I am prepared; life has no further ills!

The cloud has broken in that stormy rain, And on the waste I stand, alone with Heaven.

Damas. His very face is changed; a breaking heart Does its work soon!--Come, Melnotte, rouse thyself: One effort more. Again thou'lt see her.

Mel. See her!

There is a pa.s.sion in that simple sentence That shivers all the pride and power of reason Into a chaos!

Damas. Time wanes; come, ere yet It be too late.

Mel. Terrible words--"Too late!" Lead on. One last look more, and then--

Damas. Forget her!

Mel. Forget her! yes--For death remembers not. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A room in the house of MONSIEUR DESCHAPPELLES; PAULINE seated in great dejection.

Pauline. It is so, then. I must be false to Love, Or sacrifice a father! Oh, my Claude, My lover, and my husband! Have I lived To pray that thou mayest find some fairer boon Than the deep faith of this devoted heart-- Nourish'd till now--now broken?

Enter MONSIEUR DESCHAPPELLES.

M. Deschap. My dear child, How shall I thank--how bless thee? Thou hast saved, I will not say my fortune--I could bear Reverse, and shrink not--but that prouder wealth Which merchants value most--my name, my credit-- The hard--won honors of a toilsome life:-- These thou hast saved, my child!

Pauline. Is there no hope?

No hope but this?

M. Deschap. None. If, without the sum Which Beauseant offers for thy hand, this day Sinks to the west--to-morrow brings our ruin!

And hundreds, mingled in that ruin, curse The bankrupt merchant! and the insolvent herd We feasted and made merry cry in scorn, "How pride has fallen!--Lo, the bankrupt merchant!"

My daughter, thou hast saved us!

Pauline. And am lost!

M. Deschap. Come, let me hope that Beauseant's love--

Pauline. His love!

Talk not of love. Love has no thought of self!

Love buys not with the ruthless usurer's gold The loathsome prost.i.tution of a hand Without a heart? Love sacrifices all things To bless the thing it loves! He knows not love.

Father, his love is hate--his hope revenge!

My tears, my anguish, my remorse for falsehood-- These are the joys that he wrings from our despair!

M. Deschap. If thou deem'st thus, reject him! Shame and ruin Were better than thy misery;--think no more on't.

My sand is wellnigh run--what boots it when The gla.s.s is broken? We'll annul the contract: And if to-morrow in the prisoner's cell These aged limbs are laid, why still, my child, I'll think thou art spared; and wait the Liberal Hour That lays the beggar by the side of kings!

Pauline, No--no--forgive me! You, my honor'd father,-- You, who so loved, so cherish'd me, whose lips Never knew one harsh word! I'm not ungrateful; I am but human!--hush! Now, call the bridegroom-- You see I am prepared--no tears--all calm; But, father, talk no more of love

M. Deschap. My child, Tis but one struggle; he is young, rich, n.o.ble; Thy state will rank first 'mid the dames of Lyons; And when this heart can shelter thee no more, Thy youth will not be guardianless.

Pauline. I have set My foot upon the ploughshare--I will pa.s.s The fiery ordeal. [Aside.] Merciful Heaven, support me; And on the absent wanderer shed the light Of happier stars--lost evermore to me!

Enter MADAME DESCHAPPELLES, BEAUSEANT, GLAVIS, and Notary.

Mme. Deschap. Why, Pauline, you are quite in deshabille--you ought to be more alive to the importance of this joyful occasion. We had once looked higher, it is true; but you see, after all, Monsieur Beauseant's father was a Marquis, and that's a great comfort. Pedigree and jointure!--you have them both in Monsieur Beauseant. A young lady decorously brought up should only have two considerations in her choice of a husband; first, is his birth honorable? secondly, will his death be advantageous? All other trifling details should be left to parental anxiety.

Beau. [approaching and waving aside Madame]. Ah, Pauline! let me hope that you are reconciled to an event which confers such rapture upon me.

Pauline. I am reconciled to my doom.

Beau. Doom is a harsh word, sweet lady.

Pauline [aside.] This man must have some mercy--his heart cannot be marble. [Aloud.] Oh, sir, be just--be generous! Seize a n.o.ble triumph--a great revenge! Save the father, and spare the child.

Beau. [aside.] joy--joy alike to my hatred and my pa.s.sion! The haughty Pauline is at last my suppliant. [Aloud.] You ask from me what I have not the sublime virtue to grant--a virtue reserved only for the gardener's son! I cannot forego my hopes in the moment of their fulfilment! I adhere to the contract--your father's ruin or your hand.

Pauline. Then all is over. Sir, I have decided.

[The clock strikes one.

Enter DAMAS and MELNOTTE.

Damas. Your servant, cousin Deschappelles. Let me introduce Colonel Morier.

Mme. Deschap. [curtsying very low]. What, the celebrated hero? This is, indeed, an honor! [MELNOTTE bows, and remains in the background.

Damas [to Pauline]. My little cousin, I congratulate you. What, no smile--no blush? You are going to be divorced from poor Melnotte, and marry this rich gentleman. You ought to be excessively happy!

Pauline. Happy!

Damas. Why, how pale you are, child!--Poor Pauline! Hist--confide in me!

Do they force you to this?

Pauline. No!

Damas. You act with your own free consent?

Pauline. My own consent--yes.

Damas. Then you are the most--I will not say what you are.

Pauline. You think ill of me--be it so--yet if you knew all--

Damas. There is some mystery--speak out, Pauline.

Pauline [suddenly]. Oh, perhaps you can save me! you are our relation--our friend. My father is on the verge of bankruptcy--this day he requires a large sum to meet demands that cannot be denied; that sum Beauseant will advance--this hand the condition of the barter. Save me if you have the means--save me! You will be repaid above!

Damas. aside. I recant--Women are not so bad after all! [Aloud.] Humph, child! I cannot help you--I am too poor.

Pauline. The last plank to which I clung is shivered.