Act 2
Scene I.—Geronte and Dorval.
Ger. Let us go on with our game, and talk no more of it.
Dor. But it concerns your nephew.
Ger. A blockhead! A helpless creature, who is the slave of his wife, and the victim of his vanity.
Dor. More gentleness, my friend, more gentleness.
Ger. And you, with your calmness, you will drive me mad.
Dor. What I say is right.
Ger. Take a chair. [Sits down.]
Dor. [In a compassionate tone, while he is going to the chair.] Poor young man!
Ger. Let us see the game of yesterday.
Dor. [In the same tone.] You will lose—
Ger. Perhaps not; let us see—
Dor. I say you will lose—
Ger. No, I am sure not.
Dor. Unless you assist him, you will certainly lose him.
Ger. Lose whom?
Dor. Your nephew.
Ger. [With impatience.] Eh! I was speaking of the game. Sit down.
Dor. I will play willingly, but first listen to me—
Ger. You are always talking to me of Dalancourt.
Dor. Well, if it be so?
Ger. I will not listen to you.
Dor. Then you hate him—
Ger. No, sir, I hate nobody.
Dor. But if you do not wish—
Ger. No more—play. Let us go on with the game, or I shall go away.
Dor. One single word, and I have done.
Ger. Very well.
Dor. You have some property?
Ger. Yes, thank Heaven!
Dor. More than you want?
Ger. Yes, some over with which I can serve my friends.
Dor. And you will give nothing to your nephew?
Ger. Not a farthing.
Dor. It follows—
Ger. It follows?
Dor. That you hate him.
Ger. It follows that you do not know what you say. I hate, I detest his manner of thinking, his abominable conduct; to give him money would be only to nourish his vanity, his prodigality, his folly. Let him change his system, and I will change when he does. I wish repentance to deserve favours, not favours to prevent repentance.
Dor. [After a moment's silence, he seems convinced, and says, with much gentleness] Let us play.
Ger. Let us play.
Dor. [Playing.] I am distressed at it.
Ger. [Playing.] Check to the king.
Dor. [Playing.] And this poor girl!
Ger. Who?
Dor. Angelica.
Ger. [Leaving the game.] Ah, as to her, it is another affair. Speak to me of her.
Dor. She must suffer, too.
Ger. I have thought of it, and have foreseen it. I shall marry her.
Dor. Excellent! she deserves it.
Ger. Is she not a most engaging young lady?
Dor. Yes, truly.
Ger. Happy is the man who shall possess her. [Reflects a moment, and then calls] Dorval!
Dor. My friend?
Ger. Hear me.
Dor. [Rising.] What would you say?
Ger. If you wish her, I will give her to you.
Dor. Who?
Ger. My niece.
Dor. What?
Ger. What! what! are you deaf? Do you not understand me? [Animated.] I speak clearly—if you wish to have her, I give her to you.
Dor. Ah! ah!
Ger. And if you marry her, besides her fortune, I will give her of my own a hundred thousand francs. Eh! what say you to it?
Dor. My friend, you do me much honour.
Ger. I know who you are; I am certain by this step to secure the happiness of my niece.
Dor. But—
Ger. But what?
Dor. Her brother?
Ger. Her brother! Her brother has nothing to do with it; it is for me to dispose of her; the law, the will of my brother—I am master here. Come, make haste, decide upon the spot.
Dor. Your proposal is not to be decided on in a moment. You are too impetuous.
Ger. I see no obstacle; if you love her, if you esteem her, if she suits you, it is all done.
Dor. But—
Ger. But—but—Let us hear your but.
Dor. Does the disproportion between sixteen and forty-five years appear to you a trifle?
Ger. Nothing at all. You are still a young man; and I know Angelica, she has no foolish notions.
Dor. She may have a liking for some other person?
Ger. She has none.
Dor. Are you sure of it?
Ger. Most certain; quick—let us conclude it. I will go to my notary's; he shall draw up the contract: she is yours.
Dor. Softly, my friend, softly.
Ger. [With heat.] What now? Do you wish still to vex me—to annoy me with your slowness—with your cold blood?
Dor. Then you wish—
Ger. Yes, to give you a sensible, honest, virtuous girl, with a hundred thousand crowns for her fortune, and a hundred thousand livres at her marriage. Perhaps I affront you?
Dor. By no means; you do me an honour I do not deserve.
Ger. [With warmth.] Your modesty on this occasion is most inopportune.
Dor. Do not get angry; do you wish me to take her?
Ger. Yes.
Dor. Then I take her—
Ger. [With joy.] Indeed!
Dor. But on condition—
Ger. Of what?
Dor. That Angelica consents to it.
Ger. Do you make no other obstacle?
Dor. No other.
Ger. I am delighted. I answer for her.
Dor. So much the better if you are sure.
Ger. Most sure—most certain. Embrace me, my dear nephew.
Dor. Let us embrace, my dear uncle.
[Dalancourt enters by the middle door; sees his
uncle; listens as he passes; goes towards his
own apartment, but stops at his own door to
listen.]
Ger. This is the happiest day of my life.
Dor. My dear friend, how very kind you are!
Ger. I am going to the notary's. This very day it shall all be concluded. [Calls.] Piccardo!
Enter Piccardo.
Ger. My cane and hat.
[Exit Piccardo.
Dor. I will now go home.
[Piccardo returns, and gives his master his cane
and hat, and withdraws. Dalancourt is
still at his door.]
Ger. No, no, you must wait here for me; I will soon return. You must dine with me.
Dor. I have to write; I must send for my agent, who is a league from Paris.
Ger. Go into my room and write; send your letter by Piccardo. Yes, Piccardo will carry it himself; Piccardo is an excellent young man—sensible—faithful. Sometimes I scold him, but I am very fond of him.
Dor. Well, since you are determined, it shall be so; I will write in your room.
Ger. Now it is all concluded.
Dor. Yes, we agree.
Ger. [Taking his hand.] Your word of honour?
Dor. [Giving his hand.] My word of honour.
Ger. My dear nephew!
[Exit at the last words, showing joy.
Scene II.—Dalancourt and Dorval.
Dor. In truth, all this seems to me a dream. I marry!—I, who have never thought of such a thing!
Dal. Ah, my dear friend, I know not how to express my gratitude to you.
Dor. For what?
Dal. Did I not hear what my uncle said? He loves me, he feels for me; he has gone to his notary; he has given you his word of honour. I see plainly what you have done for me; I am the most fortunate man in the world.
Dor. Do not flatter yourself so much, my dear friend, for the good fortune you imagine has not the least foundation in truth.
Dal. How then?
Dor. I hope, in time, to be able to do you a service with him; and hereafter I may have some title to interest myself in your behalf; but till then—
Dal. [With warmth.] For what, then, did he give you his word of honour?
Dor. I will tell you at once; he did me the honour to propose your sister to me as a wife.
Dal. [With joy.] My sister! Do you accept?
Dor. Yes, if you approve it.
Dal. You overwhelm me with joy; you surprise me. As regards her fortune, you know my situation.
Dor. About that we will say nothing.
Dal. My dear brother, let me, with all my heart, embrace you.
Dor. I flatter myself that your uncle on this occasion—
Dal. Here is a connection to which I shall owe my happiness. I am in great need of it. I have been to my lawyer's, and did not find him.
Enter Madame Dalancourt.
Dal. [Seeing his wife.] Ah, Madame!
Mad. [To Dalancourt.] I have been waiting for you with impatience. I heard your voice.
Dal. My wife, here is Signor Dorval; I present him to you as my brother-in-law, as the husband of Angelica.
Mad. [With joy.] Indeed!
Dor. I shall be highly pleased, Madame, if my happiness meets with your approbation.
Mad. I am rejoiced at it, sir; I congratulate you with all my heart. [Aside.] What did he mean by speaking of the embarrassments of my husband?
Dal. [To Dorval.] Is my sister informed of it?
Dor. I think not.
Mad. [Aside.] Then it was not Dalancourt who made the match.
Dal. Do you wish me to bring her here?
Dor. No, do not bring her; there may still be a difficulty.
Dal. What is it?
Dor. Her consent.
Dal. Fear nothing; I know Angelica, and your circumstances and merit. Leave it to me; I will speak to my sister.
Dor. No, my dear friend, do not, I beg you, do not let us spoil the affair; leave it to Signor Geronte.
Dal. As you please.
Mad. [Aside.] I comprehend nothing of all this.
Dor. I am going into your uncle's room to write; he has given me permission, and he has told me expressly to wait for him there, so excuse me; we shall soon see each other again.
[Exit into Geronte's apartment.
Scene III.—Dalancourt and Madame Dalancourt.
Mad. From what I hear, it appears you are not the person who marries your sister?
Dal. [Embarrassed.] My uncle marries her.
Mad. Has your uncle mentioned it to you? Has he asked your consent?
Dal. [With a little warmth.] My consent! Did you not see Dorval? Did he not tell me of it? Do you not call this asking my consent?
Mad. [A little warmly.] Yes. It is an act of civility on the part of Dorval, but your uncle has said nothing to you.
Dal. [Embarrassed.] What do you mean by that?
Mad. I mean, he thinks us of no account.
Dal. [Warmly.] You take the worst view of everything. This is terrible! You are insupportable.
Mad. [Mortified.] I insupportable! you find me insupportable! [With much tenderness.] Ah, my husband! this is the first time such an expression has ever escaped from your lips. You must be in a state of great uneasiness so to forget your affection for me.
Dal. [Aside.] Ah! too true.—My dear wife, I ask your pardon with all my heart. But you know my uncle; do you desire to offend him still more? Do you wish me to hinder my sister? The match is a good one; nothing can be said against it. My uncle has chosen it; so much the better. Here is one embarrassment the less for you and me. [With joy.]
Mad. Come, come, I am glad you take it in good part; I praise and admire your conduct. But permit me to make one suggestion: Who is to attend to the necessary preparations for a young lady going to be married? Is your uncle to have this trouble? Will it be proper? will it be correct?
Dal. You are right; but there is time, we will talk of it.
Mad. Hear me: you know I love Angelica. The ungrateful girl does not deserve I should care for her; but she is your sister.
Dal. How! you call my sister ungrateful! Why so?
Mad. Do not let us speak of it now; some other time, when we are alone, I will explain to you. And then—
Dal. No; I wish to hear it now.
Mad. Have patience, my dear husband.
Dal. No, I tell you; I wish to know at once.
Mad. Well, as you wish it, I must satisfy you.
Dal. [Aside.] How I tremble!
Mad. Your sister—
Dal. Proceed.
Mad. I believe she is too much on your uncle's side.
Dal. Why?
Mad. She told me—yes, me—that your affairs were embarrassed, and that—
Dal. That my affairs were embarrassed;—and do you believe it?
Mad. No. But she spoke to me in such a manner as to make me think she suspected I was the cause of it, or at least, that I had contributed to it.
Dal. [A little excitedly.] You! she suspects you!
Mad. Do not be angry, my dear husband. I know very well her want of judgment.
Dal. [With feeling.] My dear wife!
Mad. Do not be distressed. Believe me, I shall think no more of it. It all arises from him; your uncle is the cause of it all.
Dal. Oh no! my uncle has not a bad heart.
Mad. He not a bad heart? Heavens! the worst in the world! Has he not shown it to me?—But I forgive him.
Enter a Servant.
Ser. Here is a letter for you, sir.
Dal. Give it to me. [He takes the letter. Exit Servant.] Let us see it. [Agitated.] This is the hand of my lawyer. [Opens the letter.]
Mad. What does he write?
Dal. Excuse me for a moment. [He retires apart, reads, and shows displeasure.]
Mad. [Aside.] There must be some bad news.
Dal. [Aside, after reading the letter.] I am ruined!
Mad. [Aside.] My heart beats!
Dal. [Aside.] My poor wife! what will become of her? How can I tell her?—I have not the courage.
Mad. [Weeping.] My dear Dalancourt, tell me, what is it? Trust your wife: am I not the best friend you have?
Dal. Take it and read: this is my situation. [Gives her the letter.] [Exit.
Madame Dalancourt, alone.
Mad. I tremble.—[Reads.] "Sir, all is lost; the creditors will not subscribe. The decree was confirmed. I inform you of it as soon as possible; be on your guard, for your arrest is ordered."—What do I read! what do I read! My husband in debt, in danger of losing his liberty! Can it be possible? He does not gamble, he has no bad habits; he is not addicted to unusual luxury.—By his own fault—may it not then be my fault? Oh, God! what a dreadful ray of light breaks in upon me! The reproofs of Angelica, the hatred of Signor Geronte, the contempt he shows for me, day after day! The bandage is torn from my eyes: I see the errors of my husband, I see my own. Too much love has been his fault, my inexperience has made me blind. Dalancourt is culpable, and I perhaps am equally so. What remedy is there in this cruel situation? His uncle only—yes—his uncle can help him;—but Dalancourt—he must be now in a state of humiliation and distress—and if I am the cause of it, though involuntarily, why do I not go myself? Yes—I ought to throw myself at Geronte's feet—but, with his severe, unyielding temper, can I flatter myself I shall make any impression on him? Shall I go and expose myself to his rudeness? Ah! what matters it? Ah! what is my mortification compared to the horrible condition of my husband? Yes, I will run! This thought alone ought to give me courage. [She goes towards Geronte's apartment.]
Enter Martuccia.
Mar. Madame, what are you doing here? Signor Dalancourt is in despair.
Mad. Heavens! I fly to his assistance. [Exit.
Mar. What misfortunes!—what confusion! If it be true she is the cause of it, she well deserves—Who comes here?
Enter Valerio.
Mar. Why, sir, do you come here now? You have chosen an unfortunate time. All the family is overwhelmed with sorrow.
Val. I do not doubt it. I just come from Signor Dalancourt's lawyer. I have offered him my purse and my credit.
Mar. This is a praiseworthy action. Nothing can be more generous than your conduct.
Val. Is Signor Geronte at home?
Mar. No; the servant told me he saw him with his notary.
Val. With his notary?
Mar. Yes; he is always occupied with some business. But do you wish to speak with him?
Val. Yes, I wish to speak with them all. I see with sorrow the confusion of Dalancourt's affairs. I am alone. I have property, and can dispose of it. I love Angelica, and am come to offer to marry her without a portion, and to share with her my lot and my fortune.
Mar. This resolution is worthy of you. No one could show more esteem, more love, and more generosity.
Val. Do you think I may flatter myself?—
Mar. Yes, and especially as she enjoys the favour of her uncle, and he desires to marry her.
Val. [With joy.] He desires to marry her?
Mar. Yes.
Val. But if he wishes to marry her, he also wishes to propose a match that is to his taste?
Mar. [After a moment's silence.] It may be so.
Val. And can this be any comfort to me?
Mar. Why not? [To Angelica, who enters timidly.] Come in, my young lady.
Ang. I am terribly frightened.
Val. [To Angelica.] What is the matter?
Ang. My poor brother—
Mar. Is he just the same?
Ang. Rather better. He is a little more tranquil.
Mar. Hear me. This gentleman has told me something very consoling for you and for your brother.
Ang. For him too?
Mar. If you knew what a sacrifice he is disposed to make!
Val. [Aside to Martuccia.] Say nothing of it. [Turning to Angelica.] Can any sacrifice be too great for you?
Mar. But it must be mentioned to Signor Geronte.
Val. My dear friend, if you will take the trouble.
Mar. Willingly. What shall I say to him? Let us see. Advise me. But I hear some one. [She goes towards the apartment of Signor Geronte.] [To Valerio.] It is Signor Dorval. Do not let him see you. Let us go into my room, and there we can talk at our ease.
Val. [To Angelica.] If you see your brother—
Mar. Come, sir, let us go—quick. [She goes out and takes him with her.]
Scene IV.—Angelica, and then Dorval.
Ang. [Aside.] What have I to do with Signor Dorval? I can go away.
Dor. Mademoiselle Angelica!
Ang. Sir?
Dor. Have you seen your uncle? Has he told you nothing?
Ang. I saw him this morning, sir.
Dor. Before he went out of the house?
Ang. Yes, sir.
Dor. Has he returned?
Ang. No, sir.
Dor. [Aside.] Good. She knows nothing of it.
Ang. Excuse me, sir. Is there anything new in which I am concerned?
Dor. Your uncle takes much interest in you.
Ang. [With modesty.] He is very kind.
Dor. [Seriously.] He thinks often of you.
Ang. It is fortunate for me.
Dor. He thinks of marrying you. [Angelica appears modest.] What say you to it? Would you like to be married?
Ang. I depend on my uncle.
Dor. Shall I say anything more to you on the subject?
Ang. [With a little curiosity.] But—as you please, sir.
Dor. The choice of a husband is already made.
Ang. [Aside.] Oh, heavens! I tremble.
Dor. [Aside.] She seems to be pleased.
Ang. [Trembling.] Sir, I am curious to know—
Dor. What, Mademoiselle?
Ang. Do you know who is intended for me?
Dor. Yes, and you know him too.
Ang. [With joy.] I know him too?
Dor. Certainly, you know him.
Ang. May I, sir, have the boldness—
Dor. Speak, Mademoiselle.
Ang. To ask you the name of the young man?
Dor. The name of the young man?
Ang. Yes, if you know him.
Dor. Suppose he were not so young?
Ang. [Aside, with agitation.] Good Heavens!
Dor. You are sensible—you depend on your uncle—
Ang. [Trembling.] Do you think, sir, my uncle would sacrifice me?
Dor. What do you mean by sacrificing you?
Ang. Mean—without the consent of my heart. My uncle is so good—But who could have advised him—who could have proposed this match? [With temper.]
Dor. [A little hurt.] But this match—Mademoiselle—Suppose it were I?
Ang. [With joy.] You, sir? Heaven grant it!
Dor. [Pleased.] Heaven grant it?
Ang. Yes, I know you; I know you are reasonable. You are sensible; I can trust you. If you have given my uncle this advice, if you have proposed this match, I hope you will now find some means of making him change his plan.
Dor. [Aside.] Eh! this is not so bad.—[To Angelica.] Mademoiselle—
Ang. [Distressed.] Signor?
Dor. [With feeling.] Is your heart engaged?
Ang. Ah, sir—
Dor. I understand you.
Ang. Have pity on me!
Dor. [Aside.] I said so, I foresaw right; it is fortunate for me I am not in love—yet I began to perceive some little symptoms of it.
Ang. But you do not tell me, sir.
Dor. But, Mademoiselle—
Ang. You have perhaps some particular interest in the person they wish me to marry?
Dor. A little.
Ang. [With temper and firmness.] I tell you I shall hate him.
Dor. [Aside.] Poor girl! I am pleased with her sincerity.
Ang. Come, have compassion; be generous.
Dor. Yes, I will be so, I promise you; I will speak to your uncle in your favour, and will do all I can to make you happy.
Ang. [With joy and transport.] Oh, how dear a man you are! You are my benefactor, my father. [Takes his hand.]
Dor. My dear girl!
Enter Geronte.
Ger. [In his hot-tempered manner, with animation.] Excellent, excellent! Courage, my children, I am delighted with you. [Angelica retires, mortified; Dorval smiles.] How! does my presence alarm you? I do not condemn this proper show of affection. You have done well, Dorval, to inform her. Come, my niece, embrace your future husband.
Ang. [In consternation.] What do I hear?
Dor. [Aside and smiling.] Now I am unmasked.
Ger. [To Angelica, with warmth.] What scene is this? Your modesty is misplaced. When I am not present, you are near enough to each other; when I come in, you go far apart. Come here.—[To Dorval, with anger.] And do you too come here.
Dor. [Laughing.] Softly, my friend.
Ger. Why do you laugh? Do you feel your happiness? I am very willing you should laugh, but do not put me in a passion; do you hear, you laughing gentleman? Come here and listen to me.
Dor. But listen yourself.
Ger. [To Angelica, and endeavouring to take her hand.] Come near, both of you.
Ang. [Weeping.] My uncle!
Ger. Weeping! What's the matter, my child? I believe you are making a jest of me. [Takes her hand, and carries her by force to the middle of the stage; then turns to Dorval, and says to him, with an appearance of heat] You shall escape me no more.
Dor. At least let me speak.
Ger. No, no!
Ang. My dear uncle—
Ger. [With warmth.] No, no. [He changes his tone and becomes serious.] I have been to my notary's, and have arranged everything; he has taken a note of it in my presence, and will soon bring the contract here for us to subscribe.
Dor. But will you listen to me?
Ger. No, no. As to her fortune, my brother had the weakness to leave it in the hands of his son; this will no doubt cause some obstacle on his part, but it will not embarrass me. Every one who has transactions with him suffers. The fortune cannot be lost, and in any event I will be responsible for it.
Ang. [Aside.] I can bear this no longer.
Dor. [Embarrassed.] All proceeds well, but—
Ger. But what?
Dor. The young lady may have something to say in this matter. [Looking at Angelica.]
Ang. [Hastily and trembling.] I, sir?
Ger. I should like to know if she can say anything against what I do, what I order, and what I wish. My wishes, my orders, and what I do, are all for her good. Do you understand me?
Dor. Then I must speak myself.
Ger. What have you to say?
Dor. That I am very sorry, but this marriage cannot take place.
Ger. Not take place! [Angelica retreats frightened; Dorval also steps back two paces.] [To Dorval.] You have given me your word of honour.
Dor. Yes, on condition—
Ger. [Turning to Angelica.] It must then be this impertinent. If I could believe it! if I had any reason to suspect it! [Threatens her.]
Dor. [Seriously.] No, sir, you are mistaken.
Ger. [To Dorval. Angelica seizes the opportunity and makes her escape.] It is you, then, who refuse? So you abuse my friendship and affection for you!
Dor. [Raising his voice.] But hear reason—
Ger. What reason? what reason? There is no reason. I am a man of honour, and if you are so too, it shall be done at once. [Turning round, he calls] Angelica!
Dor. What possesses the man? He will resort to violence on the spot. [Runs off.]
Geronte, alone.
Ger. Where is she gone? Angelica! Hallo! who's there? Piccardo! Martuccia! Pietro! Cortese!—But I'll find her. It is you I want. [Turns round, and, not seeing Dorval, remains motionless.] What! he treat me so! [Calls.] Dorval! my friend! Dorval—Dorval! my friend! Oh, shameful—ungrateful! Hallo! Is no one there? Piccardo!
Enter Piccardo.
Pic. Here, sir.
Ger. You rascal! Why don't you answer?
Pic. Pardon me, sir, here I am.
Ger. Shameful! I called you ten times.
Pic. I am sorry, but—
Ger. Ten times! It is scandalous.
Pic. [Aside, and angry.] He is in a fury now.
Ger. Have you seen Dorval?
Pic. Yes, sir.
Ger. Where is he?
Pic. He is gone.
Ger. How is he gone?
Pic. [Roughly.] He is gone as other people go.
Ger. Ah, insolent! do you answer your master in this manner? [Very much offended, he threatens him and makes him retreat.]
Pic. [Very angrily.] Give me my discharge, sir.
Ger. Your discharge—worthless fellow! [Threatens him and makes him retreat. Piccardo falls between the chair and the table. Geronte runs to his assistance and helps him up.]
Pic. Oh! [He leans on the chair, and shows much pain.]
Ger. Are you hurt? Are you hurt?
Pic. Very much hurt; you have crippled me.
Ger. Oh, I am sorry! Can you walk?
Pic. [Still angry.] I believe so, sir. [He tries, and walks badly.]
Ger. [Sharply.] Go on.
Pic. [Mortified.] Do you drive me away, sir?
Ger. [Warmly.] No. Go to your wife's house, that you may be taken care of. [Pulls out his purse and offers him money.] Take this to get cured.
Pic. [Aside, with tenderness.] What a master!
Ger. Take it. [Giving him money.]
Pic. [With modesty.] No, sir, I hope it will be nothing.
Ger. Take it, I tell you.
Pic. [Still refusing it.] Sir—
Ger. [Very warmly.] What! you refuse my money? Do you refuse it from pride, or spite, or hatred? Do you believe I did it on purpose? Take this money. Take it. Come, don't put me in a passion.
Pic. Do not get angry, sir. I thank you for all your kindness. [Takes the money.]
Ger. Go quickly.
Pic. Yes, sir. [Walks badly.]
Ger. Go slowly.
Pic. Yes, sir.
Ger. Wait, wait; take my cane.
Pic. Sir—
Ger. Take it, I tell you! I wish you to do it.
Pic. [Takes the cane.] What goodness! [Exit.
Enter Martuccia.
Ger. It is the first time in my life that—Plague on my temper! [Taking long strides.] It is Dorval who put me in a passion.
Mar. Do you wish to dine, sir?
Ger. May the devil take you! [Runs out and shuts himself in his room.]
Mar. Well, well! He is in a rage: I can do nothing for Angelica to-day; Valerio can go away. [Exit.
END OF THE SECOND ACT.