly assorted, and of a beautiful water. What is their price?

Count. Oh, that is a secret between ourselves. [To the Jeweller.] Is it not?

Jew. My lord – I have nothing to say.

Aram. [Aside.] So much the worse; the Count will be the more easily imposed upon. He comes to ask advice, and then refuses to hear it.

Count. [Apart, to the Jeweller.] My good friend, will you trust your diamonds with me three or four days?

Jew. [To the Count.] If the ladies think them good, and well chosen, I should prefer —

Count. Nay, friend; jewels of this value must not be purchased without reflection. Knowing me, you cannot be afraid.

Jew. By no means! They are at your service.

Count. Be pleased to return at the end of the week. I know the price, and you shall then have the money or the diamonds.

Jew. I am much obliged to you, Signor.

[Exit.

Scene IV

Count. [Aside.] Excellent! just as I wished! – [To Eleonora.] Will you do me the favour, Madame, to wear the jewels I have the honour to present you, at least for to-day.

Dor. To-day?

Count. It is the day on which we are to sign the contract, and we shall have thirty persons at table.

Aram. Thirty!

Count. At least, Madame.

Aram. [Aside.] He will ruin himself! But I will hear more.

Count. [Presenting the case to Dorimene.] Dear sister, let me request you to take this case, and to kindly be present at the toilet of this lady, to assist in arranging the diamonds. Will you do me the pleasure, charming Eleonora, to accept my sister's aid?

Eleon. [Coldly.] My mamma never wears diamonds.

Aram. Do not be silly, child. I did not wear diamonds, because my husband was too prudent to indulge in such expenses; but, if the Count think differently, complaisance requires your acquiescence.

Eleon. But, you know, mamma —

Aram. Oh, I know – I know, child! You do not know good breeding. Accept them gratefully.

Eleon. [Aside.] Unhappy me! – [To the Count.] Signor – I am greatly obliged.

Dor. [Apart to the Count.] Are you satisfied with such a cold manner?

Count. Perfectly.

Dor. Have you no dissatisfaction; no fears?

Count. Not the least.

Dor. [Aside.] What a singular man is my brother?

Scene V. —Enter Frontino

Front. Here is a letter, sir.

Count. With your permission, ladies.

Aram. By all means. [To Dorimene.] Let us examine the jewels a little.

Count. [To himself, having read the letter.] The marquis comes at an ill time! After a dinner of thirty guests, I must give him a supper! He asks it with so little ceremony too! How can it be managed?

Dor. What is the matter, brother?

Count. [Affecting cheerfulness.] Nothing, nothing. I have just received news which gives me pleasure. The Marquis del Bosco is arrived, and coming to sup with me this evening.

Eleon. [Agitated.] What do I hear?

Aram. I know the Marquis; his county seat is not three miles distant from mine.

Count. You will see him this evening, with the Marchioness his daughter, and the Chevalier his son.

Eleon. [Still more agitated.] The Chevalier! O Heaven!

Count. I hope they will be in time to be present, when we sign the contract.

Eleon. [Still aside.] Fatal trial! How shall I support it?

Aram. What is the matter, daughter?

Eleon. Nothing – not much – a sudden giddiness.

Count. [To Araminta.] For Heaven's sake, take care of – [To Frontino.] Don't go.

Aram. The open air will revive her.

Dor. Let us walk into the garden.

Aram. By all means.

Dor. Is the door open, brother?

Count. No; but here is the key.

Dor. [Aside.] He will trust it to nobody, but has it always in his pocket. – Come, Eleonora. – [Aside.] This may be a proper opportunity. [Retiring with Eleonora.]

Count. [To Araminta.] I hope, Madame, this attack is trifling; but the young lady should not be exposed to the least danger. If you think proper, we will defer the dinner of to-day, and have a supper instead.

Aram. Just as you please – but your dinners and suppers – I have much to say to you on such subjects. My daughter may want me; I will return presently.

Scene VI

Count. [Earnestly.] Hark ye, Frontino! send messengers immediately, to inform the guests I have invited that, instead of dinner, I entreat them to honour me with their company at supper.

Front. So, so! But it will be difficult to find them all, so late in the day.

Count. No matter. Those who may come to dinner must be told of the change. They will return to supper, or not, as they please.

Front. Yes, Signor. – [Aside.] Admirable! quite in character!

[Exit.

Count. This visit comes at a lucky time! Nothing could be more fortunate.

Scene VII. —Enter Araminta

Count. Well, dear Madame? Eleonora?

Aram. All, I hope, will be well.

Count. Then I shall be happy; for health should be our first care. I have sent round to the guests, with an invitation to supper this evening.

Aram. Thirty persons at supper!

Count. I hope so, Madame.

Aram. Permit me to speak openly, and tell you all I think.

Count. You cannot give me greater pleasure.

Aram. Is it not extreme folly to assemble thirty persons, twenty of whom, at least, will make a jest of you?

Count. A jest of me?

Aram. Beyond all doubt. Do not think I am avaricious; thank heaven, that is not my defect; but I cannot endure to see money squandered.

Count. But, on such a day, and under such circumstances.

Aram. Are they your relations, whom you have invited?

Count. By no means. A select company; the nobility! the literati! the magistracy! all persons of distinction.

Aram. Worse and worse! Vanity, ostentation, folly! My good friend, you do not know the value of money.

Count. [Smiles.] I do not know the value of money!

Aram. Alas, you do not! Your sister made me believe you were economical; had I known the truth, I should never have married my daughter to a spendthrift.

Count. So you think me a spendthrift!

Aram. I first perceived it by the considerable sum you threw away in the purchase of a title; which sacrifice to vanity has no beneficial end.

Count. How! Are you not aware the rank I have acquired will impress a character of respect on myself, your daughter, and our descendants?

Aram. Quite the reverse. I would have rather given my daughter to you, as Signor Anselmo Colombani, a well-known merchant, than to the Count of Casteldoro, a newly-made nobleman.

Count. But, Madame —

Aram. Your ancestors have saved what you will scatter.

Count. Scatter! I! You are mistaken, Madame. You do not know me.

Aram. Oh yes, yes. I saw the manner in which, without any knowledge of diamonds, or asking the least advice, you were led away by the jeweller.

Count. Oh, with respect to the diamonds —

Aram. Ah, ay! I know your answer. They are to decorate the Countess of Casteldoro. And who is the Countess of Casteldoro? My daughter, Signor, has been well educated, but with no such expectations. Everything has been done in abundance, that could contribute to convenience, decency, and information; but nothing to pomp and vanity. The ornaments of my daughter ever will be modesty, obedience, and that self-respect which she could not but acquire from such an education.

Count. [A little moved.] But, Madame —

Aram. [Very warmly.] But, Signor – [softening] – I ask your pardon – Perhaps you may think me too warm; but I see you hurried into a gulf of expense that makes me tremble. My daughter's happiness is concerned: I give her a hundred thousand crowns in marriage.

Count. [Somewhat haughtily.] Am I not able to settle an equal sum upon her?

Aram. Yes, at present. But wealth will diminish; and especially when we have the vanity to be profuse, grand, and magnificent.

Count. I once more assure you, Madame, you do not know me.

Aram. Signor, had you been a different person, I had conceived an excellent plan. My annual income is five-and-twenty thousand livres: I might have lived with you and my daughter, and the two families might have become one; but, at present, Heaven preserve me from taking such a step!

Count. [Aside.] She will drive me mad! – [To Araminta.] Pray hear me. [Whispering and cunningly.] You mistake my character. Few people indeed understand economy so well as I do, as you will soon be convinced. I willingly close with your proposal, and —

Aram. By no means! You try in vain to persuade me against conviction. Respecting my daughter – I have promised – we shall see – but for myself it is different. Not all the gold on earth should induce me to make such an arrangement, with a man who does not know the use of money, but lets it slip through his fingers faster than flour through a sieve.

[Exit.

Count. This is admirable! I never imagined I should pass for a prodigal.

[Exit.

END OF THE SECOND ACT

ACT III

Scene I. —The Count and Frontino

Count. Frontino.

Front. Signor?

Count. Go and inquire how Eleonora is.

Front. One of your guests is without, and desires to speak with you.

Count. Who is he?

Front. The young gentleman who lately read you a comedy written by himself.

Count. Oh! Signor Giacinto. Bid him enter.

Front. Please to come in, Signor.

[Exit.

Scene II. —Enter Giacinto

Count. Good morning, Signor Giacinto. I am very sorry that the messenger, sent by me, did not find you at home; he came to inform you that an accident has caused me to put off the dinner, but that I hoped to see you at supper.

Giac. It is just the same to me, Signor. Meanwhile, permit me the honour to —

Count. I hope to see you without fail this evening.

Giac. I am infinitely obliged to you; but, having now the good fortune to find you alone, and at leisure, I wish to lay before you certain alterations made in the dedicatory epistle; as I have nothing so much at heart as your satisfaction.

Count. Well, Signor Giacinto, since you are absolutely resolved to dedicate your comedy to me, I have thought – it would be best to inform you – of certain particulars respecting myself. Not from vanity – oh no! Heaven preserve me from that! – but solely to give an opportunity to your eloquence, and lustre to your work.

Giac. You see, Signor, I have made a good use of the materials which you have so kindly furnished; but I have done something more.

Count. Have you mentioned my pictures?

Giac. Oh yes.

Count. And my library?

Giac. Certainly.

Count. Including the books which I told you I intend to purchase?

Giac. But – Signor – a catalogue of books in a dedication —

Count. Where is the difficulty? You may say, in a note at the bottom of the page, the Count of Casteldoro possesses a superb library, of not less than ten thousand volumes. A man of wit, like you, knows how to take advantage of everything. The supper of this evening, for example, may furnish some new ideas – something animated, witty, poetical.

Giac. That may be possible; but I have been employed on a subject more essential: I have written your genealogy.

Count. [Coldly.] My genealogy? No, no, friend. I have no taste for that science. You might, I grant, say things that should happen to do me honour; but I am an enemy to vanity, and would prefer reticence, especially on the question of genealogy.

Giac. As you please; but I have made discoveries that have cost me much time and study, of which I thought you might wish to be informed.

Count. [With curiosity.] Discoveries that relate to me?

Giac. That relate to you, Signor.

Count. My dear Signor Giacinto, let me hear.

Giac. Your true family name is not Colombani.

Count. I grant it may have been changed.

Giac. Do me the favour to listen. The great Columbus, who discovered America, and who was ennobled by the king of Spain, had two brothers, and various relations. Now, in looking through authors to discover annotations for my Life of Petrarch, I found that one of the relations of Christopher Columbus went from Genoa, his native place, to the city of Avignon, in France. By corruption of the termination, I find the name of Colombo or Columbus, has been changed to Colombani; and I demonstrate, beyond all doubt, that you are a descendant of that ancient, illustrious family.

Count. [Much pleased.] You have demonstrated it?

Giac. Here are my proofs. [Presenting papers.]

Count. [Receiving them.] From the little I can now recollect, I believe you are right. Ay, ay; it might be. I do not love ostentation, as you perceive, but I shall be highly pleased if your discovery can do yourself honour; I therefore have not the courage to forbid the publication. Have you presented your comedy to the comedians?

Giac. Yes, Signor.

Count. And they certainly received it with approbation?

Giac. On the contrary, Signor, it has been peremptorily refused.

Count. Refused!

Giac. You have heard it read: does it deserve such a reward?

Count. If the comedy be good, why is it refused? Their interest should oblige them to accept it, with thanks.

Giac. What can be expected from such ignorant judges? But I will have my revenge! It shall be printed! The public shall decide!

Count. Bravo! You are right; have it printed. It might not be greatly successful on the stage, but in the closet it will delight. Your sale will be prodigious.

Giac. Since you approve and encourage me, Signor, would you but have the goodness to pass your word for the expense of printing, and —

Count. [With a determined tone.] There is no need of that. Apply to a good bookseller; let him have his profits, and he will answer for the whole.

Giac. To speak the truth, Signor, I have in vain applied to more than one. At last, a bookseller has agreed that, if the Count of Casteldoro will make himself responsible, he will undertake to publish it on my account.

Count. How! Have you mentioned my name?

Giac. I could not avoid it.

Count. You have done very ill. Should it be known that I take an interest in the comedy, it would be said I did so because of the dedication; and I should then appear ridiculous. Drop all thoughts of the press at present; a more favourable opportunity may occur.

Giac. But, Signor —

Scene III. —Enter Frontino

Count. Well, Frontino, what answer?

Front. The young lady is rather better, Signor.

Count. Rather better! But is she well enough to – I will go and inquire myself. – [To Giacinto.] You see, Signor, a young lady is ill in my house, and the supper must be deferred. Another time. [Going.]

Giac. Then if the manuscript be useless, Signor —

Count. True; it shall be returned. [Going.]

Giac. I beg you to recollect the time and trouble it has cost me.

Count. [Returning the manuscript.] Very right! You are fond of your own works: I am glad they give you satisfaction, and cannot but thank you for any labour taken on my account. Whenever I can serve you, pray command me.

Giac. Infinitely obliged to the generosity of Signor Count Casteldoro. – [Aside.] What ingratitude! Sordid fellow! He shall pay for this, or I am mistaken.

[Exit.

Count. One guest the less. But I must inquire after Eleonora. [Going.]

Fior. [Without.] Ho, there! Is nobody to be found?

Front. This is Fiorillo, the servant of the Marquis.

Scene IV. —Enter Fiorillo, in a travelling dress

Fior. [Bows.] Signor Count, my master, the Marquis del Bosco, is coming. I rode before, as you perceive, to inform you that his carriage will soon arrive.

Count. [Coldly.] Arrive! What, here? And in his coach? Does he come to make any stay?

Fior. No, Signor. To-morrow morning he must be gone to Versailles; for he has affairs at court.

Count. [Aside.] I am glad of it! – [Aloud, pompously.] I hope the Marquis will do me the honour to remain with me to-night, in company with his son, the Chevalier. With respect to the Marchioness – I'll speak to my sister, and hope she may also be accommodated, as becomes her rank.

Fior. The Marchioness del Bosco does not come with her father; she is with the Countess d'Orimon, her aunt, and is to remain at her house.

Count. [Aside.] So much the better. – [Aloud.] That is unfortunate. I hope, however, I shall have the pleasure of seeing her.

[Exit.

Scene V. – Frontino and Fiorillo

Fior. Your master, like your kitchen, smells well!

Front. We are to have a magnificent supper to-night; no less than thirty guests.

Fior. Indeed! Your master is superb. A rare service! Much to eat, and little to do! Then, as to wages, you will make your fortune, Frontino!

Front. Fortune! I can't say – perhaps!

Fior. You have been long with this master.

Front. Very true; I have an attachment to him.

Fior. And so have I to mine, but without the hope of saving a farthing in his service. If it were not for the profits of the card-tables, I should certainly leave him.

Front. Then you have much play?

Fior. A great deal.

Front. And no less profit?

Fior. Hum – tolerable; but not equal to you.

Front. I! Shall I speak plain to a fellow-servant? I have little wages, and no tips.

Fior. Then you are foolish, Frontino. In Paris, so clever a fellow as yourself may find a hundred services, in which he might profit in a hundred different ways.

Front. Do you know any one?

Fior. Certainly; but you are attached to your master?

Front. To part with him would not break my heart.

Fior. If he pays so ill, he does not like you.

Front. That's a mistake; I am his prime minister and favourite.

Fior. What do you mean? Were he miserly, so be it; but a generous —

Front. Generous! You little know my master.

Fior. How so? A supper for thirty guests —

Front. Ah, did you know what it will cost me!

Fior. You! Cost you!

Front. Me. Grumbled at, cross-questioned, put to the torture, almost afraid of my life, when I give in my bill. I tremble but to think of it!

Fior. So, so! Very different with us; our master is easily satisfied, and always gay and good-humoured. He has an odd manner of speaking, indeed, and never tells you more than half what he means. He has favourite words, which, right or wrong, he always uses. Everybody laughs at him, and he laughs at himself.

Front. I wish I had such a master!

Fior. The worst of it is, he is poor, and seldom has any money.

Front. Yet you say he plays?

Fior. Very true; he always finds money for that. I hear a coach.

Front. Which way does he —

Fior. [At the window.] Be quiet! Yes, they are here.

Front. I want to hear more.

Fior. Run and tell your master.

Front. [Aside.] I shall hear it all; he can't hold his tongue.

[Exit.

Fior. Frontino is a good fellow, but he talks too much; that's his fault.

Scene VI. —Enter the Marquis

Marq. Where is he? Where is the Count?

Fior. His servant is gone to tell him you are here.

Marq. Go, go; see – Good, good, excellent! – His servant?

Fior. Will soon be back.

Marq. Meanwhile – My horses – Nothing to eat – Poor devils – They have done – Good, good, excellent! You might go and see —

Fior. Yes, at once. – [Aside and going.] I defy all the servants in the world to understand him as I do.

[Exit.

Scene VII. —Enter the Chevalier

Chev. My dear father! How can I thank you for all your kindness?

Marq. Say no more – father to be sure – But with you, in truth – You are strange sometimes.

Chev. Most true! Had you not discovered my passion, I scarcely should have dared to own it.

Marq. Keen eyes – Why not, dear boy? Why not? and then I know that Eleonora – Do you know her mother?

Chev. I am slightly acquainted with her, but not enough to speak on such a subject.

Marq. A lady that – Are you at least sure of the daughter?

Chev. Perfectly. I have met her at her cousins, and – we have corresponded.

Marq. Good, good, excellent! We shall want – The Count is my friend.

Chev. And I am acquainted with his sister, Madame Dorimene. I will beg her to entreat for me. Here comes the Count.

Scene VIII. —Enter the Count

Count. Pardon me, Marquis, but —

Marq. Ah, Count! Good day – Good day – Your health – Mine – you see – splendidly well, at your service.

Count. Still the same! Always courteous!

Marq. Oh, I … Good, good; excellent!

Count. And you, Chevalier?

Chev. Always your humble servant.

Count. Is the Marchioness with you?

Marq. My daughter? She has come with – You know her aunt?

Count. Yes, I have the pleasure of knowing her, and will call and pay the ladies my respects – I hope to have the honour of their company at supper.

Marq. Always obliging – Good, good, excellent! – Ought to apologise – Come suddenly – No ceremony, I beg.

Count. None on earth. I shall only give you my ordinary supper.

Marq. Good, good, excellent! Family meals – friendly.

Count. Your apartments are here, on the right. They tell me you go to Versailles to-morrow.

Marq. Yes – because —

Count. I am sorry to lose you so soon: but, as I was saying, these apartments shall be yours.

Chev. Permit me, Signor Count, to pay my respects to your sister.

Count. You will do me an honour, and give her pleasure.

Chev. [To his father.] Have I your leave, sir?

Marq. Certainly. – [Aside.] Poor fellow! He is – but when I was like him – yes, I did as he does.

Count. We may all go together, if you please.

Marq. Ha! – [Aside.] No; must not spoil sport. – [Aloud.] Go by himself.

Chev. [Going.] I know my way.

Count. You will meet a young lady there, with whom perhaps you are acquainted.

Chev. [Eager to go.] Indeed? So much the better!

Count. I have something to tell you concerning her, which perhaps you do not know —

Chev. [Aside.] Too well! I am on the rack!

Count. But which you will be glad to hear.

Chev. [Aside.] Heavens! Perhaps Eleonora may have discovered our passion to her mother – I rush to see.

[Exit.

Scene IX. – Count and the Marquis

Marq. [Looking round.] Now we are alone – Have you time?

Count. I am at your disposal.

Marq. You are my friend.

Count. The title does me honour.

Marq. Good, good, excellent!

Count. [Aside.] He is sometimes very ridiculous.

Marq. I should like to beg you – but – a friend, unceremoniously, freely.

Count. [Aside.] I bet he wants to borrow money.

Marq. You know my family —

Count. Perfectly.

Marq. I have two children, and must think – a daughter too – Good, good, excellent! – The Chevalier is at an age – you understand me?

Count. I believe I do. You are seriously thinking of establishing your family, which is highly commendable. And, talking of establishments, I think it but right in me to inform you of my approaching marriage.

Marq. Oh, oh! – that way inclined – you too – Good, good, excellent!