Two years and a half from the date of Act IV.
The Streets of Lyons.
Enter First, Second, and Third Officers.
First Officer. Well, here we are at Lyons, with gallant old Damas: it is his native place.
Second Officer. Yes; he has gained a step in the army since he was here last. The Lyonnese ought to be very proud of stout General Damas.
Third Officer. Promotion is quick in the French army.
This mysterious Morier,--the hero of Lodi, and the favorite of the commander-in-chief,--has risen to a colonel's rank to two years and a half. Enter DAMAS, as a General.
Damas. Good morrow, gentlemen; I hope you will amuse yourselves during our short stay at Lyons. It is a fine city: improved since I left it.
Ah! it is a pleasure to grow old,when the years that bring decay to ourselves do but ripen the prosperity of our country.
You have not met with Morier?
First Officer. No: we were just speaking of him.
Second Officer. Pray, general, can you tell us who this Morier really is?
Damas. Is!--why a colonel in the French army.
Third Officer. True. But what was he at first?
Damas. At first? Why a baby in long clothes, I suppose.
First Officer. Ha, ha! Ever facetious, general.
Second Officer. [to Third]. The general is sore upon this point;you will only chafe him.--Any commands, general?
Damas. None. Good day to you. [Exeunt Second and Third Officers.
Damas. Our comrades are very inquisitive. Poor Morier is the subject of a vast deal of curiosity.
First Officer. Say interest, rather, general. His constant melancholy, the loneliness of his habits,--his daring valor, his brilliant rise in the profession,--your friendship, and the favors of the commander-in-chief,--all tend to make him as much the matter of gossip as of admiration. But where is he, general? I have missed him all the morning.
Damas. Why, captain, I'll let you into a secret. My young friend has come with me to Lyons in hopes of finding a miracle.
First Officer. A miracle!
Damas. Yes, a miracle! in other words,--a constant woman.
First Officer. Oh! an affair of love!
Damas. Exactly so. No sooner did he enter Lyons than he waved his hand to me, threw himself from his horse, and is now, I warrant, asking every one who can know anything about the matter, whether a certain lady is still true to a certain gentleman!
First Officer. Success to him! and of that success there can be no doubt. The gallant Colonel Morier, the hero of Lodi, might make his choice out of the proudest families in France.
Damas. Oh, if pride be a recommendation, the lady and her mother are most handsomely endowed. By the way, captain, if you should chance to meet with Morier, tell him he will find me at the hotel.
First Officer. I will, general. [Exit.
Damas. Now will I go to the Deschappelles, and make a report to my young Colonel. Ha! by Mars, Bacchus, Apollo, Virorum,--here comes Monsieur Beauseant!
Enter BEAUSEANT.
Good morrow, Monsieur Beauseant! How fares it with you?
Beau. [aside.] Damas! that is unfortunate;--if the Italian campaign should have filled his pockets, he may seek to baffle me in the moment of my victory. [Aloud]. Your servant, general,--for such, I think, is your new distinction! Just arrived in Lyons?
Damas. Not an hour ago. Well, how go on the Deschappelles? Have they forgiven you in that affair of young Melnotte? You had some hand in that notable device,- -eh?
Beau. Why, less than you think for! The fellow imposed upon me.
I have set it all right now. What has become of him?
He could not have joined the army, after all. There is no such name in the books.
Damas. I know nothing about Melnotte. As you say, I never heard the name in the Grand Army.
Beau. Hem!--You are not married, general?
Damas. Do I look like a married man, sir?--No, thank Heaven!
My profession is to make widows, not wives.
Beau. You must have gained much booty in Italy! Pauline will be your heiress--eh?
Damas. Booty! Not I! Heiress to what? Two trunks and a portmanteau,--four horses,--three swords, two suits of regimentals, and six pair of white leather inexpressibles! A pretty fortune for a young lady!
Beau. [aside.] Then all is safe! [Aloud]. Ha! ha! Is that really all your capital, General Damas? Why, I thought Italy had been a second Mexico to you soldiers.
Damas. All a toss-up, sir. I was not one of the lucky ones!
My friend Morier, indeed, saved something handsome.
But our commander-in-chief took care of him, and Morier is a thrifty, economical dog,--not like the rest of us soldiers, who spend our money as carelessly as if it were our blood.
Beau. Well, it is no matter! I do not want fortune with Pauline. And you must know, General Damas, that your fair cousin has at length consented to reward my long and ardent attachment.
Damas. You!--the devil! Why, she is already married!
There is no divorce!
Beau. True; but this very day she is formally to authorize the necessary proceedings, this very day she is to sign the contract that is to make her mine within one week from the day on which her present illegal marriage is annulled.
Damas. You tell me wonders!--Wonders! No; I believe anything of women!
Beau. I must wish you good morning. [As he is going, enter DESCHAPPELLES.
M. Deschap. Oh, Beauseant! well met. Let us come to the notary at once.
Damas [to Deschap.]. Why, cousin!
M. Deschap. Damas, welcome to Lyons. Pray call on us; my wife will be delighted to see you.
Damas. Your wife be-blessed for her condescension! But [taking him aside] what do I hear? Is it possible that your daughter has consented to a divorce?--that she will marry Monsieur Beauseant?
M. Deschap. Certainly. What have you to say against it?
A gentleman of birth, fortune, character. We are not so proud as we were;even my wife has had enough of nobility and princes!
Damas. But Pauline loved that young man so tenderly!
M. Deschap. [taking snuff]. That was two years and a half ago.
Damas. Very true. Poor Melnotte!
