Mel. Away, sir! I am in no humor for jesting. Damas. I see you understand something of the grammar; you decline the non-substantive "small-swords" with great ease; but that won't do--you must take a lesson in parsing.

Mel. Fool! Damas. Sir, as sons take after their mother, so the man who calls me a fool insults the lady who bore me; there's no escape for you--fight you shall, or--

Mel. Oh, enough! enough!--take your ground.

They fight; DAMAS is disarmed. MELNOTTE takes up the sword and returns it to DAMAS respectfully. A just punishment to the brave soldier who robs the state of its best property--the sole right to his valor and his life.

Damas. Sir, you fence exceedingly well; you must be a man of honor--I don't care a jot whether you are a prince; but a man who has carte and tierce at his fingers' ends must be a gentleman.

Mel. [aside.] Gentleman! Ay, I was a gentleman before I turned conspirator; for honest men are the gentlemen of Nature! Colonel, they tell me you rose from the ranks.

Damas. I did.

Mel. And in two years!

Damas. It is true; that's no wonder in our army at present. Why the oldest general in the service is scarcely thirty, and we have some of two-and-twenty.

Mel. Two-and-twenty!

Damas. Yes; in the French army, now a days, promotion is not a matter of purchase. We are all heroes, because we may be all generals. We have no fear of the cypress, because we may all hope for the laurel.

Mel. A general at two-and-twenty! [turning away]--Sir, I may ask you a favor one of these days.

Damas. Sir, I shall be proud to grant it. It is astonishing how much I like a man after I've fought with him. [Hides the swords.

Enter MADAME DESCHAPPELLES and BEAUSEANT.

Mme. Deschap. Oh, prince,--prince!--What do I hear? You must fly--you must quit us!

Mel. I!

Beau. Yes, prince: read this letter, just received from my friend at Paris, one of the Directory; they suspect you of designs against the Republic: they are very suspicious of princes, and your family take part with the Austrians. Knowing that I introduced your highness at Lyons, my friend writes to me to say that you must quit the town immediately, or you will be arrested,--thrown into prison, perhaps guillotined! Fly!--I will order horses to your carriage instantly. Fly to Marsailles; there you can take ship to Leghorn.

Mme. Deschap. And what's to become of Pauline? Am I not to be mother to a princess, after all?

Enter PAULINE and MONSIEUR DESCHAPPELLES.

Pauline [throwing herself into MELNOTTE's arms.] You must leave us!--Leave Pauline!

Beau. Not a moment is to be wasted.

M. Deschap. I will go to the magistrates and inquire--

Beau. Then he is lost; the magistrates, hearing he is suspected, will order his arrest.

Mme. Deschap. And I shall not be a princess-dowager!

Beau. Why not? There is only one thing to be done:--send for the priest--let the marriage take place at once, and the prince carry home a bride?

Mel. Impossible!--[Aside.] Villain.

Mme. Deschap. What, lose my child?

Beau. And gain a princess!

Mme Deschap. Oh, Monsieur Beauseant, you are so very kind, it must be so,--we ought not to be selfish, my daughter's happiness at stake. She will go away, too, in a carriage and six!

Pauline. Thou art here still,--I cannot part from my heart will break.

Mel. But thou wilt not consent to this hasty union?--thou wilt not wed an outcast--a fugitive?

Pauline. Ah! if thou art in danger, who should share it but Pauline?

Mel. [aside]. Distraction!--If the earth could swallow me!

M. Deschap. Gently! gently! The settlements--the contracts--my daughter's dowry!

Mel. The dowry!--I am not base enough for that; no, not one farthing!

Beau. [to MADAM]. n.o.ble fellow!--Really your good husband is too mercantile in these matters. Monsieur Deschappelles, you hear his highness: we can arrange the settlements by proxy; 'tis the way with people of quality.

M. Deschap. But--

Mme. Deschap. Hold your tongue!--Don't expose yourself!

Beau. I will bring the priest in a trice. Go in all of you and prepare; the carriage shall be at the door before the ceremony is over.

Mme. Deschap. Be sure there are six horses, Beauseant! You are very good to have forgiven us for refusing you; but you see--a prince!

Beau. And such a prince! Madam, I cannot blush at the success of so ill.u.s.trious a rival.--[Aside.] Now will I follow them to the village, enjoy my triumph, and to-morrow, in the hour of thy shame and grief, I think, proud girl, thou wilt prefer even these arms to those of the gardener's son. [Exit.

Mme. Deschap. Come, Monsieur Deschappelles, give your arm to her highness that is to be.

M. Deschap. I don't like doing business in such a hurry; 'tis not the way with the house of Deschappelles & Co.

Mme. Deschap. There, now, you fancy you are in the counting-house, don't you?

[Pushes him to PAULINE.

Mel. Stay, stay, Pauline--one word. Have you no scruple, no fear?

Speak--it is not yet too late.

Pauline. When I loved thee, thy fate became mine. Triumph or danger-- joy or sorrow--I am by thy side.

Damas. Well, well, prince, thou art a lucky man to be so loved. She is a good little girl in spite of her foibles make her as happy as if she were not to be a princess [slapping him on the shoulder]. Come, sir, I wish you joy--young tender--lovely;--zounds, I envy you!

Mel. [who has stood apart in gloomy abstraction]. Do you?*

(* On the stage the following lines are added:--)