P R 3991 Glass ~~ PT? 7? q Q ) Book., A iHir THE MAGPIE; OR. THE MAIB OF PALAIS EAF. a JWrto=trramattc Romance. IN THREE ACTS. PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY LAM:. TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 1815. LONDON : PRINTED FOR JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. J815. 7? : *,<% CHARACTERS Gervas, a respectable Farmer at Palaiseau Mr. Dowton Richard, his Son . . . Mr. Wallack Evrard, a Soldier, Father to Annette; his real name Gran- ville Mr. R.Philips Blaisot, Servant and Relation of Farmer Gervas . . Mr. Knight St. Clair, A Soldier, Comrade of Evrard Mr. Barnard The Bailli of Palaiseau . Mr. Munden Georget, Servant of the Bailli Mr. J. West Bertrand, the Jailor of the Town Mr. Penley Isaac, a travelling Jew . . Mr. Oxberry Gripeall, the Bailtis Clerk Mr. Maddocks A Magpie Gens d'Armes and Villagers Annette, Servant of the Farm Miss Kelly Dame Gervas, Wife of the Farmer Mrs. Sparks SCENE. — The Village of Palaiseau, THE MAGPIE, fyc. 3}'c. ACT I SCENE I. Represents a large court in the Farm of Palaiseau. At the left, the entry (or front door) of the house ; on the right, trees, with very thick foliage, particularly one, on a branch of which hangs a large basket-cage, with a Magpie in it. At the bottom of the stage, in front, a hedge ; in the centre of which is a rustic gate foi entrance; and, in the back-ground, a hill, and the country in perspective. Enter Blaisot. Mag. Blaisot! Blaisot! Blais. (in the house.) Coining, coming. (En- ters in a hurry, wiping Ids mouth.) One has ne- ver a moments time to Here I am ; what do you want? — Nobody here! (Sees Annette com- ing down the hill to the gate.) Ah ! there's Miss 4 the magpie; or, the Enter Gervas, rolling a barrel. Gerv. Here ! Blaisot, my boy, lend a hand. Enter Blaisot, running in. Blais. That I will. Dame. What are you about, Mr. Gervas ? Gerv. That side — take care — now we have it: roll him up snug — that's it. There won't he too much, wife, never fear. Consider, all the village is coming, young and old, for our boy's arrival. No fete without wine — that's Farmer Gervas's maxim. JBlais. Yes — that's our maxim ; and the fid- dlers, you know, must whet their whistles — and we shall have such fun. Dame. Don't prate so ; but go and lay the table, as I told you. JBlais. I'm going. — (Goes to arrange the table, after carrying it in.) Gerv. Well, wife, is all ready? nothing for- got? Dame. " Nothing forgot," indeed ! — I like that. Things would go on prettily in the house, if I was not to look about me, and do every thing myself. Gerv. I know it, wife : for vigilance, activity, and cleverness, there's not such another within twenty miles round. Dame. I defy you to shew me a woman in the whole village of such patience and gentleness. — (Blaisot laughs) And what are yon doing, Mr. Drone? (Giving him a box on the ear.) You are to laugh, are you, instead of minding your busi- ness ? — a lazy knave! — and the table not halt" MAID OF PALAISEAU. O laid : every thing must be done by me ; I see, not a creature in the house to assist me. Blais. Lord ! Lord ! how can you say so ! I have not time to say my prayers, not one moment in twenty-four hours — and Miss Annette, she does nothing either perhaps — poor little soul ! Dame. Hold your tongue I say — she's not a bit better than you are. Gerv. Fie, fie, Dame — you don't do justice to that excellent girl — is she not always at her duty, and with mildness — Dame. I hate mildness — who cares for a girl that's always watching every look of yours, to do a thing before she's bid : I'd rather have that oaf, though he set's me mad twenty times a day with his stupidity — there's some use in a block- head of that kind — he puts me in a passion — I give him a box on the ear — it makes my blood circulate, and keeps me in health. Blais. Ecod, but I don't like to be your doc- tor after that there fashion. Dame. Yes, indeed ! Annette this, and Au- nette that, and so handsome forsooth ! and every body in love with her — and such sweet stuff — even that old fool the Baillie, Heaven forgive me, but I think he's in love with her too. Gerv. Do you know I have observed it, wife ; was there ever such a silly dotard ! Dame. And let me tell you, Mr. Gervas, all this nonsense spoils the girl — it is a good work- ing person I want, and not one of your handsome folks, for a servant. Gerv. Gently, gently wife ; recollect that An- nette is not in our house as a common servant -- you know she was rather committed to our pro- tection, by my sister at Paris— she is the daugh- G the magpie; OR, TH£ ter of as good a farmer as myself; and though poor Mr. Granville, her fath< r, lost all his pro- perty, ami was obliged to turn soldier at last, that isn't the fault ol the poor girl, who you must allow deserves every thing we can do for her. Dame. Mighty well — all that's true enough. but a young and handsome girl in a farm-house — I don't like such people about me — Mr. Gervas. Gerv. There's something in that to be sure — never mind wife — we can't all be handsome you know — let me see, (looking at his watch J half- past five : and Richard writes that we may ex- pect him at six. Dame. True; well then — I'll tell you what well do — I'll just go into the house, and give a look to see how things are going on, and we'll w r alk to the top of the hill to meet the dear boy. Gerv. Well said, Dame — how happy shall I be to embrace our son after such an absence — hearkee, Dame, we must think of getting him a wife. Dame. Aye, aye; we shall see in proper time. Gerv. I have something in my head. Dame. Tn your head indeed ! that's my affair, Richard's marriage is my business, Mr. Gervas, (calls Annette) — and he shall marry — Mag. Annette! Annette! Gerv. Dame — did you hear mag, there? that bird's a witch — He knew my thoughts. Dame. And let me tell you Mr. Gervas, it's not my thoughts, I assure you, and don't let me hear — Enter Annette. Ann. Did you call me, ma'am ? Dame. Yes, child; you must assist in laying MAID OF PALAISEAU. 7 the table, and getting things ready and nice — I shall go and prepare the linen and plate, but take care and don't let the same thing happen this time, that did a fortnight ago ; oh ! my hus- band's birth-day — I don't blame any body — another loss of that kind would be no joke to me — a silver fork's a silver fork. Ann. Oh ! ma'am, you may depend upon it — that unlucky fork has made me miserable ever sine*-. Gerv. Bah — and after all it's a mighty loss, indeed ! I tell you, wife, I'll hear no more about it — you dinn'd it into our ears for a week toge- ther ; and that's more than it was worth. Dame. Well, and do I say any more about it? I don't think of it for my part — come with me, Blaisot, I want you-; don't be impatient, my good man — I shall be with you in two minutes. (Exit ivith Blaisot.) Gerv. What's the matter, Annette? you look unhappy. Ann. Madame Gervas will still talk to me of that fork. Gerv. Poh ! don't mind — let her talk ; you know she loves it — but she means nothing. Ann. Oh! yes — she means, I know, that if I had been more attentive, the fork would not have been lost, and that makes me so unhappy. Gerv. What does it signify ; people can't an- swer for such accidents — let us talk of other say matt rs — here's Richard a coming — I dare » you're very sorry now, eh? Ann. Oh no, 1 am delighted — who could not be glad to see Richard — so good a son, so mild — so kind — why he's the very picture of you, Mr. Gervas. 8 the magpie; or, thje Gerv. Indeed ! a little flatter'd or so — I see you like him, merely out of friendship for me, you little rogue ; suppose now I was to make you a present of this likeness of mine- Ann. To me, sir ! Gerv. Come, come, my dear child, Richard has no secret from me — you are a good girl — your education, your sentiments are such as I could wish — your father is a poor man — what then ? he is an honest one, that's enough for me — and his alliance would do honour to the best — I'll say no more. Ann. Good Heaven ! what have I heard ! can the poor Annette hope! but Dame Gervas — may perhaps — Gerv. We must let her scold a little to be sure —she'd fall sick if she could'nt scold ; but at bottom she's a good soul, believe me — therefore, hope the best, we'll manage matters. Ann. Oh ! sir, your goodness Enter Dame Gervas and Blaisot. Dame. Come, Mr. Gervas — I'm ready — (carry- ing a small basket of forks and spoons.) Here Annette — I need not tell you to take care of the plate. I should not use it, I assure you, if it was'nt for Richard's fete — have an eye to it child. Ann. Certainly ma'am. Gerv. Annette — we're going to meet Richard. Blais. To meet Richard ! ecod Til be first though. [Throwing down what he has in his hands* he scampers 1 1t rough the gate up the hill before them.] MAID OF PALAISEAU. 9 Gerv. Adieu, Annette, we shall return directly, remember what 1 told you ; and rely upon me. Dame Do have done with your compliments, and come along. [Exeunt Gervas and Dame.] Ann. (arranging the table and laying the knives and forks.) r \ he worthy Mr. Gervas ! he bids me hope, and shall I see my dear Richard once more ; every thing conspires to make me so happy ! and my dear father too, whom I shall soon embrace ! he writes me word that his regi- ment is coming to Paris, and that he will ask permission to come here, for a few days — I am so delighted i and he says he has received the little money I have been able to spare. (Isaac at a little distance behind the hedge.) Isa. Knives, scissars, lace, watches — any potty vants to py, &c. Ann. Ah ! here's the Jew that comes every year to our village — I've no money now, and I don't regret it ; how could it be so well dis- pos'd of as assisting a father in distress. Isa. (looking over the hedge.) Knives, scis- sars, &c. Ann. We want nothing now, good man, there's nobody at home. Isa. Look'ee here, matimoiselle, here's the fine tings all fresh from Paris — here's the timbles, the crosses, &c. Ann. I tell you we want nothing now. Isa. Don't be anger, matimoiselle — no fache — I'm lodg'd in te h* te horse in te village, two days, no more, if you wants any ting in my little vay. Ann. Very well — very well. Isa. Gentile Denoiselle, vary pretty knives, scissars, &c. (Exit Isaac. Music) c 10 the magpie; or, the Enter Blaisot, (running down the hill.) JBlais. Here he is ! I saw him first. Ann, You saw him, Blaisot? Elais. To be sure I did. " Blaisot my boy," says he, " how is my dear Annette ? " She's dying to see you, says I — you're grown a very handsome fellow; and then, says he, catching hold of my hand, he gave it such a squeeze, that I can hardly open my fingers. Ann. Oh ! Richard, and is it true that we may once more [Music] What do I hear ? JBlais. Why the fiddles to be sure — arn't the whole village, in their best Sunday clothes, coming to Master Richard's fete — here they are, here they are. Ann. I can hardly breath with joy. Enter Richard, Gervas, Dame, and all the Villagers coining down the hill. — Richard, when he sees Annette, runs for- ward to embrace her. Mich. My belov'd Annette. Ann. Oh ! Mr. Richard. Gerv. Bravo 1 bravo ! — come my friends : make haste with the supper, Dame. Dame. Poor Richard must be so hungry after his long march. Rich. No, mother, I don't think of eating now. Dame. Come, Miss Annette, is there nothing to do? Gerv. Easy, wife, let them ask one another how they do. MAID OF PALAISEAU. 11 Dame. Yes ; but I don't like Gerv. I say you do like to see our Richard arrive ; ar'nt you glad to see him so strong, and healthy, and gay. Dame. Do you hear your father, Richard ? He asks me, if I am glad to see you — why I'm mad with joy. Rich. Dear mother, I know it. (embraces her.) Gerv. That 7 s it — that's as it should be. Mich, (to Annette.) How much you are im- proved, my dear Annette ? Gerv. (to the Villagers.) Come, my friends, here's a barrel of old wine to drink Richard's health in. Vill. Thank ye, thank ye, farmer Gervas. Ann. (to Richard). You sometimes thought of poor Annette ? Rich. Oh ! always — never a moment from my thoughts. Dame, (bustling at the table.) Put that dish here — that's Richard's favourite dish — set it be- fore him. Gerv. Blaisot, tap this fellow, (pointing to the barrel.) bleed him without mercy. Rlais. We'll not leave a drop in his body. Gerv. (to Richard.) There he is! why the sight of him makes me ten years younger. What do you say of our Annette? Is'nt she Rich. Handsomer than ever! Gerv. Not a word of that now — mum. — Well, Richard, you quit us no more. Rich. No, father ; having served my country with honour, I have now a right to share my father's labours, and make his life comfortable and happy. Gerv. Dear boy ! c2 12 the magpie; or, the Dame, Now for it, every thing's ready, let us sit down. Gerv. Richard, there's your place,, near your mother — Annette, sits here — if the Bailli comes he shall sit there, and you, master Thomas, and farmer Lucas, sit down. Blaisot take care. There dance away: here's Richard's health! (all touch glasses.) health and joy to our friends and neigh- bours. [A dance during supper.] Gerv. (rising.) Bravo, bravo ; now, my friends, all go into the inclosures, under the chesniit-trees, and we will follow and join in the dance. Blaisot, carry bottles and glasses, and when they want filling, there's the fountain, (points to the barrel.) JBlais. Yes, master Gervas, here we go, follow me, boys. [Music. Exeunt at the gate.] Mich. And now, mother, before its dark, 1 must go and see my dear uncle ! Gerv. Do so, Richard, the sight of you will cure the gout, I warrant me. What do you say, wife, let's go along with him, and see my poor brother? Dame. To be sure — its quite right ; Annette, child, do you stay here; you know what you have to do ? Ann. Yes, ma'am. Rich. Dear Annette, we shall not be long. Ann. Adieu, dear Richard. Gerv. Here take my arm wife. Dame. Not I indeed! here's the arm that I never shall quit again. [Exeunt over platform.'] Enter Evrard, disguised in an old great coat and flapped hat. Ann. I must make haste, and put up all the MAID OF PALAISEAU. 13 things, or Dame Gervas will be so angry. Let me first count the plate, (puts them one after another at the upper end of the table.) How I love thee, dear Richard! Evr. (hesitating and looking about.) This must be the farm house. Ann. Its all right, the number is exact. JEvr. My daughter ! If I could but speak to her alone. Ann. He's such a charming young man! — how he vowed to me at the very table, that he would make me the happiest of wives. JEvr. My poor child ! and I am come to destroy all her prospects! cruel destiny ! Ann. What is this! — the poor man looks dis- tressed. What is the matter, good friend? Evr. (discovering himself .) My child! Ann. My father! (she throws down the last spoon, and runs to embrace him.) My dearest father ! Evr. Hush ! speak softly. Ann. Good heavens! — why? Evr. Last night our regiment came to Paris ; I asked permission to come and embrace my child — but for one day ; — the commanding officer refused me — I urged — I entreated — he answered me harshly and cruelly — I upbraided him with want of feeling. It was imprudent, 1 confess; he lifted his cane to strike me, when, forgetting the subordination due from a soldier to his officer, I drew my sabre, and would have put him to instant death, if my comrades had not prevented me. Ann. Oh, horror ! Evr. Orders were immediately given to arrest me; but, beloved by my fellow soldiers, they as- sisted my escape; with the little money you sent 14 the magpie; or, the me, I bought this disguise, and at day break my brave friend, St. Clair, conducted me to the wood hard by. Anil. My dearest father, let us still hope — Evr. No, my child, it is in vain ; the court mar- tial must assemble this morning, and sentence of death will infallibly be pronounced. Ann. Then remain with us : with your child there is yet safety. Mr. Gervas — his wife — his son — I am sure will do every thing. Evr. How, Annette! plunge your benefactors in danger. No, this village is too near Paris ; since I have been lucky enough to find you alone, promise me — swear to me, by the duty and affec- tion you owe your father, that you will never discover to human being, my imprudence or my fate. Ann. Not to Mr. Gervas ? Evr. Not even to him ; if you wish to save your father from despair, promise me never to reveal his unfortuate story. Ann. I solemnly promise. Evr. It is for your sake, my beloved child, that I demanded this promise ; you have (unknow- ingly) confided to me your hopes ; it is of conse- quence to you, that neither Richard or his pa- rents should be even acquainted with my dis- grace. I am known in the regiment only by my assumed name of Evrard, and none suspect me to be Farmer Granville — the death of the poor soldier, Evrard, will excite no attention ; and if they hear it in this house, they will little think it is their old friend. Ann. Oh! my father, if nothing but flight and eternal exile will do, happiness is banished from Annette's thoughts ; we'll fly together, al- MAID OF PALAISEAU. 15 ways with you ; I shall but breath for your safety — I will partake all your danger ; live or die in the arms of my father. Evr. Best of children! Heaven forbid I should accept such a sacrifice — alone, and marching by night in the woods and unfrequented paths, there may be still a hope, that passing the frontiers safely Ann. (She sees the Bailli coming at a distance.) Good Heaven— somebody — its the Bailli. Evr. Cruel interruption ! I had something more to tell you. Ann. 'Tis impossible now, here is the vile Bailli, sit down at the corner of the table ; and cover your uniform. (He sits down at the upper end). Enter Bailli at the Gate. Bail. There she is, and alone ! I met Dame Gervas and the family in the square, (aside.) I'm come apropos to find the beautiful Annette at last by herself. Ann. Come, my poor man, take this glass of wine ; it will comfort you, and give you strength to continue your journey. Bail. Good day — good day, beautiful Annette. Ann. Your servant, Mr. Bailli. Bail. Who is that man ? Ann. A poor traveller, quite worn out with hunger and fatigue ; I made the poor man sit down and refresh himself a little. Bail. Very right, very right — always charita- ble, but when shall / have any kindness in re- turn for Ann. Drink a little more, don't you find your- self better? Pretend to fall asleep, (aside to 16 -the magpie; OR, TH£ him.) Mr. and Mrs. Gervas are gone out Mr, Bailii. Bail. No matter — I'm not in a hurry; lean wait for them. (Ecrard appears to sleep, but looks up at times.) Ann. Excuse me, Mr. Bailii — be so good as to leave me. Bail. No, little chicken, I won't be so good as to lose this opportunity — but will that man stay for ever ? you ought to — Ann. Let the poor man sleep a little, I'm sure he wants it. Bail. If he's asleep I don't care, (aside.) Come here Annette — you know how 1 long to talk to you. ( Takes her hand ivhich she withdraws.) Nay, don't be angry. ( Evrard looks up.) Ann. You know Mr. Bailii that I don't like any such Bail. Aye, aye; no jokes with the Bailii : you dont like this, and you don't like that, but you do like to see such a man as me captivated — well, I; confess it, you have won my heart, you little witch ! Evr. Insolent dotard ! (aside.) Ann. How shall I get rid of him? (aside.) Bail. Come, my little angel, I see you don't mean to be always cruel — the devil— here's my servant. Enter Georget at the Gate. Geor. Mr. Bailii, here's a pacquet to be deli- vered immediately. Bail. Who brought it? Geor. A soldier. Bail. L r?t me see — you may go, Georget. (Exit Georget at the Gate.) MAID OF PALAISEAU. 17 Ann. A soldier ! (aside.) Bail. Let me see — where's my spectacles— where can I have left them ? in the house I sup- pose ; let us try to make it out! (holding the let* terat a distance from him.) Hum: " Mr. Bailli." " Description" — soldier, " Evrard;" hum. Ann. Good heaven! (aside.) Evr. All's lost! (aside.) Bail. Its in vain, I cannot read any more of it without my spectacles — no matter — its only the old story — some deserter — why Annette may as well read it for me- -do, my dear girl, just read this a little. Ann. Why not go home, Mr. Bailli, and read it at your leisure. Bail. Its not worth while, I tell you, to go so far; wont you oblige me ? Ann. (trembling.) " Mr. Bailli, enclosed is " the description of a soldier of the Royal Regi- " ment of Champaign, condemned to death (fal- " tering) by a court martial." Evr. Ah ! I was sure of it! Ann. By name — Bail. A trifle — what signifies being so affected about such nonsense? read on, read on. Ann. Every thing is lost if I go on — forty-five years old, five feet ten inches high, (aside.) Bail.. Well, can't you make it out ? Ann. The writing is so small and cramp. Bail. Small ! why it looked to me the finest large round hand — if I had but my spectacles — Ann. Yes, yes ; now I look again, it's quite plain ; Heaven inspire me. (aside.) By name " Louis Evrard." Aged twenty-three years. Bail. Poor young man ! 18 the magpie; or, the Ann. Six feet, three inches — Bail. The Devil ! he's a giant ! Ann. Large, blue eyes, flaxen hair — Bail. Why he's an Adonis too ! " Large, blue eyes ! flaxen hair !" Ann. (looking at her fathers blade gaiters.) And long, white gaiters. The Bailli of Palaiseau is desired to take immediate measures for arrest- ing the above soldier, if he should pass through any of the places within his jurisdiction, and dis- tribute copies of the enclosed at the Bail. Aye, aye, at the different outposts. — Very well ; it shall be done. Give me the pa- pers. — Eh ! let me see — we may as well examine this man a little. {Goes up to Evrard, who pre- tends to be asleep, and taps him on the shoulder?) Friend ! stand up — take off your hat. Ann. I'm ready to expire, (aside.) Bail. Twenty-three years old — six feet three — blue eyes — flaxen hair. Ha ! ha ! ha ! a good hit I made of here. There, go your way, good man. Ann. Thank Heaven! (aside.) Speed you well, my poor man : good bye. — Hide yourself there, till he is gone, (aside.) [Exit Evrard. Bail. Upon my word, Mr. Louis Evrard, with your blue eyes and flaxen hair, I would have you keep out of my clutches. Ann. Now, Mr. Bailli, I must beg of you to leave me to finish my work. Bail. Certainly, certainly, my little angel ! but upon one condition — Promise to think upon what I told you, and give a kiss as a pledge. (Evrard appears.) The villain ! (aside.) Bail. Somebody spoke. Ann. He is discovered ! {But observing the 31agpie, tvho has conic MAID OF PALAISEAU. 19 out of his cage, and tvas then on a branch of the tree over the table, she says — ] Look, Mr. Bailli ! Bail. Ah ! I see — Dame Gervas's cursed Mag- pie! But, Annette, remember the condition. — {Goes to kiss her.) Ann. Mr. Bailli ! (with great dignity >.) — Begone, or you shall repent. Bail. Threatning too ! I should like to know who is to prevent me from Ann. Some one who will punish this insolence. Bail. What do I hear? A servant dare to treat me so ! Me ! Chrisostome Athanasius de Rocher, Bailli de Palaiseau ! I know where all this pride and impertinence proceeds : it is upon Richard, your master's son, that you have your views ; but you shall know what it is to affront a Bailli ; you shall repent this ! — A saucy, im- pertinent servant maid, indeed! I'm in office, hussy ! and may chance to teach you, that, when little folks forget their respect to great ones, great ones never forget to remember it. [Music. Exit, muttering, at gate. Enter Evrard. Evr. And to be obliged to bear such an out- rage ! Ann. Be calm, my dear father : my fears were but for you ; and, now we are alone, you had something more to tell me. Evr. Yes, my child; — my money is all ex- hausted. Ann. And, alas! I have none. Evr. I know it; you sent mejall you possessed. But one thing remains : here is my last resource d 2 20 the magpie; or, the — a silver spoon of your poor mother's, which I have kept to this moment. Ann. My mother's ! ( She takes and kisses it.) Ev. I hoped to have kept it all my life — but hard necessity ! You may perhaps be able to dispose of it in the village this evening ; but do it discreetly. I observed an old tree near the road, at the entrance of this little wood ; it has a hollow in it Ann. I know it. Ev. Whatever little money the spoon will bring you can deposit in that hollow, in the course of to-night ; and, at day-break, I shall be there to receive it. Ann. At day-break ! I fear I shall not have time — stop a moment — yes, perhaps, in an hour or two. The Jew, who was here a while ago Yes, my dear father, the money shall be there this very night. Ev. Adieu, then, my child ; this may be the last embrace ! Ann. My father ! [She conducts him through the rustic gate, following him with her eyes, and then sinks on a chair — when the curtain drops. Pre- vious to this, the Magpie drops from the branch upon the table, and, taking a spoon in his beak, has floivn across the stage be- hind the scenes. This takes place when, Annette is looking after her father, and before she sinks on the chair.'] END OF THE FIRST ACT. MAID OF PALAISEAU. 21 ACT II. SCENE I. A room in the farm-house ; door in front ; a win- dow at each side ; a large table, on which are heaps of plates, glasses, fyc. and, at one end of it, the basket of knives and forks and spoons. In a corner of the room is seen the Magpie in a cage, hung up against the wall. Annette, — (going to the door in front, that looks into the street.) Ann. The Jew, I fear, is really gone. To offer me so little ! — it would be of no use to my poor father ; and time passes, (looking out with anxiety) — If he does not come back what shall I do ? and what will become of him, if he does not find the money in the hollow tree ? he must wait till night — and then, perhaps, it may be too late ! If I could but see the Jew again — he might give me a little more (Isaac speaks behind.) I hear him — how lucky ! Isa. Knives ! scissars ! — Fell, Miss, I give tur- teen shillings — can't gif more, upon my con- silience. Ann. Thirteen shillings ! I must have stolen it to take so little. Isa. That's not my business. Ann. It's a shame. Isa. Veil — I gif fifteen shillings — that is the lasht. 22 the magpie; or, the Ann. Go your ways. Isa. I'm a going, matimoiselle. Ann. I must take it, here. Isa. Good — (I was going to gif seventeen. (aside.) Ann. Make haste — somebody may come. Isa. I undershand (counting the money) four- teen, fifteen. Ann. Very well, it's all right — go away. (Exit Isaac.) [Blaisot at the door at the other side!] Blais. What have you been selling to that ugly Jew? Ann. (putting her money in her pocket.) I wanted a little money, Blaisot, so I have been selling him something. Blais. Say for nothing at all — these Jews are such Jews ! mercy on us. Ann. Yes, but I was in such distress for a little money. Blais. And wasn't Blaisot's leather purse at your service, Miss Annette ? aye, and ta the last farthing, small as it is ? Ann. Thank you, good Blaisot ; but leave me now. I have got so much to do this morning. Blais. And so have I too — ecod Dame Ger- vas keeps us to it finely. (Exit running off.) Ann. Now to the hollow tree : my poor father must be so impatient ; ah ! (stopped by Richard, who enters.) Rich. Dear Annette — good morning. Ann. So early, Mr. Richard ! Rich. I could not sleep, the pleasure of being again with my family, the joy of finding my An- nette still faithful, and the hope of soon calling MAID OF PALAISEAU; 23 her mine agitated me so much, that I have not closed my eyes — and you, dear girl ? Ann. Ah, Richard ! I could not sleep either. Rich. What is the matter? you look alarmed ! Ann. Me ! not at all Richard — my father waiting all this time ! (aside.) Kick. You are unhappy — tell me. Ann. No, indeed — nothing at all — I must be gone for a moment — adieu, dear Richard ! Rich. One instant; I must enquire; my mother perhaps has been saying something. Ann. Your mother! I'll let him think so, [aside."] Ah Richard ! I fear Dame Gervas will never con- sent to your marrying the daughter of a poor soldier. Rich. And what am I, then ? it is my pride and boast to be a soldier — and what state more honourable than his, who is ever ready to face all perils in the service of his country ? Enter Gervas. Gerv. Ah, here they are together ! very well, very well, my dear children ! Eh ! what's a clock ? Rich. About six, father. Gerv. Six — why I overslept myself. Ann. It will be too late ! (aside.) Gerv. It's your fault, Richard ; one sleeps so sound when the heart is at ease ! Rich. And yet mine, father, never was so much at ease, and I have not slept a wink. Gerv. Aye : but Richard, this love, they say, is a terrible disturber. Ann. If I could but get away ! (retiring to the door.) 24 THE magpie; OR,' the Gerv. Am I right, Annette? what are you doing there a mile off? come here I say — none of your little demure looks — they don't become you my dear child, listen to me. — (taking a hand of each of them under his arm.) We must begin a battery against my wife, this very day. Rich. Yes, father, this very day. Ann. Alas ! (aside.) Gerv, Don't be afraid little coward ! I'll tell you how it will be — she'll scold, fume, fret. — Lord : how she will give it to us all ! well, well — let her go to the end of her letter, and then I — no, then you Richard, you'll begin. Rich. And why not you, father ? - Gerv. No, no. I should spoil all, I tell you —my Dame is one of the best women in the world ; but the truth is, that if I am of one opi- nion, it's quite enough that she should be of another ; there's no help for it. Rich. Well Father, I shall begin. Gerv. That's it — she's so fond of you, that she may listen a little, and then we'll tell her, that Annette, though not rich, has a hundred good qua- lities, more necessary in a wife eh ! where the devil is she running — (Annette retiring at last, make's her escape.) Annette! Annette! ah! there's my wife got hold of her. Enter Dame ivith Annette. Dame. Where are you going in such a hurry, Miss ? one would think there was nothing to do in the house — good morning, Richard, how do you do, child, after your fatigue ? Rich. Very well, mother/and you I hope — Dame. Mercy! what a room! nothing set to MAID OF PALAISEAU. 25 rights-r-plates, glasses, standing about — did any body ever see such disorder? and you (to father and son,) there you stand looking at each other, and won't leave me to settle my household affairs. Gerv. Well wife, we're going. Richard, better chuse another time — there's a storm brewing; -come along boy. Rich. But shall we leave, Annette? Gerv. Aye, aye; she's us'd to it — let us go. (Exeunt Gervas and Richard.) Dame. What have they been all three talking about ? some secret from me, I dare say — An- nette do you know any thing? Ann. I, ma'am ! Dame. Hem ! hem ! there's something or other, but I'll get to the bottom of it — if people think I am to be deceived, they don't know Dame Ger- vas — I have a tongue that can speak, and a head that wont follow other people's opinion, believe me — come child, help to put things to rights ; take away these plates and glasses ; where's the basket with the silver forks and spoons ? Ann. Here it is, ma'am. Dame. Very well — I shall count them over. (she reckons and talks alternately, while Annette is occupied carrying things from the table into an- other room behind the scenes.) Well, sure enough we had a very pleasant fete of it ! for our dear Richard ! and poor farmer Lucas ! he had a dose of wine, and how his wife did talk ! oh Lord — eleven forks — how people can go on all day chattering so, is quite wonderful ! one, two, three ; and her daughters ! seven, eight. I hope they danced enough at last : such jumpers I never saw ! ten, eleven ! 1 must be mistaken — E 26 the magpie; or, the (counts them again) ten — eleven — no more — there it is ! so here's a spoon wanting now ! Ann. How! a spoon? (goes to count them.) Dame. Yes, count them yourself; there were eleven forks — here they are ; and twelve spoons. Ann. Ten, eleven. I can see no more ; and yet I'm sure I paid the greatest attention. Dame. So it seems, miss ! but let's see — look about under the table — it is really inconceivable. (Calling.) Farmer Gervas, what are you doing out there ? Come to me directly, Blaisot. Enter Blaisot. Go along and look under the tree where we supped, and see if you can find a spoon. [Exit Blaisot.] Enter Gervas. Gerv. What's the matter, wife ? what are you in such a fuss about ? what spoon ? Dame. Yes, indeed, this time its a spoon lost. Well, Annette, can't you find it ? Ann. No, ma'am; I have looked every where — how disagreeable it is ! Dame. Yes, miss, very disagreeable, and very extraordinary too, give me leave to say, to lose two such valuable things in the same way. Gerv. Pah ! it will be found bye and bye. Dame. It's enough to set one mad to see how easily you take things, Mr. Gervas ; but it shall not pass as it did before — I shall insist upon ex- amining- Gerv. There, she is at her tantrums again ! as if every thing that's missing for a moment must be stolen. Dame. Mighty well, mighty well ! MAID OF PALAISEAU. 27 Enter Blaisot. Blais. I've searched and searched all under and over — no more spoon than on the back of my hand — ecod, I have it. — Gerv. What ; the spoon. Blais. No ; but for my part, I think the spoon must be gone after the fork. Gerv. Fool ! Dame. Not such a fool either ; but did you look every — Blais. Not only look'd myself, but I met George t, the Bailli's man, and he help'd me ; but not the spoon we could find. Gerv. And a wise thing it was of you to tell that prating fellow any thing about it. Dame. It's lucky he did, Mr. Gervas — it's no harm if the Bailli himself knew it — the same ac- cident cou'dn't happen twice without some — in short, Mr. Gervas, the spoon must be stolen — and who took it? Mag. Annette — Annette! Ann. Oh ! Heaven ! Gerv. (laughing.) Ha, ha! listen to that non- sensical bird. Dame. It's rather singular, you must allow. Gerv. (to Annette.) What are you crying for, child ? Do you think I mind what that bird says ; and my wife, I'm sure, has too much sense, too much justice, to imagine for a moment — is it not so wife ? Dame. Surely — I don't believe— I'm far from thinking — I don't accuse any body ; but a silver spoon is a silver spoon, and the spoon is gone, Mr. Gervas, and I must suspect somebody. Blais. Ecod then, mayhap you suspect Blaisot; e2 28* the magpie; or, the but I scorn your words, and dang it if 1 was to go for to think you meant as I had any hand in it — (muttering in a great passion.) Dame. Nobody spoke to you, blockhead ! Blais. Aye, blockhead! and a blockhead may be a very honest man, I'd have you to know. Ann. (in great distress.) My good Blaisot, don't you see, it is not to you that all this is directed, but to me. I am very unfortunate. Gerv. Hush ! here's the Bailli. Dame. So much the better. Enter Bailli. Bail. What's the matter here, neighbours? Georget has been telling me of a robbery ! Eh I something about a silver spoon ; I ordered my clerk to follow me — we must examine — Gerv. Not at all, Mr. Bailli — there are na thieves in my house — nothing has been stolen. Bail. However, I am informed — Dame. My husband doesn't know what he says. I'll tell you, Mr. Bailli — here's a silver spoon missing, we must know what has become of it, and I am sure you will do your duty. Bail. Most judiciously expressed, Dame Ger- vas. What, sir ! was there not a silver fork missing a fortnight ago? and is it found yet? And now a spoon ! The case is evident — House breaking — household robbery ! I must examine witnesses — take depositions. Gerv. Pshaw ! Mr. Bailli, it's a trifle. Bail. Trifle, indeed ! Hanging matter, I say ! Where is my clerk ? (Looking about sees An- nette.) So, Miss Annette, you can read papers prettily I see. Gerv. What? (to Amiette) Bail. Only a cunning trick of this young lady, MAID OF PALAISEAU. 29 while I was looking for my spectacles, to save a notorious culprit. — I shall remember it. Enter Gripeall. Bail. Have you sent for the gens d'armes? Grip. They are in waiting. Bail. And my servant, George t — Grip. Is with them. Bail. Good ! Now, Farmer Gervas, and you, Dame Gervas, sit down, if you please, both of you. A table here. — (Gripeall and Bailli sit doivn to a table opposite; Gripeall takes out of his pocket, papers, pens, and ink.) Write the pre- amble — In the year of our Lord, 1760, came be- fore us We shall begin by examining all pre- sent. Blais. Aye, do. I don't value you three skips of a grasshopper. Ann. There's nobody here afraid, Mr. Bailli. Bail. First deposition. — Dame Gervas de- poseth, that about a fortnight ago, a large silver fork was stolen from her house — ditto this day, a large silver spoon, same value, and stolen by the same person. Dame. I don't say that, Mr. Bailli — I don't know who took them. Bail. Silence ! we must stick to the forms of the law. Now, Dame Gervas, I ask you who is the person in your house who has the care of your plate ? Dame. Annette. Bail. Ah, ah! pretty innocent! — Now in my turn, {aside.) Strong presumption against the said Annette. Ann. Against me ! — just Heaven ! Bail. Her familv name ? 30 the magpie; ok, the Dame. Granville. Gerv. Stop a little. I must tell you, Mr. Bailli, Annette was never responsible. Sail. Write down Annette Granville. Gerv. But speak, wife. Dame. Mr. Bailli. I don't say Annette is by any means — Bail. No — you don't say, I know, but you confide in Annette, and particularly all your sil- ver-plate; and, therefore, upon her naturally falls the first suspicion. Slais. And so, Mr. Bailli, if I have the care of the pigs, and one on'em throws himself into a pit, I'm to be suspected of eating 'em. — Dang such law ! Sail. Silence ! impertinent ! Dame Gervas further deposeth. Ann. And you, madam, don't contradict this unjust — this vile insinuation! wretched Annette. (Pulls out her handkerchief to zvipe her eyes, the money she got from the Jew, being wrapped up in it, falls on the stage.) Dame. What is all this ? Ann. (Picking up the money in a hurry.) It be- longs to me, ma'am ! Dame. To you! and we know it was but the other day you sent ev'ry farthing you had to your father. Gerv. True, Annette. — How comes it then ? Ann. And you, too, Mr. Gervas. — Oh ! by ev'ry thing that is sacred, I swear this money is mine. Gerv. I believe you, my child ; but I only wish to know — Sail. Write down, " Aggravating circum- stances." Slais. Stop a minute, old Quill, (to Gripeall^) It is Annette's money. — I know all about it. MAID OF PALAISEAT. 3t Gerv. Speak then, Blaisot. Blais. Don't you know Isaac, the Jew? there, below, at the White Horse, in the village ? now, to my knowledge, he gave Miss Annette money this morning, for some bits of old things she sold 'urn. Bail. A Jew! here we have it. Dame. Now, Mr. Gervas, is it pretty clear ? Gerv. Annette, does Blaisot speak the truth? Ann. He does. Dame. Let her tell us what she sold. — It could not be her cross, for there it is. Ann. My cross ! (looking at it) would to Heaven it was ! Bail. Writedown, said, " Stolen article was sold to a Jew."' Let me see that money. — -Give it to me, I say. (putting it into his pocket.) Ann. What, my last resource ! (falling on her knees) I conjure you, Mr. Bailli, leave me that money; it is a sacred trust. What I sold, be- longed to me. — Pity my despair. — I am as inno- cent as yourself of this. Bail. Paid into court. — Bad affair! the Jew is a damning proof; and this very day, the judge comes in his rounds to Palaiseau. Now write down, Blaisot deposeth, that he saw fifteen shil- lings given by the said Jew to the said Annette Granville, for a silver-spoon. Blais. I tell you its a lie! and I'll knock your paper about your head, if you come for to write — Bail. Contempt of court! commit him. — Make out a mittimus. Blais. Here I thought to save the poor girl, and I made it all worse. — Dear me ! dear me ! Gerv. Mr. Bailli. — I protest against this way of going on. — We must have the proper witnesses. 32 the magpie; or, the Bail. True ! we must hear the Jew. Blais. And, by the mass, if he's above ground* 111 bring 'urn here: that will repair all. (runs off.) Gerv. Annette; perhaps the Jew will come? (observing her.) Ann. Oh! I hope so, and quickly. Rich, (without) Annette ! Enter Richard. Ann. Richard ! Rich. Tell me, father, Blaisothas been saying— who dares to accuse Annette of any crime? Ann. Oh ! Richard, you will not believe — Rich. Never, my beloved girl ! you, whose noble heart and rectitude of conduct, have at- tached me more than your beauty. Dame, What do you say, my son ? Rich. Yes, mother; for to her only will Rich- ard be united for ever. Dame. You don't know what you say — you are ignorant of what has passed. — This girl — Rich. I know this, that my dearest Annette is innocent, and that I answer for it with my life. Mr. Bailli you may retire ; your presence is no longer necessary. Bail. Hey-day — chaos is come again. Rich. Carry off your cursed scrawls, and don't let my ears be offended with your calum- nies. Bail. Young man, young man, justice is not to be interrupted by your audacious sallies — here are proofs of household robbery, and- Rich. Falsehood ; it is not so ; my father — Ger. I hope it will turn out so. — Bail. Read the depositions, read the discovery MAID OF PALAISEAtJ. S3 t>f the money found upon the defendant, which tnoney was given to her this morning by a Jew, for the article in question : read, read. Rich. Very well, I know it — the whole pro- ceeding is infamous — and these are your proofs ! because Annette sold something that belonged to her, and probably to assist the unfortunate ; for I know her goodness : and because, by mere chance at the same time, some little piece of plate is missing in the house, can you dare to conclude from that, that Annette is guilty ? Tremble, Mr. Justice, to increase the number of those fatal judgments by which too often the innocent and unprotected fall victims to error and precipi- tation. Bail. And give me leave to tell you, Mr. Richard, that I am not to learn my duty from a jackanapes, who only because he is in love with the defendant — Rich. Peace, old man ! would to Heaven that your motives for persecuting were as pure as mine for defending the innocent. Dame. Hold your tongue, Richard ; and Mr. Bailli, you need not tell us about my son's love, for I dislike it,as much as you do ; but what he says is true enough, we must not condemn peo- ple in a hurry, and I had rather he was married to Annette, than we should suspect her wrong- j Gerv. Well said, wife. Enter Blaisot, dragging in the Jew. Blais. Here he is — I got hold on 'ura. (aside to Annette.) Now Annette it will be all right. F 34 the magpie; OR, TH£ Isa. The tevil ! Blaisot not tell me the Paily here, (aside. ) Rich. Come forward, Mr. Jew, and tell us — Bail. Hold — I must examine the witness, your name, and profession ? answer, I say. Isa. I'm call Sholoman Isaac — doesh a little bishness in the way of trade, and all upon my conshence. Bail. Do you know this young girl? Isa. Yesh, Mr. Paily. JBail. What was it she sold you this morning? Isa. Vat vash it, matemoiselle ? (to Annette aside.) It vash ; it vash one silver shpoon. Gerv. ^ Dame. > A silver spoon ! Blais. j Mich. What do you say, villain? Ann. The truth, Richard — shew the spoon I sold you. Isa, Vit pleasure, matamoiselle if I could, but I shold it directly to a friend, little profit; and I don't know where he's gone. Ann. Then I am lost ! JBail. Write down the witnesses deposition. Evr. Annette, where did you get this spoon ? Ann. Good Mr. Gervas, do not ask me; I oannot, must not tell you. Blais. Here's another pretty job I made of it, to bring this cursed Jew here ! Bail. Silence in the court ! you all see now that the evidence is conclusive. Rich. I am thunderstruck ! Ann. Bitter humiliation, and still to tremble for my poor father's life ! merciful Heaven! — Dame. I begin to pity her from my heart. MAID OF PALAISEAU.. 35 Bail. {Coming forward.) Come, young lady, it can't be help'd, but you must to prison. All. To prison ! Gerv. But, Mr. Bailli, can't we settle this mat- ter? Bail. Impossible, Mr. Gervas ,• it is too late. [Isaac stealing off. Rich. Stop that villain, a thought has struck me — mother fetch one of our spoons. Dame. Directly, my son ! Enter Gens D'Armes. Rich. Describe the spoon you bought; what sort of one was it ? plain, or otherwise ? the form, weight, arms, or cypher ? Isa. Very heavy — cosh'd me great deal of mo- ney ; it vash shyfer, I think. Rich. Was it a take care. Isa. Yes a chee — it was a chee. Annet. Fatal circumstance ! Gervas and Gran- ville, the same letters. Rieh. Here, wretch ; compare and pronounce; was it like this ? Isa. Ver like — the very shame as fat I bought. Rich. I am confounded ! Ann. Lost for ever ! Dame. Mercy on us ! Ger. There must be something more in this. Bail. To prison, to prison with her ; the Jew maybe discharged. [Exit Bailli. Ann. (in tears) Richard ! Richard ! Rich. Annette, I lov'd — I ador'd you.— My happiness is gone for ever. Ann. Richard — my friends —I am unfortunate, but jnuocent. f 2 36 the magpie; or, the Rich. Prove it then. Ann. It is impossible. And do you abandon me; (to Gervas) you think me guilty. Oh! my father! (aside) oh! Richard, I am innocent — J am innocent. [The Gens d'Armes, in two files, conduct her — • Dame covers her face with her handker 1 , kerchief- — Gervas holds his son, tvho would follow Annette — Blaisot lifts his hands in despair.] Curtain falls, END OF SECOND ACT, i.Vi *!.■ . • "'." : i I'Vi-,:".- 1 i • ' ■ j i ■ ii' i «i ACT III, SCENE I, A Prison, Annette discovered. — (After a few bars of de* scriptive music, she speaks.) Ann. My poor father. — What will become of him when he finds I have not been able to place the money as I promised ; and should he hear that his poor child is the victim of so disgraceful an accusation ! dreadful thought. — If he was but gone before it happened. — This cross, perhaps — but how dispose of it? or how send the money? Mr, Gervas — Richard. — No, no; they would ask MAID OF PAIrfAISEAU. 37 me explanations which I cannot give. Blaisot, that good young man, who was so friendly in his offers. — Yes, I can trust him without betraying any thing. — I'll ask the Jailor. Bertrand — Ber- trand. Enter Bertrand. Bert. Here's Blaisot wants to see you. Ann. 'Tis fortunate ! JBlais. (approaching with a melancholy air.) There she is, poor girl. Ann. Yes, I can depend upon him. (aside) Blaisot, you can do me a great service ; but you must ask me no questions. Blais. I won't — I won't ask no questions, Miss Annette. Ann. You saw this morning they took the little money I had. Blais. Yes, Miss Annette — the Bailli has got hold on it ; nobody will ever see that again. Ann. Well then my dear Blaisot. Blais. I see what you mean — say the word, and every thing poor Blaisot has, is at your service. Ann. I know it, Blaisot — and therefore I wish you to lend me just the same sum — here is my gold cross, which is worth about — Blais. Softly, softly, (putting back her hand) where am I to carry the money ? Ann. Going out of the little wood, just by the Paris road, have you remark'd an old hollow tree? Blais. To be sure I have. Ann. Well : it is in the hollow of this tree that you must leave the money this evening. 38 THE MAGPIE Slats. What in the tree ! all alone ! Ann. But nobody must see you ; and, above all things, I must insist, that you will not re- main there to see who comes to take it. Blais. Oh ! then it's perhaps Ann. You promis'd to ask no questions. JBlais. True, I did — leave it to Blaisot. — I know it's some good action — I'll do it directly — (going.) Ann. But, Blaisot, you forgot the cross. Blais. Me take your cross ! Ann. If you refuse me I cannot accept Blais. That's very good ! now I know what Tin to do : I defy you, Miss Annette. Ann. Hear me, Blaisot — think my good friend, that to morrow, perhaps to day, this little orna- ment can be no longer of use to Annette. JBlais. No, no — Miss Annette — don't talk so — its impossible they should be such hard hearted d*v-d brutes — keep your cross. Ann. Then accept it as a token of Annette's regard. JBlais. Then I will — and if I part with it, no, never {sobbing, and crying, and going.) Ann. (taking hold of hi 9 hand.) Farewell. Blais. Here's Richard. (Exit Blaisot.) Enter Richard. Rich. Forgive me, dear Annette— the idea of your being accused of such a crime, the appa- rent proofs, which you refuse to give any account of, all affect and distract me so, that my very brain is disorder'd ; I have resolved to return to the army, to bid an eternal adieu to my family, and find in a glorious death the end of my mis- MAID OF PALAISEAU. SQ fortunes, but first to take the only chance that remains to save me from despair — to ask you for the last time — are you guilty ? — Ann. No, Richard ! (with dignity.) Rich. By what fatality then Ann. I can prove nothing — explain nothing — nor make any defence — it only remains for An- nette to implore the divine assistance, and la- ment the errors and injustice of the world. Rich. You have a secret then, the discovery of which would justify you, and you refuse to tell it, to me, the friend of your bosom; to me, who would sacrifice an hundred lives to save your's. Ann. Dear Richard ! add not to my affliction — the secret is not my own — besides of what use could it be to me? I have but one witness, and such is his unfortunate situation, that his evi- dence would not be believ'd — his own life would be risk'd without saving mine — no — I must be silent — prudence — duty — an oath forbids me. Rich. I know not what to think! — then sum- mon up all your fortitude Annette — the judges are arrived— this odious Bailli who persecutes you for reasons, I well know, has denounced you to the tribunal — and this very day — Ann. I may be condemn'd — alas ! a time will come, when ray innocence shall be acknowledg'd, but poor Annette will not enjoy the triumph. Rich. She makes me shudder ! no — she cannot be guilty — such truth — such candour — impos- sible. Ann. And now, Richard, I have a question to ask you, aud I depend upon your truth and honour. Rich. Speak — rely upon them. 40 the magpie; or, the Ann. If I am convicted — what will your thoughts be? Rich. That you are innocent. Ann. Then I shall die consol'd. Rich. Yes, my father, and mother — all — Ann. Ah, Madame Gervas ! Rich. I know you have reason to believe her cruel to you — but believe me, dear Annette, she has been miserable ever since. Ann. I forgive her ! Rich. At this very moment, she and my fathef are moving heaven and earth, to soften this in-' famous BaillL Enter Bertrand. Ber. Young woman, you must return into the prison, the Bailli is coming for the last interro- gation. Ann. Adieu, Richard. Rich. Adieu, dearest Annette ! Bert. I hear a noise below; go in, go in; quick. Richard and Annette embrace; Ber- trand locks the door upon her. Rich. And, for the last time, I have seen herf Bert. Farmer Gervas and his wife I see ; they can't see her now. Enter Gervas and Dame. Rich. (To them.) Have you seen the Bailli? Gerv. Not yet ; they told us he was coming. And is it there, dear child? Dame. There ; and all my fault. (Sobbing), Gervas. Did you speak to her, my son? MAID OF PALAISEAU. 41 Rich, Oh ! yes- — and had you but seen her, mother ! Dame. Oh ! Richard, she cannot reproach me more than I do myself; and, if it r s to be the death of Annette, I know I shall not survive it. Gerv. Come, come, my dear wife ; there is still hope. We shall speak to the Bailli ; we'll use every means — make every sacrifice* Dame. Yes, husband; we'll give him every thing we possess to save the poor girl ; for I ne- ver can think her guilty in my heart. Rich. True, mother ; she must be innocent. Gerv. Has she told you any thing? Rich. No ; there is some mystery, some im- perious duty or other, prevents her speaking. Gerv. -Here's the Bailli, I think; leave us, Richard. Enter Bailli. Rich. I will, father ; for I dare not trust my- self. But if he resists your intreaties, (the Bailli advances,) he shall hear me publish the unworthy motives that have urged him to oppress the in- nocent. Bail. Mr. Richard! Rich. Your servant, Mr. Bailli; you heard me I hope — we were talking of you, sir. [Exit. Dame. Pardon him, Mr. Bailli ; it is his de- spair makes him talk so. Gerv. Yes, Mr. Bailli; and Richard would be the first person to acknowledge your kindness, if you comply with our wishes. Bail. What do you want? let us hear. Dame. We want you to throw all the papers into the fire — that's all ; and not to have us, for a miserable spoon, be the death of a poor girl. G 42 the magpie; or, the Bail. It is too late, Dame Gervas ; the affair is before the judge. Gerv. I don't believe it, Mr. Bailli ; its very easy to gain time — let the matter rest a little. Bail. Very easy indeed ! Gerv. And any sacrifice. Dame. Yes, we'll pay any thing — I don't mean to you, Mr. Bailli— you are above it ; but any expense attending the stopping of the matter — we don't mind what it is. Take our silver, gold — take every thing ! (crying.) Bail. Once again, I say, it is impossible ; and give me leave to tell you, that the Bailli of Pa- laiseau is not a man to be bribed. Gerv. And let me tell the Bailli of Palaiseau, that his duty is not to press this affair ; it is by no means a clear case, and you would have much to answer for, if Bail. I know what I have to answer for; I am not apt to be mistaken in my judgment, Mr. Gervas. Gerv. Except when a certain passion hinders you from seeing clearly. Dame. (To Gervas.) For Heaven's sake, hus- band! Gerv. Let me alone: the Bailli would have found Annette innocent enough, if she had been guilty in his way ; but we know very well how she scorn'd his proposals — and here's a man who talks of duty and justice! Bail. I'll make you repent this, fellow! Dame. Ah ! Mr. Bailli, (going on her knees.) Gerv. (preventing her.) We only kneel to ask pardon; — we demand justice! (standing up.) — Mr. Bailli, it is not your office to oppress the innocent, nor is it my duty to speak half what I MAID OF PALAISEAU. 43 feel on this villainous occasion. I reverence the laws ; and you never had more cause to be grate- ful to them than at this very moment : for, while I know they always protect me as an honest man, I feel, even to my fingers' ends, that they also protect you as an unfeeling — — Poh! — Come along, wife. [Exeunt Gervas and Dame. Bail. O — so you're an honest man, and I'm an unfeeling Pah! — And the law is this— and my office is that. And I'll let you know, that the law shall teach you to respect my office — and that my office shall teach you to respect the law — and that Pah ! [Exit in a rage. SCENE II. Represents the square of the village. In front '; but inclining to the right hand side, part of a church ivith a steeple and large bell ; just under which a sort of small scaffolding ; to which is attached a strong rope, which does not hang down at present, but is carelessly thrown on the scaffold- ing. On the opposite bide the court-house, which makes the corner of a street, ivith steps going up to it. A sentinel, who walks before the door, sometimes disappearing round the corner at the other entrance : on the same side, nearer to the audience, is a rustic gate to lead down to the farm of Mr. Gervas, and a stone bench by the side of it. Enter St. Clair. St. 0, I can find no one to tell me the Bailli's house, or Farmer Gervas's. Evrard, I know, o 2 44 the magpie; or, the came here to see his daughter — how lucky it would be to find him still here, and to embrace my brave comrade ! — he can't be far off. B la I sot— (coming out of the gate, and counting his money.) JBlais. That's just the money — and now away with us to the tree. St. CL Honest lad, mayhap you can tell me where the Bailli lives, and Farmer Gervas ? ]3lais. Yes, master soldier; this gate is the short cut to our farm. St Cl. And the Bailli ? JBlais. You'll find him, fast enough, round the corner. St. Clair. Thank ye, good friend. [Exit. JBlais. He'll not find any body at home, how- somever ; ev'ry body gone to poor Annette's trial. I can't bear to think on it ! Here's first of all the fifteen shillings, and then I have left — poh ! I can count afterwards. Poor girl, it makes one's heart ache 5 poor Am )tte ! [Exit. Enter Evrard. Evr. Sure I heard my daughter's name ! and (with an air of pity) some accident must have pre- vented her sending the money. I cannot support it ; and yet, to appear in this village by day light! A sentinel ! I am undone if I go that way. Enter Georget. Evr. Can you oblige me, good friend, to go as far as farmer Gervas's ? Geor. Why there's the gate of the farm-yard ; MAID OF PALAISEAU. 45 you'll find nobody there; they are in trouble, poor souls. JEvr. In trouble ! Geor. Yes ; that nice servant maid of theirs, young Annette. Evr. What of her ? Geor. Who'd have thought such a thing ; shell be condemn'd, I'm sartin. Evr. Condemn'd! for what? Geor. For robbing her mistress, that's all. Evr. Impossible ! Geor. True enough, tho' ; the whole of the vil- lage is gone to the court-house, and I'm going myself. Evr. Stop, wretch ! her name, this moment. Geor. I tell you, Annette — Annette Granville. [Exit. Evr. Granville ! Merciful Heaven ! Enter St. Clair. Evr. No ; it cannot be my daughter ! what is my life, if such a charge is hanging over her. St. Clair. What do I see ? let me embrace my dear Evrard. I went to the Bailli's, but he was out. Evr. Ah, St. Clair, is it you ? St. Clair. Yes, Evrard ; here is your pardon. The whole regiment petitioned his majesty, and your captain himself had the generosity to own that he had given you provocation ; he himself nobly presented the petition, and the king has signed your pardon. Evr. You bring me life. My daughter! oh, faictl stroke! To the farm, that I may hear the worst. 46 the magpie; or, the St. Clair. Evrard, I shall never quit you. [Exeunt. Enter Georget, followed by Richard, Gervas, Dame, \c. Geor. Here are all the people coming out; it is all over with poor Annette. Rich. Yes; 1 will publish to the world this infamous injustice. The barbarians condemn'd her without hearing me; but I will see her again, and receive her last adieu. Gerv. You must come with me. Obey your father ; I will have it so. Rich. Oh ! torture, torture ! ^Gervas carries him into the farm, and Dame follows in distress.) [Dead march — Annette, preceded and fol- lowed by Gens d'Armes, and surrounded by others, oomes down the steps of the court house towards the stage ; then turns by the church, and stops a moment, with bended knee and attitude of prayer. — She then rises y and the melancholy procession passes by the end of the stage round the court house. The music continues till the procession is quite out of sight.] Enter Blaisot, from the other side. Blais. Ecod — I've popp'd the money into the tree ; and now let us see the rest of my little for- tune. — It wont be long counting. I'll sit down here, (on the bench, near the gate.) One, two, three.— Fin richer than I thought. — Four, five, and the new shilling that poor Annette gave me for my Christmas-box. — I'll put that a one side MAID OF PALAISEAU. 47 with the cross. The dear, sweet girl! I think I hear her last words, — " Farewell, Blaisot." Georget comes forward. Geor. Ah! Blaisot, there you are. Blais. (getting up in a hurry, leaves part of his money on the bench.) Ah! Georget, tell us, — were you in the court? Geor. Its all over — I heard the sentence. Blais. Condemn'd? Geor. To death ; - -and gone — Blais. To execution.— I tell yon, Georget, its an abomination ; and that damn'd Bailli. (Returns to the bench to take his money. The Magpie has just come down and carried off something in her beak.) Geor. Look, Blaisot! Blais. (Folloiving with his eyes.) Will you drop that, yon cursed Magpie? Lookee here, Georget, if she 'arnt carried off my new shilling, that I wouldn't have given Georg. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Poor Blaisot ; I can't help laughing. JBlais. (Running and looking up after the bird, as he approaches the sentinel, tvho looks and laughs.) And you're laughing too ; (to the sen- tinel); there she is, the d — d thief ! into the bel- fry. I watch'd the place ; if I could but climb up. Wait a bit, if I but catch you. (Goes to the church door, ivhich the work- men are supposed to have left open; he goes in and gets into the belfry inside.) Geor. He thinks the Magpie will wait for him; poor Blaisot! ha! ha! ha! Blais. (Hallooing out of the Belfry — something in his hand.) Holla! Georget! Georget! (scream- 48 THE magpie; or, THE ing with impatience.) Annette is innocent ! look here, look here — the spoon ! Oh lud, oh hid — and there they're carrying the poor girl ; will no- body hear me ! Stop there, hollo ! they can't hear me. I know what I'll do. (He goes into the Belfry and rings ivith great violence, never stopping.) Geor. The man's mad ! Enter Gervas, Dame, Richard, arid Vil- lagers. Gerv. ^ ' \ What is the matter ? Dame. $ Blais. (stopping.) Come here all of you, come here, Annette's innocent ! (rings again.) Gerv. But Blaisot, Blaisot — tell us. Blais. (stopping the Bell.) Dame, Gervas, Richard ! Oh ! (out of breath.) run as fast as you can, here's the spoon and fork, and ever so many things, and my new shilling. It was the Magpie that stole 'em. Blais. Here, Dame Gervas, hold your apron. (he throws them down.) {Exeunt Gervas and Richard.] Blaisot continues ringing. Blais. (on the scaffolding, looking out) here she is, and Richard carrying her in his arms. Re-enter Gervas with Richard, carrying Annette — her father enters, and clasps her in his arms — all the villagers shout — Dame Gervas falls on her knees to Annette, who tenderly raises her — the characters form a - general tableau, and the curtain drops. the end. Printed by J. F. DOVE, St. John's Square. V Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: March 2009 PreservationTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COl • FHTinNS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township. PA 16066 (724)779-2111