The Lady of Lyons Part 4

Enter from the house, MELNOTTE, as the Prince of Como, leading in PAULINE; MADAME

DESCHAPPELLES, fanning herself; and COLONEL DAMAS.

[BEAUSEANT and GLAVIS bow respectfully, fully. PAULINE and MELNOTTE walk apart.

Mme. Deschap. Good morning, gentlemen; really I am so fatigued with laughter; the dear Prince is so entertaining. What wit he has! Any one may see that he has spent his whole life in courts.

Damas. And what the deuce do you know about courts, cousin Deschappelles? You women regard men just as you buy books--you never care about what is in them, but how they are bound and lettered.

'Sdeath, I don't think you would even look at your Bible if it had not a t.i.tle to it.

Mme. Deschap. How coa.r.s.e you are, cousin Damas!--quite the manners of a barrack--you don't deserve to be one of our family; really we must drop your acquaintance when Pauline marries. I cannot patronize any relations that would discredit my future son-in-law, the Prince of Como.

Mel. [advancing]. These are beautiful gardens, madame, [BEAUSEANT and GLAVIS retire]--who planned them?

Mme. Deschap. A gardener named Melnotte, your highness--an honest man who knew his station. I can't say as much for his son--a presuming fellow, who,--ha! ha! actually wrote verses--such doggerel!--to my daughter.

Pauline. Yes, how you would have laughed at them, Prince! you, who write such beautiful verses!

Mel. This Melnotte must be a monstrous impudent person!

Damas. Is he good-looking?

Mme. Deschap. I never notice such canaille--an ugly, mean-looking clown, if I remember right.

Damas. Yet I heard your porter say he was wonderfully like his highness.

Mel. [taking snuff]. You are complimentary.

Mme. Deschap. For shame, cousin Damas!--like the Prince, indeed!

Pauline. Like you! Ah, mother, like our beautiful prince! I'll never speak to you again, cousin Damas.

Mel. [aside]. Humph!--rank is a great beautifier! I never pa.s.sed for an Apollo while I was a peasant; if I am so handsome as a prince, what should I be as an emperor! [Aloud.] Monsieur Beauseant, will you honor me? [Offers snuff.

Beau. No, your highness; I have no small vices.

Mel. Nay, if it were a vice, you'd be sure to have it, Monsieur Beauseant.

Mme. Deschap. Ha! ha!--how very severe!--what wit!

Beau. [in a rage and aside]. Curse his impertinence!

Mme. Deschap. What a superb snuff-box! Pauline. And what a beautiful ring!

Mel. You like the box--a trifle--interesting perhaps from a.s.sociations-- a present from Louis XIV. to my great-great grandmother. Honor me by--accepting it.

Beau. plucking him by the sleeve. How!--what the devil! My box--are you mad? It is worth five hundred louis.

Mel. [unheeding him, and turning to PAULINE]. And you like this ring?

Ah, it has, indeed a l.u.s.tre since your eyes have shone on it placing it on her finger. Henceforth hold me, sweet enchantress, the Slave of the Ring.

Gla. [pulling him]. Stay, stay--what are you about? My maiden aunt's legacy--a diamond of the first water. You shall be hanged for swindling, sir.

Mel. [pretending not to hear]. It is curious, this ring; it is the one with which my grandfather, the Doge of Venice, married the Adriatic!

(Madame and PAULINE examine the ring.) Mel. [to BEAUSEANT and GLAVIS].

Fie, gentlemen! princes must be generous?--[Turns to DAMAS, who watches them closely.] These kind friends have my interest so much at heart, that they are as careful of my property as if it were their own!

Beau and Gla. [confusedly]. Ha! ha!--very good joke that!

[Appears to remonstrate with MELNOTTE in dumb show.

Damas. What's all that whispering? I am sure there is some juggle here: hang me, if I think he is an Italian after all. Gad, I'll try him.

Servitore umillissimo, Eccellenza.* (* Your Excellency's most humble servant.)

Mel. Hum--what does he mean, I wonder?

Damas. G.o.do di vedervi in buona salute.* (* I am glad to see you in good health.)

Mel. Hem--hem!

Damas. Fa bel tempo--the si dice di nuovo? * (* Fine weather. What news is there?)

Mel. Well, sir, what's all that gibberish?

Damas. Oh, oh!--only Italian, your highness!--The Prince of Como does not understand his own language!

Mel. Not as you p.r.o.nounce it; who the deuce could?

Mme. Deschap. Ha! ha! cousin Damas, never pretend to what you don't know.

Pauline. Ha! ha! cousin Damas; you speak Italian, indeed!

[Makes a mocking gesture at him.

Beau. [to GLAVIS]. Clever dog!--how ready!

Gla. Ready, yes; with my diamond ring!--d.a.m.n his readiness!

Damas. Laugh at me!--laugh at a Colonel in the French army!--the fellow's an impostor; I know he is. I'll see if he understands fighting as well as he does Italian.--[Goes up to him, and aside.] Sir, you are a jackanapes.--Can you construe that?

Mel. No, sir; I never construe affronts in the presence of ladies; by-and-by I shall be happy to take a lesson--or give one.

Damas. I'll find the occasion, never fear!

Mme. Deschap. Where are you going, cousin?

Damas. To correct my Italian. [Exit.