"A pastoral youth, who means to win La Woffington by agricultural courtship--as shepherds woo in sylvan shades."
"With oaten pipe the rustic maids," quoth the Woffington, improvising.
The diplomat laughed, the actress laughed, and said, laughingly: _"Tell me what he says word for word?"_
"It will only make you laugh."
"Well, and am I never to laugh, who provide so many laughs for you all?"
_"C'est juste._ You shall share the general merriment. Imagine a romantic soul, who adores you for _your simplicity!"_
"My simplicity! Am I so very simple?"
"No," said Sir Charles, monstrous dryly. "He says you are out of place on the stage, and wants to take the star from its firmament, and put it in a cottage."
"I am not a star," replied the Woffington, "I am only a meteor. And what does the man think I am to do without this (here she imitated applause) from my dear public's thousand hands?"
"You are to have this" (he mimicked a kiss) "from a single mouth, instead."
"He is mad! Tell me what more he says. Oh, don't stop to invent; I should detect you; and you would only spoil this man."
He laughed conceitedly. "I should spoil him! Well, then, he proposes to be your friend rather than your lover, and keep you from being talked of, he! he! instead of adding to your _eclat."_
"And if he is your friend, why don't you tell him my real character, and send him into the country?"
She said this rapidly and with an appearance of earnest. The diplomatist fell into the trap.
"I do," said he; "but he snaps his fingers at me and common sense and the world. I really think there is only one way to get rid of him, and with him of every annoyance."
"Ah! that would be nice."
"Delicious! I had the honor, madam, of laying certain proposals at your feet."
"Oh! yes--your letter, Sir Charles. I have only just had time to run my eye down it. Let us examine it together."
She took out the letter with a wonderful appearance of interest, and the diplomat allowed himself to fall into the absurd position to which she invited him. They put their two heads together over the letter.
"'A coach, a country-house, pin-money'--and I'm so tired of houses and coaches and pins. Oh! yes, here's something; what is this you offer me, up in this corner?"
Sir Charles inspected the place carefully, and announced that it was "his heart."
"And he can't even write it!" said she. "That word is 'earth.' Ah! well, you know best. There is your letter, Sir Charles."
She courtesied, returned him the letter, and resumed her study of Lothario.
"Favor me with your answer, madam," said her suitor.
"You have it," was the reply.
"Madam, I don't understand your answer," said Sir Charles, stiffly.
"I can't find you answers and understandings, too," was the lady-like reply. "You must beat my answer into your understanding while I beat this man's verse into mine.
'And like the birds, etc.'"
Pomander recovered himself a little; he laughed with quiet insolence.
"Tell me," said he, "do you really refuse?"
"My good soul," said Mrs. Woffington, "why this surprise! Are you so ignorant of the stage and the world as not to know that I refuse such offers as yours every week of my life?"
"I know better," was the cool reply. She left it unnoticed.
"I have so many of these," continued she, "that I have begun to forget they are insults."
At this word the button broke off Sir Charles's foil.
"Insults, madam! They are the highest compliments you have left it in our power to pay you."
The other took the button off her foil.
"Indeed!" cried she, with well-feigned surprise. "Oh! I understand. To be your mistress could be but a temporary disgrace; to be your wife would be a lasting discredit," she continued. "And now, sir, having played your rival's game, and showed me your whole hand" (a light broke in upon our diplomat), "do something to recover the reputation of a man of the world.
A gentleman is somewhere about in whom you have interested me by your lame satire; pray tell him I am in the green-room, with no better companion than this bad poet."
Sir Charles clinched his teeth.
"I accept the delicate commission," replied he, "that you may see how easily the man of the world drops what the rustic is eager to pick up."
"That is better," said the actress, with a provoking appearance of good-humor. "You have a woman's tongue, if not her wit; but, my good soul," added she, with cool _hauteur,_ "remember you have something to do of more importance than anything you can say."
"I accept your courteous dismissal, madam," said Pomander, grinding his teeth. "I will send a carpenter for your swain. And I leave you."
He bowed to the ground.
"Thanks for the double favor, good Sir Charles."
She courtesied to the floor.
Feminine vengeance! He had come between her and her love. All very clever, Mrs. Actress; but was it wise?
"I am revenged," thought Mrs. Woffington, with a little feminine smirk.
"I will be revenged," vowed Pomander, clinching his teeth.
