Act 1

Scene I.—Martuccia, Angelica, and Valerio.

Ang. Valerio, leave me, I entreat you; I fear for myself, I fear for you. Ah! if we should be surprised—

Val. My dear Angelica!

Mar. Do go, sir.

Val. [To Martuccia.] One moment more. If I could be well assured—

Mar. Of what?

Val. Of her love—of her constancy.

Ang. Ah, Valerio! can you doubt it?

Mar. Go, go, sir; she loves you but too well.

Val. This is the happiness of my life—

Mar. Quick, go away. If my master should come in suddenly!

Ang. [To Martuccia.] He never leaves his room so early.

Mar. That is true; but you know he walks and amuses himself in this room. Here are his chessmen, and here he often plays. Oh, don't you know Signor Geronte?

Val. Pardon me, he is Angelica's uncle. I know my father was his friend, but I have never spoken to him.

Mar. He is a man, sir, of a most singular character. At bottom a most worthy man, but impatient, and peculiar to the last degree.

Ang. Yes, he tells me he loves me, and I believe him; but while he tells me so, he makes me tremble.

Val. [To Angelica.] What have you to fear? you have neither father nor mother. You are at your brother's disposal, and he is my friend; I will speak to him.

Mar. Ah! Exactly! Trust to Signor Dalancourt.

Val. Well, can he refuse me?

Mar. Indeed, I think he can.

Val. Why so?

Mar. Listen; I will explain the whole matter in a few words. My nephew, your brother the lawyer's new clerk, has told me what I will now tell you. He has been with him only a fortnight, I heard it from him this morning; but he confided it to me as the greatest secret: for Heaven's sake do not betray me!

Val. Do not fear.

Ang. You know me.

Mar. [Speaking in a low tone to Valerio, and looking towards the door.] Signor Dalancourt is a ruined man, overwhelmed. He has run through all his fortune, and perhaps his sister's dowry too. Angelica is a burden too great for him to bear, and to free himself from it, he means to shut her up in a convent.

Ang. Oh, Heavens! What do you tell me?

Val. Can it be possible? I have known him a long time. Dalancourt always appeared to me a young man of good sense and honourable principles; sometimes impetuous, and apt to take offence, but—

Mar. Impetuous—oh, most impetuous!—a match for his uncle, but far from having his uncle's excellent feelings.

Val. He is esteemed, beloved by every one. His father was perfectly satisfied with him.

Mar. Ah, sir, since his marriage he is no longer the same man.

Val. Can it be that Madame Dalancourt—

Mar. Yes, she, they say, is the cause of this great change. Signor Geronte is deeply offended with his nephew for his foolish compliance with the whims of his wife, and—I know nothing, but I would lay a wager that this plan of the convent is of her contrivance.

Ang. [To Martuccia.] You surprise me. My sister-in-law, whom I looked on as so discreet, who showed me so much friendship! I never could have thought it.

Val. I know her, and cannot believe it.

Mar. Surely you are not serious? Does any lady dress more elegantly? Is there any new fashion that she does not immediately adopt? At balls and plays, is she not always the first?

Val. But her husband is ever at her side.

Ang. Yes, my brother never leaves her.

Mar. Well, they are both fools, and both will be ruined together.

Val. It is impossible.

Mar. Very well, very well. I have told you what you wanted to know. Now go at once, and do not expose my mistress to the danger of losing her uncle's favour. He alone can be of any service to her.

Val. Keep calm, Angelica. No question of interest shall ever form an obstacle.

Mar. I hear a noise. Go at once.

[Exit Valerio.

Ang. How miserable I am!

Mar. There's your uncle coming. Did I not tell you so?

Ang. I am going.

Mar. No, remain here, and open your heart to him.

Ang. I would as soon put my hand in the fire.

Mar. Come, come; he is sometimes a little hasty, but he has not a bad heart.

Ang. You direct his household, you have influence with him; speak to him for me.

Mar. No, you must speak to him yourself; all I can do is to hint at the matter, and dispose him to listen to you.

Ang. Yes, yes, say something to him, and I will speak to him afterwards. [Going.]

Mar. Remain here.

Ang. No, no; when it is time, call me. I shall not be far off.

[Exit Angelica.

Martuccia, alone.

Mar. How gentle she is—how amiable. I have been with her from her babyhood. I love her; I am distressed for her, and wish to see her happy. Here he is.

Enter Geronte.

Ger. [To Martuccia.] Where's Piccardo?

Mar. Signor—

Ger. Call Piccardo!

Mar. Yes, sir. But may I say one word to you?

Ger. [Very impatiently.] Piccardo, Piccardo!

Mar. [In the same tone.] Piccardo, Piccardo!

Enter Piccardo.

Pic. Here, sir; here, sir.

Mar. [To Piccardo angrily.] Your master—

Pic. [To Geronte.] Here I am, sir.

Ger. Go to my friend Dorval, and tell him I am waiting to play a game of chess with him.

Pic. Yes, sir, but—

Ger. But what?

Pic. I have a commission—

Ger. To do what?

Pic. From your nephew.

Ger. [In a passion.] Go to Dorval's.

Pic. He wishes to speak to you.

Ger. Begone, sir!

Pic. What a man! [Exit.

Ger. A madman—a miserable creature! No, I will not see him; I will not permit him to come and disturb my tranquillity. [Goes to the table.]

Mar. [Aside.] There, he is in a rage at once. Most unfortunate for me.

Ger. [Sitting down.] What a move that was I made yesterday! what a fatality! How in the world could I be checkmated with a game so well arranged? Let me see; this game kept me awake the whole night. [Looking over the game.]

Mar. May I speak to you, sir?

Ger. No.

Mar. No! But I have something important to say to you.

Ger. Well, what have you to say? let me hear it.

Mar. Your niece wishes to speak to you.

Ger. I have no time now.

Mar. Really! Is what you are about, then, of such very great importance?

Ger. Yes, of the utmost importance; I don't often amuse myself, and then I do not choose to be plagued to death. Do you hear?

Mar. This poor girl—

Ger. What has happened to her?

Mar. They want to shut her up in a convent.

Ger. In a convent!—To shut my niece in a convent! to dispose of my niece without my approbation, without my knowing anything about it!

Mar. You know your nephew's embarrassments.

Ger. I have nothing to do with my nephew's embarrassments, nor his wife's follies. He has his own property; if he squanders it, if he ruins himself, so much the worse for him. But as for my niece, I am the head of the family, I am the master; it is for me to provide for her.

Mar. So much the better for her, sir, so much the better. I am glad to see you get so warm in the dear girl's behalf.

Ger. Where is she?

Mar. She is near, sir. Wait a moment—

Ger. Let her come in.

Mar. Yes, she most earnestly desires to do so, but—

Ger. But what?

Mar. She is timid.

Ger. Well, what then?

Mar. If you speak to her—

Ger. I must speak to her.

Mar. Yes, but in this tone of voice—

Ger. The tone of my voice hurts nobody; let her come and rely on my heart, not on my tone of voice.

Mar. That is true, sir. I know you; you are good, humane, charitable; but I entreat you, do not frighten the poor girl; speak to her with a little gentleness.

Ger. Yes, I will speak to her with gentleness.

Mar. You promise me?

Ger. I promise you.

Mar. Do not forget it.

Ger. [Beginning to be impatient.] No.

Mar. Above all, do not get impatient.

Ger. [Impatiently.] I tell you, no.

Mar. I tremble for Angelica. [Exit.

Geronte, alone.

Ger. She is right; I sometimes suffer myself to be carried away by my irritable temper. My niece deserves to be treated with tenderness.

Enter Angelica.—She remains at a distance.

Ger. Come near.

Ang. Sir? [Timidly advancing one step.]

Ger. [Warmly.] How can you expect me to hear you when you are three miles off?

Ang. Excuse me, sir. [She approaches him, trembling.]

Ger. What have you to say to me?

Ang. Has not Martuccia told you something?

Ger. [At first gently, then by degrees he gets excited.] Yes, she has spoken to me of you, of that insensate brother of yours, that extravagant fellow, who suffers himself to be led by the nose by his silly wife, who is ruined, utterly lost, and has no longer any respect for me. [Angelica moves as though to go away.] Where are you going? [Very impetuously.]

Ang. You are angry, sir.

Ger. Well, what is that to you? If I get angry at a blockhead, I am not angry with you. Come near; speak; you must not be afraid of my anger.

Ang. My dear uncle, I can't speak to you unless I see you calm.

Ger. What martyrdom! Well, I am calm. Speak. [Trying to compose himself.]

Ang. Martuccia, sir, has told you—

Ger. I don't mind what Martuccia says. I want to hear it from yourself.

Ang. My brother—

Ger. Your brother—

Ang. Wishes to shut me up in a convent.

Ger. Well, do you wish to go into a convent?

Ang. But, sir—

Ger. [With warmth.] Well! Speak.

Ang. It is not for me to decide.

Ger. [With a little more warmth.] I do not say it is for you to decide, but I want to know your inclination.

Ang. You make me tremble, sir.

Ger. [Aside, restraining himself.] I shall burst with rage.—Come near. I understand, then, a convent is not to your liking?

Ang. No, sir.

Ger. For what have you an inclination?

Ang. Sir—

Ger. Do not be afraid. I am calm. Speak freely.

Ang. Ah! I have not the courage.

Ger. Come here. Do you wish to be married?

Ang. Sir—

Ger. Yes or no?

Ang. If you desire—

Ger. Yes or no?

Ang. Well, yes—

Ger. Yes! you wish to be married! to lose your liberty, your tranquillity! Very well; so much the worse for you. Yes, I will marry you.

Ang. [Aside.] How good he is for all his hasty temper!

Ger. Have you an inclination for any one in particular?

Ang. [Aside.] Now, if I had the courage to speak to him of Valerio!

Ger. Well, have you any lover?

Ang. [Aside.] This is not the opportune moment. I will get Martuccia to speak to him.

Ger. Come, come, let us end the matter. The house in which you live, the persons you see, may perhaps have led you to form an attachment. I wish to know the truth. Yes, I will do something handsome for you, but on the condition that you deserve it. Do you understand? [With great warmth.]

Ang. [Trembling.] Yes, sir.

Ger. Speak openly, frankly. Have you any attachment? [In the same tone.]

Ang. [Hesitating and trembling.] But—no, sir.—No, sir, I have none.

Ger. So much the better. I will find a husband for you.

Ang. Oh, God! I should not like, sir—

Ger. What is it?

Ang. You know my timidity.

Ger. Yes, yes, your timidity. I know womankind; now you are a dove, but get married, and you will be a hawk.

Ang. Ah, my uncle! since you are so good—

Ger. Yes, too good.

Ang. Let me tell you—

Ger. Dorval not come yet! [Going to the table.]

Ang. Hear me, my dear uncle.

Ger. Don't disturb me now. [Intent on the chessboard.]

Ang. One single word—

Ger. [Impatiently.] Enough has been said.

Ang. [Aside.] Oh, Heaven! I am more unhappy than ever. Ah, my dear Martuccia will not abandon me! [Exit.

Geronte, alone.

Ger. She is a good girl; I would willingly do all I can for her. If she had any attachment, I would endeavour to please her, but she has none. I will see, I will look about. But what in the world detains Dorval? Is he never coming? I long to try that cursed combination again that made me lose the last game. Certainly, I ought to have won it—he did not beat me, I beat myself. I must have lost my senses. Let us see a little. My pieces were placed so, and Dorval's so. I moved the king to his castle's square; Dorval placed his bishop on his king's second square. I—check—yes, I take the pawn—Dorval—he takes my bishop,—Dorval—yes, he takes my bishop, and I—give check with my knight. By Jove! Dorval loses his queen. He plays his king, and I take his queen. Yes, the fellow, with his king, has taken my knight. But so much the worse for him. Now he is in my nets; his king is fast. Here is my queen; Yes, here she is. Checkmate. It is clear. Checkmate, and the game is won. Ah! if Dorval would come, he should see it.—[Calls.] Piccardo!

Enter Dalancourt.

Dal. [Apart, and in much confusion.] My uncle is alone; if he will listen to me!

Ger. I will place the pieces as they were at first. [Not seeing Dalancourt, he calls loudly.] Piccardo!

Dal. Sir—

Ger. [Without turning, and supposing he is speaking to Piccardo.] Well, have you found Dorval?

Enter Dorval.

Dor. Here I am, my friend.

Dal. [With resolution.] My uncle.

Ger. [Turning, sees Dalancourt, rises quickly, throws down the chair, and goes out without speaking.]

Scene II.—Dalancourt and Dorval.

Dor. [Laughing.] What is the meaning of this scene?

Dal. It is dreadful! All this because he has seen me.

Dor. [In the same manner.] Geronte is my friend. I know his disposition perfectly.

Dal. I am sorry on your account.

Dor. Indeed, I came at an unlucky time.

Dal. Excuse his violence.

Dor. [Smiling.] Oh, I'll scold him; I'll scold him.

Dal. Ah, my friend, you are the only person who can do anything for me with him.

Dor. I will do what I can, with all my heart, but—

Dal. I agree that, from appearances, my uncle has reason to be offended with me; but if he could read the bottom of my heart, all his affection for me would return, and he would never repent it.

Dor. Yes, I know your character, and I believe everything might be hoped from you; but your wife—

Dal. My wife, sir! Ah, you do not know her. All the world is mistaken about her, and my uncle especially. I must do her justice, and let the truth be known. She knows nothing of the embarrassments by which I am overwhelmed. She thought me richer than I was, and I have always concealed my affairs from her. I love her. We were married very young. I have never permitted her to ask for anything—to want anything. I have always endeavoured to anticipate her wishes, and to provide for her pleasures. In this way I have ruined myself. [Earnestly.]

Dor. To please a lady—to anticipate her desires! That is no easy task.

Dal. I am certain, had she known my situation, she would have been the first to forbid the expenses I have indulged in to please her.

Dor. Yet she did not forbid them.

Dal. No, because she had no fear—

Dor. My poor friend!

Dal. [Afflicted.] Indeed I am poor.

Dor. [Still smiling.] I pity you.

Dal. [With warmth.] You are making a jest of me.

Dor. [Still laughing.] By no means; but—you love your wife prodigiously?

Dal. Yes, I love her; I have always loved her, and shall love her as long as I live; I know her, know all her worth, and will not suffer any one to accuse her of faults which she has not.

Dor. [Seriously.] Gently, my friend, gently; you have a little too much of the family hastiness.

Dal. [With much warmth.] Pardon me, I would not for the world offend you; but when my wife is spoken of—

Dor. Well, well, let us speak of her no more.

Dal. But I wish you to be convinced.

Dor. [Coldly.] Yes, I am convinced.

Dal. [With much earnestness.] No, you are not.

Dor. [A little excited.] Excuse me, I tell you I am.

Dal. Very well, I believe you, and am delighted that you are. Now, my dear friend, speak to my uncle on my behalf.

Dor. Most willingly will I do so.

Dal. How much obliged to you I shall be!

Dor. But we must be able to give him some reasons. How have you managed to ruin yourself in so short a time? It is only four years since your father died, leaving you a handsome fortune, and it is said you have spent it all.

Dal. If you knew all the misfortunes that have happened to me! Seeing my affairs were in disorder, I wished to remedy them, and the remedy was worse than the disease: I listened to new schemes, engaged in new speculations, pledged my property, and have lost everything.

Dor. Here lies the error—new projects; the ruin of many another man.

Dal. And my condition is utterly hopeless.

Dor. You have been very wrong, my friend, especially as you have a sister.

Dal. Yes; and it is now time to think of providing for her.

Dor. Every day she grows more beautiful. Madame Dalancourt receives much company in her house, and youth, my dear friend, sometimes—you understand me?

Dal. Regarding this point, I have on reflection found an expedient; I think of placing her in a convent.

Dor. Place her in a convent! A good plan; but have you consulted your uncle?

Dal. No; he will not hear me; but you must speak to him for me and for Angelica. My uncle esteems and loves you, listens to you, confides in you, and will refuse you nothing.

Dor. I have great doubts of this.

Dal. I am sure of it. Pray try to see him, and speak to him at once.

Dor. I will do so; but where is he gone?

Dal. I will find out.—Let us see—Is any one there?

[Calls.

Enter Piccardo.

Pic. [To Dalancourt.] Here, sir.

Dal. Is my uncle gone from home?

Pic. No, sir; he went into the garden.

Dal. Into the garden! at this time of day?

Pic. For him it is all the same. When he is a little out of temper, he walks about and goes out to take the air.

Dor. I will go and join him.

Dal. I know my uncle, sir; you must give him time to get calm. It is better to wait for him here.

Dor. But if he goes out, he may not return here again.

Pic. [To Dorval.] Pardon me, sir, it will not be long before he is here: I know his temper, a few minutes will be sufficient. I can assure you he will be much pleased to see you.

Dal. Well, my dear friend, go into his room. Do me the favour to wait for him there.

Dor. Willingly; I understand perfectly how cruel your situation is. Some remedy must be provided; yes, I will speak to him, but on condition—

Dal. [With warmth.] I give you my word of honour.

Dor. It is sufficient.

[Exit into Geronte's room.

Dal. You did not tell my uncle what I told you to tell him?

Pic. Pardon me, sir, I have told him, but he drove me away, according to his custom.

Dal. I am sorry for it; let me know when the moment is favourable for me to speak to him. Some day I will reward you for your services.

Pic. I am much obliged to you, sir; but, thank Heaven, I am in want of nothing.

Dal. You are rich, then?

Pic. I am not rich, but I have a master who will not let me want for anything. I have a wife and four children, and ought to be in the greatest straits of any man in the world; but my master is so good, that I support them without difficulty, and distress is unknown in my house. [Exit.

Dalancourt, alone.

Dal. Ah, my uncle is an excellent man. If Dorval can have any influence over him—If I can hope to receive assistance equal to my wants—If I can keep it concealed from my wife—Ah, why have I deceived her? Why have I deceived myself? My uncle does not return. Every minute is precious for me. In the meantime, I will go to my lawyer's. Oh, with what pain I go to him! It is true, he flatters me that, notwithstanding the decree, he will find means to gain time; but quibbles are so odious, my feelings suffer, and my honour is affected. Wretched are they who are forced to resort to expedients so discreditable.

Enter Madame Dalancourt.

Dal. Here comes my wife. [Seeing her.]

Mad. Ah, my husband! are you here? I have been looking everywhere for you.

Dal. I was going out.

Mad. I met that savage just now; he is scolding and scolding wherever he goes.

Dal. Do you mean my uncle?

Mad. Yes. Seeing a ray of sunshine, I went to walk in the garden, and there I met him. He was stamping his feet, talking to himself, but in a loud voice. Tell me, has he any married servants in his house?

Dal. Yes.

Mad. It must have been this. He said a great many had things of the husband and wife; very bad, I assure you.

Dal. [Aside.] I can easily imagine of whom he spoke.

Mad. He is really insupportable.

Dal. You must treat him with respect.

Mad. Can he complain of me? I have failed in nothing; I respect his age, and his quality as your uncle. If I laugh at him sometimes when we are alone, you pardon it. Except this, I have for him all possible respect. But tell me sincerely, has he any for you or for me? He treats us with the greatest asperity; he hates us as much as he can, and now his contempt for me has become excessive: yet I must caress him and pay court to him.

Dal. [Embarrassed.] But—when it is so easy to do so—he is our uncle. Besides, we may have need of him.

Mad. Need of him! we! how? Have we not means of our own to live in decency? You are not extravagant; I am reasonable. For myself, I desire no more than for you to provide for me as you have done. Let us continue to live with the same moderation, and we shall be independent of every one.

Dal. [In a passionate manner.] Let us continue to live with the same moderation!

Mad. Yes, indeed; I have no vanity. I ask nothing more of you.

Dal. [Aside.] How unhappy I am!

Mad. But you seem to me to be disturbed—thoughtful. What is the matter? you are not easy.

Dal. You are mistaken, there is nothing the matter.

Mad. Pardon me, I know you. If you have any sorrow, why hide it from me?

Dal. [More embarrassed.] I am thinking of my sister. I will tell you the whole.

Mad. Your sister! But why of her? She's the best girl in the world—I love her dearly. Hear me. If you will trust her to me, I will relieve you of this burden, and at the same time make her happy.

Dal. How?

Mad. You think of placing her in a convent, and I know, on good authority, it will be against her wishes.

Dal. [A little warmly.] At her age, ought she to be asked what she wishes or does not wish?

Mad. No; she has understanding enough to submit to the will of her friends; but why not marry her?

Dal. She is too young.

Mad. Good! was I older than she when we were married?

Dal. [Excitedly.] Well, must I go about from door to door looking for a man to wed her?

Mad. Listen to me, my husband, and do not disturb yourself, I pray. If I guess aright, I am sure Valerio loves her, and that she too is attached to him.

Dal. [Aside.] Heavens, how much I have to suffer!

Mad. You know him. Can there be a better match for Angelica?

Dal. [Much embarrassed.] We will see—we will talk of it.

Mad. Do me the favour to leave the management of this affair to me; I have a great desire to succeed in it.

Dal. [In the greatest embarrassment.] Madame?

Mad. What say you?

Dal. It cannot be.

Mad. No! why not?

Dal. Will my uncle consent to it?

Mad. And if he does not? I do not wish that we should be wanting in our duty to him, but you are the brother of Angelica. Her fortune is in your hands—whether it is more or less depends on you alone. Let me assure myself of their inclination, and on the subject of interest, I would soon arrange that.

Dal. [Anxiously.] No; if you love me, do not meddle with it.

Mad. Are you then averse to marrying your sister?

Dal. On the contrary.

Mad. What then?

Dal. I must go now. I will talk with you about it on my return. [Going.]

Mad. Are you displeased at my interference?

Dal. Not at all.

Mad. Hear me. Perhaps it is concerning her fortune?

Dal. I know nothing about it. [Exit.

Mad. What does this conduct mean? I do not comprehend it. It is impossible that my husband—No, he is too wise to have anything to reproach himself with.

Scene III.—Enter Angelica.

Ang. If I could speak with Martuccia! [Not seeing Madame D.]

Mad. Sister!

Ang. [Uneasily.] Madame!

Mad. Where are you going, sister?

Ang. [Uneasily.] I am going away, Madame.

Mad. Ah! then you are offended?

Ang. I have reason to be so.

Mad. Are you angry with me?

Ang. Why, Madame?

Mad. Hear me, my child; if you are disturbed about the affair of the convent, do not think I have any hand in it. It is just the reverse; I love you, and will do all I can to render you happy.

Ang. [Aside, weeping.] What duplicity!

Mad. What's the matter? you are weeping.

Ang. [Aside.] How much she has deceived me! [Wipes her eyes.]

Mad. What cause have you for sorrow?

Ang. Oh, the embarrassments of my brother.

Mad. The embarrassments of your brother!

Ang. Yes; no one knows them better than you.

Mad. What do you say? Explain yourself, if you please.

Ang. It is needless.

Enter Geronte, and then Piccardo.

Ger. [Calls.] Piccardo!

Pic. Here, sir. [Coming out of Geronte's apartment.]

Ger. [With impatience.] Well, where is Dorval?

Pic. He is waiting for you, sir, in your room.

Ger. He in my room, and you said nothing about it?

Pic. You did not give me time, sir.

Ger. [Seeing Angelica and Madame D., he speaks to Angelica, turning as he speaks towards Madame D., that she may hear him.] What are you doing here? I wish to have none of your family. Go away.

Ang. My dear uncle—

Ger. I tell you, go.

[Exit Angelica, mortified.

Mad. I ask your pardon, sir.

Ger. [Turning towards the door by which Angelica has gone out, but from time to time looking at Madame D.] This is strange. This is impertinent. She wants to annoy me. There is another staircase for going down into the other apartment. I will shut up this door.

Mad. Do not be offended, sir; as to myself, I assure you—

Ger. [He wants to go into his room, but not to pass Madame D., and says to Piccardo.] Tell me, is Dorval in my room?

Pic. Yes, sir.

Mad. [Perceiving the embarrassment of Geronte, steps back.] Pass on, sir; I will not be in your way.

Ger. [Passing, salutes her.] My lady—I will shut up the door. [Goes into his room, and Piccardo follows him.]

Mad. What a strange character! but it is not this that disturbs me. What distresses me is the anxious manner of my husband, and Angelica's words. I doubt; I fear; I wish to know the truth, and dread to discover it.

END OF THE FIRST ACT.

On to Act Two