Chapter II: Part 2

_Mad. A._ And I you?

_Man._ Not quite; but in order that you may--I must tell you, Madame--that when you offer me money to rob your benefactor, and mine, you entirely and totally mistake the person you are addressing.

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

_Man._ It grieves me to be so abrupt, but--

_Mad. A._ It is not that, it is not that--but, to be thought capable of such--to be accused--oh, sir! you have cruelly _misunderstood_ me.

[_Exit, weeping._

_Man._ Another misunderstanding! That makes three friends I have secured this morning. One or two more of the same sort, and my business here will be soon finished.

_Enter MLLE HELOUIN._

_Man._ Here comes the first misunderstanding again.

_Mlle H._ M. Manuel, I thought you might like to know that the Doctor has just arrived--

_Man._ Thank you--I'll go to him at once. [_Exit._

_Mlle H._ So eager to avoid me. Have a care, my lord Marquis--spite of my insignificance, you may learn to rue the day you made me conscious of it.

_Enter BEVANNES._

And here is one on whom, if I don't very much mistake, I may rely for aid.

_Bev._ Upon my honor, Mademoiselle, you make quite a pretty picture--a wood nymph's reverie; sweet subject, now, for the pencil of our friend, the steward.

_Mlle H._ Our friend, the steward, as you term him, has loftier subjects for his pictures, either aerial or substantial.

_Bev._ Really!

_Mlle H._ And in the former quality his aspirations are sublime.

_Bev._ Mademoiselle, you are an entertaining person, but I never guessed a conundrum in my life.

_Mlle H._ In plain terms, then, this romantic gentleman aspires to create an interest in the heart of Marguerite.

_Bev._ O come! I can stand a great deal, but that's rather _too_ good.

_Mlle H._ But if I can prove it?

_Bev._ The thing is too absurd.

_Mlle H._ I have just parted from Madame Aubrey.

_Bev._ I congratulate you.

_Mlle H._ You jest, M. de Bevannes, but you may one day wake to find the steward rather a dangerous person. Madame Aubrey has picked up a letter of his, which was blown out of the window of his room, into the park. Would you like to see it?

_Bev._ Mademoiselle, I don't pretend to more virtue than my neighbors, but if I can only get at facts by reading another man's letters, I'm afraid I shall remain in ignorance.

_Mlle H._ Marguerite is coming. Would you like to hear the communication I have to make?

_Bev._ The contents of the letter?

_Mlle H._ No, but still a somewhat startling discovery.

_Bev._ On the whole, I think I'll take my departure; for when there's mischief to be concocted, and two women to brew it, it would be the grossest vanity in any man to think he could improve the cookery.

[_Exit._

_Mlle H._ Now if I can instill but one small drop of the poison called suspicion, her proud, impetuous spirit, will complete the work itself.

_Enter MARGUERITE._

_Mar._ Really, a very touching scene. The affection existing between the good doctor and our steward is remarkable. If he had been M. Manuel's father, he could hardly have been more cordially received.

_Mlle H._ And I assure you that M. Manuel's father could not serve him at this moment as the doctor can.

_Mar._ My dear governess, you seem to know more of this young man than you choose to reveal. I remember well your mysterious words to me the day he first rode and conquered that horse.

_Mlle H._ Perhaps I have been to blame for having remained silent so long. But right or wrong, I have, until now, looked upon it as a duty to keep this person's secret inviolate.

_Mar._ His secret!

_Mlle H._ Nor would I reveal it now, but that his base intentions are no longer doubtful, and silence would be criminal. However, I must exact your promise that the knowledge of it shall remain, for the present, between ourselves.

_Mar._ You have my word. Proceed.

_Mlle H._ Four years ago, when you were in Paris--you are aware that I was in the habit of visiting some of my old friends at my former school?

_Mar._ I remember.

_Mlle H._ Well, I often saw there this very M. Manuel. He visited the school to see his little sister. His father was the well known Marquis de Champcey.

_Mar._ Ah!

_Mlle H._ It was the talk of the school that the family were even then much reduced. Now, they are totally ruined. The father is dead, and the son has, through the good offices of a friend, been placed in a position to regain the fortune he has lost. By what means I leave to your penetration to discover.

_Mar._ And is it so! [_A pause._] But, after all, the conduct of this young man in no way justifies suspicion. I see him but seldom. In truth, he actually avoids me.

_Mlle H._ Of course he does. Reserve creates inquiry, inquiry, interest. Oh, he has been well tutored.

_Mar._ Enough. I thank you sincerely for the warning. But relieve your mind of all anxiety; I shall know how to deal with this conscientious gentleman, be assured.

_Mlle H._ Indeed I feel the happier that I have at last confided this fact to you. Ah, my child, to what snares, what treachery, what deceit, does the possession of wealth expose the innocent. The thought of them makes the poor governess almost contented with her humble lot. Come, shall we walk towards the house? As we go, I shall be able to bring to your recollection many circumstances, trifling in themselves, but which, when considered in connection with what I have now told you, will serve to bring full conviction to your mind.

[_Exeunt MARGUERITE, leaving her basket of flowers on the bank._

_Enter MANUEL._

_Man._ And now, having enjoyed the honor of a tete-a-tete with each of those most interested in inquiring into matters upon which I'm strictly determined to be silent, I presume I shall be permitted to continue my work undisturbed. [_He has reseated himself at his drawing._

_MARGUERITE re-enters to find her basket. He rises. She merely
looks haughtily at him and, in carrying off the basket, lets a
rose fall on the ground._

_Man._ Really, her manner is more than haughty. 'Tis almost rude. [_He picks up the flower._] I suppose now, she'd grudge me this poor flower, yet who, though loving wildly and hopelessly as I do, would not think it a fair prize? No, I will return it. I will not be guilty of one action which shall give my heart the power to whisper "Thus should'st thou not have done."

_Re-enter MARGUERITE._

_Mar._ [_Aside._] As I supposed. Have the kindness, sir, to return me that flower. I am not in the habit of presenting boquets to--gentlemen.

_Man._ Under which conviction, Mademoiselle, I was on the point of bringing it to you.

_Mar._ [_Aside._] Oh! for some way to make him feel how I despise him. Do you know, M. Manuel, seeing so little of you, lately, I was under the impression that death had deprived us of another steward--

_Man._ Highly flattered that you should condescend to be under any impressions concerning so insignificant a person.

_Mar._ I thought that so gifted a gentleman could hardly do anything without a motive, and now I am informed that your absence is attributable to the fact that you spend all your evenings with our noble relative, Mademoiselle Delonnais.

_Man._ I certainly do, and I deny myself that pleasure the less because the lady happens to be old enough to be my grandmother. Her ancestors reigned here formerly, and she--the last of a noble race--poor and infirm, bears so well the dignity of her name, her age, and her misfortunes, that I feel almost a filial affection for her. Besides, it was your mother who first introduced me to her.

_Mar._ Oh! no one means to reproach you; on the contrary, I dare say Madame Laroque is obliged to you for your attention to the good old lady.

_Man._ You may remember, too, it was your wish--

_Mar._ Oh, if you want praise or admiration from me, you must be content to wait. Though young, I have some experience of life. I know that there are two motives to most human actions. I know that M'lle Delonnais has a small independence. I know she has no heir, therefore a little extra attention and--

_Man._ Mademoiselle, permit me to express for you my sincere pity.

_Mar._ Sir!

_Man._ Permit me to express for you my sincere pity.

_Mar._ Your pity?

_Man._ Yes, madame--if unjust suspicion be the bitter fruit of experience in one so young. Nothing can merit more compassion than a heart withered by misbelief, almost before it has begun to exist.

_Mar._ Are you aware of what you say, sir? Are you aware to whom you speak?

_Man._ Entirely conscious, Mademoiselle, of both.

_Mar._ [_Bitterly._] Perhaps you expect me to ask your pardon?

_Man._ Assuredly I do. Wealth can afford to humble itself--poverty cannot.

_Mar._ [_As she is going, turns with a haughty humility._] Then, sir, I ask your pardon. [_Exit._

_Man._ Oh! my sister, my darling Rose! It needs all my love for thee to make endurance of these insults less than cowardice! Coldness and antipathy have increased to absolute hate and persecution. She is determined to drive me hence. She will succeed at last, and then--

_Enter DOCTOR DESMARETS._

Ah! my dear Doctor!

_Des._ I've eaten some lunch, had the dust brushed off, and now I'm going to brush some more on.

_Man._ How so?

_Des._ Just got a letter--patient very sick--twenty miles ride there and back. Pleasant life, a doctor's.

_Man._ Where is it?

_Des._ About four miles beyond the ruins of Elfin.

_Man._ The ruins of Elfen.

_Des._ Yes; but what's the matter with you? you look feverish and queer. Anything wrong between you and the family?

_Man._ Why, no. But--

_Des._ But--what? They tell me you're quite a great man here--old Laroque can't live without you--angry because you don't spend all your evenings at the Chateau--and the ladies, without exception, are crazy about you.

_Man._ Pardon me--there's one _important_ exception--Mlle Marguerite.

_Des._ What the devil! You don't mean to tell me you can't agree with _her_.

_Man._ I do assure you--she loses no opportunity to humiliate, and even openly insult me. Indeed, it has lately become insufferable--so that I am going to tax your friendship once more, to seek for me some other employment.

_Des._ Now don't be hasty, my dear boy. By Jove! here she comes--no she don't--she perceives you--and there she goes. She don't escape _me_ though.

_Man._ Nay, my dear doctor, I beg of you--

_Des._ Stuff! nonsense! I'll just give her a piece of my mind. [_Exit._

_Man._ I very much fear the Doctor's zeal in my cause will lead him into trouble with this proud girl--but I am resolved. Here, I will not, _can_ not remain. Rose, my darling, thy marriage dowry must be sought and won elsewhere. I will at once visit my poor old friend, and say farewell. Marguerite I will see no more--no faltering now--a good resolve once taken, action should be speedy. To-night the horse I have almost learned to love, because she would one day ride him, shall bear me for the last time. [_Exit._

_The DOCTOR and MARGUERITE are heard outside--then enter._

_Des._ Can't help it, if I _do_ offend you. The young man is my friend--

_Mar._ Doctor--

_Des._ My friend, Mademoiselle--and I never desert a friend, even though he has incurred the displeasure of your proud ladyship.

_Mar._ Do you not regard _me_ as a friend?

_Des._ I should rather think so; known you since you were a baby; disposition altered since then--

_Mar._ For the better?

_Des._ Don't know that. When you are angry now it's a storm--_then_ it was only a squall.

_Mar._ This is no jesting matter. Doctor Desmarets, I have always considered you a man of honor.

_Des._ Much obliged to you. I've been under the same impression myself.

_Mar._ What then is the meaning of this plot!

_Des._ Plot!

_Mar._ This young man, this steward you have so kindly supplied us with, he has been recognized. He is known!

_Des._ Well, suppose he is; what of it?

_Mar._ Why does he bear a false name?

_Des._ He don't.

_Mar._ Doctor--

_Des._ Manuel is his Christian name. I suppose he may make what use of it he pleases. Whether he puts it first or last, is nobody's business but his own.

_Mar._ His motive?

_Des._ His motive, Mademoiselle, is worthy of himself, and proceeds from a sense of honest pride, which many would do well to imitate. He is a gentleman, and a man of honor, reduced to sudden poverty, and compelled to labor for a livelihood. Now, I'm not acute enough to perceive any _plot_ in all this. But I _do_ perceive that you are doing your best to drive him from this place.

_Mar._ Doctor, your word is enough. I believe you, and I thank you. Oh, it is so sad to look only on the gloomy side of things. I thank you _so_ much, and never liked you half so well as I do to-day.

[_While speaking this speech, she searches for the rose she has
taken from MANUEL, and, on finding it, places it in her bosom._

_Des._ No?

_Mar._ No!

_Des._ What a pity--

_Mar._ Eh?

_Des._ That I can't stay to luxuriate in your friendship. I have only time to say good-bye to your mother, then I must be off.

_Mar._ Well, now, I'll tell you what I'll do. To prove I'm in earnest, I'm going to take my horse, and bear you company part of the way.

_Des._ My child, it will be dark before I get there.

_Mar._ But there'll be a lovely moon, and I want to see the ruined tower of Elfen by moonlight. So say no more, for I'm resolved.

_Des._ Well, my experience, professional and personal, has taught me that when a woman is determined--

_Enter MADAME LAROQUE--DE BEVANNES._

_Mad. L._ You are right, my dear Bevannes, I confess it.

_Bev._ Oh, there's no doubt he is, absolute perfection, the _rara avis_, so long sought for, found at last.

_Mad. L._ Laugh as you please, I positively adore him.

_Bev._ You'll ask me to the wedding, I hope?

_Mad. L._ Go along with you. Well, my child, have you persuaded that obstinate man to stay till morning?

_Des._ That obstinate man regrets he must go within the hour.

_Alain._ [_without._] Go away, you troublesome little thing!

_Enter CHRISTINE and ALAIN._

_Mad. L._ What's the matter?

_Alain._ This little girl will insist on searching the park for some gentleman she wishes to see, belonging to the Chateau.

_Mad. L._ That will do--leave her here. [_Exit ALAIN._

_Bev._ Now small specimen of rustic humanity, what do you want?

_Mad. L._ What is your name, little one?

_Christine._ Christine, Madame. My grandfather--

_Bev._ Never mind your pedigree--which of us do you want?

_Mad. L._ Be quiet. Well my dear?

_Chris._ My grandfather is very old and blind, if you please, and--and--oh! I want to see the _nice_, _good_ gentleman.

_Des._ Bevannes, she don't want _you_.

_Chris._ The _handsome_ gentleman.

_Bev._ Doctor, she don't want _you_.

_Chris._ Please, Madame, may I tell you what happened yesterday?

_Mad. L._ Yes, child, go on.

_Chris._ My grandfather has a dog that leads him about--poor old Spot--such a pet--

_Enter MADAME AUBREY._

_Mad. A._ A pet! are you talking of a pet?

_Bev._ Yes; but don't weep, Madame--it isn't a donkey. Go on, little girl.

_Chris._ Well, yesterday, we three--grandfather, Spot and I, were sitting near the stream, in the village, by the mill-dam, when some wicked boys--oh! such dreadful wicked boys, came by. They seized poor Spot and threw him into the water. He was nearly being crushed by the mill-wheel, when a dear, kind gentleman, who was riding by on a beautiful black horse--

_Enter MANUEL._

Oh! there he is. Oh, sir! I'm so glad I've found you.

_Man._ [_Aside._] Oh, confound it! what brings you here, you little pest?

_Chris._ Don't be angry, sir--you rode away so fast, yesterday, I had no time to thank you, and I wish to do so now.

_Bev._ Beautiful subject for a nautical drama: "The Desperate Diver; or, The Drowning Dog of the Dam."

_Man._ Ridiculous enough, I admit. However, I did jump into the water after poor Spot.

_Chris._ You did, you did, indeed! Ah! sir, [_to_ BEVANNES,] you laugh--but perhaps if you were old and blind, you wouldn't think it such a joke.

_Bev._ I assure you, my dear, it would have given me infinite pleasure to have saved your dog.

_Des._ You save a dog? Why you can't swim. [_All laugh._

_Bev._ Here are ten francs, child, go away.

_Chris._ And now, sir, [_To_ MANUEL.] I'll go directly, if you'll give me just one kiss.

_Man._ [_Angrily._] Upon my word--

_Mad. L._ Now I insist upon it you do. Poor little thing, I'm sure she deserves it.

_Man._ [_Laughing._] Well, then, [_Kisses her._] now, go home, there's a dear.

_Chris._ Oh! I will, I will, good-bye.

_Mad. L._ Well, haven't you got one for me?

_Chris._ Oh, dear, yes, Madame. [_Kisses MAD. L._

_Bev._ You're forgetting your money.

_Chris._ Oh, dear, no, sir. [_Takes it and curtsies._

_Bev._ Now a kiss for me?

_Chris._ Oh, dear, no, sir!

[_Curtsies and exits. All laugh except MADAME AUBREY._

_Mad. A._ Oh! [_Weeps._

_Bev._ Weeping for my disappointment, Madame?

_Mad. A._ No--sir--no.

_Mad. L._ A most interesting little girl.

_Mad. A._ That's it, that's it. She reminds me of a circumstance that occurred in my youth, before my marriage. You must know I had a little--

_Des._ Hallo! [_Takes MARGUERITE hastily up stage._

_Bev._ Ahem! [_Takes MADAME LAROQUE._

_Mad. A._ Eh! What! [_Calling after them as they go off._] You don't understand me! A little _niece_--Oh! this is too dreadful!

[_Sinks into chair._

END OF TABLEAU III.

TABLEAU IV.

_Interior of a room in the Tower of Elfen. A large breach in the
wall at back, through which the distant country is dimly seen.
Night coming on._

_YVONNET discovered upon the balcony, listening. Singing in the
distance. When the singing is done, Enter MANUEL._

_Man._ What are you at there, my good fellow?

_Yvonnet._ [_Startled._] I was listening to the singing, sir.

_Man._ Who are the singers?

_Yvon._ The reapers, sir, returning home.

_Man._ You, I suppose, are the keeper of these ruins?

_Yvon._ Yes, sir. I am the shepherd that minds the sheep, and shows the tower to strangers. [_Shows key._

_Man._ [_Giving money._] There.

_Yvon._ Thank you, sir.

_Man._ Are you never afraid here all alone?

_Yvon._ Afraid! No, indeed. That is, not in the day-time, but at night--

_Man._ Ah, ah, then you have fairies, or spirits, or ghosts here, eh!

_Yvon._ [_Disdainfully._] Sir, do you take me for a superstitious fool! It's all very well for people who don't know any better, but I--

_Man._ Then you do not believe in anything of the kind?

_Yvon._ I should think not, indeed. But if you come to talk about the white lady, that's quite another matter.

_Man._ Oh! so there's a white lady, is there?

_Yvon._ Yes, sir, there is indeed, and she walks about on the top of that tower over there, and where there are no stairs either. But she is never seen in the day, only in the night, when it is quite dark.

_Man._ [_Laughing._] Yes, she is seen when it is too dark to see.

_Yvon._ [_Looking out._] Ah! Confound those sheep, at their old tricks again. [_Shouts._] Hi! Hi! I don't believe there's such a troublesome set of brutes in the whole country, always climbing where they have no business. Hi! Hi! [_Throws a stone._

_Man._ Why don't you jump down there?

_Yvon._ Try it yourself, if you want to break your neck, my fine gentleman. Are you going to stay long? It is getting late.

_Man._ Don't be uneasy, I shall go presently.

_Yvon._ The sooner the better. I ain't a coward, but I feel more comfortable away from here. [_Exit._

_Man._ This is a fine old ruin. How is it that I have never found it out before? I must bring my sketch-book here some day. Alas! I forgot that for me there is no future here, to-morrow--'Tis but a sad farewell that I must bid the scenes I had begun to love so well. Wretched heart! Is it, then, because reason, honor, everything, forbids my loving her that--Ah! were I not the guardian of an existence more precious than my own, I should long ago have fled this torture! [_Goes up._

_Enter MARGUERITE._

_Mar._ This is most fortunate, when the moon rises the view will be charming. [_Suddenly sees MANUEL._] Sir, I beg your pardon. I was not aware, indeed-- [_Going._

_Man._ Excuse me, Mademoiselle, I am not at home here--permit _me_ to retire. [_Going._

_Mar._ [_Crossing._] Stay, sir. As we happen to be alone, will you answer me fully and frankly, one question. They tell me my manner towards you is abrupt, unkind, even at times, offensive.

_Man._ I have never complained.

_Mar._ But you would leave us?

_Man._ Mademoiselle.

_Mar._ And they say that I am the cause. Your departure, sir, would occasion my mother sincere sorrow, which I am anxious to spare her, if it be in my power; but I am at a loss to know what explanation to make you--what am I to say? that the language which has offended you, is not always sincere--that perhaps, after all, I myself can appreciate joys and pleasures more exalted than those which the mere possession of wealth can give. Well, it is possible--but am I so much to blame, that I use my powers to stifle thoughts which are forbidden me.

_Man._ Forbidden?

_Mar._ Yes, forbidden. It may, perhaps, appear like affectation, to complain of a destiny which so many envy--but, like my mother, I believe that were I less rich, I should be the more happy. You have reproached me with my continual distrust. But in whom _can_ I trust? I, who from my infancy have been surrounded--do I not know it too well--but by false friends, grasping relatives, and suspicious suitors! Do you suppose that I am weak and foolish enough to attribute to my own attractions, the care, the solicitude, with which so many of these parasites surround me; and even if a pure and noble heart, (should such a thing exist in this world,) were capable of seeking and loving me for what I _am_--not for what I _have_--I should never know it--[_with meaning_]--for I should never dare the risk! And this is why I shun, repulse, almost hate, all that is beautiful and good--all that speaks to me of that heaven, which is, alas! forbidden me. [_The reapers are again heard singing in the distance--with emotion and in an undertone._] What is that?

[_Listens--lets her head fall upon her hands, and weeps._

_Man._ Tears!

_Mar._ [_With transport._] Well, yes, I can weep. Enough--I did not intend, sir, to burthen you with so much of my confidence; but now you know me better. You see I have a heart, and if ever I have wounded yours, I hope you will forgive me. [_Gives her hand, which he kisses, respectfully._] See; the pledge of our friendship shall be this flower, which I rudely demanded from you this morning. [_Gives rose._] Now let us go, [_returning_,] and never let this subject be revived between us.

_Man._ Never!

_Mar._ But before I go, I must see the view from yonder height.

_Man._ I beg you will not venture--do not run such a risk.

_Mar._ Oh! I am not afraid.

_Man._ At least take my hand, then.

[_She mounts the platform outside of the window. It begins to grow
dark._

_Mar._ The height is fearful, but the view is very beautiful. I could gaze on it forever.

_Enter YVONNET. He looks round without seeing them._

_Yvon._ Ah! he's gone at last. I shan't be long in following him; I don't like this place. [_Exit, locking door after him._

[_Night comes on, the moon lighting the scene beyond. MARGUERITE
comes down from tower, aided by MANUEL._

_Mar._ There comes the night, in good earnest; fortunately, the moon will help us to regain our horses. Come, sir, let us hasten.

[_Low music from orchestra. MANUEL tries to open door._

_Man._ That stupid fellow has fastened it while we were upon the tower.

_Mar._ [_Anxiously._] Call to him, he cannot be far off.

_Man._ [_Upon platform._] Hallo! Come back, will you? Now he sees me, but he only runs the faster--takes me for the white lady, I suppose. Confound the fool!

_Mar._ [_Looking about._] No other means of egress! What is to be done?--they will die with anxiety at home.

_Man._ Stay! I can descend by those trees, perhaps--

_Mar._ 'Tis useless--there is an inclosed court-yard below.

_Man._ It is in vain--this door resists all my efforts. I know not what to do. [_While MARGUERITE has gone upon platform._

_Mar._ Great Heaven! I see it all. [_To MANUEL, with restrained passion._] Marquis de Champcey!

_Man._ [_Turns quickly._] My name!

_Mar._ [_Slowly._] You boast a long ancestral descent. Pray tell me, sir, are you the first _coward_ of your name?

_Man._ Madame!

_Mar._ [_Violently._] It is you--_you_ who have bribed this boy to imprison us here!

_Man._ Merciful Heavens!

_Mar._ Ah, I comprehend your purpose. I understand it all. To-morrow this _accident_ will be noised abroad; the ever-ready tongue of scandal will be busy with my name, a name which, if less ancient than your own, is full as stainless, and you trust to my despair to make me yours! But this vile trick, which crowns all your base maneuvering, I will thwart. I tell you, sir, that I would incur the world's contempt, the cloister, anything--even death itself--rather than the disgrace, the ignominy, the shame, of uniting my life to yours!

_Man._ [_Calmly._] I entreat you to be calm. Call reason to your aid. I understand and respect your distress, but let not your anxiety prompt you to do me wrong. Consider! How could I have prepared such a snare, and even were it in my power, how have I ever given you the right to think me capable of such baseness?

_Mar._ [_Passing L._] All that I know of you gives me that right. For what purpose do you enter our house, under a false name, in a false character? We were happy before you came. You have brought us sorrow, misery, which we dreamed not of. To attain your object, to repair the breach in your fortune, you have usurped our confidence, sported with our purest and most holy sentiments. Have I not seen all this? And when you now pledge to me your honor--that honor which was too poor and weak to save you from these unworthy actions--have I not reason to doubt? Have I not the right to scorn and disbelieve?

_Man._ Marguerite, listen to me! I love you, it is true, and never did love more ardent, more disinterested, more holy, live in the heart of man. But here, with the eyes of Heaven upon us, I swear that, if I outlive this night, all beloved as you are, were you upon your knees at my feet, never would I accept a fortune at your hand. Never! My heart is yours, yours to break, to crush, to trample in the dust, if it so please you, but my honor, Madame, is my own and that I will preserve. And now pray--pray for a miracle. It is time. [_Runs to the tower._

_Mar._ What would you do? God of mercy! You shall not--you shall not!

_Man._ Think, Marguerite, your name!

_Mar._ You shall not! Forgive me! _If you love me_, forget what I have said, for pity's sake, for mine!

_Man._ [_Disengaging himself._] Loose your hold.

[_He repulses her, and leaps upon tower. Singing heard afar off._

_Mar._ [_Falling on her knees._] Manuel! Manuel! Madman! hear me. It is death!

_Man._ It is honor! [_Throws himself down._

[_MARGUERITE with a shriek, falls insensible._

END OF TABLEAU IV.

TABLEAU V.

_Handsomely furnished Room in Chateau Laroque--Doors R. and L.,
and U.--Candles lit._

_DE BEVANNES, MAD. LAROQUE, MAD. AUBREY, ALAIN, MLLE HELOUIN
discovered--MAD. LAROQUE is walking about in much agitation._

_Mad. L._ [_To ALAIN._] You say she went out on horseback?

_Alain._ Yes, Madame.

_Mad. L._ Did she say at what hour she would be back.

_Alain._ No, Madame.

_Bev._ Did she not tell you she would be early in the ball-room this evening?

_Mad. L._ She did; and that only makes me the more apprehensive. This anxiety is torture.

_Bev._ Be assured, Madame, she is safe. You know she is often out late on fine evenings.

_Mad. L._ But never after dark. Can nobody even tell which way she went?

_Mlle H._ There is one person, I think, might give us some information.

_Mad. L._ Oh! who? Why did you not say so before?

_Mlle H._ I have no doubt M. Manuel could enlighten us, if he chose.

_Mad. L._ Monsieur Manuel! what should _he_ know about it?

_Bev._ Exactly. I do not clearly perceive why the steward must be better informed of the young lady's movements, than her mother.

_Mlle H._ Nor I. Yet I think it would be worth while to ask him.

_Mad. L._ Alain, ask Monsieur Manuel, if he will be so good as to come to me, at once.

_Alain._ Monsieur Manuel has also gone out on horseback, Madame, and has not yet returned.

_Mlle H._ Ahem!

_Mad. A._ Ah, ha!

_Bev._ And pray, at what time did he go out?

_Alain._ Just before Mademoiselle Marguerite, sir. [_A pause._

_Mad. L._ You are all marvellously silent! What do you imagine? what do you infer? Speak, if you would not drive me mad! Still silent! [_To MLLE HELOUIN._] Mademoiselle, your looks convey some hidden meaning. [_To MAD. AUBREY._] Cousin.

_Mad. A._ Oh! [_Weeps._

_Mad. L._ What's the use of that, Madame? speak out. I always knew you were a fool--don't make me think you are a complete idiot! Bevannes, _what_ does all this mean?

_Bev._ Alain.

_Alain._ Sir?

_Bev._ Did Mademoiselle go out alone?

_Alain._ No, sir; with the Doctor.

_Mad. L._ Ah! then all is well.

_Bev._ Humph!

_Mad. L._ Bevannes, what _do_ you mean? will you explain or not?

_Mlle H._ Madame, your generous nature and partiality for the steward, has somewhat blinded your judgment; those who love you have been more watchful. This Monsieur Manuel is--

_Enter MANUEL--His dress disordered--His face pale, with slight
marks of blood upon his forehead._

_Man._ Here, Madame, you did me the honor to send for me.

_Mlle H._ You have just returned, sir?

_Man._ This moment--I met Alain on the stair.

_Mad. L._ But you are hurt, Monsieur--there's blood upon your forehead.

_Man._ Nothing of importance, I assure you; the horse fell with me, and got a few scratches--nothing more--a little cold water will set all to right.

_Mad. L._ This seems to be a night of misfortunes.

_Mad. A._ [_Sighs._] Ah!

_Mad. L._ _Do_ be quiet.

_Man._ What has happened, Madame?

_Mad. L._ Marguerite went out on horseback just after you, and has not yet returned.

_Man._ Oh, don't be alarmed--I met her.

_Mad. L._ Oh! when? where?

_Man._ About six o'clock, on the road to Elfen--she told me she was going on to look at the ruins.

_Mad. L._ Good heavens! the ruins are in the midst of the forest, and the roads dreadful! She must have lost her way! Alain!

_Enter ALAIN._

Order the carriage. [_Exit ALAIN._] I will send directly--I will go myself.

_Man._ You may rest certain, Madame, that you will find her. In the meantime, I will get rid of the evidences of my trifling fall. Be assured your daughter is quite safe. [_Exit._

_Mad. L._ Come, Bevannes, order your horse, and ride by the carriage.

_Bev._ Thank you, but, with your permission, I'll ride _in_ the carriage. The road _is_ a bad one, and if one horse stumbles, another may.

_Mad. L._ Well, well, any way you please, only come. [_Exit._

_Mad. A._ Ah, poor girl, poor girl-- [_Weeps._

_Bev._ Don't be so distressed, Madame. It's not your little niece.

_Mad. A._ Monsieur de Bevannes, you are a brute!

_Bev._ So is a donkey, Madame, and yet one died rich in your affection. Ah, if I could only have inherited a portion of his wealth. [_Exit._

_Mad. A._ I wonder if he means that. He never said anything so civil before. I've a great mind to-- [_Going._

_Mlle H._ Stay--that letter of the steward's which you found in the park--

_Mad. A._ Well?

_Mlle H._ Have you got it with you?

_Mad. A._ Of course.

_Mlle H._ Give it to me.

_Mad. A._ To _you_! Why?

_Mlle H._ No matter. Suffice it that my hopes, and yours--the very life of all our plans--depend on the use I shall make of that letter.

_Mad. A._ Oh, well, take it. [_Gives letter._] I'm sure you'll make much better use of it than I can. [_Aside._] Upon my life I'll go and ask Bevannes what he meant by that. [_Exit._

_Mlle H._ Why, why did nature endow me with a heart to suffer, an intellect to comprehend? Had I been born a fool, like that woman, this dependent state would have brought with it calm endurance, if not happiness. But, as I _am_, it is misery. How easy is bounty to the rich. How natural is virtue to the happy. He heard my words as he came in--must have divined their purport. Well, well, if I have taught him to despise me, he shall learn to fear me, too. He dared to read me a lesson, and I hate him for it, even though I profit by it. If I must fall, he shall share the ruin he has caused.

_Enter MARGUERITE._

_Mar._ Helouin!

_Mlle H._ Marguerite!

_Mar._ Hush! To prevent remark, I came by the small stairway, through the conservatory. My mother has been anxious?

_Mlle H._ Much alarmed. She has gone to seek you.

_Mar._ I know it. I have sent Alain to overtake and bring her back. Before she comes, I have a word to say to you. It is of Monsieur Manuel. I have strong reason to believe that you have most strangely misjudged his character and his intentions.

_Mlle H._ I know him to be the Marquis de Champcey.

_Mar._ And _I_ know that if his birth be noble, his heart is no less so.

_Mlle H._ It is very recently, then, that you have made the discovery.

_Mar._ True. Now mark. You have seen the ruins of Elfen?

_Mlle H._ I have. I was once there with a party, and was the only woman who dared ascend the tower.

_Mar._ You know the danger, then. Well, I care not now if all the world should hear it. We were alone. By accident, imprisoned in those ruins. I rashly, blindly, _falsely_ accused him, and he, to save my honor and his own, plunged from that tower in to the gulf beneath!

_Mlle H._ But he escaped.

_Mar._ I know it and have thanked God for the miracle. I had not strength to implore.

_Mlle H._ Upon my word, this is an extraordinary man.

_Mar._ Mademoiselle--

_Mlle H._ And understands so well how to turn his talents to the best account. Why, poor child, and you don't see through all this? Yesterday it was a swimming match, producing an admirably planned and effectual scene. To-night, it is an exhibition of daring activity. The gentleman has been brilliantly educated.

_Mar._ You evidently hate him.

_Mlle H._ And why? On my own account? No! What is he to _me_? But when I see that he dares to bring his plots and machinations here, and intends you for their victim, I am free to confess, I _do_ despise and hate him!

_Mar._ These are grave accusations. What proof have you to support them?

_Mlle H._ Ah, you suspect me. For the sake of this stranger, you doubt the truth of one you have known for years? Well, be it so--I will give you proof, since you demand it. Do you know his handwriting?

_Mar._ I do. I have had to look over many papers he has copied for my mother.

_Mlle H._ Look at that letter. Now listen: [_Reads._] "_My dear Desmarets: I follow your instructions exactly. But will they avail to win for me the bright reward for all I have to endure. I do not think the dowry wilt be as large as I had hoped._--

_Mar._ Great Heavens!

_Mlle H._ "_But I have sworn to win it, and though there are many obstacles here to make the task a hard one, yet, to achieve it, I will serve, like Jacob, for forty years, if need be_--What a pity he did not finish it. This was found under the window of his room by Madame Aubrey and, by her, handed to me.

_Mar._ Enough. My resolution is taken.

_Enter MADAME LAROQUE and BEVANNES._

_Mad. L._ Oh, my dear child! What a state I have been in about you. How did you get back? What happened?

_Mar._ The shepherd, who locks up the tower of Elfen, happened to fasten it before I left. Some reapers returning home, heard my cries and brought him back to release me, that is all.

_Enter MANUEL._

_Mad. L._ Ah, Monsieur, you have recovered from the effects of your fall, I hope?

_Man._ Entirely, Madame.

_Mad. L._ [_To MARGUERITE._] But you, my child, must be fatigued, nervous--

_Mar._ On the contrary, dearest mother, I never felt better or more cheerful than to-night, which I will prove to you whenever the ball commences.

_Bev._ The ball! why, surely, you'll never think of--

_Mar._ Dancing? Indeed but I shall though--and you, M. de Bevannes, will be my first partner, will you not?

_Bev._ With the greatest delight--but pray, let me advise--

_Mar._ Advise nothing--you shall be my chief cavalier for the evening.

_Bev._ But my dress--

_Mar._ Your residence is hardly two miles from this; you can go home, dress, and be here again--all within an hour.

[_Speaks to MADAME LAROQUE._

_Bev._ [_Aside._] This anxiety portends something. Bevannes, my boy, the chase is nearly over, for the quarry is in sight.

_Mar._ Nonsense, my dear mother! I will have my own way for once.

_Mad. L._ For _once_!

_Mar._ My carriage shall take M. de Bevannes, and bring him back. Where are all the servants? Here, some one--oh! the steward! go and order my carriage.

_Mad. L._ [_Surprised at her tone of voice._] My dear.

_Man._ [_Quietly rising and ringing a bell, which summons_ ALAIN, _who enters_.] I believe Mlle Marguerite has some orders for you.

_Alain._ Mademoiselle--

_Mar._ I have none--you may leave the room. [_Exit ALAIN._

_Bev._ Come, come, this sort of thing won't do.

_Mar._ Monsieur de Bevannes.

_Bev._ As you please--but permit me to regret that I have not the right to interfere here.

_Man._ Your regret is unnecessary, sir--for if I did not see fit to obey the lady's orders, I hold myself at yours.

_Bev._ Enough, sir; I shall act accordingly.

_Mad. L._ Gentlemen, I beg, I entreat--

_Mar._ Monsieur de Bevannes.

_Bev._ Mademoiselle?

_Mar._ Have the goodness to follow me--I must speak with you in the presence of my mother only. Not a word, if you would ever speak with me again--follow me now, at once. [_Exit with MADAME LAROQUE._

_Bev._ [_To MANUEL._] I believe, sir, we comprehend each other?

_MANUEL bows--Exit BEVANNES--MANUEL turns and encounters the look
of MLLE HELOUIN, who curtsies and exits._

_Man._ I see plainly now to whom I owe all this. Well, well, what matters it to whom? The one thin ray of light upon my desolate and gloomy path has vanished. Pshaw! This is no time for dreams or vain regrets. [_Rings._

_Enter ALAIN._

Has Dr. Desmarets returned?

_Alain._ No, Monsieur.

_Man._ The moment he arrives I must see him.

_Alain._ I know--I know all about it. I overheard. Oh, sir, this is most unfortunate.

_Man._ It is, but unavoidable. I did not seek it--

_Alain._ And that devil of a Bevannes is a fine swordsman, and the best pistol-shot in Brittany.

_Man._ So much the better. The contest will be the more equal.

_Alain._ Indeed!

_Man._ I have had much practice with both weapons.

_Alain._ Oh then, pray do me one favor, sir. Don't kill him, but hit him in the leg. He's so deuced proud of his leg and foot.

_Man._ There, that will do. Let me know the instant the Doctor arrives.

_Alain._ I will sir, I will, but don't forget. Pray don't forget the leg--the leg, sir, if you love me. [_Exit._

_Man._ For myself, it matters not, but my sister, my little darling, helpless sister--should I fall--Oh! Heaven, let my errors be so atoned, and look down in pity on the orphan child, bereaved of earthly succor, to be the more dependent upon thine.

[_As he raises his head, he perceives BEVANNES approaching, and
his bearing becomes calm and resolute._

_Enter BEVANNES._

_Bev._ Monsieur Manuel, can I have a few words with you?

_Man._ I am at your service, sir.

_Bev._ What I am about to say, considering our position, may seem irregular, but I obey orders which cannot be disputed. Besides, I believe no man can doubt my courage--

_Man._ Not I, be assured, sir.

_Bev._ To be brief, I am commissioned by the ladies to express their regret for what has just occurred. M'lle Marguerite, in a moment of forgetfulness, gave you certain orders, which it was plainly not your province to fulfil. Your susceptibility was justly wounded. We admit it, and--

_Man._ Not one word more, sir, I entreat.

_Bev._ Your hand. [_MANUEL gives his hand._] The ladies also desire me to express their hope that this momentary misunderstanding will not deprive them of your good offices, the value of which they fully appreciate, and I am extremely happy in having acquired within the last few minutes, the right to join my entreaty to theirs. My most ardent wish is about to be gratified.

_Man._ Indeed?

_Bev._ And I shall feel personally obliged if you will not refuse us your aid upon the eve of an event which family affairs and the failing health of old Monsieur Laroque compels us to hasten.

_Enter ALAIN with a box containing deeds, &c._

Oh, thank you. Place it on the table. [_ALAIN does so and exits._] These are the private papers and memoranda of Mons. Laroque, and the ladies beg, as a proof of their entire confidence, that you will examine them and take notes of such matters as will prove important to the marriage contract.

_Man._ I shall obey their orders to the best of my ability.

_Bev._ Thank you, my dear fellow. I feel assured you will, and now, I trust, we shall in future, understand one another better. I do not think that, hitherto, either of us has formed a correct estimate of the other. I protest to you that I'm disposed to like _you_ immensely. For myself, I'm a very nice man, but I must be cultivated. Cultivate me, my dear sir, and I give you my word you'll find me one of the most agreeable fellows you ever knew; you will, indeed. Cultivate me, I beg. [_Exit._

_Man._ Well, well. He is her equal in fortune, and therefore, of course, above suspicion. Poor girl! She is unaware that, in this world the greatest beggars are not, always the poorest. She would see how I can support the torture she inflicts. She shall be gratified, for she shall see me even at the foot of the altar. But she will not triumph there, for her pride, lofty as it is, shall pale before my own. Now to my work. [_Sits and turns over papers._] Nothing here that I have not seen before. "Title Deeds to"--Umph! "Legacies to my children." "Marriage portion for Marguerite" and--Ah! What's this? My name! "The Antilles"--yes, I remember, our family had large estates there, but that, was long ago. Let me see, let me see. [_He reads, and as he does so his face expresses, first, surprise, and then conviction and triumph._] Great Heaven! And can this be so? Miserable old man. This, then, is the secret of your wanderings, your visions, and of my unsought influence. And now, _now_ I have them in my power. They shall find that there is still some blood left in the heart that they would crush. This proud, unfeeling girl, has yet to learn the meaning of that bitter word, _humility_, and she _shall_ learn it. [_MARGUERITE speaks without._

_Mar._ He will soon return, dear mother. Meantime I will prepare for the ball. [_She enters, crosses slowly, and exit, after a look at MANUEL._

_Man._ No--no--I can _not_! Never, never, by my act, shall the blush of shame crimson that noble face. Laroque cannot live long. Let his crime and his confession die before him! [_Music._] To my deep love I consecrate the sacrifice.

_Burns paper. While he contemplates it burning, MADAME AUBREY looks
in unseen by him._

SCENE II.--_A hall in the Chateau._

_Enter BEVANNES and ALAIN, meeting._

_Bev._ Alain, who arrived just now?

_Alain._ The Doctor, sir. He's gone to Monsieur Laroque's room.

_Bev._ Is Mademoiselle Marguerite's carriage ready for me?

_Alain._ Quite ready, Monsieur.

_Bev._ Very well. Tell the ladies I shall be back in an hour, at most.

_Alain._ You'll have to drive fast, sir, to do it in the time.

_Bev._ I shall make my toilette less perfect than usual, and take an elaborate revenge another time.

_Enter DESMARETS._

_Des._ Bevannes that you? where are you off to?

_Bev._ Home, for a short time.

_Des._ Better stay where you are--the ladies may want your assistance.

_Bev._ I know--at the ball--

_Des._ Ball? stuff! If I don't mistake, you'll have something else to think of. Alain, let that prescription be sent to the village immediately.

_Alain._ Yes, Doctor. [_Exit._

_Bev._ Why, what's the matter?

_Des._ Old Laroque is very ill to-night. By the by, what's this he told me about a marriage in the family?

_Bev._ Quite true. The fair Marguerite has become alive to my merits--she knows me at last.

_Des._ And accepts you?

_Bev._ Of course.

_Des._ Little fool.

_Bev._ Sir!

_Des._ I don't mean _you_.

_Bev._ Ah!

_Des._ I tell you what, my friend, you hardly know what you've undertaken. I wish you joy--I wouldn't have the management of girl for a trifle. Ecod! if she takes a fancy to the _moon_, she'll expect you to give it her.

_Bev._ Oh, I'm not afraid. However, I'll go and dress, as it is her wish, and take the chance of the ball coming off.

_Des._ And you've determined to marry her?

_Bev._ Most certainly.

_Des._ Spite of all her caprices?

_Bev._ Decidedly--

_Des._ And if she wants the moon--

_Bev._ She must fetch it herself. [_Exit._

_Des._ Queer match--what does it mean? As to her loving that fellow, I don't believe a word of it. Now to the old man--it won't do to leave him alone--he's got one of his wandering fits on him, and he'll be all over the house if I don't look to him. What a nice quiet life a doctor's is.

[_Exit._

SCENE III.--_Same as First--Music._

_MANUEL discovered asleep--MAD. AUBREY opens door and looks in._

_Mad. A._ Worn out with the day's excitement, he's asleep at last. [_Comes in._] What could that paper have been, I saw him burn? Ah! there's the envelope he threw away, when he put it in the flame. [_Picks it up._] So, so--what's that? a footstep. [_Exit._

_MONSIEUR LAROQUE opens door and looks in--He is very pale and
appears much exhausted--He looks back and beckons, as if to
followers--Music ceases._

_Lar._ This way--this way--quickly--but silently. Silently, men or we shall spoil all. Remember, they are _English_, and spare not! no quarter! no quarter, mind--but softly--softly--and fire not until I give the word! Then--then--every drop of Saxon blood shall float a world of crime from off my soul! One moment--_now! now!_

_He raises his arm, as if to strike, when he sees MANUEL, upon whose
face the lamp throws a powerful light--A pause._

Heaven have mercy! 'tis he. At such an hour as this I can _not_ be mistaken! It is he--[_MANUEL awakes._]--My Lord Marquis!

_MARGUERITE appears._

_Man._ What is this?

_Lar._ Pity--pity--and forgive me.

[_MANUEL all at once comprehending, advances to M. LAROQUE._

_Man._ Miserable man, I pity, and I forgive.

_Mar._ What does this mean?

_Man._ Oh, nothing, Mademoiselle, but I thought it better to humor his delirium. [_LAROQUE staggers. MANUEL places him in chair._

_Enter ALAIN, DESMARETS, MADAME LAROQUE and MLLE HELOUIN._

_Mar._ Grandfather, dearest, speak to me--it is Marguerite, your child, to whom you were always so good, who loves you so. You have some thought, some remembrance which torments you. Is it not so? Tell me, dearest, tell your own Marguerite. [_Music._

_LAROQUE looks up, makes one or two endeavors to speak, when his
head again falls on his breast._

_Mar._ Mother! mother! Oh Heavens! Can nothing be done?

_DR. DESMARETS places his hand on LAROQUE'S heart, and looks at
MANUEL, who, in answer to an appeal from MARGUERITE and MADAME
LAROQUE, points upwards._

END TABLEAU V.

Lapse of Some Months.

TABLEAU VI.

_Saloon in the Chateau Laroque splendidly decorated and furnished.
Arches R., L. and C. ALAIN and Servants discovered arranging
furniture, lighting lamps, &c._ [_Music._

_Alain._ There now. I think everything is pretty well arranged here, so run away all of you and see to the preparations outside. [_Exeunt servants._] 'Pon my life I'm nearly done up. All of a sudden to change a house that has, for the last five months appeared like a mourning coach, into a dandified, bright-looking mansion prepared for a marriage fete, requires more inventive genius than ever I shall get credit for. If I could only extend my transforming powers to the faces of the family, I should be much gratified, for such a grim-looking household exists not in Brittany at this moment. There's M'lle Marguerite. The nearer the time approaches for the marriage, the paler she grows. Madame Laroque does nothing but freeze and shiver, Mons. Manuel is absent for days together, and Madame Aubrey weeps a good tea-cup full about every two hours. Cheerful work, very.

_Enter MADEMOISELLE HELOUIN._

_Mlle H._ Alain go and tell Monsieur Manuel I wish for a few moments' conversation with him.

_Alain._ Monsieur Manuel, M'lle? Why, bless you, he's been at Largeot for the last three days.

_Mlle H._ He has returned. I saw him ride into the court-yard some fifteen minutes since.

_Alain._ Where shall I tell him to come to you, Mademoiselle?

_Mlle H._ Are all your preparations made here?

_Alain._ Yes, Mademoiselle. I have sent the servants to other work.

_Mlle H._ Request, Mons. Manuel, then, to see me here, and to come instantly, as it is important I should speak to him at once.

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

_Mlle Helouin goes to Arches and ascertains that no one is near to
listen._

_Mlle H._ And now, Manuel Marquis de Champcey, we will try the issue. How often and how vainly do I question my own heart. Were Manuel other than he is, should I pursue him thus? What motive sways my action? Is it love? Ambition? Both? I know not, and will not reflect. There lies the path. Some resistless impulse urges me along, nor will I, _can_ I swerve, till all is won or lost.

_Enter MANUEL._

_Man._ Mademoiselle, good evening. Alain informs me that you wish to speak with me.

_Mlle H._ For a few moments. Your stay at Langeot has been shorter than usual.

_Man._ I returned a day earlier than I had intended. Respect for the family suggests that I should not be absent on an occasion like the present.

_Mlle H._ An occasion that gives you an opportunity of showing that you possess _moral_, as well as physical courage, of no common order.

_Man._ You are pleased to be enigmatical.

_Mlle H._ I shall indulge in no enigma that you cannot speedily solve. And now. Manuel, take good heed of what I say, but I warn you do not judge me by a common standard. My nature and my sad dependant lot, place me beyond the pale of those born for a happier fate. From the first hour we met, my heart was drawn insensibly towards you. Still that heart was safe. A mere spark existed, which reason and reflection might have killed; you yourself, in defining the bond of sympathy between us, raised from that spark a flame.

_Man._ Madame, in justice to myself, I must interrupt you. Never by word or deed have I--

_Mlle H._ Go on sir, pray do not spare me. Never have you _encouraged_, you would say. Well, I grant it. Be it so. Your reserve and coldness could not alter me. What fire but burns the fiercer in the frosty air? And yet if you have pride, so too have I, and I will confess that something more exists to keep the flame alive than love. Ambition, and the hope to triumph over one who is a rival. These, I am free to own, would be incentives enough for me, if love existed not.