LIBRARY 
 
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 THE 
 
 LADY OF LYONS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 LOVE AND PRIDE. 
 
 A PLAY 
 IN FIVE ACTS, 
 
 A8 PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 AUTHOR OF PELHAM," "RIENZI," "THE STUDENT,' 
 "EUGENE ARAM," "LEILA, 1 ' &<=-, &c. 
 
 FROM THE SECOND LONDON EDITION. 
 
 w 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, 82 CLIFF-STREET. 
 
 1838.
 
 TO 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF "ION," 
 
 THE NATIONAL DRAMA, 
 
 THIS PLAY IS INSCRIBED 
 A3
 
 to
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 AN indistinct recollection of the very pretty little tale 
 called " Perouse, or the Bellows-mender," suggested 
 the plot of this drama. The incidents are, however, 
 greatly altered from those in Perouse, and the charac- 
 ters entirely recast. In the selection of the time in 
 which the play has been laid, I was guided naturally 
 and solely, by the wish to take that period in which 
 the incidents might be rendered most probable, and in 
 which the probationary career of the hero, m the fifth 
 act upon which the denouement, and, indeed, the de- 
 sign depends might be sufficiently rapid for dramatic 
 effect, and (on account of that very rapidity) in accord- 
 ance with the ordinary character and events of the age. 
 The early years of the first and most brilliant successes 
 of the French republic appeared to constitute the only 
 epoch in which these objects could be attained. It 
 was a period when, in the general ferment of society 
 and the brief equalization of ranks, Claude's high- 
 placed love, his ardent feelings, his unsettled princi- 
 ples the struggle between which makes the passion 
 of this drama his ambition, and his career, were phe- 
 nomena that characterized the time itself, and in which 
 the spirit of the nation went along with the extrava- 
 gance of the individual. In some respects, Claude 
 Melnotte is a type of that restless, brilliant, and eva-
 
 VU1 PREFACE. 
 
 nescent generation that sprung up from the ashes of thfl 
 terrible revolution ; men born to be agents of the genius 
 of Napoleon, to accomplish the most marvellous ex- 
 ploits, and to leave but little of permanent triumph and 
 solid advantage to the succeeding race. 
 
 In selecting this period as one best suited to the 
 development of a story which seemed to me rich in 
 materials of dramatic interest, I can honestly say that 
 I endeavoured, as much as possible, to avoid every po- 
 litical allusion applicable to our own time and land, our 
 own party prejudices and passions. How difficult a 
 task this was, a reference to any drama, in which the 
 characters are supposed to live under republican insti- 
 tutions, will prove I There is scarcely a single play 
 the scene of which is laid in Rome, in Greece, in Switz- 
 erland, wherein political allusions and political decla- 
 mations are not carefully elaborated as the most stri- 
 king and telling parts of the performance.* 
 
 The principal fault of this play, as characteristic of 
 the time, is perhaps, indeed, the too cautious avoidance 
 of all those references to liberty and equality in which, 
 no doubt, every man living at that day would have hour- 
 ly indulged. The old and classical sentiment, that vir- 
 tue is nobility (virtus est sola nobilitas), contains the 
 pith of all the political creed announced by Claude 
 Melnotte ; and that sentiment is the founder, and often 
 the motto, of aristocracy itself. It is a sentiment that 
 never will, I trust, be considered revolutionary in a 
 country which boasts, among its proudest names, the 
 
 * The noble tragedy of " Ion" has for its very plot, its very catas- 
 trophe, almost its very moral, the abolition of royalty and the estab- 
 lishment of a republic ; yet no one would suspect Sergeant Talfourd 
 of designing the overthrow of the British Constitution.
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 Wellesleys and the Russells, the Stanleys and the 
 Howards. It is one which the scribblers, sprung from 
 a dunghill, may be assured that there are few men of 
 blood and birth who will disavow. In fact, the enthu- 
 siasm of Claude is far more that of a soldier than a cit- 
 izen ;* and it is not the reasoner nor the politician, but 
 the man, with his feelings and his struggles, with 
 whom the audience sympathize when he glories in the 
 redemption of his name. It is perfectly clear that nei- 
 ther the English author nor the English audience can 
 recognise much in harmony with their own sentiments 
 when Claude declares that the gold he has won in the 
 campaign of Italy " is hallowed in the cause of nations /" 
 The question for us to consider is, not whether an Eng- 
 lishman or a philosopher would think that there was 
 any sanctity in the principles of that brilliant war, but 
 whether an enthusiastic soldier under Napoleon would 
 not have believed it. Our national prepossessions and 
 prejudices ; our closeness to an age, the false glitter 
 of which we can so well detect, alike, I hope, guard 
 us against all political infection from a play cast in a 
 time when the coming shadow of a military despotism 
 was already darkening the prospects of an unwise and 
 weak republic ; and if there be anywhere the antipodes 
 
 * The allusion to the rapidity of promotion in the French army 
 was absolutely necessary to the conduct of the story ; and, after all, 
 it is expressed in language borrowed and adapted from that very Ja- 
 cobinical authority, Horatio Viscount Nelson. Nor is it easy to con- 
 ceive how the sentiment, that merit, not money, should purchase 
 promotion in the army, can be called a republican doctrine ; since, 
 though it certainly did pervade the French republican army, it incul- 
 cates a principle far more common in despotic countries than under 
 free institutions. We must look to the annals of the East for the most 
 frequent examples of the rise of fortunate soldier*.
 
 X PREFACE. , 
 
 to the French Jacobin of the last century, it is the Eng- 
 lish reformer of the present. For ray own part, I never 
 met with any one, however warm a lover of abstract 
 liberty, who had a sympathy with the principles of the 
 directory and the government of M. Barras. But enough 
 in contradiction of a charge which the whole English 
 public have ridiculed and scouted, and which has sought 
 to introduce into the free domains of art all the miser- 
 able calumnies and wretched spleen of party hostilities. 
 
 The faults of the play itself I do not seek to defend : 
 such faults are the fair and just materials for criticism 
 and cavil. I am perfectly aware that it is a very slight 
 and trivial performance, and, being written solely for 
 the stage, may possess but a feeble interest in the 
 closet. It was composed with a twofold object. In 
 the first place, sympathizing with the enterprise of Mr. 
 Macready, as manager of Covent Garden, and believing 
 that many of the higher interests of the drama were in- 
 volved in the success or failure of an enterprise equally 
 hazardous and disinterested, I felt, if I may so presume 
 to express myself, something of the brotherhood of art ; 
 and it was only for Mr. Macready to think it possible 
 that I might serve him to induce me to make the attempt, 
 
 Secondly, in that attempt I was mainly anxious to see 
 whether or not certain critics had truly declared that it 
 was not in my power to attain the art of dramatic con- 
 struction and theatrical effect. I felt, indeed, that it 
 was in this that a writer, accustomed to the narrative 
 class of composition, would have the most both to learn 
 and to unlearn. Accordingly, it was to the develop- 
 ment of the plot and the arrangement of the incidents 
 that I directed my chief attention; and I sought to
 
 PREPACK. Xi 
 
 throw whatever belongs to poetry less into the diction 
 and the " felicity of words" than into the construction 
 of the story, the creation of the characters, and the 
 spirit of the pervading sentiment. With this acknowl- 
 edgment, may I hazard a doubt whether any more or- 
 nate or more elevated style of language would be so 
 appropriate to the rank of the characters introduced, 
 or would leave so clear and uninterrupted an effect to 
 the strength and progress of that domestic interest which 
 (since I do not arrogate the entire credit of its inven- 
 tion) I may, perhaps, be allowed to call the chief at- 
 traction of the play. 
 
 Having, on presenting this drama to the theatre, con 
 fided the secret of its authorship to the manager alone ; 
 having, therefore, induced no party, no single friend or 
 favourer of my own, to attend the early performances 
 which decided its success, I hope that on my side 
 *' The Lady of Lyons" has been fairly left to the ver- 
 dict of the public ; let me now also hope an equal fair- 
 ness from those who wish to condemn the politician in 
 the author. I have no intention of writing again for 
 the stage ; and, therefore, so far as my own experiment 
 is concerned, I have but little to hope or fear. Do not 
 let those who love the literature of the drama discourr 
 age other men, immeasurably more fitted to adorn it, 
 solely because in a free country they may, like the au- 
 thor of this play, have ventured elsewhere to express 
 political opinions. 
 
 I cannot conclude without expressing my high sense 
 of the care with which the '* Lady of Lyons" was in* 
 troduced on the stage ; of its obligations to Mr. Mac* 
 ready, not less as a manager who neglected no detail
 
 Xll PREFACE. 
 
 that could conduce to the effect of the representation, 
 than as an actor who realized and exalted every design 
 of the author. The power and pathos which Miss 
 Faucit's acting infused into language that will seem 
 comparatively tame and cold to the reader; the easy 
 skill with which Mr. Hartley threw his own racy and 
 vigorous humour into the character of Colonel Damas , 
 the zeal and ability which, in Mr. Elton's Beauseant, 
 relieved and elevated a part necessarily unpleasing to 
 an actor of his station ; and the performances, so ac 
 curate and spirited, of the characters less prominent in 
 the development of the story, especially of Mrs. Clif- 
 ford and Mr. Meadows, have already received a fai 
 higher reward than the acknowledgment of the author, 
 in the cordial applauses of the audience. 
 
 E. L. B. 
 
 London, February 26, 1838.
 
 THE LADY OF LYONS. 
 
 B
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Beauseant (a rich gentleman of Lyons, 
 
 in love with, and refused by, Pauline 
 
 Deschappelles) . . . . MR. ELTOH. 
 Glavis (his friend, also a rejected suiter 
 
 to Pauline) .... MR. MEADOWS. 
 Colonel, afterward General, Damas 
 
 (cousin to Madame Deschapelles, and 
 
 an officer in the French army) . MR. HARTLEY. 
 Monsieur Deschappelles (a Lyonnese 
 
 merchant, father to Pauline) . MR. STRICKLAND. 
 Landlord of the Golden Lion . MR. YARNOLD. 
 Gaspar . * . * MR. DIDDEAR. 
 
 Claude Melnotte .... MR. MACREADY. 
 First Officer } 
 
 Second Officer > MESSRS. HOWE, PRITCHARD, AND ROBERTS. 
 Third Officer J 
 
 Servants, Notary, Jfc. 
 
 Madame Deschappelles . . MRS. CLIFFORD. 
 Pauline (her daughter) . . Miss HELEN FAUCIT. 
 
 The Widow Melnotte (mother to 
 
 Claude) ... . . MRS. GRIFFITH. 
 
 Janet (the innkeeper's daughter) MRS. EAST. 
 
 Marian (maid to Pauline) . . Miss GARRICK. 
 
 Scene Lyons and the neighbourhood 
 Time, 1795-1798.
 
 THE 
 
 LADY OF LYONS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 LOVE AND PRIDE. 
 
 ACT I. 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A room in the house of M. Deschappelles, at Lyons. 
 Pauline reclining on a sofa ; Marian, her maid, fan- 
 ning her. Flowers and notes on a table beside the 
 sofa. Madame Deschappelles seated. The gardens 
 are seen from the open window. 
 
 MADAME DE8CHAF. 
 
 Marian, put that rose a little more to the left. 
 
 (Marian alters the position of a rose in Pauline 1 s 
 
 hair.) 
 
 Ah, so ! that improves the air, the tournure, the je ne 
 sqais quoi ! You are certainly very handsome, child ! 
 quite my style ! I don't wonder that you make such a 
 sensation ! Old, young, rich, and poor do homage to 
 the Beauty of Lyons ! Ah, we live again in our chil- 
 dren, especially when they have our eyes and com- 
 plexion ! 
 
 PAULINE (languidly), 
 
 Dear mother, you will spoil your Pauline ! (Aside) 
 I wish I knew who sent me these flowers !
 
 16 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT I. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 No, child ! if I praise you, it is only to inspire you with 
 a proper ambition. You are born to make a great mar- 
 riage. Beauty is valuable or worthless according as 
 you invest the property to the best advantage. Ma- 
 rian, go and order the carriage ! [Exit Marian. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Who can it be that sends me every day these beau- 
 tiful flowers ? how sweet they are ! 
 
 (Enter servant.) 
 
 SERVANT. 
 Monsieur Beauseant, madam. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Let him enter. Pauline, this is another offer! I 
 know it is ! Your father should engage an additional 
 clerk to keep the account-book of your conquests. 
 
 (Enter Beauseant.) 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Ah, ladies, how fortunate I am to find you at home ! 
 (Aside) How lovely she looks ! It is a great sacrifice 
 I make in marrying into a family in trade ! they will 
 be eternally grateful ! (Aloud) Madame, you will 
 permit me a word with your charming daughter. (Ap- 
 proaches Pauline, who rises disdainfully) Mademoiselle, 
 I have ventured to wait upon you, in a hope that you 
 must long since have divined. Last night, when you 
 outshone all the beauty of Lyons, you completed your 
 conquest over me ! You know that my fortune is not 
 exceeded by any estate in the province ; you know 
 that, but for the revolution, which has defrauded me of 
 rny titles, I should be noble. May I, then, trust that 
 you will not reject my alliance ? I offer you my hand 
 and heart.
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 17 
 
 PAULINE (aside). 
 
 He has the air of a man who confers a favour! 
 
 (Aloud) Sir, you are very condescending ; I thank you 
 
 numbly ; but, being duly sensible of my own demerits, 
 
 you must allow me to decline the honour you propose. 
 
 (Courtesies, and turns away.) 
 
 BEAUSEANT, 
 
 Decline ! impossible ! you are not serious ! Ma- 
 dame, suffer me to appeal to you, I am a suiter for 
 your daughter's hand ; the settlements shall be worthy 
 her beauty and my station. May I wait on M. Des- 
 chappelles ? 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 M. Deschappelles never interferes in the domestic 
 arrangements ; you are very obliging. If you were 
 still a marquis, or if my daughter were intended to 
 marry a commoner, why, perhaps, we might give you 
 the preference. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 A commoner ! we are all commoners in France now. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 In France, yes ; but there is a nobility still left in 
 the other countries in Europe. We are quite aware 
 of your good qualities, and don't doubt that you will 
 find some lady more suitable to your pretensions. We 
 shall be always happy to see you as an acquaintance, 
 M. Beauseant ! My dear child, the carriage will be 
 here presently. 
 
 BKAUSEANT. 
 
 Say no more, madame ! say no more ! (Aside) 
 
 Refused ! and by a merchant's daughter ! refused ! It 
 
 will be all over Lyons before sunset ! I will go and 
 
 bury myself in my. chateau, study philosophy, and turn 
 
 B2
 
 18 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT I. 
 
 womanhater. Refused ! they ought to be sent to a 
 madhouse ! Ladies, I have the honour to wish you a 
 very good-morning. [Exit Beauseant. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 How forward these men are ! I think, child, we 
 Kept up our dignity. Any girl, however inexperienced, 
 Tinows how to accept an offer, but it requires a vast 
 deal of address to refuse one with proper condescen- 
 sion and disdain. I used to practise it at school with 
 the dancing-master ! 
 
 (Enter Damas.) 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Good-morning, Cousin Deschappelles. Well, Pau- 
 line, are you recovered from last night's ball ? So 
 many triumphs must be very fatiguing. Even M. 
 Glavis sighed most piteously when you departed ; but 
 that might be the effect of the supper. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 M. Glavis, indeed ! 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 M. Glavis ! as if my daughter would think of M. 
 Glavis ! 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Heyday ! why not ? His father left him a very 
 pretty fortune, and his birth is higher than yours, 
 Cousin Deschappelles. But perhaps you are looking 
 to M. Beauseant ; his father was a marquis before the 
 revolution. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 M. Beausant! Cousin, you delight in tormenting 
 me! 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Don't mind him, Pauline ! Cousin Damas, you
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 19 
 
 have no susceptibility of feeling ; there is a certain in- 
 delicacy in all your ideas. M. Beauseant knows al- 
 ready that he is no match for my daughter ! 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Pooh! pooh! one would think you intended your 
 daughter to marry a prince ! 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Well, and if I did ? what then ? Many a foreign 
 prince 
 
 DAMAS (interrupting her). 
 
 Foreign prince ! foreign fiddlestick 1 You ought to 
 be ashamed of such nonsense at your time of life. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 My time of life ! That is an expression never ap- 
 plied to any lady till she is sixty-nine and three quar- 
 ters ; and only then by the clergyman of the parish. 
 
 (Enter servant.) 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 Madame, the carriage is at the door. 
 
 [Exit servant. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Come, child, put on your bonnet ; you really have 
 a very thoroughbred air ; not at all like your poor fa- 
 ther. (Fondly) Ah, you little coquette ! when a young 
 lady is always making mischief, it is a sure sign that 
 she takes after her mother ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Good-day, Cousin Damas, and a better humour to 
 you (going back to the table and taking the flowers). 
 Who could have sent me these flowers ? 
 
 [Exeunt Pauline and Madame Deschappelles.
 
 20 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT I. 
 
 DAM AS. 
 
 That would be an excellent girl if her head had not 
 been turned. I fear she is now become incorrigible ! 
 Zounds, what a lucky fellow I am to be still a bache- 
 lor ! They may talk of the devotion of the sex, but 
 the most faithful attachment in life is that of a woman 
 in love with herself! [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 The exterior of a small village inn sign the Golden 
 Lion a few leagues from Lyons, which, is seen at a 
 distance. 
 
 BEAUSEAXT (behind the scenes). 
 
 Yes, you may bait the horses ; we shall rest here an 
 hour. 
 
 (Enter Beauseant and Glavis.) 
 GLAVIS. 
 
 Really, my dear Beauseant, consider that I have 
 promised to spend a day or two with you at your cha- 
 teau ; that I am quite at your mercy for my entertain- 
 ment ; and yet you are as silent and as gloomy as a 
 mute at a funeral or an Englishman at a party of pleas- 
 ure. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Bear with me ! the fact is that I am miserable. 
 
 GLAVIS. 
 You, the richest and gayest bachelor in Lyons ? 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 It is because I am a bachelor that I am miserable.
 
 SCENE II.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 21 
 
 Thou knowst Pauline, the only daughter of the rich 
 merchant, Mons. Deschappelles 1 
 
 Know her ! who does not ? as pretty as Venus and 
 as proud as Juno. 
 
 BEATJSEANT. 
 
 Her taste is worse than her pride (drawing himself 
 tip). Know, Glavis, she has actually refused me ! 
 
 GLAVIS (aside). 
 
 So she has me! very consoling! In all cases of 
 heartache, the application of another man's disappoint- 
 ment draws out the pain and allays the irritation. 
 (Aloud) Refused you ! and wherefore ? 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 I know not, unless it be because the revolution swept 
 away my father's title of marquis, and she will not 
 marry a commoner. Now, as we have no noblemen in 
 France, as we are all citizens and equals, she can only 
 hope that, in spite of the war, some English milord or 
 German count will risk his life by coming to Lyons 
 and making her my lady. Refused me, and with scorn ! 
 By Heaven, I'll not submit to it tamely ; I'm in a per- 
 fect fever of mortification and rage. Refuse me, in- 
 deed ! 
 
 GLAVIS. 
 
 Be comforted, my dear fellow ; I will tell you a se- 
 cret. For the same reason she refused MB ! 
 
 B EAtTS EANT. 
 
 You ! that's a very different matter ! But give me 
 your hand, Glavis ; we'll think of some plan to humble 
 her. By Jove, I should like to see her married to a 
 strolling player !
 
 22 THK LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT I. 
 
 (Enter landlord and his daughter from the inn.) 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Your servant, Citizen Beauseant; servant, sir. 
 Perhaps you will take dinner before you proceed to 
 your chateau ; our larder is most plentifully supplied. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 .: ,-,\,,\ C-,1. 
 
 I have no appetite. 
 
 OLAVIS. 
 
 Nor I. Still it i i bad travelling on an empty stom- 
 ach. What have you got ? 
 
 ( Takes and looks over the bill of fare.) 
 
 (Shout without) " Long live the prince ! Long live 
 the prince !" 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 The prince ! what prince is that ? I thought we 
 had no princes left in France. 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Ha, ha ! the lads always call him prince. He has 
 just won the prize in the shooting-match, and they are 
 taking him home in triumph. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Him ! and who's Mr. Him 1 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Who should he be but the pride of the village, 
 Claude Melnotte ? Of course you have heard of Claude 
 Melnotte ? 
 
 GLAVIS (giving back the bill of fare). 
 
 Never had that honour. Soup, ragout of hare, roast 
 chicken, and, in short, all you have !
 
 SCENE II.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 23 
 
 '*'''oJ ' '! ?>; w*>fl fu'i' j-? vofti v>di *tc* '!}j* *iR (r f'w 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 The son of old Melnotte the gardener ? 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Exactly so ; a wonderful young man. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 How wonderful ? are his cabbages better than other 
 people's ? 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Nay, he don't garden any more ; his father left him 
 well off. He's only a genus. 
 
 GLAVIS. 
 
 A what ? 
 
 . A genus ! a man who can do everything in life, ex- 
 cept anything that's useful ; that's a genus. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 You raise my curiosity : proceed. 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Well, then, about four years ago old Melnotte died 
 and left his son well to do in the world. We then all 
 observed that a great change came over young Claude ; 
 he took to reading and Latin, and hired a professor 
 from Lyons, who had so much in his head that he was 
 forced to wear a great, full-bottom wig to cover it, 
 Then he took a fencing-master, and a dancing-master, 
 and a music-master ; and then he learned to paint ; 
 and at last it was said that young Claude was to go 
 to Paris and set up for a painter. The lads laughed 
 at him at first ; but he is a stout fellow, is Claude, and 
 as brave as a lion, and soon taught them to laugh the
 
 24 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT I. 
 
 wrong side of their mouths ; and now all the boys 
 swear by him and all the girls pray for him. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 A promising youth, certainly ! And why do they 
 call him prince ? 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Partly because he is at the head of them all, and 
 partly because he has such a proud way with him, 
 and wears such fine clothes ; and, in short, looks like 
 a prince. 
 
 BEAU8EANT. 
 
 And what could have turned the foolish fellow's 
 brain ? The revolution, I suppose ? 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Yes, the revolution that turns us all topsyturvy the 
 revolution of love. 
 
 BEArSEANT- 
 
 Romantic young Oorydon ! And with whom is he 
 in love ? 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Why but it is a secret, gentlemen. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Oh! certainly. 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Why, then, I hear from his mother, good soul ! that 
 it is no less a person than the Beauty of Lyons, Pau- 
 line Deschappelles. 
 
 BEAUSEANT AND GLAVIS. 
 
 Ha! ha! Capital!
 
 SCENE II.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 25 
 
 -*- ' ''4JI'-' 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 You may laugh, but it is as true as I stand here. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 And what does the Beauty of Lyons say to his suit? 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Lord, sir, she never even condescended to look at 
 him, though when he was a boy he worked in her fa- 
 ther's garden. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Are you sure of that ? 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 His mother says that mademoiselle does not know 
 him by sight. 
 
 BEAUSEANT (taking Glavis aside). 
 
 I have hit it, I have it ; here is our revenge ! Here 
 is a prince for our haughty damsel. Do you take me ? 
 
 OLA vis. 
 Deuse take me if I do ! 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Blockhead! it's as clear as a map. What if w 
 could make this elegant clown pass himself off as a 
 foreign prince ? lend him money, clothes, equipage for 
 the purpose 1 make him propose to Pauline ? marry 
 Pauline ? Would it not be delicious ? 
 
 GLAVIS. 
 
 Ha ! ha! excellent ! But how shall we support the 
 necessary expenses of his highness ? 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Pshaw ! Revenge is worth a much larger sacrifice 
 C
 
 26 THE LADY OF LYONS; [ACT I. 
 
 than a few hundred louis ; as for details, my valet is 
 the trustiest fellow in the world, and shall have the 
 appointment of his highness's establishment. Let's 
 go to him at once, and see if he be really this Admi- 
 rable Crichton. 
 
 GLAVIS. 
 
 With all my heart ; but the dinner 1 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Always thinking of dinner! Hark ye, landlord, 
 how far is it to young Melnotte's cottage ? I should 
 like to see such a prodigy. 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Turn down the lane, then strike across the common, 
 and you will see his mother's cottage. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 True, he lives with his mother. (Aside) We will 
 not trust to an old woman's discretion ; better send for 
 him hither. I'll just step in and write him a note. 
 Come, Glavis. 
 
 OLA vis. 
 
 Yes ; Beauseant, Glavis, and Co., manufacturers of 
 princes, wholesale and retail ; an uncommonly genteel 
 line of business. But why so grave ? 
 
 BEATJSEAjn 1 . 
 
 You think only of the sport, I of the revenge. 
 
 [Exeunt within the inn
 
 SCENE III.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 27 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 The interior of Melnotte's cottage ; flowers placed here 
 and there ; a guitar on an oaken table, with a port- 
 folio, fc. ; a picture on an easil, covered by a cur- 
 tain ; fencing-foils crossed over the mantelpiece; an 
 attempt at refinement in spite of the homeliness of the 
 furniture, fyc. ; a staircase to the right conducts to 
 the upper story. 
 
 (Shout without) "Long live Claude Melnotte!" 
 " Long live the prince !" 
 
 THE WIDOW MELNOTTE. 
 
 Hark ! there's my dear son ; carried off the prize, 
 I'm sure : and now he'll want to treat them all. 
 
 CLAUDE MELNOTTE (opening the door). 
 
 What ! you won't come in, my friends ! Well, well, 
 there's a trifle to make merry elsewhere. Good-day 
 to you all, good-day. 
 
 (Shout) " Hurrah ! Long live Prince Claude !" 
 
 (Enter Claude Melnotte, with a rifle in his hand.) 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Give me joy, dear mother ! I've won the prize ! 
 never missed one shot ! Is it not handsome, this gun? 
 
 WIDOW. 
 Humph ! Well, what is it worth, Claude ? 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Worth! What is a riband worth to a soldier? 
 Worth ! everything ! Glory is priceless !
 
 28 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT I. 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 Leave glory to great folks. Ah ! Claude, Claude, 
 castles in the air cost a vast deal to keep up ! How 
 is all this to end ? What good does it do thee to learn 
 Latin, and sing songs, and play on the guitar, and fence, 
 and dance, and paint pictures 1 All very fine ; but 
 what does it bring in ? 
 
 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Wealth ! wealth, my mother ! Wealth to the mind, 
 wealth to the heart, high thoughts, bright dreams, the 
 hope of fame, the ambition to be worthier to love Pau- 
 line. 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 My poor son ! The young lady will never think of 
 thee. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Do the stars think of us ? Yet if the prisoner see 
 them shine into his dungeon, wouldst thou bid him turn 
 away from their lustre ? Even so from this low cell, 
 poverty, I lift my eyes to Pauline and forget my chains. 
 (Goes to the picture and draws aside the curtain.} 
 See, this is her image, painted from memory. Oh, 
 how the canvass wrongs her ! 
 
 (Takes up the brush and throws it aside.) 
 I shall never be a painter. I can paint no likeness but 
 one, and that is above all art. I would turn soldier ; 
 France needs soldiers ! But to leave the air that Pau- 
 line breathes ! What is the hour ? so late ? I will 
 tell thee a secret, mother. Thou knowst that for the 
 last six weeks I have sent every day the rarest flowers 
 to Pauline ; she wears them. I have seen them on her 
 breast. Ah, and then the whole universe seemed filled 
 with odours ! I have now grown more bold ; I have 
 poured my worship into poetry ; I have sent the verses 
 to Pauline ; I have signed them with my own name.
 
 SCENE III.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 29 
 
 My messenger ought to be back by this time ; I bade 
 him wait for the answer. 
 
 WIDOW. 
 And what answer do you expect, Claude ? 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 That which the Queen of Navarre sent to the poor 
 troubadour : " Let me see the oracle that can tell na- 
 tions I am beautiful !" She will admit me. I shall 
 hear her speak ; I shall meet her eyes ; I shall read 
 upon her cheek the sweet thoughts that translate them- 
 selves into blushes. Then, then, oh, then she may 
 forget that I am the peasant's son ! 
 
 WIDOW. 
 Nay, if she will but hear thee talk, Claude ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 I foresee it all. She will tell me that desert is the 
 true rank. She will give me a badge, a flower, a glove ! 
 Oh rapture ! I shall join the armies of the republic ; I 
 shall rise ; I shall win a name that beauty will not 
 blush to hear. I shall return with the right to say to 
 her, " See how love does not level the proud, but 
 raise the humble J" Oh, how my heart swells within 
 me ! Oh, what glorious prophets of the future are 
 youth and hope ! (Knock at the door.) 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 Come in. 
 
 (Enter Gaspar.) . 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Welcome, Gaspar, welcome. Where is* the letter? 
 Why do you turn away, man ? where is the letter ? 
 
 (Gaspar gives him one.) 
 
 This ! This is mine, the one I intrusted to thee. 
 Didst thou not leave it t 
 
 C2
 
 30 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT I. 
 
 CASPAR. 
 
 Yes, I left it. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 My own verses returned to me. Nothing else ? 
 GASPAK. 
 
 Thou wilt be proud to hear how thy messenger was 
 honoured. For thy sake, Melnotte, I have borne that 
 which no Frenchman can bear without disgrace. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Disgrace, Caspar ! Disgrace t 
 CASPAR. 
 
 I gave thy letter to the porter, who passed it from 
 lackey to lackey till it reached the lady it was meant 
 for. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 It reached her, then ; you are sure of that ? It 
 reached her ; well, well ! 
 
 CASPAR. 
 
 It reached her, and was returned to me with blows. 
 Dost hear, Melnotte ? with blows ! Death ! are we 
 slaves still, that we are to be thus dealt with, we peas- 
 ants? 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 With blows ? No, Caspar, no ; not blows ! 
 
 I could show thee the marks if it were not so deep 
 a shame to bear them. The lackey who tossed thy 
 letter into the mire swore that his lady and her mother 
 never were so insulted. What could thy letter contain, 
 Claude ?
 
 SCENE III.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 31 
 
 MELNOTTE (looking over the letter}. 
 
 Not a line that a serf might not have written to an 
 empress. No, not one. 
 
 GASFAR. 
 
 They promise thee the same greeting they gave me 
 if thou wilt pass that way. Shall we endure this, 
 Claude ? 
 
 MELNOTTE (wringing Gaspares hand). 
 
 Forgive me, the fault was mine ; I have brought this 
 on thee ; I will not forget it ; thou shall be avenged ! 
 The heartless insolence ! 
 
 CASPAR. 
 
 Thou art moved, Melnotte ; think not of me ; I 
 would go through fire and water to serve thee ; but, a 
 blow ! It is not the bruise that galls, it is the blush, 
 Melnotte. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Say, what message ? How insulted ? Wherefore ? 
 What the offence ? 
 
 CASPAR. 
 
 Did you not write to Pauline Deschappelles, the 
 daughter of the rich merchant ? 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Well? 
 
 CASPAR 
 
 And are you not a peasant, a gardener's son ? that 
 was the offence. Sleep on it, Melnotte. Blows to a 
 French citizen, blows ! [Exit, 
 
 WIDOW. 
 Now you are cured, Claude !
 
 32 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT I. 
 
 MELNOTTE (tearing the letter'). 
 
 So do I scatter her image to the winds ; I will stop 
 her in the open streets ; I will insult her ; I will beat 
 her menial ruffians ; I will 
 
 (Turns suddenly to the widow.) 
 Mother, am I humpbacked, deformed, hideous ? 
 
 WIDOW. 
 You! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 A coward, a thief, a liar ? 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 You! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Or a dull fool ; a vain, drivelling, brainless idiot ? 
 
 WIDOW. 
 No, no. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 What am I then ; worse than all these ? Why, I 
 am a peasant ! What has a peasant to do with love 1 
 Vain revolutions, why lavish your cruelty on the great ? 
 Oh that we, we, the hewers of wood and drawers of 
 water, had been swept away, so that the proud might 
 learn what the world would be without us ? 
 
 (Knock at the door.) 
 
 (Enter servant from the inn.) 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 A letter for Citizen Melnotte. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 A letter ! from her perhaps ; who sent thee ?
 
 SCENE III.] OB, LOVE AND PRIDE. 33 
 
 SERVANT. 
 
 Why, Monsieur I mean Citizen Beauseant, who 
 stops to dine at the Golden Lion on his way to his 
 chateau. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Beauseant ! (reads.) 
 
 " Young man, I know thy secret ; thou lovest above 
 thy station : if thou hast wit, courage, and discretion, 
 I can secure to thee the realization of thy most san- 
 guine hopes ; and the sole condition I ask in return is, 
 that thou shall be steadfast to thine own ends. I shall 
 demand from thee a solemn oath to marry her whom 
 thou lovest ; to bear her to thine home on thy wedding 
 night. I am serious ; if thou wouldst learn more, 
 lose not a moment, but follow the bearer of this letter 
 to thy friend and patron, 
 
 " CHARLES BEAUSEANT." 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Can I believe my eyes ? Are our own passions the 
 sorcerers that raise up for us spirits of good or evil ? 
 I will go instantly. 
 
 WIDOW. 
 What is this, Claude ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 " Many her whom thou lovest ;" " bear her to thine 
 own home ;" oh, revenge and love ! which of you is 
 the strongest? (Gazing on the picture) Sweet face, 
 thou smilest on me from the canvass : weak fool that 
 I am, do I then love her still? No, it is the vision of 
 my own romance that I have worshipped ; it is the 
 reality, to which I bring scorn for scorn. Adieu, moth- 
 er ; I will return anon. My brain reels ; the earth 
 swims before me. (Looks again at the letter) No, it is 
 not a mockery ; I do not dream ! [Exit.
 
 
 
 . * 
 
 34 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT II. 
 
 v ..;.;/ 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 The gardens of M. Deschappelles's house at Lyons; 
 the house seen at the back of the stage. 
 
 (Enter Beauseant and Glavis.) 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Well, what think you of my plot ? Has it not suc- 
 ceeded to a miracle ? The instant that I introduced 
 his highness the Prince of Como to the pompous 
 mother and the scornful daughter, it was all over with 
 them : he came, he saw, he conquered ; and, though 
 it is not many days since he arrived, they have already 
 promised him the hand of Pauline. 
 
 GLAVIS. 
 
 It is lucky, though, that you told them his highness 
 travelled incognito, for fear the directory (who are not 
 very fond of princes) should lay him by the heels ; for 
 he has a wonderful wish to keep up his rank, and scat- 
 ters our gold about with as much coolness as if he 
 were watering his own flower-pots. 
 
 BEATJSEANT. 
 
 True, he is damnably extravagant ; I think the sly 
 dog does it out of malice. However, it must be owned 
 that he reflects credit on his loyal subjects, and makes 
 a very pretty figure in his fine clothes, with my dia- 
 mond snuffbox 
 
 , 
 
 GLAVIS. 
 
 And my diamond ring ! But do you think he will
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 36 
 
 be firm to the last ? I fancy I see symptoms of relent- 
 ing ; he will never keep up his rank if he once let out 
 his conscience. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 His oath binds him ; he cannot retract without be- 
 ing forsworn, and those low fellows are always super- 
 stitious ! But, as it is, I tremble lest he be discovered ; 
 that bluff Colonel Damas (Madam Deschappelles's 
 cousin) evidently suspects him ; we must make haste 
 and conclude the farce ; I have thought of a plan to 
 end it this very day. 
 
 GLAVIS. 
 
 This very day ! Poor Pauline ! her dream will be 
 soon over. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Yes, this day they shall be married ; this evening, 
 according to his oath, he shall carry his bride to the 
 Golden Lion, and then pomp, equipage, retinue, and 
 title, all shall vanish at once ; and her highness the 
 princess shall find that she has refused the son of a 
 marquis to marry the son of a gardener. Oh, Pauline ! 
 once loved, now hated, yet still not relinquished, thou 
 shalt drain the cup to the dregs, thou shall know what 
 it is to be humbled ! 
 
 (Enter, from the house, Melnotte as the Prince of Como, 
 leading in Pauline ; Madame Deschappelles fanning 
 herself; and Colonel Damas.) 
 
 (Beauseant and Glavis bow respectfully. Pauline 
 and Melnotte walk apart.) 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Good-morning, gentlemen ; really, 1 am so fatigued 
 with laughter ; the dear prince is so entertaining. 
 What wit he has ! Any one may see that he has spent 
 his whole life in courts.
 
 36 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT II. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 And what the deuse do you know about courts, 
 Cousin Deschappelles ? You women regard men just 
 as you buy books ; you never care what is in them, 
 but how they are bound and lettered. 'Sdeath, I don't 
 think you would even look at your Bible if it had not 
 a title to it. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 How coarse you are, Cousin Damas ! quite the 
 manners of a barrack ; you don't deserve to be one of 
 our family ; really, we must drop your acquaintance 
 when Pauline marries. I cannot patronise any rela- 
 tions that would discredit my future son-in-law the 
 Prince of Como. 
 
 MELNOTTE (advancing). 
 
 These are beautiful gardens, madame (Beauseant 
 and Glavis retire) ; who planned them ? 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 A gardener named Melnotte, your highness; an 
 honest man who knew his station. I can't say as 
 much for his son, a presuming fellow, who ha! ha! 
 actually wrote verses such doggerel ! to my daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Yes, how you would have laughed at them, prince ! 
 you who write such beautiful verses ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 This Melnotte must be a monstrous impudent per- 
 son! 
 
 DAMAS. 
 Is he good-looking ?
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 37 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 I never notice such canaille ; an ungly, mean-look- 
 ing clown, if I remember right. 
 
 DAM A3. 
 
 Yet I heard your porter say he was wonderfully like 
 his highness. 
 
 MELNOTTE (taking snuff). 
 You are complimentary. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 For shame, Cousin Damas ! like the prince, indeed ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Like you ! Ah, mother, like our beautiful prince ! 
 I'll never speak to you again, Cousin Damas. 
 
 MELNOTTE (aside). 
 
 Humph ! rank is a great beautifier ! I never passed 
 for an Apollo while I was a peasant ; if I am so hand- 
 some as a prince, what should I be as an emperor ? 
 (Aloud) Monsieur Beauseant, will you honour me ? 
 (offers snuff.) 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 No, your highness ; I have no small vices. 
 
 MELNOTTE. . 
 
 Nay, if it were a vice you'd be sure to have it, Mon- 
 sieur Beauseant. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! how very severe ! what wit ! 
 
 BEAUSEANT (in a rage and aside). 
 
 Curse his impertinence ! 
 D
 
 38 THE LADY OF LYONS; [ACT II. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 What a superb snuffbox ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 And what a beautiful ring ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 You like the box ; a trifle ; interesting, perhaps, 
 from associations ; a present from Louis XIV. to my 
 great-great-grandmother. Honour me by accepting it. 
 
 BEAUSEANT (plucking him by the sleeve). 
 
 How ! what the devil ! My box ! are you mad ? 
 It is worth five hundred louis. 
 
 MELNOTTE (unheeding him, and turning to Pauline). 
 
 And you like this ring? Ah, it has, indeed, a lustre 
 since your eyes have shone on it (placing it on her 
 finger). Henceforth hold me, sweet enchantress, the 
 Slave of the Ring. 
 
 GLAVIS (pulling him). 
 
 Stay, stay ; what are you about ? My maiden aunt's 
 legacy ; a diamond of the first water. You shall be 
 hanged for swindling, sir. 
 
 MELNOTTE (pretending not to hear). 
 
 It is curious, this ring ! it is the one with which my 
 
 grandfather, the Doge of Venice, married the Adriatic ! 
 
 (Madame and Pauline examine the ring.) 
 
 MELNOTTE (to Beauseant and Glavis). 
 
 Fy, gentlemen, princes must be generous ! (Turns 
 to Damas, who watches them closely) These kind friends 
 have my interest so much at heart that they are as 
 careful of my property as if it were their own !
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 39 
 
 BEATISEANT AND GLAVIS (confusedly). 
 
 Ha ! ha ! very good joke that ! 
 
 (Appear to remonstrate with Melnotte in dumb 
 show.) 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 What's all that whispering ? I am sure there is 
 some juggle here ; hang me if I think he is an Italian, 
 after all. Gad! I'll try him. Servitore umilissimo, 
 eccellenza.* 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Hum ; what does he mean, I wonder ? 
 
 DAMAS. 
 Godo di vedervi in buona salute.f 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Hem, hem ! 
 
 DAMA3. 
 
 Fa bel tempo che si dice di nuovo ?J 
 
 1 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Well, sir, what's all that gibberish ? 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Oh, oh ! only Italian, your highness ! The Prince 
 of Como does not understand his own language ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Not as you pronounce it ; who the deuse could ? 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! Cousin Damas, never pretend to what you 
 don't know. 
 
 * Your excellency's most humble servant. 
 t I am glad to see you in good health, 
 j Fine weather ! What news is there ?
 
 40 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT II. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! Cousin Damas ; you speak Italian, indeed ! 
 (Makes a mocking gesture at him.) 
 
 BEAUSEANT (to Glavis). 
 
 Clever dog ! how ready ! 
 
 GLAVIS. 
 
 Ready, yes ; with my diamond ring ! Damn his 
 readiness ! 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Laugh at me ! laugh at a colonel in the French ar- 
 my ! The fellow's an impostor ; I know he is. I'll 
 see if he understands fighting as well as he does Ital- 
 ian. (Goes up to him, and aside) Sir, you are a jack- 
 anapes ! Can you construe that ? 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 No, sir ; I never construe affronts in the presence 
 of ladies ; by-and-by I shall be happy to take a les- 
 son, or give one. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 I'll find the occasion, never fear ! 
 
 MADAME DBS CHAP. 
 
 Where are you going, cousin? 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 To correct my Italian. [Exit. 
 
 BEAUSEANT (t-0 Glavis). 
 
 Let us after, and pacify him ; he evidently suspects 
 something. 
 
 OLA vis. 
 
 
 
 Yes ! but my diamond ring !
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 41 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 And my box ! We are overtaxed, fellow-subject ! 
 we must stop the supplies, and dethrone the prince ! 
 
 GLAVIS. 
 
 Prince ! he ought to be heir-apparent to King Stork ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Dare I ask your highness to forgive my cousin's in- 
 sufferable vulgarity ? 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Oh, yes ! you will forgive his manner for the sake 
 of his heart. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 And the sake of his cousin. Ah, madame, there is 
 one comfort in rank : we are so sure of our position 
 that we are not easily affronted. Besides, M. Damas 
 has bought the right of indulgence from his friends by 
 never showing it to his enemies. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Ah ! he is, indeed, as brave in action as he is rude 
 in speech. H rose from the ranks to his present 
 grade, and in two years ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 In two years ! two years, did you say ? 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. (aside). 
 
 I don't like leaving girls alone with their lovers ; 
 but, with a prince, it would be so ill-bred to be prudish. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 You can be proud of your connexion with one who 
 owes his position to merit, not birth. 
 D2
 
 42 THE LADY OF LYONS; [ACT II 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Why, yes ; but still 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Still what, Pauline ? 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 There is something glorious in the heritage of com- 
 mand. A man who has ancestors is like a representa- 
 tive of the past. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 True ; but, like other representatives, nine times 
 out often he is a silent member. Ah, Pauline ! not to 
 the past, but to the future, looks true nobility, and finds 
 its blazon in posterity. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 You say this to please me, who have no ancestors ; 
 but you, prince, must be proud of so illustrious a race ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 No, no ! I would not, were I fifty times a prince, be 
 a pensioner on the dead ! I honour birth and ancestry 
 when they are regarded as the incentives to exertion, 
 not the title-deeds to sloth ! I honour the laurels that 
 overshadow the graves of our fathers ; it is our fathers 
 I emulate when I desire that beneath the evergreen I 
 myself have planted my own ashes may repose ! 
 Dearest ! couldst thou but see with my eyes ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 I cannot forego pride when I look on thee, and 
 think that thou lovest me. Sweet prince, tell me again 
 of thy palace by the Lake of Como ; it is so pleasant 
 to hear of thy splendours since thou didst swear to me 
 that they would be desolate without Pauline ; and 
 when thou describest them, it is with a mocking lip
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 43 
 
 and a noble scorn, as if custom had made thee disdain 
 greatness. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Nay, dearest, nay, if thou wouldst have me paint 
 The home to which, could love fulfil its prayers, 
 This hand would lead thee, listen !* a deep vale 
 Shut out by Alpine hills from the rude world ; 
 Near a clear lake, margined by fruits of gold 
 And whispering myrtles ; glassing softest skies 
 As cloudless, save with rare and roseate shadows, 
 As I would have thy fate ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 My own dear love ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 A palace lifting to eternal summer 
 
 Its marble walls, from out a glossy bower 
 
 Of coolest foliage musical with birds, 
 
 Whose songs should syllable thy name ! At noon 
 
 We'd sit beneath the arching vines, and wonder 
 
 Why earth could be unhappy, while the heavens 
 
 Still left us youth and love ! We'd have no friends 
 
 That were not lovers ; no ambition, save 
 
 To excel them all in love ! We'd read no books 
 
 That were not tales of love, that we might smile 
 
 To think how poorly eloquence of words 
 
 Translates the poetry of hearts like ours ! 
 
 And when night came, amid the breathless heavens 
 
 We'd guess what star should be our home when love 
 
 * The reader will observe that Melnotte evades the request of 
 Pauline. He proceeds to describe a home, which he does not say 
 he possesses, but to which he would lead her, " could love fulfil its 
 prayers." This caution is intended as a reply to a sagacious critic 
 who censures the description, because it is not an exact and prosaic 
 inventory of the characteristics of the Lake of Como ! When Mel- 
 notte, for instance, talks of birds " that syllable the name of Pauline" 
 (by-the-way, a literal translation from an Italian poet), he is not 
 thinking of ornithology, but probably of the Arabian Nights. He is 
 venting the extravagant, but natural enthusiasm, of the poet and the 
 lover.
 
 44 THE LADY OF LYONS J [ACT. II. 
 
 Becomes immortal ; while the perfumed light 
 
 Stole through the mists of alabaster lamps, 
 
 And every air was heavy with the sighs 
 
 Of orange groves, and music from sweet lutes, 
 
 And murmurs of low fountains that gush forth 
 
 I' the midst of roses ! Dost thou like the picture ? 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Oh ! as the bee upon the flower, I hang 
 Upon the honey of thy eloquent tongue ! 
 Am I not bless'd ? Ana if I love too wildly, 
 Who would not love thee like Pauline ? 
 
 MELNOTTE (bitterly). 
 
 Oh, false one ! 
 
 It is the prince thou lovest, not the man ; 
 If in the stead of luxury, pomp, and power, 
 I had painted poverty, and toil, and care, 
 Thou hadst found no honey on my tongue ; Pauline, 
 That is not love ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Thou wrongst me, cruel prince ! 
 'Tis true, I might not at the first been won, 
 Save through the weakness of a flattered pride ; 
 But now oh ! trust me couldst thou fall from power, 
 And sink 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 As low as that poor gardener's son 
 Who dared to lift his eyes to thee. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Even then 
 
 Methinks thou wouldst be only made more dear 
 By the sweet thought that I could prove how deep 
 Is woman's love ! We are like the insects, caught 
 By the poor glittering of a garish flame ; 
 But, oh, the wings once scorched, the brightest star
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 45 
 
 Lures us no more ; and by the fatal light 
 We cling till death ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Angel ! 
 
 (Aside) Oh conscience ! conscience ! 
 It must not be ; her love* hath grown a torture 
 Worse than her hate. I will at once to Beauseant, 
 And ha ! he comes. Sweet love, one moment leave 
 
 me. 
 
 I have business with these gentlemen ; I I 
 Will forthwith join you. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 Do not tarry long ! [Exit. 
 
 (Enter Beauseant and Glavis.) 
 
 MELNOTTK. 
 
 Release me from my oath ; I will not marry her ! 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Then thou art perjured. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 No, I was not in my senses when I swore to thee 
 to marry her ! I was blind to all but her scorn ! deaf 
 to all but my passion and my rage ! Give me back 
 my poverty and my honour ! 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 It is too late ; you must marry her ! and this day. 
 I have a story already coined, and sure to pass cur- 
 rent. This Damas suspects thee ; he will set the 
 police to work ; thou wilt be detected ; Pauline will 
 despise and execrate thee. Thou wilt be sent to the 
 common jail as a swindler. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Fiend !
 
 46 THE LADY OF LYONS; [ACT II. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 And in the heat of the girl's resentment (you know 
 of what resentment is capable) and the parent's shame 
 she will be induced to marry the first that offers, even 
 perhaps your humble servant. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 You ! No ; that were worse ; for thou hast no 
 mercy! I will marry her; I will keep my oath. 
 Quick, then, with the damnable invention thou art 
 hatching ; quick, if thou wouldst not have me strangle 
 thee or myself. 
 
 GLAVIS. 
 
 What a tiger ! Too fierce for a prince ; he ought 
 to have been the Grand Turk. 
 
 BEATISEANT. 
 
 Enough, I will despatch ; be prepared. 
 
 [Exeunt Beauseant and Glavis. 
 
 (Enter Damas with two swords.) 
 
 Now, then, sir, the ladies are no longer your ex- 
 cuse. I have brought you a couple of dictionaries ; 
 let us see if your highness can find out the Latin for 
 bilbo. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Away, sir ! I am in no humour for jesting. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 I see you understand something of the grammar ; 
 you decline the noun substantive " small sword" with 
 great ease ; but that won't do ; you must take a lesson 
 in parsing.
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 47 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Fool! 
 
 DAM AS. 
 
 Sir, a man who calls me a fool insults the lady who 
 bore me ; there's no escape for you ; fight you shall, 
 or 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Oh, enough ! enough ! take your ground. 
 
 (They fight; Damas is disarmed. Melnotte takes 
 up the sword and returns it to Damas respect- 
 fully.) 
 
 A just punishment to the brave soldier who robs the 
 state of its best property, the sole right to his valour 
 and his life. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Sir, you fence exceedingly well ; you must be a man 
 of honour, I don't care a jot whether you are a prince ; 
 but a man who has carte and tierce at his fingers' ends 
 must be a gentleman. 
 
 MELNOTTE (aside). 
 
 Gentleman ! Ay, I was a gentleman before I turned 
 conspirator ; for honest men are the gentlemen of Na- 
 ture ! Colonel, they tell me you rose from the ranks. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 I did. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 ' **l 
 
 And in two years ? 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 It is true ; that's no wonder in our army at present. 
 Why, the oldest general in the service is scarcely thirty, 
 and we have some of two-and-twenty.
 
 48 THE LADY OF LYONS; [ACT II. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Two-and-twenty ! 
 
 DAM AS. 
 
 Yes ; in the French army nowadays promotion is 
 not a matter of purchase. We are all heroes because 
 we may be all generals. We have no fear of the cy- 
 . press because we may all hope for the laurel. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 A general at two-and-twenty (turning away). Sir, I 
 may ask you a favour one of these days. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Sir, I shall be proud to grant it. It is astonishing 
 how much I like a man after I've fought with him. 
 
 (Hides the swords.) 
 
 (Enter madame and Beauseant.) 
 
 ' ' t MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Oh, prince ! prince ! What do I hear ? You must 
 fly, you must leave us ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 I! 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Yes, prince ; read this letter, just received from my 
 friend at Paris, one of the directory ; they suspect you 
 of designs against the republic ; they are very suspi- 
 cious of princes, and your family takes part with the 
 Austrians. Knowing that I introduced your highness 
 at Lyons, my friend writes to me to say that you must 
 leave the town immediately, or you will be arrested, 
 thrown into prison, perhaps guillotined ! Fly ! I will 
 order horses to your carriage instantly. Fly to Mar- 
 seilles ; there you can take ship to Leghorn.
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. * 49 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 And what's to become of Pauline ? Am I not to be 
 mother to a princess, after all ? 
 
 (Enter Pauline and M. Deschappelles.) 
 PAULINE (throwing herself into Melnotte's arms). 
 You must leave us ! Leave Pauline ! 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Not a moment is to be wasted. 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 I will go to the magistrates and inquire 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Then he is lost ; the magistrates, hearing he is sus- 
 pected, will order his arrest. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 And I shall not be princess dowager ! 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Why not ? There is only one thing to be done : 
 send for the priest ; let the marriage take place at once,, 
 and the prince carry home a bride ! 
 
 MELN0TTE. 
 
 Impossible ! (Aside) Villain ! I know not what I 
 say. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 What, lose my child ? 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 And gain a princess ! 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Oh, Monsieur Beauseant, you are so very kind ; it 
 E
 
 50 THE LADY OF LYONS J [ACT II. 
 
 must be so ; we ought not to be selfish ; my daughter's 
 happiness is at stake. She will go away, too, in a 
 carriage and six ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Thou art here still ; I cannot part from thee ; my 
 heart will break. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 But thou wilt not consent to this hasty union ; thou 
 wilt not wed an outcast, a fugitive ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Ah ! if thou art in danger, who should share it but 
 Pauline ? 
 
 MELNOTTE (aside). 
 Distraction ! If the earth could swallow me ! 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 Gently ! gently ! The settlements, the contracts, 
 my daughter's dowry ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 The dowry ! 1 am not base enough for that ; no, 
 not one farthing ! 
 
 BEAUSEANT (to madame). 
 
 Noble fellow ! Really, your good husband is too 
 mercantile in these matters. Monsieur Deschappelles, 
 you hear his highness ; we can arrange the settlements 
 by proxy ; 'tis the way with people of quality. 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 But 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Hold your tongue ! Don't expose yourself!
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 51 
 
 BEAtJSEANT. 
 
 I will bring the priest in a trice. Go in all of you 
 and prepare ; the carriage shall be at the door before 
 the ceremony is over. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Be sure there are six horses, Beauseant ! You are 
 very good to have forgiven us for refusing you ; but, 
 you see, a prince 
 
 BEATJSEANT. 
 
 And such a prince ! Madame, I cannot blush at the 
 success of so illustrious a rival. (Aside) Now will I 
 follow them to the village, enjoy my triumph ; and to- 
 morrow, in the hour of thy shame and grief, I think, 
 proud girl, thou wilt prefer even these arms to those of 
 the gardener's son. [Exit Beauseant. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Come, Monsieur Deschappelles, give your arm to 
 her highness that is to be. 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 I don't like doing business in such a hurry ; 'tis not 
 the way with the house of Deschappelles and Co. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 There, now, you fancy you are in the counting-house ; 
 don't you 1 (pushes him to Pauline), 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Stay, stay, Pauline ; one word. Have you no scru- 
 ple, no fear ? Speak ; it is not yet too late. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 When I loved thee, thy fate became mine. Triumph 
 or danger, joy or sorrow, I am by thy side.
 
 52 THE LADY OF LYONS; [ACT III. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Well, well, prince, thou art a lucky man to be so 
 loved. She is a good little girl in spite of her foibles ; 
 make her as happy as if she were not to be a princess 
 (slapping him on the shoulder). Come, sir, I wish you 
 joy, young, tender, lovely ; zounds, I envy you ! 
 
 MELNOTTE (who has stood apart in gloomy abstrac- 
 tion). 
 Do YOU ?* 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 The exterior of the Golden Lion ; time, twilight. The 
 moon rises during the scene. 
 
 (Enter landlord and his daughter from the inn.) 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! ha ! Well, I never shall get over it. Onr 
 Claude is a prince with a vengeance now. His car- 
 riage breaks down at my inn ; ha ! ha ! 
 
 JANET. 
 And what airs the young lady gives herself ! " Is 
 
 * On the stage the following lines are added : 
 
 Do you ? Wise judges are we of each other. 
 
 " Woo, wed, and bear her home !" So runs the bond 
 
 To which I sold myself; and then, what then ? 
 
 Away ! I will not look beyond the hour. 
 
 Like children in the dark, I dare not face 
 
 The shades that gather round me in the distance. 
 
 You envy me ; I thank you ; you may read 
 
 My joy upon my brow ; I thank you, sir ! 
 
 If hearts had audible language, you would hear 
 
 How mine would answer when you talk of envy f
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 53 
 
 this the best room you have, young woman?" with 
 such a toss of the head ! 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 Well, get in, Janet ; get in and see to the supper : 
 the servants must sup before they go back. 
 
 [Exeunt landlord and Janet. 
 
 (Enter Beauscant and Glavis.) 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 You see our princess is lodged at last ; one stage 
 more, and she'll be at her journey's end, the beautiful 
 palace at the foot of the Alps ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 GLAVIS. 
 
 Faith, I pity the poor Pauline, especially if she's 
 going to sup at the Golden Lion (makes a wry face}. 
 I shall never forget that cursed ragout. 
 
 (Enter Melnottefrom the inn.) 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Your servant, my prince ; you reigned most worthily. 
 1 condole with you on your abdication. I am afraid 
 that your highness's retinue are not very faithful ser- 
 vants. I think they will leave you in the moment of 
 your fall; 'tis the fate of greatness. But you are 
 welcome to your fine clothes ; also the diamond snuff- 
 box which Louis XIV. gave to your great-great-grand- 
 mother. 
 
 OLA vis. 
 
 And the ring with which your grandfather the Doge 
 of Venice married the Adriatic. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 I have kept my oath, gentlemen ; say, have I kept 
 my oath ? 
 
 E 2
 
 54 THE LADY OF LYONS } [ACT III 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Most religiously. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Then you have done with me and mine ; away with 
 you! 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 How, knave 1 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Look you, our bond is over. Proud conquerors that 
 we are, we have won the victory over a simple girl ; 
 compromised her honour, imbittered her life, blasted, in 
 their very blossoms, all the flowers of her youth. This 
 is your triumph, it is my shame ! ( Turns to BEAU- 
 SEANT) Enjoy that triumph, but not in my sight. I 
 was her betrayer, I am her protector ! Cross but her 
 path, one word of scorn, one look of insult, nay, but 
 one quiver of that mocking lip, and I will teach thee 
 that bitter word thou hast graven eternally in this heart 
 Repentance ! 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 His highness is most grandiloquent. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Highness me no more. Beware ! Remorse has 
 made me a new being. Away with you ! There is 
 danger in me. Away ! 
 
 GLAVIS (aside). 
 
 He's an awkward fellow to deal with ; come away, 
 Beauseant. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 I know the respect due to rank. Adieu, my prince.
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 55 
 
 Any commands at Lyons ? Yet hold ; I promised you 
 200 louis on your wedding-day ; here they are. 
 
 MELNOTTE (dashing the purse to the ground}. 
 
 I gave you revenge, I did not sell it. Take up your 
 silver, Judas ; take it. Ay, it is fit you should learn 
 to stoop. 
 
 BEATJSEANT. 
 
 You will beg my pardon for this some day. (Aside 
 to GLAVIS) Come to my chateau ; I shall return hither 
 to-morrow to learn how Pauline likes her new dignity. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Are you not gone yet ? 
 
 BEATJSEANT. 
 
 Your highness's most obedient, most faithful 
 GLAVIS. 
 
 And most humble servants. Ha ! ha ! 
 
 [Exeunt Beauseant and Glavis. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Thank Heaven, I had no weapon, or I should have 
 slain them. Wretch ! what can I say ? Where turn ? 
 On all sides mockery ; the very boors within (Laugh- 
 ter from the inn.) 'Sdeath, if even in this short absence 
 the exposure should have chanced. I will call her. 
 We will go hence. I have already sent one I can trust 
 to my mother's house. There at least none can insult 
 her agony, gloat upon her shame ! There alone must 
 she learn what a villain she has sworn to love. 
 
 (As he turns to the door, enter Pauline from the inn.) 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Ah, my lord, what a place 1 I never saw such rude 
 people. They stare and wink so. I think the very
 
 56 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT III. 
 
 sight of a prince, though he travels incognito, turns 
 their honest heads. What a pity the carriage should 
 break down in such a spot ! You are not well ; the 
 drops stand on your brow ; your hand is feverish. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Nay, it is but a passing spasm ; the air 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Is not the soft air of your native south. 
 PAULINE. 
 
 How pale he is ! indeed thou art not well. 
 Where are our people ? I will call them. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Hold! 
 I I am well. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Thou art ! Ah ! now I know it. 
 Thou fanciest, my kind lord I know thou dost 
 Thou fanciest these rude walls, these rustic gossips, 
 Brick'd floors, sour wine, coarse viands, vex Pauline ; 
 And so they might, but thou art by my side, 
 And I forget all else ! 
 
 (Enter landlord, the servants peeping and laughing 
 over his shoulder.) 
 
 LANDLORD. 
 
 My lord your highness 
 Will your most noble excellency choose 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Begone, sir ! [Emit landlord, laughing. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 How could they have learn'd thy rank ?
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE 'AND PRIDE. 57 
 
 One's servants are so vain ! nay, let it not 
 
 Chafe thee, sweet prince ! a few short days, and we 
 
 Shall see thy palace by its lake of silver, 
 
 And nay, nay, Spendthrift, is thy wealth of smiles 
 
 Already drained, or dost thou play the miser ? 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Thine eyes would call up smiles in deserts, fair one. 
 Let us escape these rustics. Close at hand 
 There is a cot, where I have bid prepare 
 Our evening lodgment ; a rude, homely roof, 
 But honest, where our welcome will not be 
 Made torture by the vulgar eyes and tongues 
 That are as death to love ! A heavenly night ! 
 The wooing air and the soft moon invite us. 
 Wilt walk ? I pray thee, now ; I know the path, 
 Ay, every inch of it ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 What, thou ! methought 
 
 Thou wert a, stranger in these parts. Ah ! truant, 
 Some village beauty lured thee ; thou art now 
 Grown constant. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Trust me ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Princes are so changeful ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Come, dearest, come. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Shall I not call our people 
 To light us ? 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Heaven will lend its stars for torches ! 
 It is not far.
 
 58 THE LADY OF LYONS. [ACT III. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 The night breeze chills me. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Nay, 
 Let me thus mantle thee ; it is not cold. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Never beneath thy smile ! 
 
 MELNOTTE (aside). 
 
 Oh, Heaven 1 forgive me ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Mtlnottcs cottage. Widow bustling about. A table 
 spread for supper. 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 So, I think that looks very neat. He sent me a line, 
 so blotted that I can scarcely read it, to say he would 
 be here almost immediately. She must have loved 
 him well, indeed, to have forgotten his birth ; for, 
 though he was introduced to her in disguise, he is too 
 honourable not to have revealed to her the artifice 
 which her love only could forgive. Well, I do not 
 wonder at it ; for though my son is not a prince, he 
 ought to be one, and that's almost as good. (Knock at 
 the door.) Ah ! here they are. 
 
 (Enter Melnotte and Pauline.) 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 Oh, my boy, the pride of my heart ! welcome, wel- 
 come ! I beg pardon, ma'am, but I do love him so !
 
 SCENE II.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 59 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Good woman, I really why, prince, what is this ? 
 does the old lady know you ? Oh, I guess, you have 
 done her some service : another proof of your kind 
 heart, is it not ? 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Of my kind heart, ay ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 So you know the prince ? 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 Know him, madam ? ah, I begin to fear it is you 
 who know him not ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Do you think she is mad ? Can we stay here, my 
 lord ? I think there's something very wild about her. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Madam, I no, I cannot tell her, my knees knock 
 together : what a coward is a man who has lost his 
 honour ! Speak to her, speak to her (to his mother) ; 
 tell her that oh, Heaven, that I were dead ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 How confused he looks ! this strange place, this wo- 
 man what can it mean? 1 half suspect Who are 
 you, madam ? who are you ? can't you speak ? are you 
 struck dumb 1 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 Claud, you have not deceived her? Ah, shame 
 upon you ! I thought that, before you went to the altar, 
 she was to have known all. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 All ! what ? My blood freezes in my veins 1
 
 60 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT III 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 Poor lady '. dare I tell her, Claude ? 
 
 (Melnotte makes a sign of assent.) 
 
 Know you not, then, madam, that this young man is 
 of poor though honest parents ? Know you not that 
 you are wedded to my son, Claude Melnotte ? 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Your son ! hold, hold ! do not speak to me. (Ap- 
 proaches Melnotte, and lays her hand on his arm.) Is this 
 a jest ? is it ? I know it is ; only speak ; one word, 
 one look, one smile. I cannot believe I who loved 
 thee so I cannot believe that thou art such a no, I 
 will not wrong thee by a harsh word ; speak ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Leave us ; have pity on her, on me : leave us. 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 Oh, Claude, that I should live to see thee bowed by 
 shame ! thee of whom I was so proud ! 
 
 [Exit widow by the staircase. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Her son, her son 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Now, lady, hear me. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Hear thee ! 
 
 Ay, speak ; her son ! have fiends a parent 1 speak, 
 That thou mayst silence curses ; speak ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 No, curse me : 
 Thy curse would blast me less than thy forgiveness.
 
 SCENE II.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 61 
 
 PAULINE (laughing wildly). 
 
 ' This is thy palace, where the perfumed light 
 Steals through the mist of alabaster lamps, 
 And every air is heavy with the sighs 
 Of orange groves, and music from sweet lutes. 
 And murmurs of low fountains that gush forth 
 I' the midst of roses ! Dost thou like the picture f* 
 This is my bridal home, and thou my bridegroom ! 
 Oh fool, oh dupe, oh wretch ! I see it all ; 
 The byword and the jeer of every tongue 
 In Lyons. Hast thou in thy heart one touch 
 Of human kindness ? if thou hast, why, kill me, 
 And save thy wife from madness. No, it cannot, 
 It cannot be ; this is some horrid dream ; 
 I shall wake soon. (Touching him) Art flesh? 
 
 man ? or but 
 
 The shadows seen in sleep ? It is too real. 
 "What have I done to thee ? how sinn'd against thee, 
 That thou shouldst crush me thus ? 
 
 , MELNOTTE. 
 
 Pauline, by pride 
 
 Angels have fallen ere thy time ; by pride 
 That sole alloy of thy most lovely mould 
 The evil spirit of a bitter love, 
 And a revengeful heart, had power upon thee. 
 From my first years my soul was fill'd with thee ; 
 I saw thee mid the flow'rs the lowly boy 
 Tended, unmark'd by thee ; a spirit of bloom, 
 And joy, and freshness, as if spring itself 
 Were made a living thing, and wore thy shape ! 
 I saw thee, and the passionate heart of man 
 Enter'd the breast of the wild-dreaming boy ; 
 And from that hour I grew what to the last 
 I shall be thine adorer ! Well ; this love, 
 Vain, frantic, guilty, if thou wilt, became 
 A fountain of ambition and bright hope ; 
 I thought of tales that by the winter hearth 
 F
 
 62 THE LADY OF LYONS J [ACT III. 
 
 Old gossips tell ; how maidens sprung from kings 
 Have stoop'd from their high sphere ; how Love, like 
 
 Death, 
 
 Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd's crook 
 Beside the sceptre. Thus I made my home 
 In the soft palace of a fairy future ! 
 My father died ; and I, the peasant-born, 
 Was my own lord. Then did I seek to rise 
 Out of the prison of my mean estate ; 
 And, with such jewels as the exploring mind 
 Brings from the caves of knowledge, buy my ransom 
 From those twin jailers of the daring heart, 
 Low birth and iron fortune. Thy bright image, 
 Class'd in my soul, took all the hues of glory. 
 And lured me on to those inspiring toils 
 By which man masters men ! For thee I grew 
 A midnight student o'er the dreams of sages ! 
 For thee I sought to borrow from each grace 
 And every muse such attributes as lend 
 Ideal charms to love. I thought of thee, 
 And passion taught me poesy ; of thee, 
 And on the painter's canvass grew the life 
 Of beauty ! Art became the shadow 
 Of the dear starlight of thy haunting eyes ! 
 Men call'd me vain, some mad ; I heeded not. 
 But still toiled on, hoped on ; for it was sweet* 
 If not to win, to feel more worthy thee ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Has he a magic to exorcise hate ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 At last, in one mad hour, I dared to pour 
 The thoughts that burst their channels into song, 
 And sent them to thee ; such a tribute, lady, 
 As beauty rarely scorns, even from the meanest. 
 The name appended by the burning heart 
 That long'd to show its idol what bright things 
 It had created yea, the enthusiast's name,
 
 SCENE II.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 63 
 
 That should have been thy triumph, was thy scorn I 
 
 That very hour, when passion, turn'd to wrath, 
 
 Resembled hatred most ; when thy disdain 
 
 Made my whole soul a chaos, in that hour 
 
 The tempters found me a revengeful tool 
 
 For their revenge ! Thou hadst trampled on the worm ; 
 
 It turn'd and stung thee ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Love, sir, hath no sting. 
 What was the slight of a poor powerless girl 
 To the deep wrong of this vile revenge ? 
 Oh, how I loved this man ! a serf ! a slave ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Hold, lady ! No, not slave ! Despair is free ! 
 I will not tell thee of the throes, the struggles, 
 The anguish, the remorse : no ; let it pass ! 
 And let me come to such most poor atonement 
 Yet in my power. Pauline ! 
 
 (Approaching her with great emotion, and about to 
 take her hand.) 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 No, touch me not ! 
 
 I know my fate. You are, by law, my tyrant ; 
 And I oh Heaven ! a peasant's wife ! I'll work, 
 Toil, drudge, do what thou wilt ; but touch me not ; 
 Let my wrongs make me sacred ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Do not fear me. 
 
 Thou dost not know me, madam : at the altar 
 My vengeance ceased, my guilty oath expired ' 
 Henceforth, no image of some marble saint, 
 Niched in cathedral aisles, is hallow'd more 
 From the rude hand of sacrilegious wrong. 
 I am thy husband ; nay, thou needst not shudder ; 
 Here, at thy feet, I lay a husband's rights.
 
 64 THE LADY OP LYONS; [ACT III. 
 
 A marriage thus unholy, unfulfilled, 
 
 A bond of fraud, is, by the laws of France, 
 
 Made void and null. To-night sleep ; sleep in peace. 
 
 To-morrow, pure and virgin as this morn 
 
 I bore thee, bathed in blushes, from the shrine, 
 
 Thy father's arms shall take thee to thy home. 
 
 The law shall do thee justice, and restore 
 
 Thy right to bless another with thy love. 
 
 And when thou art happy, and hast half forgot 
 
 Him who so loved, so wrong'd thee, think at least 
 
 Heaven left some remnant of the angel still 
 
 In that poor peasant's nature ! 
 
 Ho ! my mother ! 
 
 (Enter widow.) 
 
 Conduct this lady (she is not my wife 
 
 She is our guest, our honour'd guest, my mother !) 
 
 To the poor chamber, where the sleep of virtue 
 
 Never, beneath my father's honest roof, 
 
 Ev'n villains dared to mar ! Now, lady, now 
 
 I think thou wilt believe me. Go, my mother ! 
 
 WIDOW. 
 She is not thy wife ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Hush ! hush ! for mercy's sake ! 
 Speak not, but go. 
 
 ( Widow ascends the stairs ; Pauline follows, weep- 
 ing ; turns to look back). 
 
 MELNOTTE (sinking down). 
 
 All angels bless and guard her !
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 65 
 
 ACT IV. 
 SCENE I. 
 
 The cottage as "before ; Melnotte seated before a, table ; 
 writing implements, fyc. (Day breaking.) 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Hush, hush ! she sleeps at last ! thank Heaven, for 
 a while she forgets even that I live ! Her sobs, which 
 have gone to my heart the whole, long, desolate night, 
 have ceased ! all calm, all still ! I will go now ; I 
 will send this letter to Pauline's father ; when he ar- 
 rives, I will place in his hands my own consent to the 
 divorce, and then, oh France ! my country ! accept 
 among thy protectors, thy defenders, the peasants 
 son ! Our country is less proud than custom, and does 
 not refuse the blood, the heart, the right hand of the 
 poor man ! 
 
 (Enter widow.) 
 WIDOW. 
 
 My son, thou hast acted ill, but sin brings its own 
 punishment. In the hour of thy remorse, it is not for 
 a mother to reproach thee ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 What is past is past. There is a future left to all 
 men who have the virtue to repent and the energy to 
 atone. Thou shalt be proud of thy son yet. Mean- 
 while, remember this poor lady has been grievously 
 injured. For the sake of thy son's conscience, re- 
 spect, honour, bear with her. If she weep, console ; if 
 she chide, be silent ! 'Tis but a little while more ; I 
 F2
 
 % 
 
 66 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT IV. 
 
 shall send an express fast as horse can speed to her 
 father. Farewell ! I shall return shortly. 
 
 It is the only course left to thee ; thou wert led 
 astray, but thou art not hardened. Thy heart is right 
 still, as ever it was, when in thy most ambitious hopes 
 thou wert never ashamed of thy poor mothef . 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Ashamed of thee ! No, if I yet endure, yet live, 
 yet hope, it is only because I would not die till I have 
 redeemed the noble heritage I have lost ; the heritage 
 I took unstained from thee and my dead father : a prour' 
 conscience and an honest name. I shall win them 
 back yet ; Heaven bless you ! [Exit. 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 My dear Claude ! How my heart bleeds for him ! 
 (Pauline looks down from above, and, after a pause ^ 
 descends.) 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Not here ! he spares me that pain at least ; so far 
 he is considerate ; yet the place seems still more des- 
 olate without him. Oh that I could hate him, the 
 gardener's son ! and yet how nobly he no, no, no, I 
 will not be so mean a thing as to forgive him ! 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 Good-morning, madam ; I would have waited on you 
 if I had known you were stirring. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 It is no matter, ma'am ; your son's wife ought to wait 
 on herself. 
 
 WIDOW. 
 My son's wife ; let not that thought vex you, madam ;
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 67 
 
 he tells me that you will have your divorce. And I 
 hope I shall live to see him smile again. There are 
 maidens in this village, young and fair, madam, who 
 may yet console him. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 I dare say ; they are very welcome ; and when the 
 divorce is got he will marry again. I am sure I hope 
 so (weeps'). 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 He could have married the richest girl in the prov- 
 ince if he had pleased it ; but his head was turned, 
 poor child ! he could think of nothing but you (weeps). 
 
 PAULINE. 
 Don't weep, mother I 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 Ah, he has behaved very ill, I know ; but love is so 
 headstrong in the young. Don't weep, madam. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 So, as you were saying go on. 
 
 Oh, I cannot excuse him, ma'am ; he was not in his 
 right senses. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 But he always always (sobbing) loved loved me 
 then. 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 He thought of nothing else ; see here ; he learned 
 to paint that he might take your likeness (uncovers the 
 picture). But that's all over now ; I trust you have 
 cured him of his folly ; but, dear heart, you have had 
 no breakfast !
 
 I 
 68 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT IV. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 I can't take anything ; don't trouble yourself. 
 WIDOW. 
 
 Nay, madam, be persuaded ; a little coffee will re- 
 fresh you. Our milk and eggs are excellent. I will 
 get you out Claude's coffee-cup ; it is of real Sevre ; 
 he saved up all his money to buy it three years ago, 
 because the name of Pauline was inscribed on it. 
 
 PUALINE. 
 
 Three years ago ! Poor Claude ! Thank you. I 
 think I will have some coffee. Oh ! if he were but a 
 poor gentleman, even a merchant ; but a gardener's son ; 
 and what a home ! Oh no, it is too dreadful ! 
 
 (They seat themselves at the table. Beauseant 
 opens the lattice and looks in.) 
 
 BEATTSKANT. 
 
 So, so, the coast is clear ! I saw Claude in the lane ; 
 I shall have an Excellent opportunity. 
 
 (Shuts the lattice and knocks at the door.) 
 
 PAULINE (starting). 
 
 Can it be my father ? he has not sent for him yet ? 
 No, he cannot be in such a hurry to get rid of me. 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 It is not time for your father to arrive yet ; it must 
 be some neighbour. 
 
 PAULINE . 
 
 Don't admit any one. 
 
 (Widow opens the door. Beauseant pushes her 
 
 aside and enters.) 
 
 Ah ! Heavens ! that hateful Beauseant ! This is 
 indeed bitter !
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 69 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Good-morning, madam ! Oh, widow, your son begs 
 you will have the goodness to go to him in the village ; 
 he wants to speak to you on particular business ; you'll 
 find him at the inn, or the grocer's shop, or the baker's, 
 or at some other friend's of your family ; make haste ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Don't leave me, mother ! don't leave me ! 
 BEAUSEANT (with great respect). 
 
 Be not alarmed, madam. Believe me your friend, 
 your servant. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Sir, I have no fear of you, even in this house ! Go, 
 madam, if your son wishes it ; I will not contradict his 
 commands while, at least, he has still the right to be 
 obeyed. 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 1 don't understand this ; however, I sha'n't be long 
 gone. [Exit. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Sir, I divine the object of your visit ; you wish to ex- 
 ult in the humiliation of one who humbled you. Be 
 it so ; I am prepared to endure all, even your presence ! 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 You mistake me, madam ; Pauline, you mistake me ! 
 I come to lay my fortune at your feet. You must al- 
 ready be disenchanted with this impostor ; these walls 
 are not worthy to be hallowed by your beauty ! Shall 
 that form be clasped in the arms of a baseborn peasant ? 
 Beloved, beautiful Pauline ! fly with me ; my carriage 
 waits without ; I will bear you to a home more meet 
 for your reception. Wealth, luxury, station, all shall
 
 70 THE LADY OP LYONS ; [ACT IV. 
 
 yet be yours. I forget your.past disdain ; I remember 
 only your beauty and my unconquerable love. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Sir ! leave this house 5 it is humble ; but a hus- 
 band's roof, however lowly, is, in the eyes of God and 
 man, the temple of a wife's honour I Know that I 
 would rather starve, yes ! with him who has betrayed 
 me, than accept your lawful hand, even were you the 
 prince whose name he bore. Go ! 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 What, is not your pride humbled yet? 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Sir, what was pride in prosperity in affliction be- 
 comes virtue. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Look round : these rugged floors ; these homely 
 walls ; this wretched struggle of poverty for comfort ; 
 think of this ! and contrast with such a picture the re- 
 finement, the luxury, the pomp that the wealthiest gen- 
 tleman of Lyons offers to the loveliest lady. Ah, hear 
 me! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Oh ! my father ! why did I leave you ? why am 1 
 thus friendless ? Sir, you see before you a betrayed, 
 injured, miserable woman ! respect her anguish ! 
 
 (Melnotte opens the door silently, and pauses at 
 the threshold.") 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 No ! let me rather thus console it ; let me snatch 
 from those lips one breath of that fragrance which 
 never should be wasted on the low churl thy husband. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 Help ! Claude ! Claude ! Have I no protector ?
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 71 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Be silent ! (Showing a pistol) See, I do not come 
 unprepared even for violence. I will brave all things 
 thy husband and all his race for thy sake. Thus, 
 then, I clasp thee ! 
 
 MELNOTTE (dashing him to the other end of the stage). 
 Pauline ! look up, Pauline ! thou art safe. 
 
 BEAUSEANT (levelling his pistol). 
 Dare you thus insult a man of my birth, ruffian ? 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Oh spare him, spare my husband ! Beauseant - 
 Claude no no (faints) . 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Miserable trickster ! shame upon you ! brave de- 
 vices to terrify a woman ! coward, you tremble ; you 
 have outraged the laws ; you know that your weapon 
 is harmless ; you have the courage of the mountebank, 
 not the bravo ! Pauline, there is no danger. 
 
 BEATTSEANT. 
 
 I wish thou wcrt a gentleman ; as it is, thou art 
 beneath me. Good-day, and a happy honeymoon. 
 (Aside) I will not die till I am avenged. 
 
 [Exit Beauseant. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 I hold her in these arms ; the last embrace ! 
 
 Never, ah, never more shall this dear head 
 
 Be pillow'd on the heart that should have shelter'd 
 
 And has betray'd ! Soft, soft ! one kiss ; poor wretch ! 
 
 No scorn on that pale lip forbids me now ! 
 
 One kiss ; so ends all record of my crime ! 
 
 It is the seal upon the tomb of hope, 
 
 By which, like some lost, sorrowing angel, sit;
 
 72 THE LADY OF LYONS; [ACT IT. 
 
 Sad memory evermore ; she breathes, she moves ; 
 She wakes to scorn, to hate, but not to shudder 
 Beneath the touch of my abhorred love. 
 
 (Places her on a seat.} 
 There, we are strangers now ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 All gone, all calm ; 
 
 Is every thing a dream ? thou art safe, unhurt ; 
 I do not love thee ; but but I am a woman, 
 And and no blood is spilled ? 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 No, lady, no ; 
 
 My guilt hath not deserved so rich a blessing 
 As even danger in thy cause. 
 
 (Enter widow.) 
 WIDOW. 
 
 My son, I have been everywhere in search of you ; 
 why did you send for me ? 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 I did not send for you. 
 
 WIDOW. 
 No ! but I must tell you your express has returned. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 So soon ! impossible ! 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 Yes, he met the lady's father and mother on the 
 road ; they were going into the country on a visit. 
 Your messenger says that Monsieur Deschappelles 
 turned almost white with anger when he read your let- 
 ter. They will be here almost immediately. Oh, 
 Claude, Claude ! what will they do to you ? How I
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 73 
 
 tremble ! Ah, madam ! do not let them injure him ; 
 if you knew how he doted on you ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Injure him ! no, ma'am, be not afraid ; my father t 
 how shall I meet him? how go back to Lyons? the 
 scoff of the whole city ! Cruel, cruel Claude. (7n 
 great agitation) Sir, you have acted most treacherously. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 I know it, madam. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 (Aside) If he would but ask me to forgive him ! I 
 never can forgive you, sir. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 I never dared to hope it. 
 
 -t'i. VJEQ* } ,'i;a_,mi JtwuT 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 But you are my husband now, and I have sworn to 
 to love you, sir. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 That was under a false belief, madam ; Heaven and 
 the laws will release you from your vow. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 He will drive me mad ! if he were but less proud ; 
 if he would but ask me to remain ; hark, hark ; I hear 
 the wheels of the carriage. Sir Claude, they are 
 coming ; have you no word to say ere it is too late ? 
 quick, speak. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 I can only congratulate you on your release. Bo- 
 hold your parents ! 
 
 6Jn'jUft .. . .*4if i > Ijjjj ,h".'7 iHY ".i A I vi- 
 
 '. tud'i '-rlfifii'tl TOOV ile i*'j">-..b to
 
 T4 THE LADY OF LYONS J [ACT IY. 
 
 (Enter Monsieur and Madame Deschappettes and Co- 
 lonel Damas.) 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 My child ! my child ! 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Oh, my poor Pauline ! what a villanous hovel this 
 is ! Old woman, get me a chair ; I shall faint, I cer- 
 tainly shall. What will the world say ? Child, you 
 have been a fool. A mother's heart is easily broken. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! most noble prince, I am sorry to see a 
 man of your quality in such a condition ; I am afraid 
 your highness will go to the House of Correction. 
 
 MELNOTTB. 
 
 Taunt on, sir; I spared you when you were un- 
 armed ; I am unarmed now. A man who has no ex- 
 cuse for crime is indeed defenceless. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 There's something fine in the rascal, after all ! 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 Where is the impostor 1 Are you thus shameless, 
 traitor ? Can you brave the presence of that girl's 
 father? 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Strike me, if it please you ; you are her father ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Sir, sir, for my sake ; whatever his guilt, he has 
 acted nobly in atonement. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Nobly ! Are you mad, girl ? I have no patience 
 with you, to disgrace all your family thus ! Nobly !
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 75 
 
 Oh you abominable, hardened, pitiful, mean, ugly vil- 
 lain ! 
 
 r'fOiU ,jVC. .'J'l.'i: .' > ..!.; ;. ( v/.' ^.ic>q fciffT 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Ugly 1 Why he was beautiful yesterday ' 
 
 i! .' L'iii'l > ^VjUMitl'^J .' |j ''"fri^> 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Madam, this is his roof, and he is my husband. 
 Respect your daughter, and let blame fall alone on her. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP 
 
 You you oh, I'm choking. 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 Sir, it were idle to waste reproach upon a conscience 
 like yours ; you renounce all pretensions to the person 
 of this lady? 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 I do. (Gives a paper) Here is my consent to a di- 
 vorce ; my full confession of the fraud, which annuls 
 the marriage. Your daughter has been foully wronged, 
 I grant it, sir ; but her own lips will tell you that, from 
 the hour in which she crossed this threshold, I re- 
 turned to my own station, and respected hers. Pure 
 and inviolate as when yestermorn you laid your hand 
 upon her head and blessed her, I yield her back to you. 
 For myself, I deliver you for ever from my presence. 
 An outcast and a criminal, I seek sofffe distant land, 
 where I may mourn my sin and pray for your daughter's 
 peace. Farewell, farewell to you all, for ever ! 
 
 V ^ 
 
 WIDOW. 
 
 Claude, Claude, you will not leave your poor old 
 mother ? She does not disown you in your sorrow ; 
 no, not even in your guilt. No divorce can separate a 
 mother from her son.
 
 76 THE LADY OF LYONS; [ACT IV. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 This poor widow teaches me my duty. No, mother, 
 no for you are now my mother also ! nor should any 
 law, human or divine, separate the wife from her hus- 
 band's sorrows. Claude, Claude, all is forgotten, for- 
 given ; I am thine for ever ! 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 What do I hear? Come away, or never see my 
 face again. 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 Pauline, we never betrayed you ! do you forsake us 
 for him 1 
 
 PAULINE (going back to her father"). 
 
 Oh, no ; but you will forgive him too ; we will live 
 together ; he shall be your son. 
 
 MOMS. DESCHAP. 
 
 Never ! Cling to him and forsake your parents ! 
 His home shall be yours, his fortune yours, his fate 
 yours : the wealth I have acquired by honest industry 
 shall never enrich the dishonest man. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 And you would have a wife enjoy luxury while a 
 husband toils ! Claude, take me ; thou canst not give 
 me wealth, titles, station, but thou canst give me a 
 true heart. I will work for thee, tend thee, bear with 
 thee, and never, never shall these lips reproach thee for 
 the past. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 I'll be hanged if I am not going to blubber ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 This is the' heaviest blow of all ! What a heart I
 
 SCENE 1.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 77 
 
 have wronged ! Do not fear me, sir ; I am not all 
 hardened ; I will not rob her of a holier love than mine. 
 Pauline ! angel of love and mercy ! your memory 
 shall lead me back to virtue ! The husband of a be- 
 ing so beautiful in her noble and sublime tenderness 
 may be poor, may be lowborn (there is no guilt in the 
 decrees of Providence !), but he should be one who 
 can look thee in the face without a blush ; to whom 
 thy love does not bring remorse ; who can fold thee to 
 his heart and say, " Here there is no deceit !" I am 
 not that man ! 
 
 DAM AS (aside to Melnotte). 
 
 Thou art a noble fellow notwithstanding, and wouldst 
 make an excellent soldier. Serre in my regiment. I 
 have had a letter from the Directory ; our young gen- 
 eral takes the command of the army in Italy ; I am to 
 join him at Marseilles ; I will depart this day if thou 
 wilt go with me. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 It is the favour I would have asked thee, if I dared. 
 Place me wherever a foe is most dreaded, wherever 
 France most needs a life ! 
 
 DAM AS. 
 There shall not be a forlorn hope without thee ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 There is my hand ! Mother ! your blessing. I 
 shall see you again, a better man than a prince ; a 
 man who has bought the right to high thoughts by brave 
 deeds. And thou! thou! so wildly worshipped, so 
 guiltily betrayed, all is not yet lost ! for thy memory, 
 at least, must be mine till death ! If I live, the name 
 of him thou hast once loved shall not rest dishonoured ; 
 if I fall amid the carnage and the roar of battle my 
 soul will fly back to thee, and Love shall share with 
 Death my last sigh ! More, more would I speak to 
 G2
 
 78 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT V. 
 
 thee ! to pray ! to bless ! But no ! when I am less 
 unworthy I will utter it to Heaven! I cannot trust 
 myself to ( Turning to Deschappelles) Your pardon, 
 sir ; they are my last words. Farewell ! [Exit. 
 
 \ 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 I will go after him. France will thank me for this. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 PAULINE (starting from her father's arms). 
 
 Claude ! Claude ! my husband ! 
 
 .-' ; " 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 You have a father still ! 
 
 '. .., ; . ;,, ,,, 
 
 ol tf.a I ; vhjjj ;, 
 
 ACT V. 
 SCENE I. 
 
 (Two years and a half from the date of Act IV.) 
 
 t ft *"* 1 1 , 
 
 "lit . 
 
 The streets of Lyons. 
 (Enter first, second, and third officers.) 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. 
 
 97i;i<i - 
 
 Well, here we are at Lyons, with gallant old Damas ; 
 it is his native place. 
 
 SECOND OFFICER. 
 
 Yes ; he has gained a step in the army since he was 
 here last. The Lyonese ought to be very proud of 
 stout General Damas. 
 
 2O \
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 79 
 
 THIRD OFFICER 
 
 Promotion is quick in the French army. This mys- 
 terious Morier, the hero of Lodi, and the favourite of 
 the commander-in-chief, has risen to a colonel's rank 
 in two yeaKs and a half. 
 
 (Enter Damas as a general.) 
 DAM AS. 
 
 Good-morrow, gentlemen ; I hope you will amuse 
 yourselves during our short stay at Lyons. It is a fine 
 city ; improved since I left it. Ah ! it is a pleasure 
 to grow old, when the years that bring decay to our- 
 selves do but ripen the prosperity of our country. You 
 have not met with Morier ? 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. 
 
 No ; we were just speaking of him. 
 
 SECOND OFFICER. 
 
 Pray, general, can you tell us who this Morier real- 
 ly is? 
 
 DAMAS. 
 Is '. why a colonel in the French army. 
 
 THIRD OFFICER. 
 
 True. But what was he at first ? 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 At first ? Why, a baby in long clothes, I suppose. 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! Ever facetious, general. 
 
 SECOND OFFICER (to third) 
 
 The general is sore upon this point ; you will only 
 chafe him. Any commands, general ?
 
 80 THE LADY OF LYONS J [ACT 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 None. Good-day to you ! 
 
 [Exeunt second and third officers 
 
 H011 3 Zt><iCIO!> ii O? M'.'rT 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Our comrades are very inquisitive. Poor Morier is 
 the subject of a vast deal of curiosity. 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. 
 
 Say interest, rather, general. His constant melan- 
 choly ; the loneliness of his habits ; his daring valour ; 
 his brilliant rise in the profession ; your friendship, 
 and the favours of the commander-in-chief, all tend to 
 make him as much the matter of gossip as of admira- 
 tion. But where is he, general I have missed him 
 all the morning. 
 
 DAMAS 
 
 Why, captain, I'll let you into a secret. My young 
 friend has come with me to Lyons in hopes of finding 
 a miracle. 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. 
 
 A miracle ! 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Yes, a miracle. In other words, a constant woman. 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. 
 
 Oh ! an affair of love ! 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Exactly so. No sooner did he enter Lyons than he 
 waved his hand to me, threw himself from his horse, 
 and is now, I warrant, asking every one who can know 
 anything about the matter whether a certain lady is 
 still true to a certain gentleman !
 
 SCENE I.J OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 81 
 
 -*c' -nil j,,;!W fHfif.fifiI .Mr noqir 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. 
 
 Success to him ! and of that success there can be 
 no doubt. The gallant Colonel Morier, the hero of 
 Lodi, might make his choice out of the proudest fami- 
 lies in France. 
 
 Vli!V }<m.l i)l\> 111 OTHKir 6l{l hl&Mi 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Oh, if pride be a recommendation, the lady and her 
 mother are most handsomely endowed. By-the-way, 
 captain, if you should chance to meet with Morier, 
 tell him he will find me at the hotel. 
 in*di ' o / <:!* .nw iJj} ;Iooi } iA.1 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. 
 
 -oL -';;<". ' ' -iL.ii 
 
 I will, general. [Exit. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Now will I go to the Deschappelles, and make a re- 
 port to my young colonel. Ha ! by Mars, Bacchus, 
 Apollo, Virorum, here comes Monsieur Beauseant ! 
 
 (Enter Beauseant.) 
 
 Good-morrow, Monsieur Beauseant ! How fares it 
 with you ? 
 
 BEAUSEANT (aside). 
 
 Damas ! that is unfortunate ; if the Italian campaign 
 should have filled his pockets he may seek to baffle 
 me in the moment of my victory. (Aloud) Your ser- 
 vant, general, for such, I think, is your new distinction ! 
 Just arrived in Lyons ? 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Not an hour ago. Well, how go on the Deschap- 
 pelles ? Have they forgiven you in that affair of young 
 Melnotte ? You had some hand in that notable device. 
 
 eh* ; r ' ' 
 f" fa tes-r or!) */lil 16<- : ; : ? f*n 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Why, less than you think for ! The fellow imposed
 
 82 THB LADY OF LYONS; [ACT T. 
 
 upon me. I have set it all right now. What has be- 
 come cf him ? He could not have joined the army, 
 after all. There is no such name in the books. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 I know nothing about Melnotte. As you say, I never 
 heard the name in the grand army 
 
 BEATJSEANT. 
 
 Hem ! You are not married, general ? 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Do I look like a married man, sir ? No, thank 
 Heaven ! My profession is to make widows, not 
 wives. 
 
 BEATTSEANT. 
 
 You must have gained much booty in Italy ! Pau- 
 line will be your heiress, eh ? 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Booty ! Not I ! Heiress to what ? Two trunks 
 and a portmanteau, four horses, three swords, two suits 
 of regimentals, and six pairs of white leather inexpres- 
 sibles ! A pretty fortune for a young lady ! 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 (Aside) Then all is safe! (Aloud) Ha! ha! Is 
 that really all your capital, General Damas 1 Why, I 
 thought Italy had been a second Mexico to you sol- 
 diers. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 All a toss up. sir. I was not one of the lucky ones ! 
 My friend Morier. indeed, saved something handsome. 
 But our commander-in-chief took care of him, and Mo- 
 rier is a thrifty, economical dog ; not like the rest of us 
 soldiers, who spend our money as carelessly as if it 
 were our blood.
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Well, it is no matter ! I do not want fortune with 
 Pauline. And you must know, General Damas, that 
 your fair cousin has at length consented to reward my 
 long and ardent attachment. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 You ! the devil ! Why, she is already married ! 
 There is no divorce ! 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 True ; but this very day she is formally to authorize 
 the necessary proceedings ; this very day she is to 
 sign the contract that is to make her mine within one 
 week from the day on which her present illegal mar- 
 riage is annulled. 
 
 DAM AS. 
 
 You tell me wonders ! Wonders ! No ; I believe 
 anything of women ! 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 I must wish you good-morning. 
 
 (As he is going, enter Deschappelles.) 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP 
 
 Oh, Beauseant ! well met. Let us come to the no- 
 tary at once. 
 
 DAMAS (to Deschappelles). 
 Why, cousin ! 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 Damas, welcome to Lyons. Pray call on us ; my 
 
 wife will be delighted to see you. 
 
 J i 1'irw mw i >r>ot>o 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Your wife be blessed for her condescension ! But
 
 84 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT V. 
 
 (taking him aside) what do I hear ? Is it possible that 
 your daughter has consented to a divorce ? that she 
 will marry Monsieur Beauseant ? 
 aufr .*K,,nJ fimtnV) .-v 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 Certainly ! What have you to say against it ? A 
 gentleman of birth, fortune, character. We are not 
 so proud as we were ; even my wife has had enough 
 of nobility and princes ! 
 
 DAMAS. 
 But Pauline loved that young man so tenderly ! 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. (taking snuff). 
 That was two years and a half ago ! 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Very true. Poor Melnotte ! 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 But do not talk of that impostor ; I hope he is dead 
 or has left the country. Nay, even were he in Lyons 
 at this moment, he ought to rejoice that, in an honour- 
 able and suitable alliance, my daughter may forget her 
 sufferings and his crime. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Nay, if it be all settled, I have no more to say. 
 Monsieur Beauseant informs me that the contract is to 
 be signed this very day. 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 It is ; at one o'clock precisely. Will you be one 
 of the witnesses ? 
 
 .HAWiioaOt .*XOM 
 DAMAS. 
 
 "I! No; that is to say yes, certainly! at one 
 o'clock I will wait on you. 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 'Till then, adieu ; come, Beauseant. 
 
 [Exeunt Beauseant and Deschappelles .
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 
 
 The man who sets his heart upon a woman 
 Is a chameleon, and doth feed on air ; 
 From air he takes his colours, holds his life, 
 Changes with every wind, grows lean or fat ; 
 Rosy with hope, or green with jealousy, 
 Or pallid with despair, just as the gale 
 Varies from north to south, from heat to cold ! 
 Oh, woman ! woman ! thou shouldst have few sins 
 Of thine own to answer for ! Thou art the author 
 Of such a book of follies in a man, 
 That it would need the tears of all the angels 
 To blot the record out ! 
 
 (Enter Melnotte, pale and agitated.) 
 
 I need not tell thee ! Thou hast heard 
 
 ut-irwA rvM if.W 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 The worst ! 
 I have ! 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 ' t "" ' j/(Mf ' ; i! ' 
 
 Be cheer'd ; others are as fair as she is ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Others ! The world is crumbled at my feet ! 
 She was my world ; fill'd up the whole of being, 
 Smiled in the sunshine, walk'd the glorious earth, 
 Sat in my heart, was the sweet life 'of life. 
 The past was hers : I dream'd not of a future 
 That did not wear her shape ! Mem'ry and hope 
 Alike are gone. Pauline is faithless ! Henceforth 
 The universal space is desolate ! 
 
 Hope yet. 
 
 jj
 
 86 THE LADY OF LYONS J [ACT Y. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Hope, yes ! one hope is left me still ; 
 A soldier's grave ! Glory has died with love ; 
 I look into my heart, and, where I saw 
 Pauline, see death ! 
 
 (After a pause) But am I not deceived ? 
 I went but by the rumour of the town ; 
 Rumour is false ; I was too hasty ! Damas, 
 Whom hast thou seen ? 
 
 Thy rival and her father. 
 Arm thyself for the truth ! He heeds not 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 She 
 
 Will never know how deeply she was loved ! 
 The charitable night, that wont to bring 
 Comfort to day in bright and eloquent dreams, 
 Is henceforth leagued with misery ! Sleep, farewell, 
 Or else become eternal ! Oh, the waking 
 From false oblivion, and to see the sun, 
 And know she is another's 1 
 
 r ' '" : ?' : 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Be a man. 
 
 Jj'/K '(JK. lAjuUkftiuV* 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 I am a man ! it is the sting of wo 
 Like mine that tells us we are men ! 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 The false one 
 Did not deserve thee. ' 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Hush ! No word against her ! 
 Why should she keep, through years and silent absence,
 
 SCENE I.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 87 
 
 The holy tablets of her virgin faith 
 
 True -to a traitor's name ? Oh, blame her not ; 
 
 It were a sharper grief to think her worthless 
 
 Than to be what I am ! To-day, to-day ! 
 
 They said " to-day !" This day, so wildly welcomed, 
 
 This day my soul had singled out of time 
 
 And mark'd for bliss ! This day ! oh, could I see her, 
 
 See her once more, unknown ; but hear her voice, 
 
 So that one echo of its music might 
 
 Make ruin less appalling in its silence. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Easily done ! Come with me to her house ; 
 Your dress, your cloak, mustache, the bronzed hues 
 Of time and toil, the name you bear, belief 
 In your absence, all will ward away suspicion. 
 Keep in the shade. Ay, I would have you come. 
 There may be hope ! Pauline is yet so young, 
 They may have forced her to these second bridals 
 Out of mistaken love. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 No, bid me hope not ! 
 Bid me not hope ! I could not bear again 
 To fall from such a heaven ! One gleam of sunshine, 
 And the ice breaks, and I am lost ! Oh, Damas, 
 There's no such thing as courage in a man ; 
 The veriest slave that ever crawl'd from danger 
 Might spurn me now. When first I lost her, Damas, 
 I bore it, did I not ? I still had hope, 
 And now I I (Bursts into an agony ofgnef.) 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 What, comrade ! all the women 
 That ever smiled destruction on brave hearts 
 Were not worth tears like these ! 
 
 MKLNOTTE. 
 
 'Tis past, forget it
 
 88 THE LADY OP LYONS ; [ACT V- 
 
 I am prepared ; life has no further ills ! 
 The cloud has broken in that stormy rain, 
 And on the waste I stand, alone with Heaven ! 
 
 DAM AS. 
 
 His very face is changed ; a breaking heart 
 
 Does its work soon! Come, Melnotte, rouse thyself: 
 
 One effort more. Again thou'lt see her. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 See her ! 
 
 There is a passion in that simple sentence 
 That shivers all the pride and power of reason 
 Into a chaos ! 
 
 It be too late. 
 
 DAM AS. 
 Time wanes ; come, ere yet 
 
 ^ii. o; i 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Terrible words, " Too late /" 
 Lead on. One last look more, and then 
 ! lyn "JCJ0H .<m.' 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Forget her ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Forget her, yes ! For death remembers not. [Exeunt . 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 , A room in the house of Monsieur Deschappelles ; Pau- 
 line seated in great dejection. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Is it so, then. I must be false to love,
 
 SCENE II.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 89 
 
 ^ 
 
 Or sacrifice a father ! Oh, my Claude, 
 My lover, and my husband ! have I lived 
 To pray that thou mayst find some fairer boon 
 Than the deep faith of this devoted heart, 
 Nourish'd till now, now broken ? 
 
 (Enter Monsieur Deschappettes.) 
 
 MONS. DESCIIAP. 
 
 My dear child, 
 
 How shall I thank, how bless thee ? Thou hast saved, 
 I will not say my fortune I could bear 
 Reverse, and shrink not but that prouder wealth 
 Which merchants value most ; my name, my credit, 
 "The hard-won honours of a toilsome life : 
 These thou hast saved, my child ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Is there no hope ? 
 No hope but this ? 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 None. If, without the sum 
 Which Beauseant offers for thy hand, this day 
 Sinks to the west, to-morrow brings our ruin ! 
 And hundreds, mingled in that ruin, curse 
 The bankrupt merchant ! and the insolent herd 
 We feasted and made merry cry in scorn, 
 " How pride has fallen ! Lo, the bankrupt merchant !" 
 My daughter, thou hast saved us ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 And am lost ! 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 Come, let me hope that Reauseant's love 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 His love ! 
 H2
 
 90 THE LADY OF LYONS J [ACT V. 
 
 Talk not of love ; love has no thought of self ! 
 Love buys not "with the ruthless usurer's gold 
 The loathsome prostitution of a hand 
 Without a heart T Love sacrifices all things 
 To bless the thing it loves ! He knows not love. 
 Father, his love is hate, his hope revenge ! 
 My tears, my anguish, my remorse for falsehood ; 
 These are the joys he wrings from our despair ! 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 If thou deemst thus, reject him ! Shame and ruin 
 Were better than thy misery ; think no more on't. 
 My sand is wellnigh run ; what boots it when 
 The glass is broken ? We'll annul the contract. 
 And if to-morrow in the prisoner's cell 
 These aged limbs are laid, why still, my child, 
 I'll think thou art spared ; and wait the liberal hour 
 That lays the beggar by the side of kings ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 No, no, forgive me ! You, my honoured father ; 
 You, who so loved, so cherish d me, whose lips 
 Never knew one harsh word ! I'm not ungrateful, 
 I am but human ! hush ! Now, call the bridegroom ; 
 You see I am prepared ; no tears ; all calm ; 
 But, father, talk no more of love ! 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 My child, 
 
 Tis but one struggle ; he is young, rich, noble ; 
 Thy state will rank first mid the dames of Lyons ; 
 And when this heart can shelter thee no more, 
 Thy youth will not be guardianless. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 I have set 
 
 My foot upon the ploughshare ; I will pass 
 The fiery ordeal. (Aside) Merciful Heaven, support 
 me !
 
 SCENE II.] OB, LOVE AND PRIDB. 91 
 
 And on the absent wanderer shed the light 
 Of happier stars, lost evermore to me ! 
 
 {Enter Madame Deschapelles, Beauseant, Glavis, and 
 Notary. ) 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 Why, Pauline, you are quite in deshabille; you 
 ought to be more alive to the importance of this joy- 
 ful occasion. We had once looked higher, it is true ; 
 but you see, after all, Monsieur Beauseant's father 
 was a marquis, and that's a great comfort ! Pedigree 
 and jointure ! you have them both in Monsieur Beau- 
 seant. A young lady decorously brought up should 
 only have two considerations in her choice of a hus- 
 band : first, is his birth honourable ? secondly, will his 
 death be advantageous ? All other trifling details 
 should be left to parental anxiety ! 
 
 BEAUSEANT {approaching, and waving aside madame). 
 
 Ah, Pauline ! let me hope that you are reconciled 
 to an event which confers such rapture upon me. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 I am reconciled to my doom. 
 
 .1 y>?i*adw> ad OJ 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Doom is a harsh word, sweet lady. 
 
 ! ynoell 
 
 PAULINE (aside). 
 
 This man must have some mercy; his heart cannot 
 be marble. (Aloud) Oh, sir, be just, be generous ! 
 Seize a noble triumph, a great revenge! Save the 
 father and spare the child ! 
 
 BEAUSEANT (aside). 
 
 Joy, joy alike to my hatred and my passion ! The 
 haughty Pauline is at last my suppliant. (Aloud) You 
 ask from me what I have not the sublime virtue to
 
 92 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT V. 
 
 grant ; a virtue reserved only for the gardener's son ! 
 I cannot forego my hopes in the moment of their ful- 
 filment ! I adhere to the contract ; your father's ruin, 
 or your hand ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Then all is over. Sir, I have decided. 
 
 ( The clock strikes one.) 
 
 (Enter Damas and Melnotte.) 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Your servant, Cousin Deschapelles. Let me in- 
 troduce Colonel Morier. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. (courtesying very low). 
 
 What, the celebrated hero? This is indeed an 
 honour ! 
 
 (Melnotte bows and remains in the background.) 
 
 DAMAS (to Pauline). 
 
 My little cousin, I congratulate you! What, no 
 smile, no blush? You are going to be divorced from 
 poor Melnotte, and marry this rich gentleman. You 
 ought to be excessively happy ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 Happy ! 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Why, how pale you are, child ! Poor Pauline ! 
 Hist ! confide in me ! Do they force you to this ? 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 No! 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 You act with your own free consent ?
 
 SCENE IT.] OR, LOVE AND .PRIDE. 93 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 My own consent, yes. 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Then you are the most I will not say what you are. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 You think ill of me ; be it so ; yet if you knew all 
 
 DAMAS. 
 There is some mystery ; speak out, Pauline. 
 
 PAULINE (suddenly). 
 " 
 
 Oh ! perhaps you can save me ! you are our rela- 
 tion, our friend. My father is on the verge of bank- 
 ruptcy ; this day he requires a large sum to meet de- 
 mands that cannot be denied ; that sum Beauseant will 
 advance, this hand the condition of the barter. Save 
 me if you have the means ; save me ! You will be 
 repaid above ! 
 
 DAMAS (aside). 
 
 I recant. Women are not so bad, after all ! (Aloud) 
 Humph, child ! I cannot help you ; I am too poor ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 The last plank to which I clung is shivered ! 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Hold ; you see my friend Morier : Melnotte is his 
 most intimate friend ; fought in the same fields, slept 
 in the same tent. Have you any message to send to 
 Melnotte ? any word to soften this blow ? 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 He knows Melnotte ; he will see him ; he will bear 
 to him my last farewell. (Approaches Melnotte) He
 
 94 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT V. 
 
 has a stern air ; he turns away from me ; he despises 
 me ! Sir, one word, I beseech you. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Her voice again! How the old time comes o'er 
 me! 
 
 DAMAS (to madame). 
 
 Don't interrupt them. He is going to tell her what 
 a rascal young Melnotte is; he knows him well, I 
 promise you. 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 So considerate in you, Cousin Damas ! 
 
 (Damas approaches Deschappelles ; converses apart 
 with him in dumb show, Deschappelles shows 
 him a paper, which he inspects and takes.) 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Thrice have I sought to speak ; my courage fails me. 
 Sir, is it true that you have known, nay, are 
 The friend of Melnotte t 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Lady, yes ! Myself 
 And misery know the man ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 And you will see him, 
 
 And you will bear to him, ay, word for word, 
 All that this heart, which breaks in parting from him, 
 Would send, ere still for ever. 
 
 OfriKIj'. -j'-'v; ->)rrt tpn ( ' .; : .! . .UVV 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 He hath told me 
 
 You have the right to choose from out the world 
 A worthier bridegroom ; he foregoes all claim 
 Even to murmur at his doom. Speak on !
 
 SCENE II.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 95 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Tell him, for years I never nursed a thought 
 That was not his ; that on his wandering way, 
 Daily and nightly, poured a mourner's prayers. 
 Tell him ev'n now that I would rather share 
 His lowliest lot, walk by his side, an outcast ; 
 Work for him, beg with him ; live upon the light 
 Of one kind smile from him, than wear the crown 
 The Bourbon lost ! 
 
 MELNOTTE (aside). 
 
 Am I already mad? 
 
 And does delirium utter such sweet words 
 Into a dreamer's ear ? (Aloud) You love him thus, 
 And yet desert him ? 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Say that, if his eye 
 
 Could read this heart, its struggles, its temptations, 
 His love itself would pardon that desertion ! 
 Look on that poor old man ; he is my father ; 
 He stands upon the verge of an abyss ; 
 He calls his child to save him ! Shall I shrink 
 From him who gave me birth ? withhold my hand, 
 And see a parent perish ? Tell him this, 
 And say that we shall meet again in Heaven ! 
 
 MELNOTTE (aside). 
 
 The night is past ; joy cometh with the morrow. 
 (Aloud) Lady, I I what is this riddle ? what 
 The nature of this sacrifice ? 
 
 PAULINE (pointing to Damas). 
 
 Go ask him ! 
 BEAUSEANT (from the table). 
 
 The papers are prepared ; we only need 
 Your hand and seal.
 
 96 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT V. 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Stay, lady ; one word more. 
 Were but your duty with your faith united, 
 Would you still share the lowborn peasant's lot ? 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Would I ? Ah, better death with him I love 
 Than all the pomp, which is but as the flowers 
 That crown the victim ! (turning away) I am ready. 
 (Melnotte rushes to Damas.) 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 There, 
 This is the schedule, this the total. 
 
 BEATJSEANT (to Deschappelles, showing notes). 
 
 These 
 
 Are yours the instant she has signed ; you are 
 Still the great house of Lyons ! 
 
 (The notary is about to hand the contract to Pauline, 
 when Melnotte seizes and tears it.) 
 
 BEATTSEANT. 
 
 Are you mad ? 
 
 MONS. DESCHAP. 
 
 How, sir ! What means this insult ? 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Peace, old man ! 
 
 I have a prior claim. Before the face 
 Of man and Heaven I urge it ! I outbid 
 Yon sordid huckster for your priceless jewel. 
 
 (Giving a pocketbook.) 
 
 There is the sum twice told ! Blush not to take it : 
 There's not a coin that is not bought and hallow'd 
 In the cause of nations with a soldier's blood !
 
 SCENE II.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 97 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Torments and death ! 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 That voice ! Thou art 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Thy husband ! 
 {Pauline rushes into his arms.) 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Look up ! Look up, Pauline ! for I can bear 
 Thine eyes ! The stain is blotted from my name. 
 I have redeem'd mine honour. I can call 
 On France to sanction thy divine forgiveness ! 
 Oh, joy ! oh, rapture ! By the midnight watchfires 
 Thus have I seen thee ! thus foretold this hour ! 
 And, mid the roar of battle, thus have heard 
 The beating of thy heart against my own ! 
 
 ' v^ ' ' : >''' '' /li* wo }i:fJ 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Fool'd, duped, and triumph'd over in the hour 
 Of mine own victory ! Curses on ye both ! 
 May thorns be planted in the marriage bed ! 
 And love grow sour'd and blacken'd into hate, 
 Such as the hate that gnaws me ! 
 
 DAMAS. 
 
 Curse away ! 
 
 And let me tell thee, Beauseant, a wise proverb 
 The Arabs have : " Curses are like young chickens, 
 
 (Solemnly.) 
 And still come home to roost !" 
 
 BEAUSEANT. 
 
 Their happiness 
 Maddens my soul ! I am powerless and revengeless !
 
 98 THE LADY OF LYONS ; [ACT V. 
 
 ( To madame.) 
 I wish you joy ! Ha, ha ! The gardener's son ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 DAM AS (to Glavis). 
 
 Your friend intends to hang himself ! Methinks 
 You ought to be hia travelling companion ! 
 
 GLAVIS. 
 Sir, you are exceedingly obliging ! [Exit. 
 
 PAULINE. 
 
 Oh! 
 
 My father, you are saved, and by my husband ! 
 Ah ! blessed hour ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Yet you weep still, Pauline ! 
 
 PAT7LINE. 
 
 But on thy breast ! these tears are sweet and holy ! 
 
 MONS. DESCHAF. 
 
 You have won love and honour nobly, sir ! 
 Take her ; be happy both ! 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 I'm all astonish'd ! 
 Who, then, is Colonel Morier ? 
 
 DAM AS. 
 
 You behold him ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Morier no more after this happy day ! 
 
 I would not bear again my father's name 
 
 Till I could deem it spotless ! The hour's come ! 
 
 Heaven smiled on conscience ! As the soldier rose
 
 SCENK II.] OR, LOVE AND PRIDE. 99 
 
 From rank to rank, how sacred was the fame 
 That cancell'd crime and raised him nearer thee ! 
 
 MADAME DESCHAP. 
 
 A colonel and a hero ! Well, that's something ! 
 He's wondrously improved ! I wish you joy, sir ! 
 
 MELNOTTE. 
 
 Ah ! the same love that tempts us into sin, 
 If it be true love, works out its redemption ; 
 And he who seeks repentance for the past 
 Should woo the angel virtue in the future ! 
 
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