Chapter I: Part 1

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THE STANDARD DRAMA.

The Acting Edition.

NO. CCXXV.

THE ROMANCE OF
A POOR YOUNG MAN.

A Drama, adapted from the French of
OCTAVE FEUILLET,

BY MESSRS. PIERREPONT EDWARDS AND LESTER WALLACK.

TO WHICH ARE ADDED

A Description of the Costume--Cast of the Characters--Entrances
and Exits--Relative Positions of the Performers on the Stage, and
the whole of the Stage Business

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by LESTER
WALLACK, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the
Southern District of New York.

NEW YORK:
SAMUEL FRENCH, PUBLISHER,
122 NASSAU STREET, (UP STAIRS.)

CHARACTERS REPRESENTED.

_Manuel, Marquis de Champcey_, Mr. Lester Wallack.

_Doctor Desmarets,--formerly of the French Army_, Mr. Brougham.

_M. de Bevannes--a man of the world_, Mr. Walcot.

_Gaspar Laroque--an aged man, formerly Captain of a Privateer_,
Mr. Dyott.

_Alain--a confidential domestic_, Mr. Young.

_M. Nouret--a Notary_, Mr. Levere.

_Yvonnet--a Breton Shepherd_, Mr. Baker.

_Henri_, Mr. Oliver.

_Louis_, Mr. Coburn.

_Madame Laroque--Daughter-in-Law to Gaspar_, Mrs. Vernon.

_Marguerite--her daughter_, Mrs. Hoey.

_Mlle Helouin--a Governess_,

_Madame Aubrey--a relative of the Laroque family_,
Miss Mary Gannon.

_Louise Vauberger--formerly nurse to Manuel, now keeper of a lodging
house_, Mrs. Walcot.

_Christine--a Breton peasant girl_, Miss Fanny Reeves.

_Guests, Servants, Peasantry, &c., &c._

The events of the Drama take place (during the 1st Act) in Paris, afterward in the Province of Britanny.

Costumes of the present day.

The Overture, incidental Music, and Choruses composed and arranged by Mr. Robert Stoepel.

A POOR YOUNG MAN.

TABLEAU I.

_A Room, simply furnished--Table, Chairs, Arm Chair, Secretaire,
Side Table--Door C._

_MADAME VAUBERGER peeps in L._

_Madame Vauberger._ No; he has not yet returned. [_Enters._] Things cannot go on in this manner much longer--I shall have to speak out, and plainly too. And why not? Surely he won't take it ill from me--ah, no. I, who loved his poor mother so, could never--What's this? A purse! empty! And this key, left carelessly lying about; that's a bad sign. [_Opens Secretaire._] No, not one solitary sous--his last coin came yesterday to pay me the rent. In the drawer, perhaps--

_DR. DESMARETS looks in._

_Dr. Desmarets._ Hallo! [_She starts._] What are you at there?

_Mad. V._ Me, sir? I was just--I was just--

_Des._ Poking your nose into that drawer--that what you call just?

_Mad. V._ I was dusting and putting the things in order, sir.

_Des._ I'll tell you what, Madame V., you're an extraordinary woman. Yesterday, when I called, you were dusting--half-an-hour ago when I called, you were dusting--and now, when I call again, you're dusting. Where the devil you find so much dust to dust, _I_ can't think.

_Mad. V._ Ah, sir, look into this drawer.

_Des._ What for?

_Mad. V._ Is it not the place where, if one had money, one would naturally keep it?

_Des._ I suppose so. What of that?

_Mad. V._ See, sir, it is empty.

_Des._ What's that to me?

_Mad. V._ And his purse, also.

_Des._ What's that to you? [_Goes up and puts hat on table._

_Mad. V._ [_Aside._] I dare not tell him that Manuel is without a meal--starving--I should never be forgiven. His _pride_ would be wounded, and nothing could excuse that.

_Des._ Well, what are you cogitating about? Looking for something to dust?

_Mad. V._ I'm thinking of the Marquis, sir.

_Des._ Well, what of him?

_Mad. V._ Is it not dreadful? Brought up as he has been--surrounded by every luxury--and now reduced to want even. Oh! it is too hard--too hard!

_Des._ Well, it's his own fault, isn't it? There was enough left from the wreck of his father's property, to give him a sort of a living, and he must needs go and settle it all upon his little sister Helen.

_Mad. V._ And for what? To give her the education befitting her rank.

_Des._ Fudge!

_Mad. V._ Doctor Desmarets, your're very unfeeling.

_Des._ Oh, of course, of course. I give him good advice, he rejects it. I withdraw my sympathy, and then I'm unfeeling. If he can't manage better with the little that's left him, egad! he may think himself lucky that he can get his daily meals.

_Mad. V._ Sir, he can't even--[_Aside._] Oh, if I dared--

_Des._ Can't even what? Send for his coupe, I suppose, or drink Chateau margaux--terrible hardships, truly. When there's nothing else in a man's pocket, he had better put his pride there, and button it up tight.

_Mad. V._ Some day, sir, we shall find that he has taken poison, or cut his throat.

_Des._ Ah! and then there'll be nothing to dust.

_Mad. V._ Monsieur, I repeat it--you're unfeeling. But I, who loved and served his dear mother, whom he so much resembles--

_Des._ Not a bit--hasn't a look of her. The father, the father all over.

_Mad. V._ Of course. So you always say, and everybody knows why. You loved the poor Marchioness, offered her your hand, and she preferred the Marquis.

_Des._ Madame!

_Mad. V._ I don't care. I _will_ speak my mind. And because she refused you, you have no regard for her son.

_Des._ Madame!

_Mad. V._ But if he has his father's face, he has his mother's heart.

_Des._ Much you know about it.

_Mad. V._ And who _should_ know if I don't? Havn't I attended him since he was an infant?

_Des._ Well, and havn't _I_ attended him since he was an infant?

_Mad. V._ Wasn't I with him during every sickness?

_Des._ Wasn't I with him too?

_Mad. V._ Didn't I nurse him?

_Des._ Didn't I cure him?

_Mad. V._ Wouldn't I follow him through the world?

_Des._ Didn't I bring him _into_ it?

_Mad. V._ Yes, and if things go on at this rate, he won't have much to thank you for.

_Des._ How do _you_ know? How do _you_ know, you foolish old woman you.

_MANUEL appears._

_Man._ Heyday! the only two friends I have in the world at high words? What can have caused this?

_Mad. V._ My lord, the Doctor says you--

_Man._ Me! my dear Doctor, you never were quarrelling about so unimportant a person, surely?

_Des._ No matter for that. But I have some business with the Marquis, if this very positive old lady will allow me the luxury of an interview with him--a _private_ interview. Pray, ma'am, _may_ I trespass on your indulgence?

_Mad. V._ Truly, Doctor, your campaign in the Crimea has improved neither your manners, or your beauty. [_Exit L. H._

_Des._ Confound her impudence! The attack on my manners I could forgive, but my beauty--that's a tender point.

_Man._ Ah, Doctor, you must pardon her brusque manner. If she's poor in courtesy, she's rich in a rarer gift--fidelity.

_Des._ Oh! hang her! let her go. And now to your affairs. Your father's death occurred while I was with the army, in the Crimea. Rumors reached me there, but I have never heard the full particulars. I would not willingly revive a painful theme, but as an old friend--

_Man._ Nay, I shall be more satisfied when you know the facts. When you left France you know what our position was, and what our style of living.

_Des._ All the luxuries that money could procure--a mansion in Paris, an ancestral chateau, and a stable that could boast the best blood in France.

_Man._ Two months after the death of my dear mother, I went to Italy, by my father's desire, and for several years I traveled through Europe, at my pleasure. During this time his letters to me were affectionate, but brief, and never expressed any desire for my return. Two months ago, on arriving at Marseilles, I found several letters from him awaiting me, each of them begging me to return home with all possible haste.

_Des._ I remember, it was some time previous to that, that I heard his name mentioned in connection with some unfortunate speculations in the stocks.

_Man._ I arrived at night. The ground was white with snow. As I passed up the avenue--made still darker by the old trees which overshadowed it--I could hear the frost shaken from the branches, seeming, as it fell around me, like a warning of bitter tears to come. Hardly had I crossed the threshold when my father's arms were around me. I could feel his heart beating against my own, with a force almost painful. He led me to a sofa, and placed himself directly in front of me, when, as if longing to reveal something which yet he dared not name, he fixed his eyes on mine with an expression of supplication, of agony, of shame, wondrous in a man so haughty and so proud. It was enough! The wrong he had committed, yet could not confess, I divined full well--God knows how fully, how freely I forgave it! Suddenly, that look, which never quitted me, became fixed, rigid. The pressure of his hand on mine became a grip of iron. He arose--the eyes wandered, the hand relaxed, and he fell dead at my feet!

_Des._ [_After a pause._] Well, well, it is a sad history, for he left utter ruin for your portion. But come, you must not look back. "Forward" must be the watchword now. Mr. Faveau, your family lawyer, tells me that the little that remained to you, after paying your father's debts, you have appropriated to making a fine lady of your sister.

_Man._ To educate her, doctor.

_Des._ Well, well, same thing; so that you, yourself, have literally nothing to speak of--hardly enough to give you bread.

_Man._ Hardly.

_Des._ Under these circumstances you will perhaps be disposed to the favorable consideration of a proposal I have to make?

_Man._ Name it, sir, for at present, I confess I have formed no plans of my own. I was so little prepared to find myself quite a beggar. Were I alone in the world, I would become a soldier. But my sister, that would involve prolonged absence from her--perhaps an early death. My darling--I cannot endure the thought of knowing her compelled to suffer the privations, the labor, and the dangers of poverty. She is happy at her school, and young enough to remain there for some years to come. If I could but find some occupation by which, even were I obliged to impose the severest restraints upon myself, it would be possible to save enough for her marriage portion, I should be more than content.

_Des._ An employment to suit a man of your rank--

_Man._ Oh, my dear Doctor--rank--

_Des._ Well, well, of your _education_, then, is not easily found. Now, mark what I am going to say, and consider it well, before you come to a hasty conclusion. There is, among my patients, a retired merchant, one who has been able, by indefatigable industry in trade, to amass a very handsome fortune. His daughter, an only a child, and of course, the father's darling, has, by chance, become acquainted with the state of your affairs. Now, I have reason to know, (being on very confidential terms with them.) I say I have reason to know that this girl, ambitious, handsome, rich, and accomplished, would be happy to share your title. I have the father's consent, and only await the word from you to--

_Man._ Dr. Desmarets, my name is neither for sale, or to let.

_Des._ Humph! Do you know, my lord, that you bear a remarkable resemblance to your poor mother?

_Man._ You must be mistaken, sir. I have always been told that I was more like my father.

_Des._ Not a bit! The mother, the mother, sir, in every feature. But, bless me, it's near eleven o'clock and I have a most particular appointment. As you decline considering the proposal I have made, we must think of something else. Au revoir. [_Aside._] The mother--eyes, nose, mouth. What the devil made that stupid old woman say he was like his father? [_Exit C._

_Man._ He's a kind man, though a little eccentric, and apart from his professional duty, seems actuated by a sincere desire to serve me, and yet--and yet I could not bring myself to ask his charity. Hunger--starvation--are not, then, mere empty words. Oh! if I do sin in my pride, I am punished, for I suffer much. This is the second day without food. Why, after all, I could go into any Restaurant and dine, for I am well enough known. I could say I had forgotten my purse--have done so without scruple in happier times, but _then_ I had the means to pay, and now--no, no, my sister, not for life, not even for _thee_, will I descend to lie and cheat. How weak I am; this comes too soon upon my long sickness. If I could but sleep and so forget my agony. And there are human creatures who suffer every day as I do now. My sister, my little sister, I seem to see thy dear face looking down upon me, and bidding me be comforted. [_Music._] Thou, at least, shall never suffer. But for those who hear their cries of hunger repeated from the mouths of starving little ones, well, well, God comfort them; I will not re--Oh--holy--charity--for--those--who--my sister--my--

_MANUEL gradually falls asleep. MADAME VAUBERGER enters with a
Tray containing a dish or two with eatables, a plate, &c. She
watches MANUEL carefully while she deposits the Tray on the
chimney-piece and lays a cloth on the table. MANUEL awakes as she
goes back to the chimney-piece for tray._

_Man._ Eh--who's that? Ah, me! What are you doing, Madame?

_Mad. V._ Did you not order dinner, my lord?

_Man._ Certainly not.

_Mad. V._ Why they told me--

_Man._ Then they were mistaken. It's for some of the other lodgers.

_Mad. V._ But there's no other lodgers on this floor, and I really cannot think what--

_Man._ At any rate, it is not for me. Take it away.

_Mad. V._ [_After slowly taking off cloth._] My lord has probably dined?

_Man._ Probably.

_Mad. V._ Dear me, dear me, what a pity. A good dinner spoiled, wasted. Really, if you had not dined, my lord, it would so oblige me if--

_Man._ Will you go or not? [_She is dejectedly going, when MANUEL calls._] Louise, I understand, and I thank you, but I am not well to-day. I have no desire to eat. [_He turns away. MADAME VAUBERGER quietly comes back and gently places the dinner on the table._

_Mad. V._ Ah, my Lord, if you knew how you wound my heart. Come now, you shall pay me for the dinner--there--you shall put the money into my hand the moment you have it. But indeed, indeed, if you were to give me a hundred thousand francs, it would not cause me half the pleasure that I should feel in seeing you eat my poor little dinner. Oh, surely, surely, you can comprehend that.

_Man._ I do, Louise, I do--and as I can't give you the hundred thousand francs, why, I'll eat your dinner.

_Mad. V._ No; _will_ you?

_Man._ Louise, your hand. Don't be alarmed, I'm not going to put money into it. [_She timidly gives her hand._

_Mad. V._ Oh! thank you, thank you, my lord, a thousand times. Now, I'll leave you to your dinner. Ah! how good of you to accept my poor gift. You have a noble heart. [_Exit C._

_Man._ And a monstrous appetite. My kind, faithful Louise. Well, well, let us to dinner, since dinner there is. Come, come, here's life for another day or so, at least, and that's something.

_DOCTOR and MADAME VAUBERGER heard without._

_Des._ Nonsense, nonsense; I don't believe a word of it.

_Mad. V._ I tell you sir, 'tis true; you might have seen it.

_Des._ [_Entering._] But, confound it, woman--I _didn't_ see it, and it was your business to tell me.

_Mad. V._ It wasn't.

_Des._ It was.

_Man._ What's the matter now?

_Des._ Matter enough! That stupid woman--

_Man._ Doctor, will you do me the pleasure to dine with me?

_Des._ My lord, you have done wrong.

_Man._ Indeed!

_Des._ For you have wounded a friend. You have been cruel.

_Man._ Cruel!

_Des._ For you have made an old man blush.

_Man._ I!

_Des._ Yes, you! why was I left in ignorance? How could you, Manuel? why didn't you. Damn it, sir? how dare you starve without letting me know?

_Man._ Sir, I could not--

_Des._ My poor boy; there, there, eat your dinner; I've news for you.

_Man._ News!

_Des._ Yes; eat your dinner.

_Man._ But I want to listen.

_Des._ Well, you don't listen with your mouth, I suppose. Eat your dinner.

_Man._ But--

_Des._ Devil a word you'll get out of me, if you don't eat your dinner.

_Man._ Well, well. [_Eats._

_Des._ Good! You remember I told you I had an appointment?

_Man._ Yes.

_Des._ Don't talk--eat! [_MANUEL eats._] That appointment concerned you. [_MANUEL nods._] I think I've found employment for you.

_Man._ Eh? [_Pauses with a bit on his fork._

_Des._ In with it. [_MANUEL puts it in his mouth._] Good! You are aware, of course, that my practice and my residence is in the country. I merely came to Paris on your account. [_MANUEL lets go his fork to shake hands with the DOCTOR, who puts the fork into his hand again._] Well, among the families with whom I am most intimate, there is one, in particular, of great wealth and importance. The name is Laroque. The family have had for some years past, a managing man, a steward, who never was worth much. Indeed, the only real service he has ever rendered them, he has just performed.

_Man._ Ran away?

_Des._ No, died. The moment I heard of this, I wrote to Madame Laroque, asking his situation for a friend of mine. On leaving you, I went to the post office, and found a letter awaiting me, with the full consent of the family to my request. To be sure the position for a man of your rank--

_Man._ My rank, under present circumstances, is a mockery. I shall, in future, take simply my Christian name of Manuel.

_Des._ I have only mentioned you in my letters as Monsieur Manuel, anticipating that such would be your wish. You will have your own apartments in a pavilion near the Chateau. Your salary will be so regulated that you will be enabled to lay by a portion for your sister. Now, the only question remaining is, will this suit you?

_Man._ Admirably! My dear, kind friend, how shall I sufficiently thank you?

_Des._ Eat your dinner.

_Man._ But am I fitted for the position?

_Des._ Pretty well. You've learned one great requisite.

_Man._ What's that?

_Des._ Economy. As to the rest, the duties are simple enough. And now I'll give you some notion of the people you are going to meet. There are, in the Chateau, without counting visitors, five persons. First, Monsieur Laroque, celebrated at the beginning of the present century as a famous privateer Captain. Hence his large fortune. He is now a feeble old man, mind and memory a good deal the worse for wear. Then there is Madame Laroque, his daughter-in-law, a Creole--

_Man._ A Creole?

_Des._ Yes, young gentleman, an _elderly_ Creole, with some eccentricities to be sure, but a good heart. Thirdly, there is Mademoiselle Marguerite, her daughter, much younger--

_Man._ That's singular.

_Des._ Eat your dinner. She is proud, somewhat romantic, a little thoughtless,--

_Man._ And her disposition?

_Des._ Sweet. Fourthly, Madame Aubrey, a widow, a sort of second cousin, old maidish, talky--

_Man._ Disposition?

_Des._ Sour. Fifthly, Mademoiselle Helouin--Governess. Young, good looking.

_Man._ Disposition?

_Des._ Doubtful. And that completes the catalogue.

_Man._ Delightful! Two good dispositions out of five. The proportion is enormous!

_Des._ I'm glad you look at things so hopefully. When will you be ready to accompany me to the Chateau?

_Man._ To-morrow--to-day.

_Des._ To-morrow will do. I shall be here for you early. [_Going._

_Man._ I shall be ready.

_Des._ [_Runs against MADAME V. who is coming in._] Confound it, woman, take care!

_Mad. V._ Why, Doctor, you ran against me.

_Des._ I didn't!

_Mad. V._ You did!

_Man._ What's the matter now?

_Des._ Eat your dinner!

END OF TABLEAU I.

TABLEAU II.

_A Saloon with bay windows opening on a Terrace, from which steps
descend to lawn and grounds at back--Piano, R. U. E.--Books,
Papers, Vases, &c., &c._

_DE BEVANNES, DR. DESMARETS, MAD. LAROQUE, MARGUERITE,
MADEMOISELLE HELOUIN, MAD. AUBREY discovered. As Curtain rises, M.
DE BEVANNES is conversing with several young ladies on the terrace
at back. DESMARETS reading paper, L. C. MADAME LAROQUE wrapped in
furs, L. reading a book. MARGUERITE near her mother, at tapestry
work. MADAME AUBREY, R. C. knitting. MAD'LLE HELOUIN arranging
flowers in vase, R. Great talking and laughing from the party on
the terrace as the curtain rises._

_Bevannes._ Very well, very well, young ladies, if you insist upon it. The ladies are determined on a waltz on the terrace.

_Madame Laroque._ What! in the broiling sun?

_Bev._ The roses do not fear the sun. Why should the lilies?

_Ladies_ [_all courtesey._] Oh, how pretty.

_Bev._ Yes, rather neat, I think. [_To MARGUERITE_] Mademoiselle, may I hope for the honor?

_Mar._ Thank you. Despite your pretty speech, I confess to a fear of waltzing in the sun. But I'll play for you with pleasure.

[_Goes towards Piano, R._

_Bev._ [_Aside to her._] Always cruel. [_To M'LLE HELOUIN_,] Mademoiselle, may I request the pleasure?

_Mlle Helouin._ Oh! certainly.

_Bev._ [_Aside to her._] Ever kind.

[_MARGUERITE plays--they waltz and gradually disappear._

_Mad. L._ Have you seen my new conservatory, Doctor?

_Des._ No, Madame.

_Mad. L._ Well, I must show it to you, if I can drag myself so far.

_Des._ Drag? Why, good gracious! You're the picture of health this morning--fresh as a rose.

_Mad. L._ Fresh? Frozen. It's a curious fact, Doctor, that since I left the Antilles, twenty years ago, I have never yet known what it was to feel comfortably warm.

_Des._ That accounts for your continued good looks. Consult your Cookery Book, page 18. If you want to preserve things fresh, you must keep them cold. And you, Madame, [_To MADAME AUBREY_] how do _you_ find yourself?

_Madame Aubrey._ Very weak, Doctor. I ate a tolerable breakfast this morning.

_Des._ [_Aside._] You may say that. Three eggs and a broiled chicken.

_Mad. A._ And I feel a fullness--

_Des._ [_Aside._] I should think so.

_Mad. A._ In the head.

_Des._ Ah!

_Mad. A._ The fact is, Doctor, I am subject to such continual chagrin, such cruel mortifications here. Dependent upon others for certain luxuries which I can't get for myself.

_Des._ Why not?

_Mad. A._ Things are so dear. Ah, Doctor, nothing will soothe me but death.

_Des._ Well, _that's_ cheap!

_Mad. A._ Brute! [_Aside._

_Mar._ [_at Piano._] Here they come again.

_She plays. The waltzers appear on terrace. In the midst of this
dancing, MANUEL comes up steps, as if from lawn below. They
separate R. and L. and regard him with some astonishment. He has
a portfolio under his arm._

_Mar._ Well, why don't you go on?

_Des._ [_Aside._] At last, [_aloud._] Madame Laroque, permit me to present to you, M. Manuel, the new Steward.

_MAD. LAROQUE rises and salutes MANUEL, at the same time ringing a
bell. A servant enters and goes to MANUEL, taking from him a small
portmanteau, which he carries off. MARGUERITE goes over to L. of
MAD. LAROQUE._

_Bev._ Rather a stylish looking steward!

_Mad. L._ Why, Doctor, what does this mean? You promised a quiet, simple, steady young man, and you bring me a fine gentleman like this.

_As MANUEL comes down R. C., MAD'LLE HELOUIN sees him._

_Mlle. H._ [_Aside._] It is the Marquis de Champcey!

[_Goes up to ladies._

MAD. AUBREY--MANUEL--DESMARETS--BEVANNES--MAD. LAROQUE--MADEMOISELLE
HELOUIN--MARGUERITE.

_Mad. L._ Pardon, sir, you are Monsieur--

_Man._ Manuel, Madame.

_Mad. L._ The new Steward?

_Man._ Yes, Madame.

_Mad. L._ You are quite sure?

_Des._ [_Aside._] That's not bad.

_Man._ Madame!

_Bev._ The lady wishes to know whether you are yourself.

_Man._ I have always been under that impression, sir.

[_BEVANNES goes up._

_Des._ [_Aside._] The conversation is becoming brilliant--I'll leave them to enjoy it. [_Exit at back--BEVANNES comes down to MARQUIS._

_Mad. L._ Sir, we are indebted to you for devoting your talents to our service; we really require them, for we have the misfortune to be immensely rich.

_Mad. A._ Misfortune, dear?

_Mad. L._ Yes, love; wealth is a heavy burthen.

_Mad. A._ But a very pleasant one.

_Mad. L._ You'd find it hard to bear, dear.

_Mad. A._ I should like to _try_, darling.

_Mad. L._ I feel that I was born for the devotion and self-sacrifice entailed by poverty. Ah! my dear Bevannes, should I not have made an excellent Sister of Charity?

_Bev._ You are already the next thing to it, Madame?

_Mad. L._ How so?

_Bev._ [_Indicating MARGUERITE._] The mother of goodness.

_Mar._ Oh, sir.

_Mad. L._ But do you not agree with me?

_Bev._ In what?

_Mad. L._ That wealth is a heavy responsibility.

_Bev._ Doubtless. But then you have the comfort of knowing that there are always some devoted friends willing to relieve you.

_Mad. L._ [_Rings._] But _my_ fortune is not mine to dispose of--for my duty obliges me to preserve it for my child.

_Enter ALAIN._

Alain, show this gentleman to his apartments--but first, you must be introduced to my father-in-law. Ask if Monsieur Laroque can see the gentleman. [_Exit ALAIN--MANUEL up stage._] And now, we will take a stroll to the conservatory. What has become of that horrid doctor? [_As she rises, her shawl falls off--MANUEL comes forward and assists her._] Oh! thank you, sir.

_Re-enter ALAIN._

_Alain._ Monsieur Laroque is coming down, Madame. [_Exit at back._

_Mad. L._ [_To MARGUERITE._] My dear, will you stay and introduce Monsieur Manuel to your grandpapa?

_Mar._ Certainly, if you wish it.

_Mad. L._ Now, my dear Bevannes, your arm.

_Bev._ [_Who has been talking to MARGUERITE._] Eh?

_Mad. L._ You shall accompany us--

_Bev._ [_To MARGUERITE._] This is too bad.

[_Gives arm to MADAME LAROQUE._

_Mar._ Oh! Monsieur de Bevannes, how happy you ought to feel--arm in arm with "the mother of goodness."

_Bev._ I do feel happy--blessed. [_MADAME AUBREY takes his other arm._] Doubly blessed. [_Exeunt BEVANNES, MADAME LAROQUE and MADAME AUBREY._

_Mlle. H._ [_Aside._] So, so, my lord Marquis. Well, I will keep your secret, _perhaps_. [_Exit--MARGUERITE seats herself as they go off._

_Mar._ [_After a pause._] Is this your first visit to Brittany, sir?

_Man._ It is, Mademoiselle.

_Mar._ It is an interesting country, I believe, to strangers.

_Man._ Deeply interesting; though I travelled through it so rapidly, that I had hardly time to appreciate its beauties. What I _did_ see, however, charmed me.

_Mar._ Ah! an admirer of the picturesque, I perceive, like our governess. You two will get on very well together--you'll be excellent companions.

_Man._ Mademoiselle--

_Mar._ Oh, yes; she adores trees, rocks, rivers, etcetera--things that, for my own part, I don't think very interesting.

_Man._ [_Smiling, and throwing himself carelessly into a chair._] Pray, then, may I ask what you _do_ think interesting?

_Mar._ [_Rising._] Excuse me, sir.

[_Goes out with a slight and disdainful inclination._

_Man._ A timely reproof--for I was already forgetting my position. [_ALAIN is crossing the stage._] My friend, a word with you.

_Alain._ Certainly, sir.

_Man._ Monsieur Laroque is very old, is he not?

_Alain._ Oh, yes sir, _very_ old.

_Man._ He was a seaman formerly, I believe?

_Alain._ Yes sir, and a bold one too. Up in the picture gallery, there are paintings of some of his most famous battles with the English. Ah! he was a terrible man. Why, sir, if you'll believe me, when the fit is on him, he will walk for hours alone in that gallery, in a sort of dream, muttering to himself, and fancying that he is again on board his ship in the midst of fire and slaughter, and between you and I, sir, they _do_ say--but hush! he's coming with his granddaughter. [_Music._

_Enter M. LAROQUE, leaning on MARGUERITE._

_Mar._ This way, dear grandfather. So, so. How well and strong you are to-day. [_ALAIN places chairs and exits._

_Laroque._ Always better and stronger when you are near me, my darling, [_sits down._] Thank ye, thank ye.

_Mar._ Let me present to you Mons. Manuel, our new steward.

_LAROQUE, on seeing MANUEL, is transfixed and gazes with a sort of
terror at him._

_Lar._ No--no--no--it cannot be!

_Mar._ What is this?

_Lar._ But I tell you he is dead--dead--

_Mar._ Dearest grandfather! [_To_ MANUEL.] For heaven's sake, sir, speak to him.

_Man._ Really, Mademoiselle--I--I--

_Mar._ Speak, sir! Say something--anything--

_Man._ I am happy, sir, that I can devote my humble talents to your service.

_Lar._ But he is dead--

_Man._ Who?

_Mar._ The last steward-- [_Signs to MANUEL to speak on._

_Man._ All the more happy, sir, as I have heard of your many brilliant exploits, and had relatives who, like yourself, have often fought against the English--

_Lar._ The English! Aye--aye--aye--they did it--they were the cause, but they paid it all--paid dearly--dearly.

_Man._ [_Approaching._] Permit me, sir, to--

_Lar._ Ah! No--no--no. He has blood upon him! See--see--see--

_Mar._ Grandfather, dear grandfather! Do not regard him, [_To MANUEL._] he is often thus--his great age--and--and--oh, sir, pray retire; join my mother, I beg of you.

_Man._ Certainly, Mademoiselle. [_Aside._] A good beginning, truly.

[_Exit._

_Mar._ Grandfather, dearest, what terrible thoughts are troubling you? See, it is I, Marguerite, your child.

_Lar._ Eh! my child! Ah, yes, true, my child, my own dear child; but where is--are we alone? Who stood _there_ just now?

_Mar._ That was our new steward, Monsieur Manuel.

_Lar._ Manuel--Manuel--'tis very strange! I thought--

_Mar._ What, dear grandfather?

_Lar._ Thought that--that--

_Mar._ Oh, you thought you recognized him? He is like some one you have seen before?

_Lar._ Yes--yes--yes--like some one I have seen before. But I am very old, darling, and have seen so many faces in my time. Well, well, I think I shall like him. Does he play picquet?

_Mar._ Indeed I do not know--

_Lar._ I hope so, I hope so--

_Enter MAD. AUBREY._

_Mad. H._ Ah, my dear cousin, how do you find yourself now? They told me you were ill, and almost frightened me to death.

_Lar._ Thank ye, cousin, thank ye. It was only a passing weakness.

_Mad. A._ Indeed, I rejoice to hear it, for I was fearful of some sudden--Oh, why did you not send for me? 'Tis very unkind of you to forget those who love you so. [_Weeps._

_Mar._ Grandpapa, there's one for you. [_Aside to him._

_Lar._ [_To MAD. AUBREY._] Well, well it's very kind of you to be so fearful of _something sudden_, but you needn't--I've made my _will_. [_Aside to MARGUERITE._] There's one for _her_!

_Mad. A._ Come now, take my arm, a walk upon the terrace will do you so much good. There, don't be afraid to lean on me.

_Lar._ You're very kind, cousin. Thank ye, thank ye. [_Going._] Marguerite, my darling, ask him if he plays picquet.

_Mar._ I will.

_Lar._ Umph! do you think he does?

_Mar._ I have no doubt of it.

_Lar._ [_As he goes out with_ MAD. AUBREY.] I hope so--I hope so--I hope so! [_Exeunt LAROQUE and MAD. AUBREY._

_Mar._ My poor grandfather; spite of his failing memory, he sees through the disinterestedness of our good cousin Aubrey. But those wild words, his terror at the appearance of this young man, what could that mean? Or had it any meaning? [_Sees MAD. LAROQUE and MANUEL coming in at back._] My mother--and leaning on the arm of that person!

_Mad. L._ Precisely my own opinion, sir, my impression exactly; this is really charming; we agree upon every point.

_Man._ I am flattered, Madame, to think such should be the case.

_Bev._ [_Without._] 'Pon my honor, young ladies, I can't, I really can't!

_Enter BEVANNES, surrounded by ladies, exclaiming_, "You must,
Indeed!"

_Bev._ Would you believe it, Madame? Those unconscionable ladies insist on another waltz.

_Mar._ Oh, indeed I cannot play any more--I must finish this to-day--It is a promise--

_Man._ Pray do not let that inconvenience the ladies--I will play a waltz with much pleasure. [_Touches Piano._

_Bev._ Sir!

_Mar._ [_Haughtily._] Thank you, sir--it is not requisite.

_Man._ [_Aside._] Forgetting again. [_Goes up Terrace._

_Bev._ [_Aside._] Pretty cool!

_Mar._ Very presuming of that steward.

_Mad L._ Very polite of that _gentleman_.

_Bev._ Highly disgusting to _this_ gentleman.

_Mad. L._ Well, de Bevannes, you must find some other amusement for the ladies.

_Bev._ 'Gad, I'll soon do that. It's positively fatiguing to be in such general request with them. They can't do without me for one moment--they absolutely--

_Turns and perceives MANUEL, who, during the preceding dialogue,
has entered into conversation with the ladies, and has, by this
time, offered his arm to two of them--They all accompany him off._

_Bev._ [_Aside._] Well, if I were given to strong sentiments, I should wish that fellow at the deuce. As it is, I'll content myself with simply damning his impudence.

_Mad. L._ Do you know, my dear, that I don't feel quite easy in my mind about that young man.

_Bev._ [_Aside._] Nor I, either.

_Mar._ Why not, mamma?

_Mad. L._ He is much too charming to make a good steward.

_Mar._ Really; I do not perceive it. A person may be honest and well-behaved, although he does happen to play on the piano.

_Bev._ I don't know that; I flatter myself I have seen something of the world, and experience has specially taught me to beware of the man who plays the piano.

_Mar._ Mamma, dear, will you hand me those scissors?

_Mad. L._ Yes, my child. [_Perceives MANUEL'S portfolio._] Whose drawing-book is this?

_Mar._ That? oh! that is the steward's--I saw it in his hand when he came in.

_Mad. L._ I positively must take a peep. Oh! De Bevannes, look! beautiful! What a charming accomplishment it is to draw well.

_Mar._ Yes, for an engineer, or a builder--

_Bev._ Or an actor--

_Mar._ Why gracious! Monsieur de Bevannes, you have said a good thing.

_Bev._ Have I? Allow me to apologize.

_Mar._ Not at all; it's your _first_ offence.

_Mad. L._ How beautifully finished these groups are.

_Bev._ Positively, they're not so bad.

_Mad. L._ Bad! my dear sir; they're exquisite. Look, for instance at that horse--is it not perfection?

_Bev._ It would be, doubtless--only it happens to be a cow.

_Mad.L._ A cow?

_Bev._ I think so; horses don't go about with two horns.

_Enter MANUEL._

_Man._ Your pardon, ladies; but I believe I left my drawing-book--

_Mad. L._ Allow me to return it, sir--and to thank you for an accident which has afforded us much pleasure.

_Man._ Madame, you are too kind--so kind, indeed, that you have too long refrained from permitting me to commence my duties. With your consent, I will at once set about them. Your farm at Langeot, of which you spoke to me, is not more, I think, than a mile or two from this. I will walk over there this afternoon, and--

_Mad. L._ Walk! over such a miserable bad road as it is. Indeed, sir, I could not allow it.

_Enter MADAME AUBREY._

_Mad. A._ Hush! Pray, _pray_, not so much noise. My dear cousin has composed himself to sleep.

_Bev._ Noise! it appears to me we were pretty quiet.

_Mad. A._ Ah, sir, you might think so; but the least sound jars upon his poor nerves. [_Weeps._

_Bev._ [_Aside._] I never saw such a devil of a woman as this is, to cry.

_Man._ But I assure you, Madame, that I would rather walk. If I pretend to be your steward--why steward I must be, and not fine gentleman.

_Mad. L._ [_To_ MARGUERITE.] My dear, would it be proper to allow M. Manuel to walk?

_Mar._ I believe it is usual for the steward to do so. However, I see no reason why he should not ride, if he chooses. There are plenty of horses in the stable.

_Mad. A._ Ah! [_Weeps._

_Bev._ What's the matter, Madame?

_Mad. A._ Talking of riding always overcomes me.

_Bev._ Excuse my peculiar mode of expression--but you appear to me to pass your life in being perpetually overcome.

_Mad. A._ Women are but fragile flowers. [_Weeps._

_Bev._ They seem to require a deal of water.

_Mad. A._ But horses, sir--talking of horses, puts me in mind of a pet I had.

_Mad. L._ A pet horse, dear?

_Mad. A._ No, love, a donkey. Oh! [_Weeps._

_Bev._ [_Aside._] Now she's watering the donkey.

_Mad. A._ I had the dear little creature for two years. Just long enough to--pray listen, sir. [_To MANUEL._

_Man._ I beg your pardon, Madame--I'm all attention--I heard. The creature had two ears just long enough-- [_All laugh._

_Mad. A._ No, no; I said I had him for two years--just a sufficient time to love him like a child--when he died--died, sir, of one of those diseases peculiar to that class of quadruped.

_Man._ Children?

_Mad. A._ No, sir, Donkies! Dear me, it was, Umph! let me see, you must know, sir, what I mean? [_To BEVANNES._

_Bev._ Measles?

_Mad. A._ No, no, but no matter; He died--

_Bev._ Peace to his ashes. But as you were saying, Madame Laroque, there are plenty of horses in the stable, and, really, all but ruined for want of exercise.

_Enter DR. DESMARETS._

_Des._ Yes, that's what you'll _all_ be, if you continue to lounge away the days as you do.

_Mad. L._ Ah, Doctor, we've missed you dreadfully.

_Des._ What's the matter? anybody sick?

_Bev._ You ought to have been here just now, Doctor; Madame Aubrey has told the most touching tale--

_Des._ Of a donkey? I know, I've heard it often.

_Bev._ But with regard to a horse for M. Manuel. There's Black Harry--

_Des._ Black Harry! Nobody can ride the brute! He's perfectly untameable! Why, de Bevannes, you tried it yourself and couldn't.

_Bev._ Ahem! Oh--ah--yes, but I had no spurs.

_Des._ Spurs! Why, you couldn't even get upon his back!

_Bev._ Eh--why--no--not exactly--[_Aside_] Confound him!

_Man._ [_To BEVANNES_] And is Black Harry so very unmanageable?

_Bev._ 'Pon my word I don't see it. He has an insuperable objection to being mounted, but if you can get upon his back, and _being_ on his back, can _keep_ there, why, of course, it's a great point in your favor.

_Man._ [_Smiling._] Certainly an important one.

_Des._ If you except a partiality for biting, and ditto for kicking, occasionally shying, and always prone to running away, he's a pleasant beast.

_Mar._ But such a beauty! I never saw a horse I should like so much to ride, if he were but properly broken.

_Man._ [_To MAD. LAROQUE_] Madame, have I your permission?

_Mad. L._ Certainly. [_MANUEL rings._

_Bev._ [_Aside._] What's he at now?

_Enter ALAIN._

_Man._ Tell one of the grooms to saddle Black Harry.

_Alain._ Sir!

_Des._ What?

_Mad. L._ No--no--

_Man._ [_To_ ALAIN.] Did you hear my order?

_Alain._ Yes, sir. [_Aside._] There'll be work for the Doctor to-day.

[_Exit._

_Bev._ [_Aside._] Good.

_Man._ Pray do not fear, Madame, I have been used to restive horses. I'll just make his acquaintance now, and if I can succeed in gaining a small portion of his esteem, I will do myself the honor of riding him daily until he is fit for your daughter's use.

_Des._ [_To BEVANNES._] What the devil made you mention that confounded animal? You don't like the new steward, eh?

_Bev._ Not particularly.

_Des._ He's good looking.

_Bev._ Inconveniently.

_Des._ And you want his neck broken?

_Bev._ No. But I should like his nose put out of joint.

_Mad. L._ I do not think I ought to permit this.

[_Noise below the terrace._

_Enter ALAIN._

_Alain._ The horse is ready, sir.

_Bev._ I will lend you a pair of my spurs. Alain, get my spurs as you go down.

_Alain._ Very well, sir. [_Exit._

_Mad. L._ Let me entreat you, sir.

_Man._ I do assure you, there is nothing to fear. With your good wishes I am certain of success. [_Exit down steps._

_Des._ [_On a terrace._] Why, here are all the servants and grooms. Quite an assemblage.

_Noise--Cries of_ "Hold him," "Quiet, sir," "Out of the way,"
"Stand clear," &c.--_Enter LADIES and MLLE HELOUIN._

_Des._ A nice, quiet animal. [_Leans over._] Manuel, my dear boy. Sir! if you break your leg, you may mend it yourself--I won't.

_Bev._ [_On a sofa._] Doctor, report progress. [_Aside._] I'll bet a thousand francs he doesn't even mount him.

_Mar._ [_Who has overheard him._] I'll take that bet, sir.

_Bev._ Eh? oh! as you please Mademoiselle.

_Des._ By the Lord, he's up! [_Noise as before--then shout._

_Bev._ In the air?

_Des._ No, in the saddle. [_Noise again._] Ah, he's off!

_Bev._ Off the horse?

_Des._ No; off on a gallop. [_Noise gets more distant._] Egad! they're all scampering after him. What's he doing now? The ditch! take care!

_Mad. L._ He'll be killed.

_Mad. A._ Oh! oh! [_Weeps._

_Mar._ The horse can never do it. [_Shouts distant._

_Des._ Ah! he's--

_Bev._ In it?

_Des._ No, _over_ it! Back again! [_Shouts distant._] Here he comes. Egad! Black Harry's had enough of it. [_Shouts approach nearer._

_Mar._ [_Aside._] There's some mystery about this man. He has hardly arrived, when all eyes seem turned to him. There certainly _is_ a mystery.

_Mlle H._ It will be cleared up, Mademoiselle.

_Enter ALAIN._

_Mar._ What do you mean?

_Mlle H._ Hush!

_Alain._ [_To BEVANNES._] Your spurs, sir.

_Bev._ Oh! I hope they assisted him.

_Alain._ Didn't want 'em sir.

_Great shouting below--The ladies, who have been witnessing the
ride, crowd upon the terrace, waving their handkerchiefs, and
appear surrounding and congratulating MANUEL as he comes on up
steps._

_Des._ [_To BEVANNES._] Somebody's nose is out of joint.

END TABLEAU II.

Lapse of Three Months.

TABLEAU III.

_The Park of the Chateau Laroque. ALAIN discovered arranging
Portfolio and Drawing materials._

_Alain._ Now really I do thank Madame for deputing me to wait more especially on Monsieur Manuel. Steward or no steward, he's a perfect gentleman; of that there can't be a doubt. What a pity it is that Mademoiselle Marguerite and he don't like one another. When he says white, she says black. When she goes one way, he goes another, yet everybody else likes him. M'lle Helonin, our Governess, is absolutely in love with him, and the wonderful influence he has obtained over old Mons. Laroque, in this short time, is unaccountable. He has hardly been here three months, and they say that all the money will be left according to his advice--but that's going rather far, even for gossip. Well, now, his drawing materials are all ready for him, and--here he is to employ them.

_Enter MANUEL._

_Man._ Alain, did you, by chance, pick up a half finished letter anywhere in my room?

_Alain._ No, sir.

_Man._ Strange! I commenced it yesterday, and left it on my table, intending to finish it this morning. I have searched the room thoroughly, and it is nowhere to be found.

_Alain._ Was it of much importance?

_Man._ Merely inasmuch as it related to family and business matters. It was for the Doctor, in case he should call when I was from home. However, let it go. I'll write another when I return. [_Sits down and prepares drawing materials._] Did not Mademoiselle Marguerite go out on horseback yesterday alone?

_Alain._ Yes, sir.

_Man._ How was it you did not follow her, as usual?

_Alain._ Oh, sir, she often goes without me. She's a capital rider, and she says, to be alone sometimes, makes her feel more self-dependent, and you know, sir, it won't do to contradict her, for though a charitable, kind-hearted, young lady, she's rather wilful, and terribly proud.

_Man._ Somewhat, perhaps, but her general manner appears to me more the result of a sad and gloomy thoughtfulness, than mere pride.

_Alain._ Ah, well, I suppose, sir, that, like most young ladies of her age, she's a little bit in love.

_Man._ In love?

_Alain._ Yes, sir, Monsieur de Bevannes has been paying her great attention for some time past, and it would be a grand match, for, after Monsieur Laroque, he is the richest gentleman in the neighborhood, and of excellent family. Ah, sir, what a pity it is _you_ are not rich.

_Man._ Why so, Alain?

_Alain._ Because--no matter. Have you any orders for me, sir?

_Man._ Merely to have a good look for that letter when you go to my room.

_Alain._ I certainly will, sir. [_Exit._

_Man._ Married--married--and to _him_. Well, and why not? Fool that I am! Despite of all that should preserve and fence my heart as with a wall of steel, from every impulse which could induce forgetfulness of my bitter lot, and the one sacred object of my life, still will that coward heart indulge in dreams--wild dreams of one day laying its most precious offerings at the feet which would but spurn them.

_Enter M'LLE HELOUIN, with basket._

But I will conquer yet, and if the struggle be hard, the victory will be the more worthy.

_Mlle H._ [_Aside._] He is alone. Hitherto, I have kept his secret well; whether I will continue silent, depends upon himself. Courage, and the poor hireling may yet be a Marchioness. [_Comes down to him._] Oh! Monsieur Manuel, how beautiful that is! You see, while you have been painting the woods, I have been gathering flowers. You know we have a ball to-night.

_Man._ Indeed? I was not aware of it.

_Mlle H._ You positively don't seem to know or care about anything that goes on. You are worse than indifferent, you are unsociable--

_Man._ Pardon me, not unsociable. But I know my station, and think it better not to risk being reminded of it.

_Mlle H._ [_After a pause._] Monsieur Manuel--

_Man._ Mademoiselle--

_Mlle H._ Have I ever offended you?

_Man._ No, indeed.

_Mlle H._ I have been vain enough to think, at times, that you had some friendly feeling for me.

_Man._ And so I have. It is but natural. Our fortunes and positions are the same, or nearly so. Both dependent on the caprices of those who employ us, both alone, friendless. This should create sympathy at least, if not friendship.

_Mlle H._ You would not fear, then, to tell me of my faults?

_Man._ Not if you desired it.

_Mlle H._ Indeed I do desire it.

_Mlle H._ But I only know of one.

_Mlle H._ Pray name it. Nay, I shall receive it as a kindness.

_Mlle H._ Well, then I think you admit and encourage somewhat too great a familiarity with the family in whose employment we are. Your motives may be, indeed, I'm sure they _are_, perfectly innocent; still they will not be so considered, for in this world, the unfortunate are always suspected.

_Mlle H._ True, true. Spoken with a delicacy and candor all you own--I thank you sincerely--and you will always continue as now--my true friend?

_Man._ I shall feel honored in the title.

_Mlle H._ A true--a _dear_ friend?

_Man._ [_Aside._] What is she driving at?

_Mlle H._ A friend that loves me?

_Man._ [_Aside._] Hallo! we're getting tender!

_Mlle H._ A friend that loves me, ardently--do you hear?

_Man._ Distinctly.

_Mlle H._ And do you comprehend?

_Man._ [_Half aside._] I'm afraid I do.

_Mlle H._ Do you remember the old nursery rhyme--

"Pluck from the flower its leafy store--
Love me little, love me more;
Hearts change owners, yet combine,
If mine is yours, and yours is mine."

Come, now, let us see if you know which line should be yours. Shall I commence?

_Man._ If you please.

_Mlle H._

"Pluck from the flower it's leafy store--[_A pause._]
Love me little, love me more; [_A pause._]
Hearts change owners, yet combine,
If----

_Man._ I respectfully decline."

_Mlle H._ [_Throwing away the flower, which she has been picking to pieces_] Then, sir--

_Sees BEVANNES, who enters._

Indeed, I could look at it all day, it is so beautiful--but I positively must go. Monsieur, an revoir. [_Aside to MANUEL, as she goes._] You have misunderstood me. [_Exit._

_Man._ Have I? Then I must be a greater fool than I thought.

_Bev._ [_Aside._] Pretty close quarters. What the deuce is that governess after? And now for a little scientific pumping. [_Comes down._] Ah, Monsieur Manuel, at your drawing, eh? Beautiful, beautiful, indeed.

_Man._ You flatter.

_Bev._ Not at all--but to change the subject--by the by, do, I interrupt your work?

_Man._ Not in the least.

_Bev._ Well, I was going to compliment you on the vast affection and confidence you have inspired in poor old Laroque.

_Man._ I believe he really has a kindly regard for me.

_Bev._ Regard! my dear sir--you are absolutely wound around his heart. His affection for his grand-daughter is very great, but no one has the influence over him that you have. Now, in the strictest confidence, I'm going to be very frank with you--and mark me well, you will not find it to your disadvantage hereafter, if you are equally frank with _me_.

_Man._ Really, I don't quite--

_Bev._ No; but you will presently. Without flattery, I think you--

_Man._ [_Referring to his picture._] Too green.

_Bev._ Eh? Oh, exactly. I was about to say I think you, in every way, a gentleman, therefore I don't hesitate to confide in you the fact that yesterday, after dinner, I was just--

_Man._ [_To picture._] A little blue.

_Bev._ Eh? Oh precisely. I was just on the point of proposing to Madame Laroque for her daughter's hand, when it suddenly struck me that I should possess a double claim, if I could, in the first place, influence you enough in the young lady's favor to make it certain that the bulk of Monsieur Laroque's property would be left to her.

_Man._ Monsieur de Bevannes, you really very much over-rate--

_Bev._ Pray forgive me, but you hardly know yourself, the importance of your good offices in this matter. I was going on to say that my marriage with Marguerite is all but a settled affair, and, of course, it is my duty to promote her interests in every possible way. I think you must concede that?

_Man._ Surely, but--

_Bev._Permit me. Now I wish to call to your mind that Madame Laroque, though a worthy excellent woman, is one of very simple tastes and habits, and, should too large a portion of the property be left to her, it would tax and embarrass her to an extent that would be painful to my feelings. I hope you appreciate my disinterestedness in the matter.

_Man._ Oh, thoroughly! But I am still at a loss to imagine where my interference would be either necessary or effectual.

_Bev._ My dear friend--

_Man._ [_Aside._] Now _he's_ getting tender!

_Bev._ One word from you as to the proper disposition of the money would--

_Man._ Monsieur de Bevannes, let me end this at once, by telling you that, in my opinion, any interference from me in the family affairs of M. Laroque, would be a gross and unseemly abuse of his confidence.

_Bev._ And this is the return you make for mine?

_Man._ I did not solicit it, sir.

_Bev._ Sir, permit me to take your hand.

_Man._ Really--

_Bev._ You have stood the test, you are a noble fellow. You are--

_Enter MADAME AUBREY._

[_Aside._] There's Mrs. Waterspout, by jove! [_Aloud._] You seem puzzled at my manner--I will take another opportunity of explaining. Suffice it now to say you have _misunderstood_ me. [_Exit._

_Man._ My understanding seems to be terribly at fault to-day.

_Mad. A._ [_Aside._] De Bevannes has left him. A good opportunity for me. [_Comes down._] Beautiful! Exquisite indeed!

_Man._ Madame--

_Mad. A._ Truly, each new picture you finish, is more lovely than the last. Oh! [_Weeps._

_Man._ What is the matter?

_Mad. A._ The painting of that sheep's head--

_Man._ Yes, Madame--

_Mad. A._ Reminds me of my own portrait, taken in happier years, long passed away.

_Man._ But there are as happy ones in store for you, I hope.

_Mad. A._ That will depend greatly upon you, Monsieur Manuel.

_Man._ On _me_?

_Mad. A._ Yes. Do you know, Monsieur Manuel, that I find my poor cousin Laroque very much changed,--

_Man._ Indeed he is.

_Mad. A._ And for the worse. In fact, he appears to me to be sinking fast.

_Man._ I'm afraid such is the case.

_Mad. A._ How fond he is of you--you, it is well known, possess his entire confidence.

_Man._ I have been fortunate enough to make my poor services acceptable to him.

_Mad. A._ Now, just between ourselves, in the strictest confidence; do you happen to be aware how the property will be left?

_Man._ I do not, Madame.

_Mad. A._ I am in a state of painful apprehension, lest the dear old gentleman should over-estimate the desires and requirements of Madame Laroque, and should, therefore, curtail any little legacy coming to _me_, to make _her_ portion larger, which would be absolutely throwing money away. I hope you understand my entire want of selfishness in this matter?

_Man._ I think I do.

_Mad. A._ I was sure you would. Now, if you will use your power and settle this affair to my advantage, all I can say is, so noble an action would not go unrewarded.

_Man._ I should hope not.

_Mad. A._ You will find me _substantially_ grateful; you understand me?

_Man._ Entirely.