Bevannes. Very well, very well, young ladies, if you insist upon it. The ladies are determined on a waltz on the terrace.

Madame Laroque. What! in the broiling sun?

Bev. The roses do not fear the sun. Why should the lilies?

Ladies [all courtesey.] Oh, how pretty.

Bev. Yes, rather neat, I think. [To Marguerite] Mademoiselle, may I hope for the honor?

Mar. Thank you. Despite your pretty speech, I confess to a fear of waltzing in the sun. But I'll play for you with pleasure.

[Goes towards Piano, R.

Bev. [Aside to her.] Always cruel. [To M'lle Helouin,] Mademoiselle, may I request the pleasure?

Mlle Helouin. Oh! certainly.

Bev. [Aside to her.] Ever kind.

[Marguerite plays—they waltz and gradually disappear.

Mad. L. Have you seen my new conservatory, Doctor?

Des. No, Madame.

Mad. L. Well, I must show it to you, if I can drag myself so far.

Des. Drag? Why, good gracious! You're the picture of health this morning—fresh as a rose.

Mad. L. Fresh? Frozen. It's a curious fact, Doctor, that since I left the Antilles, twenty years ago, I have never yet known what it was to feel comfortably warm.

Des. That accounts for your continued good looks. Consult your Cookery Book, page 18. If you want to preserve things fresh, you must keep them cold. And you, Madame, [To Madame Aubrey] how do you find yourself?

Madame Aubrey. Very weak, Doctor. I ate a tolerable breakfast this morning.

Des. [Aside.] You may say that. Three eggs and a broiled chicken.

Mad. A. And I feel a fullness—

Des. [Aside.] I should think so.

Mad. A. In the head.

Des. Ah!

Mad. A. The fact is, Doctor, I am subject to such continual chagrin, such cruel mortifications here. Dependent upon others for certain luxuries which I can't get for myself.

Des. Why not?

Mad. A. Things are so dear. Ah, Doctor, nothing will soothe me but death.

Des. Well, that's cheap!

Mad. A. Brute!

[Aside.

Mar. [at Piano.] Here they come again.

Mar. Well, why don't you go on?

Des. [Aside.] At last, [aloud.] Madame Laroque, permit me to present to you, M. Manuel, the new Steward.

Bev. Rather a stylish looking steward!

Mad. L. Why, Doctor, what does this mean? You promised a quiet, simple, steady young man, and you bring me a fine gentleman like this.

As Manuel comes down R. C., Mad'lle Helouin sees him.

Mlle. H. [Aside.] It is the Marquis de Champcey!

[Goes up to ladies.

Mad. Aubrey—Manuel—Desmarets—Bevannes—Mad. Laroque—Mademoiselle Helouin—Marguerite.

Mad. L. Pardon, sir, you are Monsieur—

Man. Manuel, Madame.

Mad. L. The new Steward?

Man. Yes, Madame.

Mad. L. You are quite sure?

Des. [Aside.] That's not bad.

Man. Madame!

Bev. The lady wishes to know whether you are yourself.

Man. I have always been under that impression, sir.

[Bevannes goes up.

Des. [Aside.] The conversation is becoming brilliant—I'll leave them to enjoy it.

[Exit at back—Bevannes comes down to Marquis.

Mad. L. Sir, we are indebted to you for devoting your talents to our service; we really require them, for we have the misfortune to be immensely rich.

Mad. A. Misfortune, dear?

Mad. L. Yes, love; wealth is a heavy burthen.

Mad. A. But a very pleasant one.

Mad. L. You'd find it hard to bear, dear.

Mad. A. I should like to try, darling.

Mad. L. I feel that I was born for the devotion and self-sacrifice entailed by poverty. Ah! my dear Bevannes, should I not have made an excellent Sister of Charity?

Bev. You are already the next thing to it, Madame?

Mad. L. How so?

Bev. [Indicating Marguerite.] The mother of goodness.

Mar. Oh, sir.

Mad. L. But do you not agree with me?

Bev. In what?

Mad. L. That wealth is a heavy responsibility.

Bev. Doubtless. But then you have the comfort of knowing that there are always some devoted friends willing to relieve you.

Mad. L. [Rings.] But my fortune is not mine to dispose of—for my duty obliges me to preserve it for my child.

Enter Alain.

Alain, show this gentleman to his apartments—but first, you must be introduced to my father-in-law. Ask if Monsieur Laroque can see the gentleman. [Exit Alain—Manuel up stage.] And now, we will take a stroll to the conservatory. What has become of that horrid doctor? [As she rises, her shawl falls off—Manuel comes forward and assists her.] Oh! thank you, sir.

Re-enter Alain.

Alain. Monsieur Laroque is coming down, Madame.

[Exit at back.

Mad. L. [To Marguerite.] My dear, will you stay and introduce Monsieur Manuel to your grandpapa?

Mar. Certainly, if you wish it.

Mad. L. Now, my dear Bevannes, your arm.

Bev. [Who has been talking to Marguerite.] Eh?

Mad. L. You shall accompany us—

Bev. [To Marguerite.] This is too bad.

[Gives arm to Madame Laroque.

Mar. Oh! Monsieur de Bevannes, how happy you ought to feel—arm in arm with "the mother of goodness."

Bev. I do feel happy—blessed. [Madame Aubrey takes his other arm.] Doubly blessed.

[Exeunt Bevannes, Madame Laroque and Madame Aubrey.

Mlle. H. [Aside.] So, so, my lord Marquis. Well, I will keep your secret, perhaps.

[Exit—Marguerite seats herself as they go off.

Mar. [After a pause.] Is this your first visit to Brittany, sir?

Man. It is, Mademoiselle.

Mar. It is an interesting country, I believe, to strangers.

Man. Deeply interesting; though I travelled through it so rapidly, that I had hardly time to appreciate its beauties. What I did see, however, charmed me.

Mar. Ah! an admirer of the picturesque, I perceive, like our governess. You two will get on very well together—you'll be excellent companions.

Man. Mademoiselle—

Mar. Oh, yes; she adores trees, rocks, rivers, etcetera—things that, for my own part, I don't think very interesting.

Man. [Smiling, and throwing himself carelessly into a chair.] Pray, then, may I ask what you do think interesting?

Mar. [Rising.] Excuse me, sir.

[Goes out with a slight and disdainful inclination.

Man. A timely reproof—for I was already forgetting my position. [Alain is crossing the stage.] My friend, a word with you.

Alain. Certainly, sir.

Man. Monsieur Laroque is very old, is he not?

Alain. Oh, yes sir, very old.

Man. He was a seaman formerly, I believe?

Alain. Yes sir, and a bold one too. Up in the picture gallery, there are paintings of some of his most famous battles with the English. Ah! he was a terrible man. Why, sir, if you'll believe me, when the fit is on him, he will walk for hours alone in that gallery, in a sort of dream, muttering to himself, and fancying that he is again on board his ship in the midst of fire and slaughter, and between you and I, sir, they do say—but hush! he's coming with his granddaughter.

[Music.

Enter M. Laroque, leaning on Marguerite.

Mar. This way, dear grandfather. So, so. How well and strong you are to-day.

[Alain places chairs and exits.

Laroque. Always better and stronger when you are near me, my darling, [sits down.] Thank ye, thank ye.

Mar. Let me present to you Mons. Manuel, our new steward.

Laroque, on seeing Manuel, is transfixed and gazes with a sort of terror at him.

Lar. No—no—no—it cannot be!

Mar. What is this?

Lar. But I tell you he is dead—dead—

Mar. Dearest grandfather! [To Manuel.] For heaven's sake, sir, speak to him.

Man. Really, Mademoiselle—I—I—

Mar. Speak, sir! Say something—anything—

Man. I am happy, sir, that I can devote my humble talents to your service.

Lar. But he is dead—

Man. Who?

Mar. The last steward—

[Signs to Manuel to speak on.

Man. All the more happy, sir, as I have heard of your many brilliant exploits, and had relatives who, like yourself, have often fought against the English—

Lar. The English! Aye—aye—aye—they did it—they were the cause, but they paid it all—paid dearly—dearly.

Man. [Approaching.] Permit me, sir, to—

Lar. Ah! No—no—no. He has blood upon him! See—see—see—

Mar. Grandfather, dear grandfather! Do not regard him, [To Manuel.] he is often thus—his great age—and—and—oh, sir, pray retire; join my mother, I beg of you.

Man. Certainly, Mademoiselle. [Aside.] A good beginning, truly.

[Exit.

Mar. Grandfather, dearest, what terrible thoughts are troubling you? See, it is I, Marguerite, your child.

Lar. Eh! my child! Ah, yes, true, my child, my own dear child; but where is—are we alone? Who stood there just now?

Mar. That was our new steward, Monsieur Manuel.

Lar. Manuel—Manuel—'tis very strange! I thought—

Mar. What, dear grandfather?

Lar. Thought that—that—

Mar. Oh, you thought you recognized him? He is like some one you have seen before?

Lar. Yes—yes—yes—like some one I have seen before. But I am very old, darling, and have seen so many faces in my time. Well, well, I think I shall like him. Does he play picquet?

Mar. Indeed I do not know—

Lar. I hope so, I hope so—

Enter Mad. Aubrey.

Mad. H. Ah, my dear cousin, how do you find yourself now? They told me you were ill, and almost frightened me to death.

Lar. Thank ye, cousin, thank ye. It was only a passing weakness.

Mad. A. Indeed, I rejoice to hear it, for I was fearful of some sudden—Oh, why did you not send for me? 'Tis very unkind of you to forget those who love you so.

[Weeps.

Mar. Grandpapa, there's one for you.

[Aside to him.

Lar. [To Mad. Aubrey.] Well, well it's very kind of you to be so fearful of something sudden, but you needn't—I've made my will. [Aside to Marguerite.] There's one for her!

Mad. A. Come now, take my arm, a walk upon the terrace will do you so much good. There, don't be afraid to lean on me.

Lar. You're very kind, cousin. Thank ye, thank ye. [Going.] Marguerite, my darling, ask him if he plays picquet.

Mar. I will.

Lar. Umph! do you think he does?

Mar. I have no doubt of it.

Lar. [As he goes out with Mad. Aubrey.] I hope so—I hope so—I hope so!

[Exeunt Laroque and Mad. Aubrey.

Mar. My poor grandfather; spite of his failing memory, he sees through the disinterestedness of our good cousin Aubrey. But those wild words, his terror at the appearance of this young man, what could that mean? Or had it any meaning? [Sees Mad. Laroque and Manuel coming in at back.] My mother—and leaning on the arm of that person!

Mad. L. Precisely my own opinion, sir, my impression exactly; this is really charming; we agree upon every point.

Man. I am flattered, Madame, to think such should be the case.

Bev. [Without.] 'Pon my honor, young ladies, I can't, I really can't!

Enter Bevannes, surrounded by ladies, exclaiming, "You must, Indeed!"

Bev. Would you believe it, Madame? Those unconscionable ladies insist on another waltz.

Mar. Oh, indeed I cannot play any more—I must finish this to-day—It is a promise—

Man. Pray do not let that inconvenience the ladies—I will play a waltz with much pleasure.

[Touches Piano.

Bev. Sir!

Mar. [Haughtily.] Thank you, sir—it is not requisite.

Man. [Aside.] Forgetting again.

[Goes up Terrace.

Bev. [Aside.] Pretty cool!

Mar. Very presuming of that steward.

Mad L. Very polite of that gentleman.

Bev. Highly disgusting to this gentleman.

Mad. L. Well, de Bevannes, you must find some other amusement for the ladies.

Bev. 'Gad, I'll soon do that. It's positively fatiguing to be in such general request with them. They can't do without me for one moment—they absolutely—

Turns and perceives Manuel, who, during the preceding dialogue, has entered into conversation with the ladies, and has, by this time, offered his arm to two of them—They all accompany him off.