/ • COCO. HolcLl I s ay it agaixi anil emphatically HolcL LI fee . £c/-> 1 . Scene 7a,* fBtwrrrmbe's' ^tf \ THE MIDNIGHT WATCH I AN ORIGINAL DRAMA, IN ©ne act. By JOHN MADDI60N MORTON, Ess. Member of the Dramatic Author s' Society, Author of Poor Pillicoddy, Going to the Derby, Old Honesty, Boi and Cox, Done on both sides, Young England, The King and I, My Wife* 8 Second Floor, Wedding Breakfast, The Double Bedded Room, The Milliner's Holiday, The Irish Tiger, Who's the Composer, Who do they take me for, 'the Attic Story, Brother Ben, Who's my Husband, Thumping Legacy, fyc. THE OJiLY EDITION CORRECTLY MARKED, BY PERMISSION, PROM THE PROMPTER'S BOOK. To which is added, DESCRIPTION OF THE COSTUME — CAST OF THE CHARACTERS THE WHOLE OF THE STAGE BUSINESS, SITUATIONS — ENTRANCES — EXITS — PROPERTIES, AND DIRECTIONS* '• AS PERFORMED AT THE " . 3Ltiix*ttau%lxtiLtvz&. FMT5ELLISHED WITH A FINE ENGRAVINC, 15y Mr. T. Jones, from a Drawing, taken expressly in the Theatre* LONDON: PUBLISHED BY BUNCOMBE A^D MOON, 17, HOLBORN BARS. furned with his regiment to France, and I also learnt that r in the agony of his despair, the blessing- he had reserved for his child was turned into a curse ! ( Shuddering .) Nin. Don't believe it, Pauline— a father can't do it — I defy him ! And you did not see him ? 'aw. No — for they told me that, weighed down by grief fnd shame, he again left France, and joined the republican troops in Holland under another name. Nin Holland ? Then, perhaps, some of the invalids who have just been sent home from the army, will be able to give us tidings of him, I'll enquire. sPau, Thanks, dear Ninette! s Nin. But now you haven t told me how it happens that you are a prisoner. .^Pan 10 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH. aw. A few words will explain. After our flight from the neigh- bourhood—at length we spt out for the frontier, but ere we could reach it, De Merville was recognized, arrested, and condemned to death. I saved his life by giving him liberty at the sacrifice of my own, Nitu Then if he's anything of a gentleman, he'll lose no time in returning the compliment. yPau % No, Ninette — I have now lost all hope, and care xnot how soon death ends my sufferings. JVYn. Death indeed ! Nonsense! Friends often spring up when we least expect them, and see, some one has been gallant enough to send you a quantity of skeins of worsted for your tapestry. There — all the colours of the rainbow — look ! ( Showing parce l.) J*au. Ha! Give it to me. (Snatching it eagerly from inette's hand. Aside .) 'Twas by this means that letter came to me. Oh, should there be — ( O pening the worsted .) Yes— a paper ! ( Greatly agitate d.) JVm. Why, what's the matter? an. N-othing. I feared we might be observed — that's ;n. Yin. True. I'll just look out if uncle Labarre is comirjg. (Exit L. H. D. Pau. (Hastily runs (.q dnn r of Canteen, and re nds the letter Ml the light of the lamp, r. h. ) Ah, there are hopes of ^saving me. (R eading with difficult y) lt At midnight an effort will be made to save you — { She raises her hands in thankfulness ^ — but in order to ensure success, it will be necessary that the sentinel entrusted with the midnight watch should be" Re-enter Ninette, running } l, h. d_. JW?i. Uncle's coming ! l*jiu. ( Hastily concealing letter. A side, ) "What's to be d^ne ? I must know the contents of this paper ere I return :o my dungeon. ( Looking at Ninette .) Shall I trust her? No, I dare not. Ah, there is yet a hope. ( aloud. ) Ninette, it had been better that we had not met, for we must now part. JVm. Don't you be too sure of that. Hush ! ( Holding up her linger to Pauli ne. ) E nter LARARRE f flf L. H. D, Lab. ( l.) Now, citizen, it's time to turn in! Jfin. Well, you needn't speak so savagely to the poor young woman. Lab* Savagely? 1 didn't. THE MIDNrOHT WATCH. 11 Nin, Yes, you did — like a great big bear. You might spare her feelings a little for my sake, seeing that we were sehoolfek>ws. { Pretend ing- to sob A Lab. Schoolfellows ? Well, there— don't cry f Nin. Ah, uncle Labarre, I wouldn't be such a coward as you are for a trifle. AHn/irr^l Lab. A coward! Me? V\JV^U 1 Nin. Yes. You know very well that if you felt ever so kindly towards a prisoner you wouldn't dare to shew it. Lab. Wouldn't I! Win* No. Though you are head jailor, you're afraid to do as you like. You'd no more dare let that young woman have a little bit of supper with us to-night, than you'd pull citizen Robespierre's nose. (P auline goes up a Little .) Lab. I tell you I would ! Nin. Not you, indeed ! You're going to lock her up now because you're obliged to doit, and if I was to say to you, uncle Labarre, I dare you to let her stop out for an hour or two longer, you'd say Lab. I'd say, I'll be damned if I won't I And so I will. She shall have a bit of supper with us, and what's more, she shall come back here, and take as many sniffs of the sea breeze as she likes. Now, Madame Ninette, I think you've made yourself look rather ridiculous. Ha, ha ! Nin. (a^side. to Paulina ) I've done it! (Drum heard mthoilt, h, ff t ) What's that P Lab. You ought to know. It's to call the soldiers into barracks, and post the sentries for the night. Paw, (Wd^) Ha! (a number g^ Soldie rs cross th e Stage s'from r,. /n r, — 5 pme on the other side of th e jrnn raiLings, and go off. 3 e. r. h. — t hen Pierre Delaroche comes iiij^ u.E L. l ooking pale and naggar d, and in the uniform of qZ - Z renadieroftlie republican arm y.) Lab. (at l. H. r.) Now then — come along! (Hauline^ follows, and finds herself fa ce to face with Pierre . ) sPau. [ W ith a slight screa m ] Merciful heaven I [ Gazing^ •i ntently 0/1 Pierre's , for*-] Pierre, (a stonished. } What' 3 the young woman staring at ? (Crosses to R. h.) ~au. ( Watching him— aside A 'lis he— my father! "about to rusk after him.) Lab, [Impatiently ) Now then, are you coming", or not ? ~au. Yes, yes! ( aside?} 'Tis he— 'tis he! (EqJJjmS- _abarre T keeping her eyes fixed on Pierre — h e turns and loo faL— at her. W h&n Pauline has zone out y Pierre *»»»»* n* jf - striuk with a sudden vague feeling, and^s about to folLotg 12 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH. Pauline^ but stops T s hakes his ^ud^ as if & ami sting the ~feel*nglhat_had possessed him , and goes slowly out r. h . Canteen *) Nin. { Who has been wa'r.h jn^ Fp n1l ' n " ) Weli, I Dever saw a woman stare at one of the opposhe sex in stich a way as that before ! And he's not a remarkab y fine specimen, either — nor half so handsome as that young volunteer, An- toine Duval ! Before Ziejoined the garrison I only had one sweetheart— that poor little silly good-tempered fellow, Coco — but now, unless I'm very much mistaken, I've got two strings to my bow. ( Loud knockin g of glasses on table heard from Canteen, with cries o f t; Ma 5 amselle Ninette ! l/Vlne 1 wine! wine!") Coming ! coming, directly I Ah, there's no customer like a soldier, after all. Such is the unlimited confidence of his noble nature, that when he calls for wine, and you happen to be out of it, you may safely take him anything else — he swallows it all ! ( Re~ newed cr ies from Canteen .) Coming — coming ! { Runs into Cantee n* Drum h eard . E nter from door 3 e. r. h. the Adjuta nt, ' fbltovoedThv Antoine, Coco r and Soldjers f e quippedJ juL May. Adj, (l. h.) Fall in, my men ! ( Spldiers fall into line^ — the Adj utant looks /fy^n h.n.p.) Keep the line, third man \ ( To Coco .) Coco* ( Saluting the A d jutant.) Beg pardon, Lieutenant —but if you'll be good enough to look a little moreparti- cularly, you'll observe that I labour under eonsiderable difficulty in keeping the line, as you call it, on account of my protuberance, (Lavinsr his hand on his stomach . ) Sorters. Ha! ha ! ha ! Adj. Silence in the rants ! Now, attention ! Coco. Beg pardon, Lieutenant, but Adj. What's the matter now, sir ? Coco. The matter is, Lieutenant, that I wish—humbly, but at the same time energetically — to protest against my being invariably placed between two of the tallest men in the regiment — because, you see, not being naturally en- dowed with particularly Herculean proportions, it makes me look more insignificant, if possible, than 1 really am ! Adj. Silence, sir ! Coco. Well, but Lieutenant Jldj. Silence ! ( Sfampi nsr his foot anzrilv ~Cs)w x ynuch alarmed, lets the butt end of his musket Jail on his foo t.) Once more, attention — while"! 'appoint the different watches for the night. (Coco sneezes very loud) Silence! ( Opens THE MIDNIGHT WATCH. 13 po per and ff.nds.\ Number one — the ten o'clock watch on the Western rampart — Philippe Dupont ! Soldier. Here ! Coco, (aside, ) If I can only contrive to get the midnight watch, I shaTTbe able to have a little agreeable chat with Mademoiselle Ninette, out of her garret window ! Adj. Number two — eleven o'clock, Jacquot Coco ! ( ICoco does not o,nswer, ) Three hoars extra drill to-morrow for Jacquot Coco, for being absent. Coco. ( V A ery guicfyv . ) I'm not absent — that is, physically —mentally, perhaps I was slightly so. Jldj, Indeed! Ihen twelve hours solitary confinement for the same individual, for not answering when called. Coco, But I did answer ! t said 4 here !' I distinctly said * here !' I appeal to my friend, here — didn't you hear my • here V (Di gging the Soldier on his right handin__ the side .) Adj. Number three — the midnight watch Ant, ( Taking a sten or two forward, and saluting. } If it's allowable, Lieutenant, I've taken a iort of fancy to the midnight watch myself. Coco. Oh, I dare say, too ! Jldj. ( Xo Antoine .) No observations, youBg man. Coco. Decidedly not ! Ant. It is but a trifling favour, Lieutenant, after all — and— — Adj. Silence, sir ! Coco. Silence, sir ! (A n tome returns to the rank .} Adj. Number three— the midnight watch on the Eastern rampart— Pierre Delaroche .' ( J^n qnpwerA Where is Pierre ? Coco. Absent without leave ! So put him down for a slight quantity of extra drill, and a trifle of solitary con- finement. Ant* No, Lieutenant — Pierre has just stepped up to the Commandant, with the surgeon's report of the invalids. Adj. 'lis well. Numbers four and five — one and two o'clock— Jerome and Laval ! Tioo Soldiers. Here ! Adj. Number six — three o'clock — Antoine Duval ! Ant* ( a&itlp.A Three o'clock ! 'twill be too late ! Adj. And now, my men, be more than usually vigilant. Remember we have Royalist prisoners here— and Citizen 1 Barras, who arrives to-night, will not thank us if w r e let one of his victims escape. Remember ! ( E xit R.u.— the Soldiers saluting him . The Soldiers pile_ their arms u.b» r. h.) 14 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH, 1st. Sold. (R. To Antoine.) Why how now, Master Volunteer — you seem quite cut up about this midnight watch. Ant. (c.) It's very foolish of me — but I confess 1 am annoyed. I wished to have it — particularly. Coco, (l.) So did I, if you come to that ! I'd ha?e given all I have in the world for k — to be sure that isn't much — but a man can only give what he's got, and|I fi don't happen to have anything! But never mind, young man — bear it like a philosopher — like me! Ant. Pshaw— fool ! Coco. Fool ? Did you apply that observation to me, sir? Jint. Yes — to you, or any man, under the circumstances. Coco. Oh ! if you'd say it to any man — of course it can't be personal ! Soldiers. Here's Pierre ! Enter Pierre Delaroche t r. h. Well, Pierre ? (The Soldiers crowd round him — shaking handsivith him,) Caco It does a man's heart good to feel his hand in the grasp of a hero ( Giving his hand to Pierr e.) Pierre, (L. c) Thanks, comrades ! ( Squeezes Coco 's hand T who writhes under the operation. ) Brave news from Holland, my lads I The .Republic has gamed another victory • Soldiers, Huzza — long live the Republic ! Pierre. And to think that I wasn't in the thick of it. It's the first bit of ill luck I'vehad. Coco. fd£i&.] He calls it ill luck— when it must be obvious to the meanest capacity that it's quite the reverse, [fl/owd.] And do you really mean seriously to affirm that >ou wish you had been in the thick of it, as you call it ? Pierre, Of couise I do. What an absurd idea ! Coco, Well, it certainly is— absurd to a degree. You don't seem to be aware that if you had been there, your head might have been blown off to a very considerable distance from your body. Pierre. Ha, ha — that's a trifle to us old soldiers, I've had my head blown offa dozen times 1 Coco. Oh, go along! Once or twice you may — but a dozen times — lor! Pierre. But, comrades, this isn't the only news I've got. Citizen Barras is expected in Marseilles to night, and— jVn a loin px tone. "\ — they're putting up the guillotine in the market place now, that everything may be ready for him tc begin his precious work to-morrow morning. TH^ MIDNIGHT WATCH. 15 Ant. Of course you'll lend him a willing hand, Pierre Delaroche — we all know your love for the proscribed and fallen nobility of France. ( With ill concealed ffltter nfiSS -) Pierre. ( Furiously . ) I hate them ! Coco, isst^\dincr near him— skips hastily away.)- Good gracious ! And what cause can you possibly have ? Pierre. What cause ? True. Ha, ha, ha ! (L^u^hjn^ bitterly. ) Coco, {aside ) If that's meant for a laugh, it decidedly is not the real thing. Pierre. But let this pass. However, let me tell you, young man— ( Tn Antojne .1 — that Pierre Delaroche is a soldier, but no butcher. Killing one's enemy on the field of battle is agreeable enough Coco, ( aside.) I should think it must be— especially for the enemy. Pierre J (c.) But murder in cold blood Ant. ( anriivi^sly . r. c.) Andyet,ifyou were to discover one of our prisoners, man or woman, attempting to es- cape Pterre. I'd send a brace of bullets through that prisoner's body, man or woman — wouldn't you ? ( Tn Antoine .) Ant. Why — yes — of course. Coco. So would I, if I could only aim straight enouph, which I think is slightly doubtful. I remember once shoot- ing forty-seven times, one after the other, at a barn door, ten paces off, and I never hit it once. Pierre* But tell me — I met the adjutant jnst now — I sup pose, as usual, Pve the luck to be on duty to-night ? Ant. Yes, Pierre — yours is number three. Pierre. Number three ? Let me see. That must be the midnight watch. Dreary work enough ! ( Shrugging his st holders.) Ant. Especially for an invalid, like you. The health of a brave veteran ought to be more cared for. Coco. Decidedly it ought. ( To Pierre. ) How are you off for flannel ? Ant. I'll tell you what, Pierre— a thought strikes me, I'm young and hearty — suppose we make an exchange ? My watch is not till three o'clock, and you can have your nap in comfort before that. Coco. (. Easterly to Pipit p^ Don't think of it, my brave Pierre — my gallant Pierre ! And you, young man — ( To ftntoine.i — would you have the heart to turn out this dila- pidated veteran at three o clock in the morning? the in- hospitable hour of three ? Fie ! fie ! Where's your love eleven — the sweet tranquil hour of eleven, with the sun and moon rising in all their glory, and before the cats cc out. Pierre. Ha, ha, ha ! 'Pon my word, you're both vastly considerate. But come, come, young gentlemen, you can't deceive an old soldier like me, so out with the truth at once. Ant. I will — and this is it. You see, Pierre — ( Assuming a modest manner . ) — the head jailor here — Labarre, I think they call him — has got a niece, and that niece is very pretty Coco. Pretty 1 Lovely ! Oh, such long flowing auburn eyes — such beautiful soft blue hair ! Wo, 1 mean Pierre. Pshaw ! One at a time. Jlnt. Well, although I've only joined the garrison three or four days, I've already taken a fancy to the girl, and I think she's somewhat partial to me. Coco. No such thing! You're flattering yourself to an extent that's quite lamentable. No, Pierre — Mademoiselle Ninette has distinguished me, I haven't looked at her in this way for nothing. ( Winking .) I appeal to you, Pierre. Do you think I could look at any woman in this wav for nothing ? [ Winkinsr at Pierre . 1 Ant. Pshaw ! In a word, she has promised to let me speak to her at midnight. Coco. [ Faints on Pierre's shoulder .] "Where — where f Ant. At her chamber window, which, as you know, over- looks the Eastern rampart, and I don't see^f La ying his hand n^ Pierre's shoulder .] — that a man need prove the worse soldier for .wiling away a dull hour's duty by a little harmless chat with a pretty girl, eh, Pierre ? Pierre. Not he — or I should have been drummed out cf every regiment I ever was in, I always adored the sex. Coco. I'll be bound you did ! [ Poking Pierre in th e side. I ^Pierre. Yes, and the sex adored me. Ha, ha! Coco. Of course they did. No — that is — ^[ Logking- in Pierrp^ far.p . | But I dare say you've considerably altered for the worse, Pierre. And as I was a lover once my p elf, why I won't stand in the way of your billing and cooing, so give me your hand. [Shaking? Antoine's hand .] It's a bargain — the midnight watch is yours. Ant. Thanks — a thousand thanks ! [To_Cooo.] You see THE MIDNIGHT WATCH^ 17 comrade, I've got theluck of it — but, never mind — u bear it like a philosopher" — ha. ha ! Cooo. Psha ! fool 1 \ V t ery q uickly, ) It isn't personal — I'd >ay it to any man, under the circumstances ! Kilter Corporal, and three Soldiers, 3 E. r.H, Corporal, Number one ! 1st. Sold. Here ! f Takes his musket, and exit with Cor- poral and Soldiers, u. e"7l. h» Then they are seen to re- enter on the other side of 1 the, iron railings, and the ceremony of pLacin^The (ruard is prone through* The Sentinel begins his march backwards ana forwards, remaining some time out of sipht of the audience at each turn.] Pierre. Now then, comrades, suppose we pay our respects to the canteen ? ( 2]o_Antoine ) When the midnight watch is called, all you haveto clo is to take your musket and follow the Corporal — he'll be none the wiser. But, remember — don't let your love making prevent your keeping your eye on the prison yonder. Ant. Let me alone for that. Besides, 1 hear there are not many prisoners, and I'm a match for a score of Royalist nobles at anytime. Pierre. Yes — but there's a woman among them. Ant. ( With affected surprise.) Indeed ! Pierre.' Yes, the Countess. The Countess de Merville, I thinkthey call her, 1 saw her just now — looking so ill, and woe-begone, poor thing ! Labarre telis me she's here for having aided the escape of a condemned noble. Well, if people choose to play at such a game as that, they must take the consequences. Ant. True — true! And now I'll go and drain a bumper to the health of the pretty Ninette. Come, comrades ! [ Exit into Canteen r. h. T he Soldiers follow with their muskets, except Coco.) Coco. ( Tapping Pierre on the shoulder. \ I say, Pierre — my dear Pierre— touching this midnight watch — if— I say, t/you should alter your mind in my favour — why — I don't mind — as far as five francs go Pierre. ( Furiously .) What— offer money to a soldier ! Coco. Don't put yourself in*"<* Xsoea THE MIDNIGHT WATCH. 39 au. Oh, speak not thup ! ierre. Ha, ha! Listen, and then say how I should speak otherwise, I left her a child — it cost me many a bitter pang to part from her — but my regiment was ordered abroad, and I went with it. Well, citizen, after nearly ten years absence, I returned to France, and found that she whom I had left an innocent child, had become — the words choke me — my daughter was lost to me ! au. No ! ierre. Yes. She had fled with a villain — yes, a vil- ! For what man can be more fitly branded with that name, than he who tempts a woman to her ruin ? He was a noble, too ! Oh, that I knew his name, that I might hunt him through the world ! May the undying curses of a father \iu. Hush— in mercy ! It was of her I wished to speak. Pierre, Of her ? my child ? Pauline? You knew her, then ? ( Eagerly i and advan cing t.n pyiino * ~ au. Hash ! (Po ints aside to the Sentinel ? tg/to is seen to c ross at ba ck ) Pierre, True — ah ! ( Taking ou t his jtipe, and small tin- der box, and beginning to sirike a light .} He won't notice me, so. Now — (I n a hw, hurrip.d vnicr.A — tell me — whatof — you kttow who i mean— not that I care to know — but — speak, woman ! Don't you see I'm almost mad with im- patience ? ^Pau, Your child has, indeed, merited your anger. s Pierre, She'has — she has — and that's why I never wish to hear of her again — never ! Yet, if you will talk of her, of course I can't prevent you — I needn't listen, you know. Perhaps, if I asked you, you could tell me where she is — not that it matters to me. Why should it ? She has long since forgotten me ! ^Pau,. Forgotten you ? Oh, no ! I have seen her weep ^^at the mention of your name, as if her heart would break ! Pierre, Have you ? au. And, oh, how often — how earnestly have I heard her pray for your forgiveness. Pierre, Has she? You're quite sure? ( He. is about to approach Pauline — the Sentinel passes again — he again b£gins striking a light with g r eat violence — asicL d My for- giveness ! ( W ipes a tear awa y. ,1 sPau, Ah — a tear ? Pierre, Was it? Perhaps it might have been a little one — a very little one. But, mind — don't let her know you have seen me weep f 20 THE MfHNLGHT WATCH. ^Pau. You forget I am a prisoner. Pierre. So I do. What a s Ifish old brute I am, to be sure ! Not that my pity will do you much good — for I do pity you, though you are—a noble ! like him who tempted my poor child to barter her father's love for that of a se- ducer I ^Pau. A seducer! No — on my soul, no! He washer husband. Pierre. Her husband ! ^Pau. Yes. 'Tis true she fled — forsook the roof that for ten years had been her home — but the same day that wit- nessed her flight, beheld Pauline Dubois the wedded wife of the Count de Merville ! ( Pierre lifts his "(os np^ards t ggg rssstve of his jov and gratitude . ) But, alas, her happi- ness was short lived — her husband was arrested, and con- demned to die. Pierre. Well s&axi. Your daughter enabled him to escape Pierre % Bravely done — bravely done i ^yPau. But remained a prisoner in his stead ! Pierre, My child — Pauline — in prison ! where t where l . aw. Here ! Pierre. Here! I must see her— I will see her! Lead me to my child — quick, quick ! ^^PrtM, ( With a convulsive shriek .} Father ! Pierre. ( Staggers back, then* with a burst ft/ ffnftfi'gfi > Pauline! Ctje is about to pish to her , when the fffmtrnel again crosses . P ierre stops. ) My child, my pure, my in- nocent child, restored tome ! Standing there before me, almost within my touch, and I cannot, dare not fold her to my heart, and bless her * tew. Bless me P Then 1 can die happy ! Pierre. Die P you ? *au. Yes, father ; they will not spare the wife of a m- le. Pierre. But they shall— ( A deep bell is here henrJ [i\ fnll q uickly, in the distance, and confuse d sounds, min.^I.pd with a cclamations^ are Heard .) aw. Hark! (Pi erre rushes to the back^ and lonkf i\ (f rly at L. H. Noi se increases, and shouts of " Lo n^ 3 Citizen Barras T" tfc Jjown with th e Royalists ! ,? , y Ci Death to fehe traitors !" accompanied by the Revolutiona ri air ** Caira /") F ather, w hat mean tnose snouts? Pierre. ( Turning— pale with alarm and agitati on.) No- thiug, Pauline — nothing, ( aside ) Barras has arrived, and the wolves are already howling for their prey. There's not sn^u THE ftllDNrGHT WATCH. 21 a moment to be lost ! ( Rushing down .) Pauline, my child, you must be saved — but how, how ? au. Father, there is hope forme [ Looking around er x and speaking in a low ton e.) Pierre. Ha ! au. An unknown friend — doubtless sent by my hus- Bnd, who is now in England — will make an attempt to rescue me this very night ! PUrre. Heaven bless him au. But, in order to enable him to accomplish this with certainty, the Sentinel on duty at that hour must be gainod. Pierre. 'Tis impossible. Yet, stay — what is the hour ? au. Twelve ! Pierre. The midnight watch ! *Tis mine —mine ! Pau- line, my child, is saved — saved ! Ha, ha, ha ! ( Laughing — he suddenly slops. Jiside.) Ah, what have I done ? I've consigned it to another. But he shall give it back to me. He shall, if I have his life ! Labarre, ( Without, l.h. d .) Now, Citizen Pauline, your time's up, ^^Paw. You hear, father ! Pierre. I do. One moment ( Taking a rapid and_ a nxious look around ) Nov, Pauline, quick — here to my heart ! ( Pauline rush?.? to his arm *- He fervently embraces her again and again ) Now, go ; be of good cheer. Mid- night will soon be here. I will not fail you. I'll be punc- tual, and you shall escape. Farewell ! Stay — when you are saved — and you shall be saved — it may be some time before we meet again— — -( E ffected — asia[ e ) She little thinks they'll shoot me, like a dog. Let them ! 1 shall have saved my child ! (a loud. ) I say, it may be long before we meet again, so leave me something — T care not what — that hand- kerchief-drop it on the ground -Pauline drops the handkerchief,) Thanks, my child — now r , farewell ! ( Pauline o ops out L. h. p. Pi erre watches her for some time — then^ picking wo the handkerchi ef, kisses it, and places it in his bosom. S uddenly recover ing himself .) Now then to busi* ness. ( Hurries to door of Canteen t R. H. and calls in a loud voice .) Antoine Daval! Enter Antozne, hastily, r, h. _ (J f at obse rving hi s entrance.) What shall 1 say ? How shall I begin ? 1 m so little used to breaking my word, that I shall be puzzled to know how to set about it ! Ant, (L. Laying his hand on Pierre's shoulder .) Well, Pierre, what now V Pierre, (n.) Eh V (Starting— then recovering himself) 2*2 THE MIDNIGHT WATCH, Why, hark ye, Antoine, When you proposed to me jusfc now to take this midnight watch off my hands, what did I say ? Ant. Why, like a sensible fellow you said yes. Pierre, Did I ? Well, then, I somehow made a bit of a mistake, for I meant to say no. Ant, (St arting. ) Pierre, this is rather too serious an affair to triiie upon. Pierre, The very thing I've been saying to myself ever since. A soldier's duty is too serious an affair to trifle upon with, and so, Antoine, as we both agree upon the mat- ter, why our bargain's at an end—in other words, the mid- night watch is mine again. Ant. ( Aside. ) Distraction ! (aloud. ) Your reason for this strange caprice ? Pierre. A very simple one. I was chosen for the duty, and that duty I will perform. Now what have you to say to that ? Ant. This— that I'll not tamely submit to be made the laughing stock of my comrades. The midnight watch was mine — mine, by your own free gift, and Pierre, Quite true, Antoine — it was yours, but now it's mine — mine. Yon h^ar I Ant, Then you have violated your word. Yes, Pierre Delaroche, you have forfeited all claim to the title of a true soldier and an honest man. I Pierre. Antoine, have a care ! i Graspin°r the handle o f his swj jjjjl ) Ant, i Smiling disdainfully .) Your sword seems somewhat ashamed to come forth — no wonder. It once belonged to a man of honour — it may well blush for its new master, Pierre. Damnation ! Follow me ! ( Rushing out — tu d' denlv stops- As\.dp.) And Pauline — my^ child '! snould I * fall - p No, no — it mustn't be— I must gulp it down. Ant. How, sir— has your courage deserted with your honesty? Pierre. ( Making a violent effort to swallow hi* Ant. (c,) And well I may be. I've been unfairly treated— ill used ! Coco, (l ) Good gracious! Nobody's been thumping you ? Ant. Pshaw ! Pierre Delaroche has broken faith with me. You all heard his promise ? Soldiers. We did ! Coco. Then you're not to have the midnight watch after all? Ant. No— nor you either. He takes the post himself. Coco. Then, at any rate, we shan't be able to laugh at one another. nt. True, But we may yet be able to turn the laugh 24 THE MIDNIGHT A'A TCH upon him, just to teach him to know his own min* a little hetterforthe future. What say you, comrades — have you a blind to help me? Soldiers. Aye, aye ! Ant. Then harkye. f propose to ply our friend Pierre with just as much wine as will enable him to mount guard under the table. Soldiers. Ha, ha ! Capital ! Coco. Delicious ! We'll intoxicate him to a frightful degree ! Ant. That once accomplished, why Coco and I can then draw lots for the midnight watch. Cooo, If it's the same to you, I'd rather toss up— it's more distingue. Ant. As you please, comrade. And now, having settled our plan of the campaign, it's time to look after the enemy. Where's Pierre ? Coco. I'll find him. I'll draw him into the ambuscade. Oh, how we will laugh at him. Ha, ha, ha ! ( Trying to steady himself as he ?oes off into canteen, R n,) Ant. Now, house, there ! Wine— wine ! Soldiers. Wine — wine — wine ! JZnter N inette r fro m Canteen t r. h. Kin. What is it— what is it ? Ant, A dozen of your best wine, a table to set it on, and cups to drink it in. ( Putting his arm round her ^paixt. \ JWn. I'm surprised at you, sir ! — (a side to him .) — before company, (aloud.) Perhaps some one will be gallant enough to assist me. (Soldiers rusk to her.) I don't want the whole ' regiment. Come, Antoine. (A ntoine and another Sol dier foltoxo Ninette, and re-enter with\ table covered with bottles and drinking cuvs .l Cnco. ( Wi thout 7 R^) Xow come along ! [ Enters, "pullin g in Pierre T joho seems unwilling.. ) Pierre' I don't wish to be unsociable, but- Soldiers. Sit dcwn, Pierre! Come f Soldiers seat t firm fie 1 ™ * ] Pierre, [ asia*e. ~\ I needn't drink with them if I do sit down. No, no, Pauline -I'll not be tempted! [aloud.] Well, I don't mind f Sees that he is about to seat himself next to Antoine — moves qioat/, as if going to another $eat.~\ Jiiit. { Kismg % ana Laying his nana on ms arm. i Jriern though we have had a tew words, we needn't be enemies. Pierre. Umph ! Ant. I spoke hastily — I did you wrong, and I ask your pardon, f Holding out his hand*"] Forgive me 1 a a jo. iu :•. lan k »»Aiotl« Z*> f Pierre. With all my heart, Antoine. There! (Putting his hand in that of Antoine.] Coco, i Standing between them y and pressin g their joined hands.] Hless you ! * Ant. Come, Pierre — a cup of wine to our reconciliation. Pierre. [ Irresolutely.] No, no! Ant. Then I shall believe you're angry with me still. Pierre. Well, then, just one. Coco* Perhaps you'll allow me to join you ? Soldiers. All—all! Ant. Yes, yes — bumpers all round ! f Pierre and Antoine drink, ha nd in h ytf — al 1 j ni n »nd hurrah ( ] Now fill again, T^Tvs !''~f c/l tilU Here's " Long life to the Republic!" [ njl drink and /""•»•'>& ] Come, Pierre, Coco Perhaps he didn't hear the sentiment. Permit me to repeat the sentiment, f Fills. '] Here's 4< Long life to the public !" [Drinks.] Hoo-rah ! [ about to fill Pierre ^. glass*] ~~Pierre. [L aying his hand pntheJopL of his glass.] No more. Coco. Excuse me, but — Pierre. [F iercely .] No more! Coco. [Staxling.] Good gracious — don't! You've made me feel quite faint. [ Fills and drinks asain. } Pierre. Hark ye, comrades. If I drink with you it must be in liquor of my own choosing. Soldiers. Certainly — certainly ! Pierre. Then, Mademoiselle Ninette, a jug of cold water. '■[ Exit Ninette. Coco. And draw it as strong as you can. [ Aside to. Antoine,] What's the use of your letting him drink cold water? He may drain the pump dry — it'll never get into his head. Ant. [a$£de.] Leave thatto me. [ He. rises: aft d west* NrnpHf , wh.n re enters with a, juff of iqater . As Ant pinp pas sejs Ae hind the table, he hastily takes a small phial, or paper, from his pockety f^A pours it into the jug % whic7i'yt\usi_ ~oe distinc tly visible tn th e audience.] Th"e*fi?, comrade. [ P*rtftittffjiitry a health, who curtseys repeatedly to them^ all.) Coco. ( Standing up, and holding on by the table . ) Suppose we have a song ? M. Aye — aye — aye ! Coco. (JJa wing roun d. } I'm sure I feel flattered beyond measure. Ahem 1 (Runs partly up the gamut.) "Oh, lovely Isabella!" I beg pardon— I mean, Ninet-ta. I forget the rest. (Sitting down again.) Ml. Ha, ha, ha! Pierre, (a little afected by the drugged water .) Ha, ha ! Moisten your throat, my lad ! Come, push the bottle about! Ha, ha ' More water \ (Drinking ) Ant. (aside .) So, so — it begins to take effect, (aloud.) Mademoiselle Ninette, will you sing us our old favourite ? Nin. With all my heart! sons.- f Introduce^ 1 " Rataplan plan." Win. ( after song. ) Now, gentlemen, it's getting very late, so I wish you air a very good night, (Ex^JUUM. Pierre. ( Who has shown increased signs of drowsine *^ ' C starts. ) G-ettingvery late ? 'l'rue, true-— it mnst~be — it not midnight yet —no, no ! Come, Pierre, rouse thy sel f. Why, how now — what's the matter with me ? ( Puttin g h_is^ hand to his hea d.) My head swims, and I feel so drowsy. ( 4,Ptoine points to him, and rises softly from the table— th e S oTnTers ao tne same,) l^shaw T it only requires an effort. ( Rises— then sinks down in his chair again. ) Here, here — ( Holding ottt his cup .) — some water. \ Urops the cwp on the ground. '] I m better now. I thought the— water— woul nf voices — «_ CTfw> f tiTi JkMtftf i) Ha! (Sta ggers back against the table . ( ( nur1 ^xif^ n f u Follow — follow f. 1 fyc . heard.) T^RARftE hastily rushes nn^ l. H. a s if aboV fn * yn ?ff t h *- S cene at baek . Stay, Labarre— how loners it to midnight ? Lab. Pshaw! midnight has long since past, Pierre. Past! No, no —impossible ! And yet— tell me what has happened — that shot Lab. Was fired at a female prisoner, who attempted to escape. Pierre. ( With a scream of asromi .) My child— they've killed my child! No, not they — 'tis I— I have murdered her ! ( Falls on the benc h.) The Adjutant comes on . followe d by Soldiers^ in haste and c onfuston. r . a. Adj. Ricg the alarm bell j Follow, one and all— she cannot escape us. Antoine swears his bullet struck her. Pie*re. Struck her P Who ? Adj. The Countess de Merville! Come, quick — quick! ( Runs out, followed by the Soldiers^u. E._L. H. Antoine^ rt j th$ same fffnr»« n t enters from opposite side — pah, snd hjs m dress in disorder^) 28 THE MIDNTGHT "WATCH. Pierre. ( Seeing Antoine. rushes to hirrij seizes him bu the f hroat. and drafs him forward . J Villain; traitor 1 mur- derer ! > Ant. Murderer ? Pierre. Aye— but I'll have blood for blood ! ( Seizins: his musk et A You have murdered ray child ! " Jlnt. tour child ? The Countess de Merville Pierre. Aye, Pauline Dubois — she was my daughter. Ant. ( Lgyinor his hand on Pierre's arm s ) Hush— (In a loud whisper .)— she was my \ufe ! Pierre* Your wife ? Then you are Ant % The Count de Merville ! ( Pierre droys the ttw s- SflC) " Pierre. (Eagerly.) But that shot — that shot 4nl. Did not harm her, my good Dubois. It was the signal agreed upon to inform my friends without that she had left this place of horrors. A ship is now riding in the bay, ready to bear her away to England. One gun from the vessel will announce that my Signal has been understood — a second, that the ship's boat is making her way to the shore — the third, that she is saved. (-/* iji slant sun is heard,) Pierre fy Ant. ( Grasvinz each other's hands. x One I (Af- t er a short pause a second is fired ,) 'Pierre* Saved — saved ! AnL Not yet. The third— the third Pierre. (In a loud whisper.) True — true ( A pause y in ivhieh their anxiety is manifest .} We must be patient — I'm patient! Keep still, old heart I (Bea ting his breas t. ) I can hear nothing for your beating against my ribs. They must have reached the shore — we shall soon hear the (Listening—a long pause i Oh, God— this is agony I Ant. Hu?h ! what noise is that ? ( Qistant n \nym^ing ol -voices and shouting hear d % g radually increasing. Antoine goes to back, and looks off .) Merciful heaven! Pierre. Speak — no, don't — I've no strength to hear it ! (Sinks on the be nch, with his head on the tabl e.) Ant, Lost ! lost 1 The bloodhounds are firing into the boat! Hark! [ Mnskqf, shots heard 1 She sinks — and Pau- line with it! No, no — she gains the shore, and flies! Cowards— devils — forbear — they'll kill her ! Pifrre. [ Starting su ddenly.'] Kijl her ! and I her e ? [Sei^ zi ng up the musket, and is rushing off y stru?glin» with A n- toine, who detains him. The cries without redoublein l oudness and ferocity . ^ A piercing scream is heard. an