SCENE IX.--ALCANDRE, ORPHISE, eRASTE, LA MONTAGNE.

ALC. (_To Orphise_). Marquis, one word. Madame, I pray you to pardon me, if I am indiscreet in venturing, before you, to speak with him privately. (_Exit Orphise_).

SCENE X.--ALCANDRE, eRASTE, LA MONTAGNE.

ALC. I have a difficulty, Marquis, in making my request; but a fellow has just insulted me, and I earnestly wish, not to be behind-hand with him, that you would at once go and carry him a challenge from me. You know that in a like case I should joyfully repay you in the same coin.

ER. (_After a brief silence_). I have no desire to boast, but I was a soldier before I was a courtier. I served fourteen years, and I think I may fairly refrain from such a step with propriety, not fearing that the refusal of my sword can be imputed to cowardice. A duel puts one in an awkward light, and our King is not the mere shadow of a monarch. He knows how to make the highest in the state obey him, and I think that he acts like a wise Prince. When he needs my service, I have courage enough to perform it; but I have none to displease him. His commands are a supreme law to me; seek some one else to disobey him. I speak to you, Viscount, with entire frankness; in every other matter I am at your service. Farewell.

[Footnote: During his long reign, Louis XIV. tried to put a stop to duelling; and, though he did not wholly succeed, he prevented the seconds from partic.i.p.ating in the fight,--a custom very general before his rule, and to which eraste alludes in saying that he does not "fear that the refusal of his (my) sword can be imputed to cowardice."]

SCENE XI.--eRASTE, LA MONTAGNE.

ER. To the deuce with these bores, fifty times over! Where, now, has my beloved gone to?

LA M. I know not.

ER. Go and search everywhere till you find her. I shall await you in this walk.

BALLET TO ACT I.

_First Entry_.

Players at Mall, crying out "Ware!" compel eraste to draw back. After the players at Mall have finished, eraste returns to wait for Orphise.

_Second Entry_.

Inquisitive folk advance, turning round him to see who he is, and cause him again to retire for a little while.

ACT II.

SCENE I.--eRASTE, _alone_.

Are the bores gone at last? I think they rain here on every side. The more I flee from them, the more I light on them; and to add to my uneasiness, I cannot find her whom I wish to find. The thunder and rain have soon pa.s.sed over, and have not dispersed the fashionable company.

Would to Heaven that those gifts which it showered upon us, had driven away all the people who weary me! The sun sinks fast; I am surprised that my servant has not yet returned.

SCENE II.--ALCIPPE, eRASTE.

ALC. Good day to you.

ER. (_Aside_). How now! Is my pa.s.sion always to be turned aside?

ALC. Console me, Marquis, in respect of a wonderful game of piquet which I lost yesterday to a certain Saint-Bouvain, to whom I could have given fifteen points and the deal. It was a desperate blow, which has been too much for me since yesterday, and would make me wish all players at the deuce; a blow, I a.s.sure you, enough to make me hang myself in public.--I wanted only two tricks, whilst the other wanted a piquet. I dealt, he takes six, and asks for another deal. I, having a little of everything, refuse. I had the ace of clubs (fancy my bad luck!) the ace, king, knave, ten and eight of hearts, and as I wanted to make the point, threw away king and queen of diamonds, ten and queen of spades. I had five hearts in hand, and took up the queen, which just made me a high sequence of five. But my gentleman, to my extreme surprise, lays down on the table a sequence of six low diamonds, together with the ace. I had thrown away king and queen of the same colour. But as he wanted a piquet, I got the better of my fear, and was confident at least of making two tricks. Besides the seven diamonds he had four spades, and playing the smallest of them, put me in the predicament of not knowing which of my two aces to keep. I threw away, rightly as I thought, the ace of hearts; but he had discarded four clubs, and I found myself made _Capot_ by a six of hearts, unable, from sheer vexation, to say a single word.

[Footnote: In the seventeenth century, piquet was not played with thirty-two, but with thirty-six, cards; the sixes, which are now thrown away, remained then in the pack. Every player received twelve cards, and twelve remained on the table. He who had to play first could throw away seven or eight cards, the dealer four or five, and both might take fresh ones from those that were on the table. A trick counted only when taken with one of the court-cards, or a ten.

Saint-Bouvain, after having taken up his cards, had in hand six small diamonds with the ace, which counted 7, a sequence of six diamonds from the six to the knave counted 16, thus together 23, before he began to play. With his seven diamonds he made seven tricks, but only counted 3, for those made by the ace, knave, and ten; this gave him 26. Besides his seven diamonds he had four spades, most likely the ace, king, knave, and a little one, and a six of hearts; though he made all the tricks he only counted 3, which gave him 29. But as Alcippe had not made a single trick, he was _capot_, which gave Saint-Bouvain 40; this with the 29 he made before, brought the total up to 69. As the latter only wanted a _piquet_, that is 60,--which is when a player makes thirty in a game, to which an additional thirty are then added, Saint-Bouvain won the game. Alcippe does not, however, state what other cards he had in his hand at the moment the play began besides the ace of clubs and a high sequence of five hearts, as well as the eight of the same colour.]

By Heaven, account to me for this frightful piece of luck. Could it be credited, without having seen it?

[Footnote: Compare with Moliere's description of the game of piquet Pope's poetical history of the game of Ombre in the third Canto of _The Rape of the Lock._]

ER. It is in play that luck is mostly seen.

ALC. 'Sdeath, you shall judge for yourself if I am wrong, and if it is without cause that this accident enrages me. For here are our two hands, which I carry about me on purpose. Stay, here is my hand, as I told you; and here ...

ER. I understood everything from your description, and admit that you have a good cause to be enraged. But I must leave you on certain business. Farewell. But take comfort in your misfortune.

ALC. Who; I? I shall always have that luck on my mind; it is worse than a thunderbolt to me. I mean to shew it to all the world. (_He retires and on the point of returning, says meditatively_) A six of hearts!

two points.

ER. Where in the world are we? Go where we will, we see nothing but fools.

SCENE III.--eRASTE, LA MONTAGNE.

ER. Ha! how long you have been, and how you have made me suffer.