LACY’S ACTING EDITION- THOMAS HAILES LACY, THEATRICAL BOOKSELLER, WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND, LONDON; Mitchell, 33, Old Bond Street; Scales, 195, Shoreditch; Birmingham, Guest, Bull Street ; Bristol, Bingham, Broad Street ; Dublin, Wiseheart, Suffolk Street; Edinburgh, Sutherland, Colton Street ; Glasgow, Love, Enoch's Square; Leeds, Ramsden ; Liverpool, Meyrick, Hanover Street ; Manchester, Heywood, Dean* gate ; and Leggett, Medlock Street , Hulme. NEW YORK; PERRY, 384, BROADWAY, AND (BY ORDER) OF ALL BOOKSELLERS IB ENGLAND, TUB COLONIES, OR AMERICA. KNIGHT’S EDITr oK OF SHAKESPEARE’S PLAYS, Gd. bach. DRAWING-ROOM DRAMAS) by Miss Keating, 2nd Edition, Is., by post Is. Id. ISIX ACTING CHARADES, I cloth boards, 1*. by Post Is. Id. ’S DRAMATIC CHRONOLOGY, to the Year 1850, pub. 2s. 6d. reduced to <5d. Lately Published, PRINCE CHERRY and PRINCESS FAIR STAR, Go. THE QUEEN and HER LADIES, a Play , Is. LOVE and LOYALTY, 3s. 6d. MANFREDI, thb MYSTERIOUS HERMIT, 6d. MERCHANT’S DAUGHTER op TOULON, 3s. Gd. OAK ST. HDSF r £M07£ 43 1 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates https://archive.org/details/chevalierdestgeoOOrobe THE CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS, i THOMAS HAILES LACY, WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND, LONDON, I First performed at the Theatre des Varieties , Paris , Feb. 1 5th, 1*340 and at the Princess's Theatre , London , J/«y 20l/i, 184 ). Theatre des Varieties. Princess's. Monsieur dc Boulogne (con- troleur -general ) Baron de Tourvel (his son) Chevalier de St. George - Viscount de la Morliere 1 Marquis de Langeac j Platon (servantto St. George) J ulien (master of the Post- house) - An Exempt Joseph (servant to De Bou logne) - First Huntsman A Garcon - The Countess de Presle (a rich young Creole) - Fanchette (wife to Julien) An attendant - A Lady - M. Lepeintre, aine. Mr. Granhy. M. Biundeau. Mr. IIeild.. M. Lafont. Mr. Wallace. M. Lionel. Mr. Banos . M. Cabrat. M. Bebard. Mr.C 0 URT.VEY. M. Adkien Bouget. Mr. Oxbeu ky. - M. Edouard. M. Emile. M. Mayer. M. George. Mile. E. Sauvage. Mile. Clara. Mine. Clement. Mine. Lavernie. Mr. Honner. Mr. Henry] Mr. T. Hili.. Mrs. Stirl ing. MissE. Hon: von. Miss Mott. Hunters , Gentlemen , Ladies , Exenqrts, Servants. Scene. — First Act, at Barney ; 2nd and 3rd, at Paris. COSTUMES.— PERIOD.— 1778. Boulogne. — First dress , Dark velvet suit trimmed with gold, w liite muslin cravat, white silk stockings, shoes aud gold buckles, powd red hair withque, three-cornered gold laced hat, sword; 2nd dress , a rich court suit of the time. Tourvel. — First dress , Green cloth hunting frock, trimmed with gold 1; ice, white breeches, black boots with white tops, spurs, three-cornered grold laced hat, hair powdered, sword and gauntlets ; 2nd dress , court dress. St. George. — First dress , Green velvet hunting frock, &c., same as Baron, but well fitting and distingue in appearance, powder; 2nd dress , Crimson velvet coat, trimmed with gold lace, white satin waist- coat and breeches, white silk stockings, paste buckles, sword, &c. Morliere and Langeac. — First dress , huutiug dresses; 2nd dress , court suits. Exempt aud his Followers. — Plain dark suit, with swords. Joseph. — First dress , Red cloth waistcoat, leather breeches, grey stock- ings and shoes, white apron; 2nd dress, Blue blouse, postilion's cap and high boots. Platon. — Suit of livery. Countess. — First dress , Puce satin over white satin petticoat, black v -1- vet mantle with hood, powder, high-heeled shoes ; 2nd dress , Grc eu velvet jacket, trimmed with gold lace, green riding skirt, black bca' ;er low-crowned hat and feathers; 3 rd dress, Full-hooped dress of go Id, lama and satin, fiowers and jewels. Fanciiette. — Blue stutf jacket with short sleeves, full red pettico at, coloured stockings, linen head dress. T tyre should he a change of dress to plainer suits for the third Act, but it is \i>ot indQpmsabU. £ T£ S 1 THE CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. ACT I. SCENE. — Post house near the avenue leading to the Chateau de Rainey . Inn L. h., with an unpainted signboard hanging out . Higher up a coachhouse , the back of which is against the in?i t so that only the body of a carriage can be seen. — the hedge which separates the courtyard of the Post-house must be sufficiently high to conceal the horses from the audience. Garden of the Inn . r. Castle in the distance . x Julien and Huntsmen discovered drinking at table , r . c ; Fan- chette waiting on them . Julien^ } t ^ Le health the bride and bridegroom ! 1st. Huntsman. What’s the matter, Julien ? What are you scratching your head for ? Are you repenting your marriage ? Fan. Not in the first fortnight, surely. Julien. No — I’m ruminating about what sign I shall have painted on my signboard. Fan. Oh, “ Royal Post House.” Julien. “ And bridle road to the Chateau de Rain9y where all the prince’s hunting parties, and Madame Montessons’ fetes take place.” 1st. Huntsman. Have written on it “A good entertainment for man and beast” Julien. No, I don’t like beast. 1st. Huntsman. Call it the “sty.” 2nd. Huntsman. Or the “ horn.” Julien. No reflection on the marriage state, I beg of you. I thought of calling it “ the soldier’s home,” because I w'as once trumpeter in the dragoons. Fan. That would be nice — and have a handsome soldier painted on it. 1st. Huntsman. Bah ! Serve us with good wine and never mind a sign at all. ( taking Fanchette's hand.) And with such a pretty wife — Julien. [rapping his knuckles.) Don’t do that — I don’t like it. We never liked it in the dragoons. 4 CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. Act 1. 18T. Huntsman. Why, he’s jealous, {horn heard without.) Talking of jealousy, there’s the horn. Drink up. {cracking of whip heard. Stable boy. {outside, l.) Chaise and pair, {horn heard.) 1st. Huntsman. The horn again ! Come, boys, to the meet ! {all exeunt r. Julien bows in De Boulogne and the Countess de Presle ; he has his cotton nightcap in his hand. De B. (r.) No, no change of horses ! put up the carriage, and prepare a chamber for the countess. Julien. (l. c.) A countess, {calling.) The best room. Pan. (l. aside to him.) We have but one. Julien. Then give her that. Fan. I’ll get it ready. If your ladyship is about to join the hunt, you will perhaps dress here. Countess, (r. c.) Yes, and you shall be my lady’s maid. Fan. Oh, my lady, {curtseying.) Servants enter and carry box into house, l. Countess. Take care of that box, it contains my riding-habit, and let me know when the saddle horses arrive. Julien. {aside.) Carriage ! Saddle horses ! What shall I put up for a sign ? De B. Is the room ready? Julien. Yes, my lord! Beautifully furnished — elegantly — quite a bijou ! {to his wife.) Take away that broken looking-glass, and pin up that torn curtain, {aloud.) Everything entirely new. {to Servants.) Now, make haste — don’t stand gaping there, and I’ll go and warm up some soup for the postilions. {during this the carriage has been backed into the coach-house-, L. Exeunt all but the Countess de Presle and de Boulogne. De B. Your handkerchief and smelling-bottle, (giving them) Countess. How attentive you are ! one could positively think it was you who was going to marry me. DeB. I am only my son’s deputy. Countess. By-the-bye, where is your son? De B. He’s — he’s fulfilling his duties on the Prince de Conti. Countess. Do you know, I’m afraid, my dear Monsieur de Boulogne, that I have given my consent to this marriage, too precipitately. De B. Not at all : vrere we not neighbours at St. Domingo ? I’ve always loved you as if you were my daughter, and, had it not been for my sudden departure, of which the old Count de Presle took advantage, to marry you — Countess. And then to die a year after, leaving me the whole of his immense wealth. De B. One of the best things he ever did, — and as your natural guardian — now that you are in France, of course, I — Countess. But, with the exception of your son, I perceive that you allow no young gentlemen to approach me. De B. Yoimg men of the present day are so depraved. Act 1 . CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. 5 Countess. I am afraid your son is none of the steadiest. DeB. You’re wrong — you’re wrong, he is a very prudent lad. (aside.) Who has run though a fortune. He has a thousand good qualities, (aside.) And a million debts. He’ll make you really happy. Countess. Well, I ought to make a happy marriage this time, if only for a change. DeB. Good heaven! Are you happy now? surely, there is no attachment that — no — Countess. Calm yourself, my dear friend, there is no attach- ment ; but as to being happy, ah ! I sigh when I think of the days of my childhood. De B. I see ! a leaf out of the story of Paul and Virginia. Countess. I hardly know what name to give such childish love. And you will laugh when I tell you the hero of my romance was a poor little negro. DeB. A negro — a little Carribee! Countess. Yes, a black, or rather a mulatto. DeB. (aside.) Confound the little ebony wretch ! Countess. ’Twas a strange history. On my mother’s estate, which had not less than four hundred slaves upon it, lived a faithful negress who was my nurse — her name was Noemie. DeB. (starting.) Noemie ! Countess. Yes, and if I recollect rightly, ’twas you who sold her to us. De B. Possibly. I have some slight recollection — Countess. She was very handsome for a negress. She had a son called Camille, who was some four or five years older than I was, who was my playfellow as well as slave — used to carry my fan — hold me on my horse, and pay me every sort of attention. His skill in all kinds of exercises was the wonder of the colony. One day — he was then only in his fourteenth year — De B. Well ? Countess. A grand fete was given to celebrate the arrival of a new governor. Among other sports there was a horse-race, at which each rider was masked. Amid the competitors was a youth who managed his horse so admirably, that he not only won the race, but the approbation of the whole assembly. On reaching the stand where I was seated by my mother, he refused the prize, signifying that he only wished for one reward, and taking off his mask, he imprinted a kiss upon my shoulder. A cry of indigna- tion burst from the assembly when they beheld a mulatto — ’twas Camille. My mother, pale with fury, took the silver whip she always carried, by her side, and lashed him across the face. Oh ! never shall I forget it. I see him now — his frame trembling — his face smeared with blood, and tears, wrung from him by his shame. I could have rushed to him — have tried to soothe his grief, when with a mighty effort, he broke from those who held him, and, at one bound, he cleared the barriers of the course, and disappeared for ever. Oh, how I wept — you see I still weep when I think of it, 6 CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. Act 1. De B. And have you never seen him 6ince ? Countess, (sighing.) Never. De B. ( aside.) Thank heaven ! I began to fear for my son. Countess. The night after this frightful scene, I was lying half asleep, when I heard, under my window, the following Creole air : — SONG.* — Countess, — The air of 11 The Child of the Sun” in the opera of “ The Bondman” Dark is my hue, as that of night, I go to seek a grave ; I dared to worship one too bright, To love a wretched slave. Farewell ! I may not live for thee, Then take my latest sigh ; My greatest privilege must be, To love thee, and to die* De B. Was it he ? Countess. I ran to the window — I called Camille, but in vain : he was never after heard of. ’Twas supposed he had taken refuge in the Spanish part of the Isle. De B. Or gone into the woods and died, as so many do. Countess, (horrified.) Monsieur ! De B. It’s most likely ; so the best thing you can do is to for- get him. Countess. Yes, you are right — His but a dream. And yet the slightest circumstance recalls it. Only last night we were in your box at the opera, when a most elegant and fashionable gentleman entered a box on the opposite side — he was a man of colour. , De B. Another mulatto? Countess. Exactly ; but a thousand times more graceful than all your young lords put together ; and though he could not in any way be mixed up with the poor slave of St. Domingo, yet his ap- pearance excited me, for he kept continually looking at me, and I felt my heart beat. De B. Yes, exactly — his colour — the love of country — old re- collections — a thousand things. Never mind, dear Cecile, mar- riage will dissipate these idle visions. I have your -word — and * when you are my son’s wife — Countess. Who could that distinguished stranger be ? Baron de Tourvel. (outside.) The devil take the Chevalier St. George ! De B. Thank Heaven ! here’s my son. Enter the Baron de Tourvel, l. u. e., in a hunting dress . Baron, (c.) Confound the fellow ! he’s always in my way. ( * If the lady does not sing, the lines can be spoken through the music, piano, and introduced by “ The words ran thus." Act 1 . CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE, 7 De B. (r., pointing to Countess.) Baron ! Baron. A thousand pardons, countess. I fear I have kept you waiting ; but I was thinking of you, and — Countess. And cursing and swearing. I appear to have in- spired you with most agreeable ideas. Baron. All owing to that infernal Chevalier St. George. De B. What has he done ? Baron. What hasn't he done ? The fellow was born to be my destruction. He has this moment, in spite of me, carried off— Countess, (l.) A lady? Baron. No, a horse — a lovely thing. Only imagine, madame, a neck like Sophie Arnoulds — feet like little Guimard, and eyes — I never saw such eyes, (De Boulogne pinches him, he recollects.) excepting yours. Countess. Oh, sir ! De B. ( aside to him.) What are you about ? Baron. That is, they were, as yours are, without comparison. De B. Good ! I breathe again. Baron. Lord Dumbleton promised to make a free gift of the horse to any man who could ride it. We all tried — de Lapzun, de Saubise, Lauxaguais, myself — and vanity apart, I am one of the best horsemen in the world — and we were all thrown, myself among the number, when this infernal Chevalier St. George — this black prince, leaped on his back, turned him round quietly, and trotted him offlike a lamb ; and now, of course, the horse is his. Countess. The Chevalier de St. George’s ? De B. Yes, he of whom we were just speaking. Baron. Have you ever seen him ? Countess. Yes, last night at the opera. De B. He has the sort of face that once seen you can’t easily forget. Baron. He looks like a blot of ink on a snowball. Countess. But he has noble features, and most expressive eyes. What is he ? De B. Oh, some adventurer. Baron. By the most exact and authentic accounts that I can procure, nobody knows anything at all about him. One says that he is a rich Mexican ; another that he is a ruined Portuguese ; another that he is an Abyssinian prince ; another that he is an Arabian runaway. But certainly he is the rage — the fashion ; no fete is complete without him ; the house of Orleans, and Madame de Montenon rave about him. Covered with embroidery from head to foot — the equal of Laclos in wit — of d’Eon in arms — he executes a sonata on his horsewhip, and dances the minuet better than Vestris. And if, with all this to back him, he doesn’t become Prime Minister, ’twill be no fault of his. De B. (aside — enraged.) He is saying all he can in his favour. Countess. What accomplishments ! what talents ! De B. Oh, all exaggerated — all exaggerated, no doubt. No- body ever yet saw a mulatto dressed, powdered, and perfumed. But I know the fellow to be a rake — a libertine. 8 CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. Act 1 Baron. Certainly, a libeitine who sometimes has horribly good luck among the women. Countess. Indeed ! De B. ( making a sign to Baron to hold his tongue.) YeB, rich women. Baron. ( not understanding.) And very charming women, too, let me tell you. He has taken two or three from me. Countess. Baron ! De B. ( aside to him.) Hold your tongue, you fool ! Baron. ( recalling himself.) No, I don’t mean that — I mean that infernal horse that trots — in my head. I don’t know what I’m saying ; the fact is, fair lady, that love — my love for you — Countess. Made you fall from the horse this morning. De B. (forcing a laugh.) Ha, ha, ha, ha ! Is the room ready? Fanchette. ( entering l.) Quite ready, monsieur. De B. Now, my dear Cecile, make your toilette for the chase. The baron will be your cavalier. I have some business in the neighbourhood. Countess. The Chevalier de St. George. All the world speaks of him — all the world knows him, and I must not be out of the fashion. ( aside , and exit with Fanchette into house y l.) De B. Are you mad ? before your future wife ! Baron. I’m afraid that I — De B. You made a fool of yourself. Remember that her for- tune alone can extricate you from your difficulties. Baron. ( impatiently .) I can’t help it — I’m furious. Only think — -a fortnight ago I was running after the lovely little Guimard. De B. Guimard ! A month ago it was Mademoiselle la Prairie. Baron. Prairie ! Oh, Prairie was passee, but Guimard — why I’d give a thousand pounds — that is, if I had them — to kiss the little feet as they glide over the ground ; but the little wretch won’t listen to me, and I hear that she has conceived a passion for this Chevalier de St. George, d n him ! They say she doats on him. De B. Never mind the Guimard. Take care he doesn’t carry off your intended wife. Baron. The Countess de Presle ! What, has he any designs ? De B. I don’t know, but Madame de Presle seems to think about him. She has only seen him once, and that brought to her mind some recollections of infancy. Baron, (enraged.) Curse the fellow! I won’t put up with this, though. I’ll settle it at once. De B. i forbid you. His skill as a duellist is so well known. Baron. Yes, in practice with a buttoned foil ; but in a duel lie has never been tried — he has never yet been out. Now I have been out three times, and have been wounded three times. De B. (drily.) Exactly ! Baron. Oh, that was nothing — a mere accident ! But jf I can cmly, with one little thrust — (fencing.) De B. I forbid it. (tenderly.) You are my only son, and, rake Act. 1 . CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE, 9 and libertine though you be, I love you — my dear boy. No, no — I’ll find some other means of getting rid of him. Baron. Other means ? Enter Joseph, with a letter , L. u. E. Joseph. Monsieur the Comptroller- General, a man has left this packet for you. De B. {opening it and taking out letter.) The very thing ! Baron. What? De B. You shall know by-and-bye. {aside.) The chevalier shall sleep to-night in the Bastile. What a capital invention is a lettre-de-cachet. {to Joseph.) Where is the man who gave you this ? Joseph. At the Golden Sun. De B. {aside.) ’Tis the Exempt. Adieu, my son. Baron. But explain how— De B. Fve not time, (aside.) I must give him instructions, {to Baron.) Accompany the countess to the chase — do the amiable, the tender, and all that ; I’ll see that the chevalier annoys you no further. Follow me, Joseph. [De Boulogne and Joseph exeunt , l. u. e. Baron. That’s very easy to say. No, nothing but a duel will settle him. No, no, my ebony friend — my perfumed Othello, you walk off with La Guimard, and you think of carrying off my wife — that is to be. I’d give a thousand pounds — no, I’ve only got five-and- twenty in the world — no, I mean I’d promise a thousand pounds to have a meeting with him. Why here he comes, with his usual suite. Now I’ll pick a quarrel with him. Music , “ Child of the Sun .” Enter the Chevalier De St George ; {the Chevalier is o f a dark f but not black , com- plexion ,) La Morliere, De Langeac, and Huntsmen, l. u. e. St. George, {examining carriage.) Surely ’tis the same. If I could only see her. Morliere. Confound the dogs, to bring us to Dainty. St. George. Never mind, if the scent is lost at present, we must start some other game. I can introduce you to the prettiest of landladies. All. Where? St. George. Here. The wine is sour, but the hostess is sweet, and her husband is jealous. Morliere. So much the better. St. George. Hollo ! house — everybody ! Some claret and champagne — the best, if you have any. Baron, {aside.) There’s a row ! The prince himself couldn’t give himself such airs. The ugly dog ! Morliere. (l. c.) St. George, don’t you see — St. George, (c.) What? Morliere. De Tourvel. St. George. Oh, yes. He’s thinking of the fall he had from the horse. 10 CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. Act 1 Morliere. He hates you. St. George. The feeling is mutual. Morliere. He believes you are his rival with little Guimard. St. George. He looks at the dark side of everything — my face included, (all laugh ) Baron, (r.) The puppy is laughing at me. (going towards him determinedly.) Monsieur le Chevalier ! St. George. Ah I baron — don’t you hunt to-day ? No hurt, I hope, from that little accident this morning. Baron. No, no — but I have two words to say to you. St. George. Now ? Baron, (seeing Waiter bringing bottle and glasses.) No — when you have refreshed yourself. St. George. When you please. Baron, (aside.) Will he choose sword or pistol? Morliere. (aside to St. George.) What does he want? St George. Heaven knows. A thrust through the body as likely as not. (drinking.) What filthy stuff is this, rascal ? I ordered champagne. Enter Fanchette / row housc> l. Fan. Less noise, gentlemen, if you please. We have a lady of quality upstairs. St. George, (aside.) ’Tis the countess ! Ha! the divine Fan- chette — the sweetest woman in the world. Gentlemen, allow me to present you to the Hebe of Rainey — the wonder of the wood. (Chevalier a?id his party surround Fanchette. Baron. The abominable libertine ! She is devilish pretty. Fan. (resisting.) Now leave me alone. St. George. Perhaps, my angel, you object to my colour ? you don’t like a black adorer? Fan. I’m afraid it will come off. (feeling his face.) St. George. No it won’t — try. (he kisses her. Julien enters at the moment , his cap and apron on — a large ladle in his hand. Julien. Ha! Stop you, you whitey-brown. I desire you don’t speak to my wife. St. George, (kissing Fanchette.) I’m not speaking to her. Julien. (furious.) How dare you ? St. George, (kissing her.) Not a single word. Julien. \ (Fire and brimstone ! Fan. > (together.) < Leave me alone ! Baron. ; ( Here’ll be a row ! Julien. (coming between.) I can’t stand this, (seizing a sword from a Huntsman, after throioing down his ladle}) Hark* ye, I’ve been a dragoon. You’ve insulted me, and kissed my wife ; defend yourself, or I’ll spit you like a goose. Fan. \ (tooether i i The y are S oin f? to fight ! Gents, f ' ^ \ Bravo, husband ! bravo, dragoon ! Act 1 . CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE, 11 St. George. ( picking up the ladle.) You really frighten me. Julien. Rascal ! [lunging.) St. George, [parrying and hitting him.) Take care, or I shall hit you. Julien. I'll spit you. [lunging.) St. George. Not with such fencing as that, [hitting him.) Julien. (hurt.) Oh ! St. George, [hitting him frequently.) You will compel me to do it. Julien. Oh! oh! oh! oh! St. George. You don’t know how to hold your sword, [hits him 071 the ktiuckles and kiiocks sword out of his hand — Julien shrieks. — All laugh.) Baron, (r., aside.) The devil! I won’t choose the sword. Julien. (l.) Oh, dear ! St. George. All your own fault. I’ve soiled my gloves, all for a wretched little bottle washer. Julien. [furious.) Bottle washer ! I’ll be revenged. Oh ! Jean, my pistols, (rushes into inn.) Pan. Pistols ! Oh, monsieur, for heaven’s sake — St. George. Don’t be alarmed ; I won’t hurt him. Julien. [rushing in with pistols.) Now, a duel to the death. These gentlemen will be our seconds. Gents. Willingly ! Of course, &c. Julien. Take your choice ; they are half-loaded — and here are bullets. St. George, (taking a pistol.) Bullets! No — I might kill you. [looking on the ground as if seeking something. Julien. What are you looking for? St. George. Oh, anything. Ah ! [picking up a nail.) here's a nail — evidently from a horse’s shoe. Julien. A nail ? St. George. With which I shall put out one of your eyes. [putting nail into his pistol. Julien. Eh? St. George. Now which of your two eyes would you sooner lose, the right or the left ? Julien. Which eye ? St. George. At fifty paces I’m sure to hit you. ’Which is it to be, the right or the left ? Julien. [frighte 7 ied.) Right or left ? St. George. Suppose we say the right — but I’ve no choice my- self. Stop, you haven’t got a sign. Don’t move. [he takes Julien’ s nightcap , which he has dashed down in a rage on seeing St. George kiss his wife , throws it into the air t aims at it , and nails it against the sign-board over the inn . All. Bravo ! Capital ! Baron, (aside.) The devil ! I won't choose the pistol. Countess, [appears at inn window .) What noise is that? (seeing Chevalier.) 'Tis he! u. OF ILL LIB. 12 CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. Act 1. St. George, {aside.) She is there. I knew I’d make her show herself. (Madame, who has only been seen by the Chevalier retires from window. Julien. I’m in a cold sweat ! Supposing my head had been in that cap. St. George. You’ve got a sign, now have written, underneath, “ the husband’s nightcap.” ( all laugh.) Julien. Can’t I be revenged on anybody ? Yes I can — on my wife ! Go in, Madame Julien — I’ve something to say to you. Fan. Of course, it’s my turn now. {runs off to inn.) Julien. {folloiomg her.) Go in. Baron. What a butcher ! I must take some more lessons before I light him. St. Georgb. ( turning to Baron.) I believe, Baron, you wished to speak to me. Baron. ( embarrassed .) Oh, nothing — a mere trifle — any time will do ! ’Twas only about the horse that — that — if you should like to part with him I should be most happy to — {horn heard without.) Hollo ! The hunt is about to begin and the countess* horses have not yet arrived. I must go and see about them. An revoir, chevalier, {aside.) It's no use going out to be killed to a certainty. [ Exit Baron, l. h. St. George. Bather odd that he waited an hour to tell me that. 1st. Huntsman enters from the back , r. 1st. Huntsman. Gentlemen : — the stag has taken the high road. All but St. George. To horse — to horse ! {horns without. They exeunt hastily. Horns gradually get more distant. St. George. She comes, {retiring.) Enter the Countess in riding-habit from inn. — Music , piano. “ Child of the Sun.” Countess. A quarrel ! Some accident, I fear, {seeing Cheva- lier.) Alone! St. George, {advancing.) Madame, I owe you a thousand apologies for the alarm I have occasioned you. Countess. I confess the sudden noise — St. George. Deign, madame, to accept my apologies. Countess, {looking at him.) No ? It cannot be. {aside.) St. George, {aside.) How strangely she looks at me. You are about to join the hunt — may I summon your attendants. Countess. ’Twould be useless. Of the two cavaliers who were to have accompanied me — I don't even see one. St. George. I shall feel honoured by being permitted to replace them. Fear nothing, madame, I am of the prince’s household, a position that would ensure you respect— did not the first sight of you command it ? Countess, {aside.) The sound of his voice. If I not mistaken, I am adressing the Chevalier de St. George ? Act 1. CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. 13 St. George. Yes, madame. (smiling,) Thanks to my colour, once seen, I am easily remembered. Countess. I never thought of that. St. George. Pray make no excuses, ’tis a pleasure to attract the attention of a lady, by any means — and such a lady, {bowing.) In far distant lands my dusky hue is a sign of slavery, but here, madame, in this free country, I would willingly surrender my liberty to the most charming lady of the court. Countess. You are given to compliment, I see. {with intention .) You are not, I believe, a native of France. St. George, {quickly.) No, madame, I am of a Portuguese family established in Peru. Countess, {aside.) It was but a dream, then. St. George. But you were about to join the chase — I am at your orders, madame. Countess. Really, Chevalier, the first time we have ever met — St. George. What of that, madame ? If I am so far honoured by the Countess de Presle — Countess, {quickly.) You know me, then. St. George, {correcting himself.) I have heard your name, and — I — I have been told that — Countess, {aside.) Ah ! he is embarrassed — I will know. {aloud.) But I do not see my horse. St. George. Mine are there, ready saddled. Countess, (aside.) I will penetrate this mystery. Well, Cheva- lier — An Exempt in a cloak enters from l. u. e., and watches Chevalier. St. George. You accept — oh ! happiness. Exempt, (l. h. touching him.) Monsieur the Chevalier. St. George, {still holding her hand.) What do you want ? Exempt. One word ! St. George. I’ve not time. Exempt. ’Tis on the service of the prince. St. George. The prince ! a thousand pardons, madame, but I must receive his highness’ orders. My friend, the Marquis de Langeac, whom I see yonder, will do himself the honour of escorting you. Countess. But you will rejoin us. St. George. This instant, {they salute , he takes her hand.) I will return in one moment, sir. ( he leads her off \ r. u. e. Exempt. I’ve got him. Where are you? (his followers , all masked , show their heads over the hedge) Good ! Now hide your- selves. {they disappear.) Hollo ! postilion ! Enter Julien from inn % Julien. What do you want ? Exempt. Post horses to that carriage. Julien, That? It belongs to Monsieur de Boulogne. 14 CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. Act 1 Exempt. I know that.. He lias lent it to me. Here is his or- der, ( ; giving letter .) so be quick. ’Tis for an arrest by order of the king. Julien. ( frightened .) An arrest ! Exempt. Don’t make faces. You look as if you had been drinking your own wine. ’Tis for the arrest of the Chevalier St. George. Julien. The blackamoor? {with joy.) Capital! Oh, our good king ! our great king ! Long live the king ! You shall have my best horses, and I’ll drive myself. Exempt. ( going to carriage , and opening door with key.) Go and put your boots on. Julien. Directly. I’ll teach the coffee-coloured scoundrel how to insult an ex-trumpeter of the dragoons ! Ho ! harness the greys — my boots — my whip, ho ! [ Exit into inn. Re-enter the Chevalier, r. u. e., speaking as he enters. St. George. In one instant, madame. Now, sir, your business ? Exempt. Eollow me. St. George. Follow you ! Where ? Exempt. To the Bastile. St. George, (astounded.) What? There must be some mis- take. Do you know who I am ? Exempt. The Chevalier de St. George — Banger of the forests belonging to his Highness the Duke of Orleans. St. George. And your orders are — Exempt. To take you to the Bastile. {showing warrant — signs to his followers, xcho appear at back.) No resistance ; you see we are prepared. St. George. Were there double the number, I’d trouble them and you into the bargain, if I chose ; but the respect I owe the prince compels me to obey the orders of the king, {aside.) And the countess will be waiting for me — unfortunate ! Exempt, {opening carriage door.) Be kind enough to enter, Chevalier. St. George. After you, I beg. Exempt. I know my duty better. St. George. You are very polite, {getting into carriage .) A man couldn’t be arrested with more courtesy. I shall recommend you to my friends. (Exempt closes carriage door , and locks it.) What are you about ? Exempt. Locking the door — a slight precaution. Put to the horses — we shall be off in five minutes. Enter Morliere and Two Huntsmen, r. u. e. Morliere. (r.) St. George ! St. George ! where are you ? St. George, {putting his head out of window.) Who calls ? Morliere. What the devil are you doing there ? Where are you going ? St. George. To the Bastile, my dear boy. Act 1 . CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE 15 Morliere. To the Bastile ! St. George. Yes, and you can ride with me if you like. It’s a return chaise. Morliere. (to Exempt.) What’s the meaning of all this ? An officer of the prince going to the Bastile ? Exempt, (l.) We have our orders. Morliere. (in a passion.) This is some trap. You’re a set of scoundrels ! ’Tis some private vengeance, (drawing,) Upon ’em, friends ! (they fight — Exempt drops the key.) Exempt \ and > Rescue ! Treason ! Followers. J Morliere. \ and > Rascals ! Dogs ! (they fight them off, r.) Huntsmen. ) St. George. What madness ! Morliere ! Morliere ! you’ll get into some infernal scrape. He could beat the whole lot of them. He’s one of my best pupils : but he was right, this must be some private vengeance. ( trying to open door.) Locked ! and nobody here. I wonder what I look like — the sign of the Saracen’s head over a tavern door. What’s that shining in the dark ? the key of the carriage door — my friend, the officer, must have dropped it there, (trying to reach it.) No, my arm is not long enough. Who comes here ? The Baron de Tourvel ; if I could only — • De Tourvel comes from l.u. e. Baron. These cursed horses have come at last. I’ll see if the countess is ready, (goes into inn.) St. George. The countess ! Oho ! that’s another reason. I’ll do it. De Tourvel re-enters, stamping with vexation. Baron, Gone ! Where ? Which way ? Oh ! it’s done on purpose. St. George. ( aloud.) Oh, this is shameful ! this is a trick — an outrage — an abominable ambuscade ! Baron. Ha ! ( seeing him.) Left the chase already, Chevalier ? returning to Paris ? St. George. Very much to my annoyance, my dear baron. The fact is, I’m a prisoner here. Baron. A prisoner — pooh ! St. George. It’s a very serious thing for me. Baron. Serious ! What is it — some rival ? St. George. Oh, no. It’s a woman who is determined to carry me off. Baron. A woman ! (aside.) Impossible ! the puppy ! It never happened to me. (aloud.) How do you mean ? St. George. Come here and I’ll tell you. You know the little Guimard ? Baron. Guimard! St. George. She has conceived a passion for me. 16 OTEVALIER D E ST. GEORGE. Act 1 Baron, (aside.) Perdition ! St. George. Now I detest the sight of her — a long, lanky, yellow little devil ! Baron. Insolent ! (aside.) He’s a pretty fellow to talk of people’s colour. St. George. More than twenty times she has invited me to a tete-a-tete supper, at her little house in the Itue des Marais, but I’ve always refused ; and now, in a fit of despair, she has had me seized, that she may force me. Baron. To sup with her ? St. George. But I’ll be even with her, for when I get there I won’t eat a mouthful. Baron. I wish to Heaven I were in your place ! St. George. I wish to Heaven you were ! Baron. Will you give it up to me ? St. George. With the greatest pleasure. Baron. Delightful ! but how shall we manage it? St. George. Nothing more easy. Pick up that key which one of my ravishers has let fall when they went away to order the horses. That’s it — don’t it fit the lock ? Baron, (opening the door.) Exactly. St. George, (jumping out.) A thousand thanks. Baron. A thousand thanks to you. St. George. Now, quick — take my place. Baron. With rapture — but stop, when she sees me, won’t she find out the difference between black and white ? St. George. Not at all. She is waiting for me in a dark little pavilion at the bottom of the garden, (pushing him in.) Baron. ( getting into carriage.) Now, my haughty Guimard, I come to triumph ! St. George. Pull down the blinds. The ravishers are coming, and keep quite silent, that they may not hear the change of voice. Adieu, a x>leasant journey, (slipping behind hedge.) Just in time. (horn xoithout . Enter Exempt and his Followers, r. u. e. Exempt. Quick ! or those fellows will get reinforcements. The huntsmen are all coming this way. Postilion ! Julien. (entering from inn , booted , §c.) Here ! Exempt. So the prisoner has pulled the blinds down. Perhaps he’s asleep. De Boulogne enters , r. u. e. De. B. All right — he’s caught, and he shan’t re- appear in Paris till my son is married. The Countess de Presle, Morliere, and Huntsmen, enter r. u. e. Exempt. Now, postilion ! Morliere. (to Countess.) He is taken. prisoner — sent to the Bastile. 17 Act 2. CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. Countess. Great Heaven ! the Bastile ? St. George. ( coming behind the Countess — to her and Hunts- men.) Fear nothing — I am here ! Countess. Here ! — Who then — St. George. A triend of mine has taken my place inside. Hush! Exempt, {mounting coach-box.) Postilion ! Julien. {jumping on box> after taking a parting glass.) Ready ! Exempt. To the Bastile ! (Julien cracks whip — horns sounds coach drives off l. u. e. — Picture. De Boulogne, l. c., looking after the coach ; Countess c. ; St. George surrounded by Hunts- men suppressing their laughter l. c. end of act i. ACT II. SCENE.— A handsome apartment furnished a la Louis 1 §th. Doors R., L., and c. Music stand and guitar , harp , l. h. Toilette table to be taken off, \ r. 2 e. The Countess de Presle discovered , r, a Maid dressing her hair — De Boulogne seated by her. Countess. Sign the contract to-night ! De B. Yes, the notary is informed, and in two hours — Countess. Impossible ! you know I have a soiree musicale. De B. All the better — in so large an assembly no one will have the slightest suspicion, and as you wish it to be kept secret — Countess. No such thing — ’twas you who wished it. De B. Entirely on your account. ( aside.) And that of my son whose creditors’ clamours are becoming unbearable. Countess. But my dear Monsieur de Boulogne, a ceremony so odd — so — De B. {aside.) Has that cursed Chevalier already made an impression on her. Countess. To-morrow, or the day after, there is no hurry. De B. Impossible, my dear Cecile, it must be to-night. Countess. Why? De B. I happened to mention the affair to his majesty and he condescended to express his wish to sign the contract to-night. Countess. To-night! De B. ( indifferently ) Yes, at the very same time that he has consented to sign that of the Chevalier de St. George. Countess, {rising.) The Chevalier ! Is he about to marry ? (i the Attendant goes offh. door. 18 CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. Act 2. De B. So they say. {aside.) He is fast under lock and key, so he can’t contradict me. Countess. And with whom? De B. Some English heiress, I was told, (aside.) I may as well set the rumour afloat. Countess. ( with emotion.) Is she handsome ? De B. I’m sure I don’t know, I never thought of inquiring. Countess. No, nor I — I — but ’tis very odd — I can’t make out what people mean by talking about no one but the Chevalier de St. George. You were quite right — let there be no delay, since the king has graciously expressed his wish, and as you have my word, let the contract be signed to-night. De B. Victory ! {aside.) My dear Cecile — Countess. But I should like to see my husband, that is to be. De B. I’ll send him to you, if I can find him. {aside.) Where the devil is he hiding himself ? {to her.) He is purchasing bouquets and presents for you. {aside.) And running into debt for them. He has exquisite taste. ( aside.) Phew ! I’ve had to do all the courting for the rascal, perhaps the next thing will be, he’ll want me to marry her for him into the bargain. [Exit De Boulogne, c. and l. Countess, [after a pause.) So he is about to marry — well, what is that to me ? A man I never met but once, and when the force of childish recollection — but yet when I compare him to the baron — his grace — his wit — his courage — The Lady’s Maid enters l. door . Maid. Madame, he is here. Countess. He — who ? Maid. Monsieur de St. George’s valet — the man you wished to see ! Countess. ’Tis useless now — yet, let him enter, and if any one should call, let me know directly. (Maid beckons on Plato, who enters , l. door , looking at the furniture. She then goes off c. and l. Plato. What a fine place ! it must belong to a duchess, or a dancer. Countess, [seated n.) Approach, my good friend. Plato, [aside.) When one’s in the service of a man of fashion one sees nothing but people of fashion. Countess. I believe you are in the service of the Chevalier de St. George ? Plato. Madame, I am — I am his valet — his confidential valet. Countess. Don’t you remember me ? Plato, [looks at her.) I have not that honour. Countess. I remember you — your name is Plato, Plato, [astonished.) Plato, it is. Countess. You were head overseer of the slaves on the estate of Madame de Sassenaye, my mother. Act. 2. CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE, 19 Plato. Your mother, madame? Yes, now I look again it is you. ( aproaching her.) The same sweet face — the same lovely smile. Countess. ( giving her hand which he kisses.) You see I have not forgotten you. Plato. ( wiping his eyes.) Ah! I fancy myself again on the es- tate at St. Domingo. There I was in all my glory — a splendid place — four hundred negroes to superintend every day and thrash every hour. Those were happy days — how my arm used to ache ! for I never would allow them to be thrashed by deputy. Poor dears ! how they must have lamented my loss. Countess. No, not much. Plato. Oh yes, they did, for negroes are like mangoes, to preserve them you must pickle ’em; now things are turned inside out, the whites wait upon the blacks. Master rides inside the carriage, and I ride behind — me ! Plato ! but, thank Heaven, Plato is a philosopher. Countess. Is he then, a bad master? Plato. He ! he’s an angel, of the colour of coffee ; when I happen to knock down a pet piece of porcelain while dressing his hair, instead of knocking me down, as a white master would do, he says, “ Plato, had a negro done that, how many lashes would you have given him ? ” I always answer him conscienciously, the exact number I should have given a negro, in the good old times ; at the end of the month he gives me a little account that generally comes to about three thousand seven hundred and eighty lashes due to me from him. Instead of giving me them, he slips three or four francs into my hand and says “ ’Tis lucky for you, Plato, that the negroes don’t carry the whip, or they’d flay you alive. ” There’s a master for you ! I’d go through fire and water for him — {aside.) if I thought I shouldn’t hurt myself. Countess. From wdience does all his money come ? Plato. I don’t know. Countess. Is he generous ? Plato. As a prince ! he often sends money to the colonies, by the Governor of St. Domingo. Countess. St. Domingo ! perhaps then — {aside.) Do you know the lady he is about to marry ? Plato. Eh? Countess. Come, make no secret of it, he mentioned it to me himself. The king is about to witness the contract. Plato. ( struck by a sudden thought.) That, then, accounts for his looking at a miniature every night of his life. Countess. A miniature ? Plato. Yes, and as he looks at it, the tears come into his eyes. Countess. Of course it is the miniature of a lady ? Plato. I can’t say. I have never seen it — he keeps it in a drawer. Countess. Could you procure me a sight of it, unknown to him ? Plato. Eh? Countess. Only for an instant ; he will not know. 20 CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. Act 2. Plato. What, betray his confidence ? Perhaps then he would give me the three thousand seven nundred and eighty lashes he has owed me so long. Countess. ’Tis only a simple motive of curiosity, (forcing her - self to smile.) because he refused to tell me the name of his inten- ded, and I’ve laid a wager that I would find it out, and I don’t wish to lose. ( caressingly .) You’ll not refuse your little mistress, will you, Plato ? Plato. ( enchanted.) Refuse you ! Ask me to jump off the tower of Notre Dame, and I’d do it — {aside.) if I thought I shouldn’t hurt myself. Countess. Bring it me, and I’ll give you a hundred louis. Plato. A hundred louis ! ( reflecting .) My master’s secret in one hand, and a hundred louis in the other; a fool of a nigger might refuse — I shall accept. Lady’s Maid runs in c. from l. Maid, {aside to her.) The Chevalier de St. George is coming up stairs. Countess. The Chevalier ! You must leave me now ; I expect visitors. Show him out by that door, (r). If you can find the miniature, come directly — no matter at what hour. If I am en- gaged, I will depute some one to receive you. Plato, (aside.) But I shall depute no one to receive the hun- dred louis ; I’ll receive them in propria personae. Countess. Quick ! [ Exit Plato and Maid, r. d. So, I shall see her picture, at least. But what can bring him here ? Music, piano, “ Child of the Sim.” Servant, from c. and l., announces , “The Chevalier de St. George.” — Enter the Che- valier, in a rich court suit. Countess, (curtseying distantly.) Monsieur ! St. George. Countess, I owe a thousand apologies for this in- trusion, but I have waited on you with this invitation from Madame de Montesson, for her ball to-morrow, (giving letter.) Countess, (aside.) That is but a pretext, (puts note on toilette table.) St. GEORgE. May I, at the same time, inquire after your health l You do not seem well? Countess. Not entirely ; but I fear that you will find me very bad company, and you had much better go where you are so anxiously expected. St. George, (astonished.) Anxiously expected ! Where, madame ? By whom ? Countess. By your intended wife. St. George. My intended wife ! Countess. Yes. The report is, that you are going to be mar- ried. St. George. Is it, indeed ? ’Tis the first I have heard of it. I hope they will send me a card of invitation, at all events. Act 2. CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE 21 Countess, (rising.) Chevalier! St. George. ( seriously .) You have been deceived, madame. I am not about to marry ; I never shall marry. Countess. ( altering her manner.) Indeed ! Be seated, I beg of you. St. George. 1 fear that I am intruding. Your health ? Countess. Oh, I’m much better, now. Pray sit down : I’ve a thousand things to say to you — a favour to ask of you. ( they sit near each other.) St. George. A favour, madame ? I dared not hope for such an honour — command me. Countess. By the way, your adventure of this morning — that friend of yours who went to the Bastile in your place ? Such de- votion ! St. George. To tell the truth, he didn’t know exactly where he was going. Countess. Indeed ! St. George. He believed that the carriage would conduct him to the house of a lady. Countess. Oh, chevalier, what a trick ! Poor fellow ! do I know him ? St. George. Pardon me, if I conceal his name — ’twould be a breach of friendship. Countess. Friendship ! for shame ! But let me speak of the favour you are kind enough to promise me. By-the-bye, you told me that you were bom — St. George. In Brazil. Countess. ( watching him.) No ; you told me that you were of a Portuguese family settled in Peru. St. George, (bothered.) Yes, yes. Brazil — Peru ; we have property in both places, and their proximity, naturally — Countess. Of course. I understand that you have some in- fluence with the Governor of St. Domingo ? I wish to obtain, through him, information respecting the fate of an unfortunate young man, whom I knew in infancy. St. George. A young man, in whom you feel interested ? Countess. Oh, yes. St. George, {aside.) What do I hear ? Countess, {aside.) He started ! He was one of my mother’s slaves. He fled from our estate, because an outrage and an insult were offered him — an insult which cost me many tears. St. George, {aside.) Can this be true ? Countess. I have never forgotten him — I loved him so dearly. St. George. ( starting.) What ! you the brilliant Countess de Presle, loved — {changing his manner.) oh, yes — you loved him, oi course, as one loves a plaything — a toy — a spaniel, that, when tired of, one replaces by some other favourite. Countess. Possibly, in infancy ; but had I seen him since, I can’t tell how I should have loved him. St. George, (with joy.) What say you? Countess, {aside.) He will betray himself. 22 CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. Act 2. St. George. You think that had you seen him since — Countess. My ideas are, perhaps, somewhat singular ; but when I see a noble soul proved in misfortune, crushed beneath the weight of conventional disdain and unjust humiliation, my heart feels for him — yearns towards him. (observing him.) I fear that poor Camille — St. George, (aside.) Camille ! Countess. Alone and in his dispair, abandoned by even hope, may have stooped to commit — St. Georre. ( rising , and with energy .) Crime? Never ! Countess, (rising.) Why how should you know ? St. George. ( recovering himself.) I — I — I merely supposed that he who once had merited your esteem, would be incapable of either forgetting or dishonouring it. Countess, (aside.) ’Tis he ! Chevalier, you seem moved ? St. George, (with emotion.) I avow it, madame, for I also had a friend in childhood, a sister — a dear sister ; and the dream of my life has been that some day I might tell her how much I loved her — how one look of hers had inspired my soul with love, with pride, with hope. Oh ! I think I see her now ; I hear her voice ; she says again, “ I watch over thee” — (recovering himself.) Par- don me, madame — but these recollections — Countess, (rushing to him.) It must be — Camille ! St. George. TJm ! Countess, (with animation.) Yes, this emotion — those features ! Oh, for Heaven's sake, one word ; tell me, Camille — tell me that 'tis you ! St. George. Camille — me, madame ? Countess. Yes ; and this friend — this dear sister — St. George. Is dead, madame ! I have lost her for ever. Countess, (falling into chair.) Dead ! Great Heaven? St. George, (running to her aid.) Madame ! Countess, (after a pause.) ’Tis nothing, chevalier, nothing. The favour I would ask of you is, to remit to Camille, if he yet live, this paper — my last proof of affection and remembrance. I have signed it since my mother’s death ; he will see, at all events, that I have not forgotten him. St. George, (who has read paper.) Great powers ! such an act ! (throwing himself at her feet.) such generosity ! Madame, with you I will have no disguise ; to you, and to you only, I will avow S’ death ! Enter De Boulogne, c. from L. De B. (l. c.) The black ! The devil ! I thought he was in the Bastile ! Countess, (r., trying to smile.) The Chevalier de St. George, monsieur. De B. Oh, yes — I see him quite plainly ; and I thought I saw him — Countess. At my feet? so you did. He brought me this invi- Act 2. CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. 23 tation from Madame de Mc-ntesson, which he was, with his ac- customed gallantry, supplicating that I should accept ; you entered as brusquely as if you were my husband, and I — I — St. George. I hope, Monsieur de Boulogne, that you will join your entreaties to mine, and decide the lady to accept the invita- tion. De B. (bothered.) I — I — I'm astonished to see — that is, I mean that I — I was told that you were about to absent yourself from Paris for a short time. St. George, (aside.) So — so, *tis to him I owe my attempted imprisonment, (aloud.) Yes, ’twas true. By this time I ought to be in the Bastile. De B. Impossible ! If so, who would dare to prevent it ? St. George. Oh, some kind friend, who wished to preserve my complexion from the heat of the sun. De B. And what did you do ? St. George. Got that friend to take my place De B. No ? St. George. Yes ! De B. (laughing, despite his vexation.) Capital ! Countess, (laughing.) Excellent, is it not ? De B. (laughing.) Glorious ! (all laugh.) St. George. So it is ! I fancy I see his face now ! De B. ( laughing immoderately.) Ha ! ha ! the blockhead ! (aside.) Where is that son of mine ? how this would amuse him. St. George. To say nothing of the particular directions given for my disposal. De B. Yes, the poor devil would come in for all that ! (they all laugh, aside.) I really cannot get into a passion. Where the deuce can that boy of mine be ? This infernal chevalier will get a footing here, (aloud.) Your guests are all arriving, countess. (aside.) That’s a hint for him to go. St. George, (aside.) I shall not avail myself of his delicate suggestion, (goes round to r.) De B. (aside.) He don’t seem to understand, (aloud.) We won’t detain the chevalier, who, doubtless has business — Countess, (c.) I dare hardly ask him to join us ; but if he has no better invitation — (aside to St. George.) Stay ! St. George, (enraptured — aside.) What ? (aloud.) I shall be but too happy, (bantering De Boulogne.) Besides, Monsieur de Boulogne is so pressing, there is really no resisting him. ( goes up. De. B. Me ! The devil take him. (to Countess.) You won’t ask him ? Countess. Politeness compels me — besides, we shall want gentlemen for I don’t see the count. De B. He is coming, (aside.) Hang the boy ! I suppose he’s behind the scenes at the opera making love to some singing queen or dancing goddess. St. George, (aside — laughing at De Boulogne.) Poor devil ! I almost pity him. 24 CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. Act 2, Music . Enter Ladies and Gentlemen, c. from l., Countess receives them ; Footmen remove toilette , r. ; Guests sit, DeB. (c.) Well, ladies, what is the latest news ? the last bon mot ? the freshest bit of scandal ? St. George, (l.) Oh ! there are some capital stories of tho son of a very rich financier who is ruining himself by running after a figurante at the opera. I’ll tell you all about — DeB. (coughing and interrupting.') Ah, yes, we’ve heard all about that. St. George. But what has become of you son, Monsieur de Boulogne ? Why isn’t he here ? He promised to come — he shouldn’t break his word with a lady. De B. Monsieur ! St. George, (to him.) Take my word for it, little Guimard the dancer, will play him falsely. De 13. Monsieur ! (recollecting himself) Suppose we have some music ? St. George. With pleasure, (taking the guitar.) De B. Eh? No! The devil! I — I wanted my son to play to-night, (aside.) St. George. ( with guitar in his hand.) This is your son’s guitar, I’m told, monsieur, (striking cord.) DeB. Eh? Yes — I — or suppose we dance — that is — with the countess’ permission — eh ? The minuet. Countess. I should be most happy — but your son engaged me for his partner, and without a partner — De B. (aside.) Where the devil is the boy ? St. George. Madame, I am not much of a dancer, but if you will favour me so far — (Countess accepts.) DeB. Confound it, where is that son of mine ? The Baron rushes on in great confusion , (in the same costume as in Act 1), c. from l., a whip in his hand . All. Good Heavens ! What’s the matter ? &c., &c. Countess. What a state ! De B. What a dress ! Baron. Dress ! How do you expect a man to dress in prison. Countess. Prison. Baron. Yes ! De B. Where have you been, sir ! Fron whence do you ! Baron. ( c.) From whence ? From the Bastile ! All. The Bastile ! De B. (l. c.) What? Was it you? (aside.) The devil. Countess. ( laughing immoderately.) What, Baron — was it you? Baron. Yes, it was me. Well, their method of condoling with me on my misfortune is charming I — Yes, the Bastile ! very funny isn’t it ? very ! Ha ! ha ! Oh, if I could find the traitor, (seeing St. George.) Here ! St. George, (l.) Good evening, Baron, I hope you had a ple^isant journey. Act 2. CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE, 25 Baron. Sir ! you ought to blush. St. George. Sir ! I wish I could! but, alas, nature has rendered that impossible. Baron. Such infamous conduct — Countess. Gentlemen — De B. ( to Baron.) Hold you tongue. Baron. I won’t ! Everybody shall know how I've been treated. St. George. As you please. De B. Hold your tongue. Baron. I won’t. St. George. Go on, Baron, go on. Baron. Ladies and gentlemen ! this morning, I saw the Cheva- lier de St. George seated in a carriage — he told me that he was going in it, to meet a certain lady, for whom I have a — ( seeing the eyes of the Countess fixed upon him — stops — aside,) Oh ! the devil ! St. George. Go on, my dear Baron, go on, don't stop half-way, Countess. Go on, Baron — a certain lady, for whom you have a — De B. Oh, lord! Baron. No, no, it was he — who — when I — when he — when we — I — he — both of us — Countess. Did you go to the Bastile to meet the lady ! ( all laugh St. George. You don’t tell the whole story, Baron; allow me. You must know, ladies and gentlemen — Baron. No, no, no ! never mind ! it's useless to — I’m — I'm quite satisfied — perfectly satisfied. St. George. Oh, if you are satisfied — I am — I am. ( goes up.) Baron. It was a wager, and the chevalier won, and I’ll pay him shortly, {aside.) I hope. De B. There, there, that's all settled; now for the minuet. Baron. The minuet. ( putting down his whip.) Countess, I believe that for the first dance — ( advancing .) St. George, {coming between them.) I beg your pardon. Baron. Eh ? Countess. You were not here, Baron, and as monsieur was gallant enough to ask my hand for the dance — St. George. Madame honoured me by accepting it — besides, after the fatigue and excitement of your journey you must need repose. Countess. You took his place this morning — he now takes yours. {Music. St. George leads Countess off f c. and b. All Exeunt but De Boulogne and Baron. Baron. I’m completely dumbfoundered ! What the devil does it all mean ? De B. Mean ! why that you fell into the trap I laid for the chevalier ; and, if you don’t take care he’ll supplant you with the countess. 26 CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. Act 2. Baron, {walking about.) Confound him ! ’tis war to the knife between us. DeB. Luckily she has given her word — and the notary once here, and the contract signed — Baron. Signed, and that fellow is now dancing with my wife. {minuet heard without .) And — devil take him — dancing beautifully. DeB. I’ll run and keep my eye on them while you change your dress — oaf! he is dancing like Yestris. {looking off.) Now I’ve not only to make love for another, but I’ve to be jealous for another into the bargain — he takes her hand again — she smiles — whew ! I’m in a cold perspiration. [ Exit De Boulogne c . and r . Baron. Change my dress ; and while I’m changing, I leave that mahogany- visaged scoundrel to make love to my wife. But I’ll be revenged, spite of his address w T ith sword and pistol — spite of death, I’ll be revenged ! Plato enters at side door , r., with great precaution . Plato. That’s the door I went out at. Baron. Who’s this ? Plato. I must be careful. Hollo ! who’s that ? The steward, I suppose, or one of the footmen ! Hist ! Baron. Who the devil is he ? There is an air of mystery — Plato. Here, friend ! Baron. Friend ! Plato. I want to speak to the countess. Baron. To the countess ! Plato, {communicatively.) Yes, something about the Chevalier de St. George. Baron. The chevalier ! It’s not possible — she has company. Plato. I know she has ; but she told me that if she could not see me herself, she would depute some one — Baron, {quickly.) Ah, yes — ’tis I. I have been waiting for you. Plato. I thought so. See what it is to be a man of tact. {self-satisfied.) A fool of a negro would have made a thousand blunders, while I drop at once upon the very man. You’ve got to pay me a hundred louis. Baron. The devil I have! {giving purse.) There are twenty- five. {aside.) The last I’ve got. Come with me, and I’ll give you the rest. Plato. All right, {whispering.) I’ve got it. Baron. Have you? {imitating him.) What have you got ? Plato, {whispering.) You know. Baron. ( the same.) Of course I do. {aside.) What is he talking about ? Plato, {whispering.) At first, I couldn’t open the drawer. Baron, {the same.) Couldn’t you, really ? (aside.) What a pity ! Plato. At last I got at the miniature. Baron, {aside.) She has given him her portrait. Act 2. CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. 27 Plato. And now we shall see who he’s going to marry. ( giving Baron a small green leather case . Baron. ( opening case.) What have we here — a black woman ? Plato. A black woman ? Baron. And a devilish good-looking woman, too. Well, ’twill be a good match — both black as the devil. Plato. ( looking at it.) Why — stop — it is — yes. {aside.) It’s Noemie, the mother of little Camille. Baron. Do you know who it is ? Plato. Yes, I do ; but if I told, it would be master’s ruin. Baron, {quickly.) What? Plato. So give it me back, and — {about to take it.) Baron, {pocketing it.) No, no, you don’t leave me so. ( aside.) I think I see my revenge at last. Plato. I’ll run and — Baron. No, no — {holding him.) follow me. Plato, {astonished.) Where to ? Baron. To my hotel, close by — to receive your money. Tell me all you know, and I’ll give you a hundred louis — a thousand louis — what you like. Plato. But — Baron. No words — quick ! follow me. Plato. A thousand louis ! This is what it is to be a man of tact. Baron. Come ! [they exeunt at side door , r. Applause heard outside. Enter all the party , c .from r. St. George. I can’t get a word in for that infernal comp- troller. {approaching Countess ; De Boulogne presents her with her fan.) The Notary enters , c. from L. Countess, {drily.) Thank you ! De B. The Notary has arrived. Countess. ( aside.) And I have given my word. De B. And now let us sign the contract. (Servants advance the table to r. c.) St. George. The contract ! Countess, {aside.) What shall I do ? The king desires it. St. George. I see — how can I prevent — De B. I’ll sign first, (he signs , then holds out the pen without looking.) And now my son — no doubt you are burning with im- patience. ( turning round , and finding Baron gone.) Why where the devil is he now ? Countess. What ! gone ? De B. No ; he’s only in the next room. Confound the boy ! {aside.) Ah ! here he is. Countess. Then all hope is lost. Enter Baron c. from l. Baron, {aside.) I know enough — and, after my marriage, I will take a bitter vengeance. 28 CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE. Act 2 DeB. Sign — quick, my son. (Baron signs.) St. George. ( taking up guitar mechanically , and playing.) What can I do ? Baron, {offering her the pen.) Now, fairest lady, {aside.) I triumph ! St. George, (l., swigs the song the Countess sang in the first Act. When the actor who plays the part does not sing t the air y “ Child of the Sun ,” can be played on the guitar , and the words spoken .) — Farewell ! I cannot live for thee, Then take my latest sigh ; My greatest privilege must be, To love thee, and to die. Countess. I was not deceived, {agitated.) That song ! {aloud.) I will not sign, {all the guests approach.) Baron. How? DeB. Madame ! St. George. I breathe again ! DeB. You gave your word, and — Countess. No matter, {looking at St. George, who watches her.) Since then, I have seen your son ; I know his character ; I have reflected ; I am my own mistress — no one has a right to constrain or dictate to me ; and, I repeat it, I will not sign. ( throwns doion the pen . Baron, {watching them.) I see their mutual glances — I see his air of triumph, {aloud.) As you please, madame, we do not wish to force you, but before we take our leave, I will make known the noble rival to whom you have sacrificed me. {pointing to St. George. St. George, {seizing whip which Baron has left on a chair.) Monsieur ! Baron, {coolly.) I know that you are clever with the whip ; you were brought up to it from infancy. Countess, (r.) Baron! Baron. Yes, ladies, you see before you a wretched slave, escaped from our colonies, that he might avoid the punishment of crime, who has dared to introduce himself to our court, and to society, to which he had no right to aspire, even in his proper character of lackey. St. George, (l.) Wretch ! {he is withheld by others.) Countess. Gentlemen, in my house — De B. (r. c.) My son — St. George. You shall account to me for this. Baron, (c.) To you ! a slave ! I only fight my equals ! to be sure if you were a free man, I might honour you by crossing steel with you, but as it is — the Baron de Tourvel cannot meet the mulatto slave, Camille, the son of Noemie. DeB. {falling in chair , r.) The son of Noemie ! Baron. Dog of a slave — {striking him with his gloves , and crossing l.) you are honoured by receiving that, {they withhold them.) Act. 2. CHEVALIER DE ST. GEORGE, 29 Countess. For Heaven's sake — Baron. Ask if he dares deny what I have said ? St. George, (c.) No ! I own it, you have spoken truly ! but Camille, the son of Noemie, whom you suppose a slave, is free. ( showing paper given him by the Countess.) He has received his liberty from this — the most gracious of hands. You said, that were I not a slave you would not disdain to cross steel with me, you said so — read, (giving paper.) If you are not a coward you will meet me. Baron, (l. — with mad rage.) I will — I will. St. George. Enough, to-morrow — at daybreak. Remember, it's a duel— to the death. — (Picture.) END OF ACT II. ACT III. SCENE. — Apartment at the Chevalier's. Boors , c., R., and l. Foils — paintings tastefully displayed ; tables, chairs ,