vf () = 1 ~ 30 ^^^^^ r-n 3 1 = o / = ■■■ i — 5 m s— » 55 ■ II 5 m = j> Z^= JO * -< "7 — i -^ / — 1 = — 1 1 / — S3s Simpson GV-. 1 ia.& 5-N2T* ■ i / 9^ } SCRAP °^ PAPER; ADVENTURES OF A Lb IfTER. % $omtt J9tama, 2 77 V tf IN THREE ACTS. BY J. PALGRAVE SIMPSON. Author of " Time and the Hour," etc., etc. IS FIRST PERFORMED AT THE ST. JAMES' THEATRE, LONDON, APRIL 22. 1861. TO WHICH ARE ADDED I INSCRIPTION OF THE COSTUMES— CAST OF THE CHAKACTERS — E» TRANCES AND EXITS — RELATIVE POSITIONS OF THE PERFORMERS ON THE STAGE, AND THE WHOLE OF THE STAGE BUSINESS. CHICAGO: THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY. A SCRAP OF PAPER. CAST OF CHARACTERS. si. James's Theatre, London, April -a, 1861. Prosper < 'ouramonl Mr. A. Wtgan. Baron de la Glaciere Mr. Emeky. Brisemouche (Landed Proprietor and Naturalist) Mr. G. Belmore. Anatole (his Ward) Mr. Ashley. Baptiste [Servant > Mr. Terry'. Francois (Servant of Prosper. 1 Mr. Lever. Louise de la (ilaciere Miss Herbert. Mad lie. Suzanne de Ruseville (her Cousin) Mrs. A. Wig an Mathilde (Sister to Louise) Miss N. MiiiiRE Mademoiselle Zenobie Sister to Brisemouche) Miss Rainfortij. Madame Dupont (Housekeeper) Mrs. Manders. Pauline (Maid) Miss Oesten. TIME IN REPRESENTATION -ONE HOUR AND THIRTY MINUTES. si'KXKRY. ACT I., Scene. — Drawing Room in a French Country House. Windows to the ground, in back, looking out on gardens and park ; between the windows a fire- place surmounted by a looking-glass; on either side of the glass a bracket, within reach of the hand, the one n.. supporting a statuette of "Flora." the other L., empty ; door, r. 2 b. ; door. L. 2 E. ; old-fashioned furniture, rich, but a little worn ; sofa on either side ; in centre, a round table, with a lamp, an embroidery frame, a book, and other objects, scattered upon it in disorder ; chairs ; the window, r., is open upon the garden ; the window, Li, is at first closed in with barred Venetian shutters. ACT II., Scene. — Room assigned to Prosper in the house of Brisemotche. c . door in flat ; R. 3 e., a window ; a bedchamber door, r 2 E., rendered almost invisible by being covered with the same paper as the rest of the room, and adorned by a large picture ; n. 1 e , a fireplace and wood fire ; l. 3 e., an Egyptian mummy case and other curiosities ; l, 2 e., a high glazed case, full of natural cariosities; l. i e, a door; on all sides, maps, exotic plants, stuffed animals, Eastern weapons and ornaments, pipes, porcelain vases, traveller's tent, etc., etc. ; Indian grass mats, and skins of wild beasts on the floor ; r. c, a large table with casket, books, an album, an inkstand, a great tobacco jar, letters, visting cards etc. ; another table, covered with curiosities, l. c, ; arm-chairs, rocking-chairs, stools, etc ACT III, Scene— A Conservatory attached to the Chateau, l c, several spreading exotic plants, advancing in a clump on the stage ; l. 2 e.. door lead'ng lo interior ; same side, table and easy chairs ; behind, the glazed portior. J. „ne onservatory, lined with climbing plants ; c, the entrance door upon the park; i;., tuba of plants, with a bench, etc ; n. 2 e., the dining-room door ; the scene ia lighted A-ith standing lamps and hangjnt Clunepe lanterns %<\ 5 A SCRAP OF PAPER. O /-\ 3 COSTUMES. "Prosper Couramont -First Dress: White summer suit, white trousers. Second Dress : A modern gentleman's suit Baron de la Glaciere — First Dress: A French cap. Knickerbocker breeches, gaiters, anil a shooting coat. Second Dress ; An evening dinner dress. Anatole —Straw hat, light trousers, and a velvet coat. Baptiste —French servant's livery. J Francois.— Groom's livery coat, white breeches, and top boots. Louise de la Glaciere.— First Dress: An elegant morning dress. Second Dress; An evening dress. Madlle Suzanne de Ruseville.— First Dress: Silk morning dress, scarf, aud bonnet. Second Dress ; Handsome evening dress. Mathilde.— First Dress: Riding habit. Second Dress: White muslin evening dress. Mademoiselle Zenobie.— First Dress: Modern Spanish hat and feather, dress looped up over petticoat, and Balmoral boots Second Dress ; White muslin and mauve sash. Madame Dupont —French cap, French country costume. Pauline.— Servant's dress PROPERTIES. Statuette of Flora— hollow : lamp ; embroidery frame ; book ; cigarette for Prosper ; two Malay dagger* ; footstool ; string of shells ; case of butterflies ; letter-weight ; tobacco jar. containing several pieces of paper, with writing on each ; handsome India shawl ; basket with fruit, and tray to empty it on ; bit of icrewed-up paper for muzzle of gun ; coffee for servants to band around. [»S'ee Scenery for full list of curiosities, etc SYNOPSIS. Prosper Couramont, a young gentleman, probable heir to a rich landed pro prietor, Brisemouche, has just returned to the latter's chateau after an absence of three years. During this time he had made the tour of the world. At the moment of his return, he finds that Louise, a young lady whom he had fervently admired, had been for some years the wife of the Baron de la Glaciere, living in the neighborhood of Brisemouche's chateau. The uncle and nephew are invited to the mansion of the Baiion. Prosper not only recognizes it as the old home of Louise, but is surprised to find the principal sitting-room in precisely the same arrangement of furniture as when he was last there— the favorite suitor of Louise. He even observes that the statuette of Flora still stands on its bracket, and that its companion statuette, accidentally broken about that time, has never been replaced. While he is lost in wonder, Louise enters. He refers to past times, and seeks to reawaken the old flame in the breast of the beautiful lady. But she at once checks his ardor— telling him that she is married to a man whom she respects and loves. Prosper then accuses her of inconstancy— in having led him to suppose that she loved him, and then, without a word of explanation, breaking off all communica- tion with him. She replies that after they last parted, she placed a note for him, as usual, in the statuette of Flora. To which note he had never replied ; and she, taking offence at this slight, and hearing soon after that he, Prom-ir, had left f*r 4 A SCUM' OF PAPER. a tour of tho v. oihl, acted on the advice of her relatives, and became the wife ol Baron ii . ; \ i.i u :i i;i :unl was well satisfied wit d the match. It was now Prosper' s tin n to explain. lie said that upon leai ing her presence on t he evening referred ii>. lie found two gentlemen on tin- lawn gazing up at her window. De- manding their business, he received impudent replies, and the result was two duels, in the last of which he was so severely wounded, that he kept bis room for months. The cause of the duel rendered it necessary to keep it a profound secret. Consequently the lady had never heard of it. As Prosper thus invalided, could not call at Louise's house the note was probably still in the Flora, where it had in in placed three years ago. The thought at once struck the two whilom lovers, ami they made a rush for the Flora. Louise to destroy the gushing proof of her girlish love, Prosper to use it to favor ids suit with a young lady for whom he had conceived an attachment. From this moment, the main interest of the play attaches itself to the various attempts made by Louise, Pbospek, and Suzanne, a cousin of Louise's, to gain possession of this scrap of paper. After many times finding his efforts baiTled. I'r.osrKit at last Lit s possession of it. and as he thinks, successfully hides it. indeed, so certain is he that Suzanne 'cannot find it. that he tells her it is in one of two rooms in which his curiosities the spoil-- of his travel- are kept. St zanni: not only tells him that she will find it. hut VOWS that he shall burn it When Louise is informed by Suzanne where the scrap of paper is hid. she joins in the hunt. Unfortunately the Baron come- to the locked door. Louise, terrified at the thought of being found in Pbosper's apartment, hides, and Suzanne at last allows the Baron to enter. The latter has begun to grow jealous of PROSPER, owing to certain suspicious acts which he had observed in relation to the scrap of paper, and St/.anne, to screen Louise, hints to the Baron that Prosper is her lover, but that he has not treated her properly. The Baron takes tire at this — will not listen to reason -and vows that he will make PROSPER marry her. This adds another tangle to the already tangled skein. Mixed up with this principal plot, is an amusing underplot, in which an old maid, Zenobie, tries to get young Anatole for a husband. The strange fortune- of the scrap of paper keep everything lively until at last Prosper actually burns it. Hut not before through its instrumentality the flame of love lias touched his heart, and he becomes engaged to Suzanne, to whose ingenuity and good offices it is owing that great mischief was not caused by the simple scrap of paper. STAGE DIRECTIONS. R means Right of Stage, facing the Audience ; i,, Loft ; Ci centre : K. c. Right oM vinte ; L. C. Left of Centre, I). !•'. Door in the flat, or Scene running across the back of the Stage; < '. I). ]•'. Centre Door in t he Flat ; R. D. F. Right Door in the l'lal : L. D. I'. Left Door in the Flat ; R, D. Righl Door; 1.. D. Left Door; 1 E. First Entrance; 2 E. Sec I Entrance; U. 10. Upper Entrance; l.M or 3 G. first. Second or Third Groove. R. R. C. C I.. <\ L. JW" The reader is supposed to be upon the Stage, facing the Audience. / A SCRAP OF PAPER. ACT I. SCENE. — Drawing-Room in a Fre/ich Country House. Baptiste is dusting the cushions of the sofa. l. — Pauline, r., is rubbing the legs of an old ai m-chair. Paul, {turning round the chair with disdain). Only just look at it ! Did you ever see such old-fashioned rubbish ? But, what can you expect in the country 1 Baptiste A pretty idea, indeed, of master to come down for his shooting to this out-of-the-way old house, when I had made up my mind to take him to Baden-Baden for my lumbago, (opens window shutter.) Paul, (giving up work). I've enough of it for one — here we have been at it, in this dust, ever since five in the morning. Bap. (reclining) Yes ; and after a whole day's railway shaking. (seated ) Paul, (throwing herself into an arm chair} Second class, too ! that's how poor servants are treated ! ■ Enter Madame Dupont, l. d. Madame Dupont. Well, I'm sure ! is that the way you dust the furniture? Bat Xo, old lady, this is the way we rest ourselves. Paul. To whom have I the honor of speaking? Mad. D. You have the honor of (crosses t<> c) addressing yourself, young woman, to Madame Dupont, housekeeper of the chateau. Bap. (l. )'. Then 1 cant compliment you on your housekeeping, old lady. I should say this room has never seen besom or broom on it for the last two years. Mad. D. You are out there, my master — for it's "three ! Paul [ Q au 9 u ^ n 9)- Three years'? Mad. D. (a). Yes, three years ! The room has never been opened since my poor old mistress, Madame de Merival, left for Paris, to take her daughter, my present mistress to be married to the Baron de la Glaciere. She gave orders that this room was to be shut up until she came back. She never did come back, poor soul ! for she died shortly after ma'amselle's marriage — three years ago. How- ever, I always obey orders ; and not a tiling was touched till my lady's sudden arrival last night, when she ordered all the house to be ready to receive company to-day— and now to work. fi A SCRAP OF TAPER. [ACT I. Paul. We'll booh finish it off, (she begins /" dust tlie statuette • ■I' /■''■'in. ) Mad. 1> What ore you about? von mustti i touch thai image. I' x i i Hut ... •■ creature s so covered withdusl thai she's positively aol decei ' Mad. I>. No matter ; nobody's allowed to touch Flora, since the dreadful misfortune that happened to Zephyr, her sweetheart, who stood opposite, (points to tlu other bl^'ket) lie was smashed to hits, poor little innocent. And, after that, nobody but Mademoiselle Louise was ever a. 'owed, in my old lady's time, to dust the Flora. '" 'i.. Very well, then, there's nothing more to do here. 1 shall go . i. have my cup of chocolate. BAP. And [cT0S8es t<> R.) I to see after my medicated hath. Paul. Ami I, to my Parisian correspondence, (irit/i irony, and a mock curtsey) My humble respects, Madame Dupont. Bap. {likewise). Housekeeper of the chateau. [Exeunt Servants, r. d., laughing. Mad. D. (dusting and arranging). Ugh! whataset! '• My choc- olate ;" "my medicated hath;" "my Parisian correspondence." A pretty pass servants are come to ! Anatole has enU red stealthily, by irinilmr during this, r. c. Anatole (r., mysteriously). Madame Dupont ! Mad D. II..). Bless me, if it isn't Master Anatole ! and here at the chateau. Anat. (OS before). Has she come down yet'.' Mad. D. What, my Lady? Anat. Oh, no ! Mademoiselle Mathilde. Mad. D. And pray where did you make acquaintance with Made- moiselle Mathilde? She has never been at the chateau since she was a little girl — so high. Anat. Oh, at Paris — where 1 went with my guardian. Monsieur Brisemouche — you know. Mad. I). Yes — our neighbor, who lives in the villa at the end of the avenue. Why here she is — just coming in from her ride. Enter Mathii.dk. r. c, in a riding habit, by window. Mathilde (r., saluting). Health and greeting to Monsieur Ana- tole ' Anat. (c„ turning, startled). Oh, Mademoiselle Mathilde! You are up, then V Math. Up, yes — up in my saddle, two hours ago (gives Madame I). Iter hut inn/ ir/iip.) | Exit Madame D., k - Anat. (eagerly), oh. Mademoiselle ' Math, (mimicking), oh, Monsieur Anatole ! Anat, I — I — breaking down) I hope you have been quite well since last I had the pleasure of seeing vou. Math, (as before). I — I — have been pretty well, I thank you. ANAT. Then — you are making fun of me again as you used to do R1 Paris. Math. Utterly incapable of it, 1 assure you. Well — what have you been doing these last two months? Anat. Doing? Oh — nothing. Math. That's not much Anat. Only scribbling a few poetical effusions. ACT I.] A SCRAP OF PAPER, f Math. Oh, show them to me. I Anat. 1 dare not. Math. Dare not? Anat. No ; they contain things I don't wish to tell you. Math. You shan't tell them me — I'll read them. Anat. Oh. no ; you might be angry, and I couldn't bear that ; and so I'd better — [takes up his hot) that is to say — oh — nothing ! Math. Well, if you've nothing to say, I'd better go. Anat. But I have a thousand things to say. Math. A thousand ! that's nine hundred and ninety-nine too many. Don't you think you had better take a turn in the park, just to pick and choose ; and then, when you come back, you can say something like this : " Mademoiselle Mathilde — I am very silly " Anat. Oh, yes — 1 know that. Math. "I've been expecting the arrival of a young friend — with a certain degree of impatience perhaps " Anat. Yes — reckoning every minute. Math. Very well — ■ reckoning every minute ; and now she is come, I don't dare to say what I've got on my mind ; although there is nothing in it but what is perfectly proper and correct." Anat. Nothing, I swear ! Math. Now, that s what you had better go and repeat to yourself in the park ; and when you have got it by heart, you shall come back and say it to me ; and we'll see then whether I shall be affronted or not. (iood morning. Monsieur Anatole. [Exit, R. door. Anat. Oil — Mademoiselle Mathilde ! She won't stop. It s all over now. I've said it at last — that is to say, she said it — but it's all one. 1 never thought I should ha\e got through my declaration so cleverly. Come, there's nothing like pluck, after all ! (Mademoi- sei.i.e ZENOBIE calls without; L. C, 'Anatole — Anatole!") Oh! Mademoiselle Zenobie with my guardian — 1 can't face them now, I am so agitated. Anatole escapes by one window, r. c, as Mi.i.e. Zenobie, followed by Brisemouche, enters at the other, L. c. ZENOBIE. Anatole ! Anatole ! gone — escaped ! Brisemouche (holding a butterfly-net, in which is a butterfly). No such thing — I've got him — isn't he a beauty? Zeno. Anatole? Bkise. (l,.). No ; my butterfly — a remarkable specimen, my dear. • Zeno. Bother your butterfly ! brother, brother, I tell you, you had better be looking after that flighty boy, than spending your time hunting for dirtv insects. Bribe (sitting hy table). My precious Zenohie, entomology is a science which never did harm" to any living creature, (sticks butterfly with a pin on hishft.) Zeno. (snappishly). I tell you once more, brother, that you don't fulfill your duties as guardian to that child. Brise A child ! poor dear little baby ! Zeno. It was all very well before you conceived the ridiculous idea of taking the hoy with you to Paris. Brise. It was necessary, my dear, for his law business. Zeno. And putting all "sorts of notions into his head, by throwing him in the way of a quantity of improper Parisian flirts. Brise. I'm "sure he only saw the best of company at Madame de la Glaciere's. 9 A SCRAP JF Vvl'KK. [ACT T. Zi.no. Madame de la Glaciere, indeed ! The greatem uirt that evei existed ' I'm sure she ^ r "t herself prettily talked of before her mar riage— only ash thai absurd friend of yours, Monsieur Prosper Coura- mont, who has just arrived at your house from Cochin China, or Nova Zembla, <>r heaven knows where. BRIBE. Well, if she did flirt with Prosper a little before he went abroad, it was before she was married — what of that? Zeno Whal of that ! Flirting is flirting, before or after ; and she and her Parisian flighty friend. Mademoiselle Suzanne, who is old enough to know Letter, are not fit associates for an innocent hoy likl that. Brisk. And dp you expect that he is to he an innocent boy all his lite-tied to your apron strings? 1 was an innocent boy once myself, and 1 am now a devil of a fellow ZENO. Brother. I insist on you holding your tongue ' You know vim are going to say something shocking. Bkisk. Well, there, there ! We'll gel him well married, to keep him out of harm s way. Zeno. Married ' (simpering) Wei., there can he no objection to that, providing we find him a fitting prudent helpmate. BlUSE. The truth is. 1 have an idea Zeno. You? nonsense' What's your idea, I should like to know. Brisk. Well — no — I haven't an idea. {goes up towards window, R.) Zend. You've got some foolish notion in your head. Speak, sir— I insist on it. l-'n'er Prosper,//// window, r. C, dressed in an entire white suit with it Chinese parasol over his head, mid a Chinese fan. Prosper. Don't speak, Brisemouche ! (both turn.) Zeno. {sharply). Sir! PROSP. (C.)- Don't speak, I tell you ! When your amiable sister falls in violence, she will have recourse to the charms of persuasive seduction, which will be all to her advantage, {bows (" ZBNOBIE.) Brise. (l.). Oh, oh! as to seduction ZENO. I k. i. Hold yourtongu< — you are going to say something shocking again, {crosses to Brisemouche — to Prosper) And do you mean to say you have been round the village in that outlandish garb '! PROSP. I've been round the world in it ! {crosses l<> C.) And I may Bay triumphantly, I produced the most striking effect just now, on a charming girl. 1 met on horseback— a charming girl. She laughed in my face ! Zk.no. I should think so, with that parasol and that fan ! Such an outrage on all decorum was never seen ! Prosp. Very frequently at Pekin. Brisk. Yes, among such savages as the Chinese — — Prosp. Savages! Listen to my European! lb- thinks himself the great lord of civilization, when oner he has sneered out the word "Ravages.'' Why. man, in these two highly civilized countries, China and Japan, the savage would he you— with your whiskers like two mutton chops on either side of your face, and your chimney-pot of a hat on your head Brise. I — a sa v age ? Prosp. Yes — yon — I — Mademoiselh — all of us — in China ! My friend Brisemouche doesn't eat hashed puppy dogs and stewed birds' nest; but he devours pickled oysters and snails a la poulette. My ACT I.J A SCRAP OF PAPER. 9 friend Mademoiselle Zeuobie doesn't piucli lier little foot in a shoe the size of a walnutshell ; but she pinches her waist, and sticks out her dress with a cage of crinoline. I don't smoke opium — but I smoke twenty cigars a-day — ruin my pocket, brutalize my faculties, and make myself a nuisance to every delicate nose ! Savages all of us, I tell you — savages ! Brise. I should like to see you come to a pitched battle with Mademoiselle Suzanne on these points ; and I'll wager she has the best of it. I know her arrival here is expected in the course of the day. Pkosp. And pray, who is this redoubtable Mademoiselle Suzanne'? Brisk. Mademoiselle Suzanne de Ruseville, cousin to Madame de la Glaciere, and godmother to her young sister Mathihle Prosp. Godmother, and still Mademoiselle? Brise. Although mistress of a large fortune, she has refused every offer, and chosen to remain single from the sheer love of independ- ence. ZENO. Ridiculous affectation ! Don't talk of her — she's highly im- proper ! Brise. At any rate, though she does live in the midst of the best Parisian society in the most independent style ZENO. The audacious creature ! Brisk. She makes a better use of her freedom than most women do of their Zexo. Hold your tougue, brother! {crosses to R. ) You are going to say something shocking. Brise. (seeing the Baron de la Glaciere, l door} Hush, hush, my dear ! here comes our host the Baron de la Glaciere — as usual, all life, spirits and gayety. Enter the Baron l. door. Zexo. My dear Baron, (crosses to L.) I'm delighted to see you! How is your dear lady Y slept well, I hope, after the fatigues of her journey. Barox. (cold and imp/'.sfiioK). Perfectly. Brise. Is she visible ye1 . Bar. Yes. Brisk. We will go and pay our respects, (crosses to L.) Allow me *o present you my friend, Monsieur Prosper Couramont, who is stay- ing in my house. He wants to speak to you on a matter of consider- able importance. Barox. Very well, {smt.ii i.. of table.) Prosp. (aside). It isn't a man — it's a polar bear ! Brisk. Come, Zenobie, you know when men want to talk in private Zkxo. Silence, you were going to say something improper; you know you were. ( Ekei unt Brisemouche and Madkmoisellk. l. r. Baron motions Prosper to be settled.) Prosp. You won't think me rude, Baron, if, at this very earls- period of our acquaintance, I ask a favor of you? (seated.) Barox. Want to shoot over my land? Prosp. (sitting.) Not exactly. The game I have in view is not precisely what you mean. Barox. (cooWy.) Ah ! Prosp. I am a queer, frank fellow ; and I alwaysgo straight to the point. I daresay you will be surprised tc hear that, thouf the world to get married, it is nevertheless very much against my will. Baron (at before). Ah ' PR08P. Now, I'll tell you how. I nm the only lieir of my uncle, who is enormously rich, and still more enormously obstinate. 1 have always been a sort of careless devil, and never took much care of my money — that may surprise you. Baron. Not in the least. PROSP. My travels round the world have played the deuce and all with my fortune ; you naturally ask. why 1 should have undertaken them. Baron. No, I don't. PrOSP. No? then you don't want to know how the cruel treachery of a heartless coquette compelled me to seek oblivion on the stormy brine ? Baron. No. PrOSP. No? hut, of course, you must he impatient to learn the reasons which compel me to marry. Baron. No. PrOSP. You'll excuse me, hut it's indispensably necessary you tfiould be impatient to learn them ; or else I shouldn't have any earthly reason for telling you them. Baron, {coolly.) Very well — I'm all impatience. PrOSP Thank you ! your obvious impatience I will relieve at once. About a month ago, after tossing more or less on the aforesaid stormy brine for the space of three years, I knocked, with all my crocodiles, stuffed parrots, and pet monkeys, at the door of the uncle I just mentioned. He lives ahout a mile from here, in a sort of dilapidated owl's nest. " Ah. you vagabond," said he, "it is you, is it'.'" "Yes," said I, 'it is." "And are you married V" said he. " Married !" said 1, " do you think I've brought home the Queen of the Cannibal Islands?" " Heartless ruffian," said lie. " Here have I condemned myself to the miseries of celibacy, entirely on your account, expecting you to marry and bring home a wife to make gruel for me ; and you presist on leaving me a solitary anchorite in my hermitage." He was speaking of his owl's nest — " Go," said he, " there are plenty of charming girls in the neighborhood, and if you don't present me with a neice-in law in six months time, I will marry my maid-of-all-work, and cut you off with a sou" Now what do you say to that ? BARON. Nothing. PROSP. Nothing? Very well, then — we won't say another word about it. Well, I at once took up my quarters at the house of Brise mcMiehe, your neighbor, who always has a bachelor den ready for me. I told him my dilemma, and lie at once suggested away out of it. He described your charming sister-in-law as just the wife for me — advised me to pay you a visit, make your acquaintance, and propose for the young lady's hand. I have paid you a visit, made your acquaintance, and I hereby propose for the young lady's hand. {rises.) Baron. Very good. Pkosp. Well, then, what do you say ? Baron. I don't say "no." Pkosp. Then you say " yes." Bakon. No. Pkosp. Then, uy dear sir, what the deuce do you say ? ACT I ] A SCRAP OF PAPER. 11 BARON. You must see my wife and her sister — it's their affair. ( rings — Baron rises. ) Prop 1 '. So be it— I had the honor of knowing Madame de la Glaciere before her marriage, three years ago, when I was staying with Brisf .nouche, but not per charming sister, who was then at school. Enter Pai. ine, r. door. Baron. Tell your mistress, a gentleman requests to see her. Prosp. And give her my card at the same time. [Exit Pauline, l, door, with care. B>ton. Stop to lunch if you like. Pr v °. Enchanted ! Barc ::. Excuse me now — I must go and look after my dogs. {crosses to r. c.) We have a shooting party after luncheon — you can come "nth us if you like. [Exit, by window, R. c. Pros. Cordial creature ! I have made easy work of the husband — and now for the wife. His wife I Louise ! Pretty changes three years have brought about ! Not in this room, though — it looks ex- actly as when I last saw it — the table — the ornaments — the same — and the very same piece of embroidery, {taking up book) " Gene- vieve ! " the very book we were reading. Why, it's the palace of the sleeping beauty in the wood, with everything asleep in the place. Enter the Baroness, Louise de la Glaciere, l. door. Louise Till you come to wake it up, my fairy Prince. Prosp. turning). Louise! {checking himself) Madam! Louise {showing card). 1 could scarcely believe my eyes, when I read this well known name. And it is really you'? Prosp. Positively I, and no other — am I so changed, then? Louise. Indeed you are ! Prosp. Frank, at all events I will be as candid— time has passed you by Louise. As gallant as ever, I see — but you are wrong — I am changed entirely. Prosp. Entirely V what, does nothing then remain of the heart which, three years ago, promised mine so bright a dream of happi- ness ? Louise. Nothing whatever — there's not a scrap of my heart, nor a thought of my mind, that does not belong to its proper owner. Prosp. A sad change indeed, (sighs.) Louise Now, don't sigh in that silly way, my dear Prosper. Our idle flirtation, I'm sure, has no more real place in your heart than it has in mine. We shall always be good friends, and have long talks about your travels, and so on. And now, what did you wish to see me about ? Prosp. About my marriage. Louise Marriage ! tell me all about it — with whom? Prosp. With your sister, Mademoiselle Mathilde de Merival. Louise. Mathilde ! she's a mere child. PROSP. There are no children now, madam, except babies in arms. Louise. But she doesn't even know you Prosp. So much the better — the unknown has so many charms Louise. How do you know but what she may love somebody else ? Prosp. I should be delighted to hear it. Louise. Delighted ? 12 A SCRAP OF PAPER. [ACT I. Prosp. Certainly, my dear madam I've been in China, and know something about teas. It's a capita] plan to pour boiling water on t lie tea leaveB, in order to open them, and then throw it away- ih< first infusion is ap( to be bitter — the nexl cup is sure to be all the more agreeable. So with love, my dear madani,— throw the first in- fusion away ; and the second will have all the real flavor. Louise. You are not so much changed as 1 thought — you are as absurd as eve]-, I see. Prosp You are happy, I presume? Louise. Perfectly; i love my husband devotedly — (rises) and -if 1 have a regret, it is that 1 should have deluded myself into the belief 1 ever cared for another. Rrosp. There, you see — you have flung your lirst infusion away ; and the matrimonial cup is all the sweeter for it. Why should \i>u deprive your charming sister of the same advantage? Louise. Prosper, with my consent, this absurd marriage never shall lake place. 1 was a silly, frivolous, foolish coquette — if you will— when first 1 knew you, sir. Much as 1 deceived myself in fancying I was attached to you, l will not have the remembrance of my folly forced upon me. by the presence, in my family — before my husband's eyes — of one whom 1 have ever permitted to Prosp. Don't stop— to utter words of love, which you so sweetly echoed Louise (angrily at first — then calmly). You yourself have proved how right 1 am. Come, come he generous It is but little I ask of you. You do not even know my sister — give up the idea of her, and leave the house; be assured, 1 shall ever feel for you the truest friendship. PROSP. I am very sorry — but I don't believe it Loutse. You don't believe Prosp. In your friendship — no — no more than I would counsel you to believe in mine. You are right in saying that what we both thought love — yes — both — was nothing of the sort Hut, besides wounded affection, there is such a thing as wounded vanity. Three years ago you dropped me like a hot potato. (PROSPER advances (<> Louise slu retreats t<> i.) That potato's not cold yet — I have nursed it at the poles, and roasted it at the tropics ; the ashes of wounded vanity still glowin it ; and nothing but revenge can quench them. Louise. What do you mean? (seated, taking up embroidery.) PROSP. Everthing around us remains exactly as when we last met. It will require the very smallest effort of imagination on your part to believe the interval of three years only one night — that our part ing was but yesterday. Well — yesterday you were sitting there working at that very same piece of embroidery — (seated) I was sitting here reading aloud this identical hook ; your mother dozed in yonder arm-chair — hut dozed so lightly that our love could only be expressed in looks and sighs, and little notes flicked across the table — notes that I, poor innocent that I was. never failed to hum. (Hues) Look ! even our beloved ] >ost box — that statuette of Flora-is still there, as it was three years ago — I mean yesterday. Well, then — yesterdav evening. Mademoiselle Louise de Merival, you left me with the sweet consoling words : "We meet again to-morrow "—and this morning I find you Baroness de la Glaciere. You must admit the transforms ti...: appears rather abrupt. LOUISE. And whose was the fault 1 — yo\jrs — and yours alone. PKOSP. Mine ! ACT I.] A SCRAP OF PAPEB. 13 Louise. Why were you not near me to prevent ihe wicked Baron from carrying me off < Prosp. Where was I ? On leaving you last night — three years ago — instead of going home to bed, I stayed standing on the damp grass to gaze upon your window — I had lighted a cigar and was emitting smoke and sighs together, when all at once 1 saw a little bright spot before me. It wasn't a glowworm — it was another cigar. Louise. A cigar ! Prosp. Yes ; with a man behind it — one of your ardent admirers. Monsieur de Riviere. Mutual surprise, considerably augmented by the discovery of a third bright spot! It was a third cigar — with a third man behind it — Monsieur Tonnere, another of your ardent admirers. Louise. Ah ! (rises.) Prosp. Three burning hearts offering the incense of their lov« and their cigars beneath your window ! Stormy explanation ensued ; and two very satisfactory little duels were the consequence. Louise. Good heavens ! PROSP. !><■ Tonnere contrived to give me a lunge through the arm, which caused me to be carried home fainting, and put to bed in a state of high fever and delirium — and there's where I was. LOUISE Hut my letter must have explained Prosp. Your letter V LOUISE. Yes — the letter that I wrote to tell you of my mother's de- termination to start for Paris at daybreak — to marry me to the Baron de la Glaciere. I scarce know what I wrote ; but you must know — you must remember. Prosp. Upon my honor, this is the first word I have heard of it. Louise. Do not say that. 1 came down hereby stealth to place the letter in the usual spot — certain that, you would seek, and find it there, the next morning. Prosp. But the next morning I was in bed with a high fever, I tell you. Louise (rising alarmed). But if you did not take it, who did 7 Where can the letter be ? Prosp. Where it was, perhaps — inside the Flora ! Louise. Yes — this room has never been opened since. Prosp. Then the letter must be still there. Louise. I scarce dare look. Prosp. Never mind. I will. Louise (eagerly). No ! I, \— (they both go up to Morn.) Enter the Baron De la Glaciere by r. c. window. Prosp. (turning sharply with coldness). Your dogs are all right, my dear sir? Baron. All right, (crosses to C. — to LOUISE) What's the matter? Louise. Nothing. Baron. You seem agitated. Prosp. Yes ; the subject of our conversation — the object of my interview — was of a nature to Baron (<.). Oh! exactly — your offer. PROSP. (H.\. Precisely so. Baron (to Louise). Well? Prosp. Well, it appears it's a settled affair. Louise (l.). I have convinced Monsieur C'ouramont that there are serious obstacles in the way. 14 A KCRAr OF TAPER. | ACT L Baron. Ah ! Prosp. I beg your pardon ! Obstacles to me are only stimulants. Enter Mathil.de, l. door, followed by Zenobia and Anatole, l. door, and Brisemouche. Math {kissing Louise). Good morning, sister dear. Prosp (aside.) Sister] she! my enchanting horsewoman of this morning ' {aloud) No, no ; unless'the lady herself objects, 1 shall en deavor to stand my ground. Baron. Quite right— try four luck, (goes up b.) I... i isi; {low to Prosper). This is neither delicate or generous of you ; but, at the same time, it is perfectly useless, believe me. {goes up.) Zeno. {coming down to Anatole — apart to him). 1 forbid you to say one word to thai Mademoiselle Mathilde, sir. {takes Anatole away. I Bribe, {coming down to Prosper). Well, how do you get on? What does the Baroness say to yum- suit ? {crosses to a.) Prosp She has declared against me. But I defy her. Brisemouche, did you ever see two men aim at one partridge? That's exactly what 1 and the Baroness are doing. The partridge is there. BRISE. A partridge? Where ? Prosp. {turning, a/id seeing Louise on the point of raising up tlie statu, tte of Flora). By Jove ! she's going to bring it down ! Enter Mademoiselle Suzanne de Rusevtlle, l. c. Suzanne. Here 1 am at last ! (everybody turns round — Louise is obligedto put down tin statuette.) Brisk j Mademoiselle de Huseville ! LOUISE ■ Suzanne ! M \tii. ) All, my dear godmother ! Prosp. (tofiile the Baroness goes to embrace Suzanne). She has missed this time. Now it's my turn ! (goes up to the Flora, but is stopped by Zenobie, who intercepts his passage.) Suz. (kissing the Baroness and Mathilde) How d'ye do — how d'ye do? Math. I'll see that your room is ready. I Exit, u door. Suz. Mow do you do, cousin? (to BARON, R.) You know you are a bear— hut I'll allow you to hug me for once in a way. Ah, Monsieur Brisemouche ! Brise. (presenting Anatole). My young ward, whom I think you 1 1 1 ■ -t in Paris. Zeno. (plucking Anatole, who is advancing towards Suzanne). Come away, sir. the impudent creature may want to kiss you next! St/., (pulling Anatole towards her^. Now you shall see how I'll make the dear hoy blush ! (offers her ho ml. ir/iir/i he is obliged to kiss) There! Didn't I tell you he'd blush? (bowing to Zenouie) Mademoi- selle Zenobie, as fresh as ever 1 see. Zeno. (it, curtseying stiffly). Mademoiselle! (she pulls away Ana- tole, ond gives him " scolding apart.) Louise (l., turning and seeing Prosper, >rh<> lias gone w/> ami"' that moment has his hand on Flom). Monsieur Couramont ! Prosp. Missed ! Louise (presenting Prosper eagerly, so ax to oblige him to rome ACT!.] A SCRAP OF PAPER. 15 down). Monsieur Prosper, allow me to present you to Mademoiselle de Ruseville. Suz. Delighted ! (looking at both of them, aside) Hum ! hum ! there's something going on here ! (Brisemouche behind table, C. — Baron by his side, r. — Anatole and Zenobie on sofa, i>.) Prosp. (l.). I have long been desirous of being introduced to you, Mademoiselle. Suz. You are fond of curiosities, 1 believe? Brise. He has collected them from all parts of the world. He's a mighty traveller Suz. A man's happy privilege ! How is a poor woman to scamper over the world in steel hoops and crinoline petticoats ? What is the greatest curiosity you have seen in the world ? Prosp. The greatest curiosity ? Woman, of course ! Suz. It seems you have studied the animal. Prosp. Yes, as Brisemouche does insects and reptiles. Suz. I hope you have not found any venomous specimens. Prosp. Sometimes — and they are generally the fairest to the eye. (turns to look at the, Baroness, and sees her about to take down the Flora — aside) She's at it again ! (aloud) I was just making that iden- tical remark to Madame de la Glaciere — wasn't I V (by directly ad- dressing the Baroness, lie forces her to drop the Flora, which she has just lifted and coins down — he offers her a chair, and thus obliges her to sit) I was comparing woman to a bird with a sharp beak long claws and varied plumage, which it is always striving to show off to the best advantage, and moults at every caprice of fashion Suz. Indeed ! And would you speak in that tone of your mother, or your sister, or your wife? Prosp. I haven't got one. Suz. Then, that's the reason you are so deficient in your knowledge of natural history. Prosp. But, my dear madam, the exception only proves the rule. Suz. But, my dear sir, the rule is wholly made up of exceptions. Prosp. Well, I confess I believed in exceptions, until Suz. Until what? Prosp. Until two or three pleasant attempts were made to poison me. Since then, even in our civilized country, where poisons take the shape of perfidy and breach of faith, I have sworn never to be without an antidote Brise. Bless my soul ! an antidote ! of what nature? Prosp. Oh, the merest trifle, sometimes, is enough — a mere scrap of paper, perhaps — a morsel of handwriting. Suz. [aside)- He means some letter. Hum ! hum ! What is all this? Brise. Fie, fie ! you wouldn't use such a weapon against a wo- man. Prosp I would — as a shield — not a sword. Such a system is per- missible by the moral code of every nation. Brise. There ! we shall have him citing his darling Chinese, now. Prosp. Why not ? They are our superiors in many things — their porcelain, for instance. Now, compare with Chinese works of art this little Sevres ornament for instance ; (to the Baroness) it is a statuette of Flora, I perceive, (takes down the Flora.) Louise (alarm,ed). Stop, sir ! Prosp. Don't be alarmed, madam ! I know all its value Louise (trying to stop him). Give it to me — it's covered with dust. 16 A SCRAP OF PAPER. [ACT I. PROSP. [coming down >rith it). Don't give yourself the trouble. (ash/, ) l feel tin' Letter. Louise [trying to, lust with her handkerchief). Allow me, with my handkerchief Prosp. No, do! I'll blow on it — that will do. (turns away as if to blow the it ust off the statuette.) Suz seizing tin hand ©/"Baroness to stop her — apart). Your hus band's eyes are upon you. Louise. <>h ! did you bu1 know : [flu letter falls) Ali! (Prospeb puts his j'-mt hastily on tht letter.) Suz. [aside). A letter? I was sure of it. Prosp. [giving the Flora t<> tin Baroness). It is evident you set greal store upon this little ornament, madam. LOUISE [low to him). What you are doing is shameful, sir I [the bellHngs without for luncheon I Enter Mathii.de, l. door- Math. Luncheon is ready. BRIBE, [getting up). I'm not sorry to hear it. \\\t. [rising hastily, and getting away from Zenobia). No! nor I. Zeno. [apart t o Anatole). 1 forbid you to si]fc by the side of that Mademoiselle Mathilde. \\ \r. Bui I Xi.no. I forbid you. 1 say. Math, [seising hold of Anatole). You'll give me your arm, Mon- sieur Anatole? Zeno I forbid you. [turning she finds herself opposite to the Baron who offerslu rhis arm formally, she is obliged to accept — the Baroness, unwillingly, takes the arm of Brisemouche, and keeps looking back at Prosper — tJu party gradually prepare togoout, l. floor.) Suz. [to Prosper, who never stirs, and stands with his foot on the letter) My dear sir, don't you mean to offer me your arm? Prosp. 1 beg your pardon, lmt I've let fall my handkerchief, [lets falls his handkerchief, and picks up tin letter with it.) Suz. (loir to him). Come, come ! Give it up like a gentleman Prosp. [lowtoher). Give up what? SUZ. The letter. Prosp. My antidote? No, 1 thank you. Si /,. I'll make you give it up. Prosp. I'll bet you anything you like, you won't. SUZ. I'll bet you anything you like, I will. Baron [turning back). Are you coming, you two? PROSP. [aloud). Deign to accept my arm madam. Suz. So you are a collector of curiosities ! I think I shall be able to --how you a few curious matters which may astonish you, great U-< !1< r thai you are ' Prosp. [laughing). In instruments of warfare ? Si '.. In instruments of warfare! Have you ever met with any Amazons in your travels? They say it is a fabulous race — not quite, my dear sir; not quite, I can assure you —I'm an Amazon ! Only, now a days people call us old maids, blue stockings, or strong minded women ! [they go up towards L. door, laughing.) < ORTAIN. ACT II. | A SCRAr OF PAP^R. 17 ACT II SCENE. — Room assigned to Prosper, in the House, oj Brisemouche, Prosper Couramont is seated in an easy chair, r., before the table, wrapped in a fur dressing-gown, with a fox-skin rap on his head. Prosp. A pretty climate, upon my word ! There's no sense about it ! Before luncheon it was as hot as Calcutta ; and now, later in the afternoon, it is as cold as Siberia ! {throws another log on the fire) I can't stand caprice even in the weather. The male beings are out shooting. I wish them joy of their sport, (warms himself at fire. Francois appears at c. door) What do you want 1 Come in, do — and shut the door ! I didn't ring. Fran. A letter for you, sir. The messenger waits for an answer. Prosp. (taking the 'letter). Ah, from my uncle again ! I know his letter by heart before I read it — every day the same story ! •' Heart- less reprobate ! where is your wife'?" (reading) Of course — " Heart- less reprobate! where is" The twentieth edition, neither amended or corrected, (throws letter into the fire) Say that I'll be with him in less than an hour, and have my horse saddled. [Exit Francois, c. door. I can be there and back again in less than no time ! I'll see the pre- cious old gentleman myself, and tell him I've found a wife — a charm- ing wife — a delicious little wife ! (rolling up a cigarette) I'll win her, spite woman's wit and woman wiles. Ah ! you defy me to mortal combat — do you. Mademoiselle Suzanne? You want to steal my anti- dote — do you, Mademoiselle Suzanne? Possession is nine points to the good for me ; but how to keep possession ? The lining of my hat was a good place of concealment ; but I've had a warning in hat lin- ings. I once slipped &billet doux into my hat left it on a ferocious brother's table ; he picked it up, thought it was his own, and has vorn my letter on his head ever since. My own room was the place — but locks are not to be trusted, and servants still less. My casket, to be sure, has a secret spring; but caskets can be carried off bodily. I daresay some people might think it the simplest affair in the world to hide a scrap of paper. No such thing ! It was a problem — the knottiest of problems — and I consider that I made a stroke of genius, by concealing my prize in (a knock at c. door) Who's there ? Come in. Enter Anatole, c door. Prosp. (r.) Oh, it's you, my young friend ! You are not out shoot- ing with the other gentlemen then ? Anat. (l. , awkward and embarrassed, but trying to put on a digni- fied air). No, sir. Prosp. Mademoiselle Zenobie was afraid of y r our meeting with some accident, probably. All right ! sit down. Take a cigar? Anat. (as before). I thank you, sir ; I don't smoke. Prosp. (sits R. of table). Ah, to be sure! Mademoiselle Zenobie objects to smoking. Anat. The fact ir., sir, I am not here for the purpose of smoking, but of having a serious conversation with you. Prosp. (seated, r. of table, by fire). Indeed? Anat. I have learned by chance from my guardian, this morning, 18 v SCB \r OF PAPER. | \CT II. rh.it you have asked the hand of Mademoiselle Mathilde de MerivaJ in marriage. Prosp. Quite true ; what then 1 Anat. Why then, sir. I beg to inform you that I am in love with Mademoiselle Mathilde, and that my most anient desire is to m.w her my wife. Prosp. Thai is to say, if Mademoiselle Zenobie does not object. Anat Mademoiselle Zenobie lias nothing to do with it, sir. It is an affair between you and me. Will you have the kindness to telJ me whether you still persist in your intention ? Prosp. (aside). P -hoy. (aloud My reply will be brief — Yes An \t. Well, then, sir. you know the consequences. Prosp. You don't mean a duel ? A\\t. I do. What else should I mean. Prosp. Very well. But as there are several ways of duelling; may I ask which you prefer '.' An \t. I give you the choice, sir. PROSP. Thank you. I own I have a sort of weakness for the Japanese fashion Anat. (getting up). The Japanese fashion by all means! I shall have the honor of sending you my second PROSP. Oh, quite unnecessary ! The affair can be settled at oner. Anat. (pulling off his gloves . Such a proceeding is contrary to all established rules — but nomatter — I'm your man! Prosp. (fetching two Milan daggers, and presenting them politely). Here are the tools for the job. Take your choice! Anat. One of these ? Prosp. Of course. (Anatole takes one) You have taken the big- gest — but nevermind. And now (sits down) you are the challenging party have the kindness to begin. Anat. (turning in an attitude of defence* ami surprised at seeing Prosper quietly seated). Begin! How? Prosp. (coolly). By ripping yourself up A n \t. Hip myself up V PROSP. Yes, it's the Japanese manner of proceeding. They call it "the happy dispatch." The challenger rips himself up first, and then the challenged is bound in honor to follow his example. Pro- ceed — I'll follow you immediately ! Ax at. I am not to be made game of, sir ! We an' in France here, not in Japan ; and your fashion is utterly absurd. Prosp. My dear fellow, the whole fashion of duelling is utterly absurd. In the first place, if we fought in the usual manner, /"should kill you to a dead certainty. Anat. Sir ! PROSP. Oh, I should, I give you my word ! And then you couldn't prevent my marrying the lady. But if you rip yourself," and I have to do the same, you won't marry her to be sure— but you'll have the pleasure of knowing that I can't either An \t. You are treating me like a child, sir ! « Prosp. (rising ami holding ant his hand). Say rather, like a friend. Come, my dear boy, let us fight out our fight after a more sensible manner— with our own stout hearts and mother- wits. You say you love Mademoiselle Mathilde— so far so good. For aught I know, she may be very fond of you— so far, so better But, at the same time, allow me to flutter myself, that if you have made an impression, it's just possible I may do so too, especially as you haven't your guard - I a "'s •onsenj to the marriage— and what's more, never will have. ACT II.] A SCRAP OF TAPER. 19 Anat. Never will have ! Why? Prosp. (laughing). Why? Zeno. (without, knocking ate. door). Monsieur Prosper ! Prosp. (laughing and pointing at door). That's why '.' But I'll be off — I can't show myself to ladies in this trim. Zeno. (without). May we come in? Prosp. Come in by all means? [Exit into bed-room. R. Enter Mademoiselle Zenobie and Mathilde, c. door. ZENO. (looking round). Well, where is Monsieur Prosper? Prosp. (from hi* room). I'm here! I beg pardon — 1 was dressed as a wild Indian ; and I should have frightened von into fits Zend. It is for us to beg pardon. We expected to find Mademoi selle de Huseville and the gentlemen here ; they are coming to in- spect your museum. Prosp. Pray inspect by all means ! (without, R ) Math, (going up) What a quantity of pretty things ! Zeno. (apart to Anatole, whilst Mathilde is looting round). You know very well I object to your being with Monsieur Prosper — lie's a very dangerous acquaintance. Anat. You won't let ine speak to a soul next. Now. it's Monsieur Prosper — now, it's Mademoiselle de RuseviUe— now, it s Mademoiselle Mathilde (com s down ) Zeno. (r.). And pretty attention you pay to what I say! But this I tell you — if you can't behave better, hack to your tutor, the Abbe Boulet, you go. Math, (l., calling . Monsieur Anatole — come here! Look, Mon- sieur Anatole ! calling louder. I Zeno. You'll not stir, (sits down, i;.. and looks over illustrated books. ) Math, (coming d your tutor's tli ; « very evening. Math, (apart to him on the other side). It' you answer her one word, I'll never speak to yon again in my life. (Anatole sits dawn on the footstool in despair.) Enter Brisemouche, c. doo-r, in shooting attire, irith gun— followed by Mademoiselle de Rubeville. Brisk. May we come in V Enter Prosper Couramont, dressed, r. door. PROSP. By all means !— by all means ! Suz. (entering — /" Prosper). Yon see. sir. I make the must war- like entry, like an enemy armed to the. teeth Are you prepared to repulse me? Prosp. As an Eastern traveller, 1 have bul to say, *' A ray of sun- light has the right to enter everywhere." (bows tolu r. I MATH. And if one isn't a ray of sun ! Prosp. (bowing to her). The perfume of the rose has the same privilege. Math, (low to Anatoli: >. lie's a great deal more gallant than you are. Prosp. Well, what have you killed to-day? BRIBE. Between us all— just one dog! Prosp. But I thought your friend the Baron was a crack shot 1 Brisk. De la Glaciere? I don't know what's the matter with him •his afternoon, lie was more silent and morose than ever, and missed every bird 1 left him with Baptiste, who accompanied us. (coming in»,„ Anatoli: with his gun asifhe came upon a han l Poor puss — on her form — Holloa ! what are you doing here? Zeno. He is going back to his tutor's. Brisk. On that footstool ? ZENO. This very evening — to continue his studies. Brisk. But. my dear girl, 1 don't sec the necessity. A. vat. Nor I. (rises. I Zeno. But I insisl upon it ! (goes up) There, go and pack up. Anat. I'm going— I'm going ! (aside, going, L.) But I in not gone yet. Hang old Zenobie ! [Exit, L. door. Prosper standing ; Zenobie seated ; Suzanne, behind her ; Bribe moi'crk seated on divan ; Mathilde going here and there. SUZ. W ell, I must say, the collection of curiosities in this room is most remarkable. Prosp. Including the collector 1 SUZ. Especially the collector, who sits on an American easv chait before a Flemish table covered with an Algerine table-cloth ana smokes Turkish tobacco in a German pipe— or after a dinner a la Russe, at which he has talked "sport " in English, drinks a Chinese beverage out of Dresden porcelain, asks for Italian music, and then calls himself a Frenchman ! Math, (holding «i< Zenobie nnd Suzanne . Yes. (to himself) It is really a petticoat ; hut I did not like to say so. Math. ir.). Oh, Anatole ! what, is he gone ? [got* up.) ZENO. Gone, Mademoiselle. Math, (to Prosper). Many thanks for you kindness, sir. Are you coming, godmamma '.' Suz, I'll follow you immediately. Brise. (to Mathilde, who is going out, l.). Are you going that way ! Math. Yes: it's the shortest cut to the chateau, (aside) And that's the way Anatole went. [h'.rit, L. Brise. I'll be off too — who knows — we may contrive to bring down another dog. Zeno. (about tofjn out door, c). Are you not coming, mademoiselle? Suz. Thank you I'll follow Mathilde. Brise. GhwxUbye, Prosper I [Exit, i.. c. door, preceded by Zenobie. Suz. (with her hand on i,. door as if ready to go). I wish you good sport (to Prosper) I have the honor, sir, (as Prosper goes up and doses door, c, ond bows to Iter — coining hock and stating himself , L. ) to wish you a very good day ! Prosp. (r.). Oh, oh, I thought you were beating a retreat. Suz, (L.). Before giving battle? It's very clear you don't know me. But. first, do you mean to keep the letter'? Prosp. 1 mean to keep it. Suz. Well then, before coming to actual hostilities, suppose we interchange a few diplomatic notes, (l. of table, R. c.) Prosp. (r. of table, k. a). A few diplomatic notes, by all means. {both seated. ) Suz. Xote one — On our side we make an appeal to the honor of our adversary, and simply ask whether he thinks it honest to keep a letter which "he has— what shall I say? Prosp Stolen ! Suz. No — we'll be diplomatic, please, and say "annexed." What has your side to answer ? Prosp. That the letter being addressed to me was mine. Srz. But it was never delivered — ergo, it is still ours. Prosp. But you sent it — ergo, it is still mine. Suz. Pardon me, it was never sent. Prosp. Pardon me, it was put into the post — that is— the Flora. ITie question is — -Does a letter put into the post belong to the sender or the sendee ? Suz. To the send -er. Prosp. To the send-ee. Sua. Well, let's cut the Gordian knot— to both. Prosp When the rights are equal, possession decides the claim. I think, madam, we have settled that question. Suz. Hum ! Note two — We next inquire, what use you intend to make of our handwriting • Prosp My answer to that question has been already categorically given Let the strictest neutrality be observed ; and, the moment 1 give up all hopes of Mathilde, I'll bid an eternal adieu to Madame de la Glaciere, and burn the letter before her eyes. Suz. You will do than '.' 22 A SCRAP OF PAPER. [ACT II. Pkosp. On my honor! And I verily believe I slum! ' have done so at once on returning hom< — of coarse, without admitting tin' fact — had you nut defied me to mortal combat Si /. Well, then, 1 withdraw my challenge ; and you can born it now. [rising ant! laughing) Look, here is a capital fire — I won't say a word to Louise and yon will lose nothing by your good action. Prosp. [ruing, lavghing). 1 beg your pardon — I should lose the intense satisfaction of seeing you hunt for the letter in vain. Si /.. Is that your ultimatum '.' Prosp My ultimatissimum — Search, search! I shan't prevent you. The letter is here — somewhere ! Si /.. In this very room ? PKOSP. Or else in the other ! First catch your hare, and then you may conk him yourself, at any fire you please. Si /.. No, no, I shall not he satisfied till 1 have made you bum it with your own hands. Prosp. Indeed ! Then, I give you my word of honor, if you con- trive to do that, I will pack myself off this very evening to look out lor a wife in the Cannibal Islands. .Jericho, or anywhere you please. Si /.. Your word of honor? PROSP. My word of honor ! St 7. Beware ! I am obstinate. Prosp. So am I Suz. I am going to sit down to a regular siege — I shall bore you until you say yourself. " I had better burn the letter and get rid of that nuisance of a woman !" PROSP Never was criminal threatened with so alluring a punish- ment ! I'm enraptured to think of the many pleasant hours we are about to pass in a long delicious tite a tite — I am sorry to be obliged to leave you a short time — I have an indispensable visit to pay to a tiresome old uncle ; but pray consider yourself perfectly at home. There's a good fire — plenty of books and drawings for your amuse- ment — all my curiosities and Mriseinouche's entomological treasures. Everything is open for your inspection — except this little casket, which contains papers that cannot possibly interest you. Open everything else — turn everything topsy turvy- — and I hope, on my return, to have the happy privilege of renewing this most agreeable conversation. [ Exit, c. door. Si/.. He's actually gone ! Hang the man, his impertinence is per- fectly delightful, (imitutiiiij) ' Search, search —everything is open for your inspection — everything but this casket.'' My dear sir, the stress you lay upon the casket convinced me that the letter is not there. Hut 'wis here — ••somewhere." Where can he have concealed it? [knocking, 1.. r — Louise: looks in — she wears a remarkable Indian shawl Over her Intnl. LOUISE (L.). You are alone— are you not 1 Si /.. 1 u. Louise ! Louise {coming in and dosing tin door behind her hastily). I saw him ride by the windows of the chateau. You did not return ; and ACT H. ] A SCRAr OF PAPER. 23 my impatience was so great, that I hastily threw on this shawl and came myself {crosses to u . and puts shawl <>n chair, next five.) Suz. What imprudence ! If your husband had sefto yon, or that dear, delightful, censorious .Mademoiselle Zenobie Louise What matter, since we are both together. Have you got it] Suz. The letter 1 No — he refuses to give it up. Louise. He must have left it here. Find it — find it, I entreat you ! I am so terrified — I scarce dare raise my eyes to look into my husband's face — I fancy he suspects — knows everything. Si z. What if he does know everything '! You say the whole affair was only a most innocent little flirtation. Louise. Of course it was — I was a thoughtless, romantic girl at the time, and saw no wrong ; but my husband, under the semblance of apathy, conceals a highly sensitive nature. The bare suspicion of any previous attachment, even of the slightest flirtation, would wound that nature to the quick. The discovery of this letter might rouse all his jealous susceptibilities, and compromise our domestic happiness forever. Suz {seated). Ah, my poor dear friend ; what a warning you give to silly girls Louise. Not to write letters ! Oh, yes — girls should never write ! Suz. They should rather beware of fostering absurd ideas, and fancying themselves in love. Louise. But don't let us lose any time — let us hunt about, 'goes up.) Suz. (seated). That's the very thing I'm now doing. Louise. Doing ! seated there ! Suz. Yes, in my head — that s my way of hunting, (the Baroxess is turning over books, papers, n tht table, l. c.) But do you go your own way to work. Louise Ob, you put me out of all my patience ! Srz. woolly). My dear child, nature made woman weak, but gave as compensation a sixth sense. Have you ever examined any butter- flies ] Louise. What an absurd question ! Stjz. (going to table, L. <\, and taking op a ruse ofbutterflies). They have got long, thin horns upon their heads to enable them to feel and appreciate objects at a distance. Look ! LOUISE. What do you mean'.' Srz. The naturalists call them " antennae " Well, my dear, women too have " antennae,' but of such a delicate nature that they are in- visible. Sometimes they are made like tendrils, to entangle our natural enemy, man ; — sometimes they are sharp and pointed'just to blind them, my dear. Louise (turning away pettishly). And you want to find my letter with your "antennae" — a likely idea ! I'd rather trust to my ten lingers, (goes on opening all tin drawt rs, etc.) Suz. You shall see how I will use my ' : antenna?." Yes, yes ; open all the drawers — hunt away. Just see if you can't find your letter in the guitar case. What a child you are I Louise. He may have hid it among the books. Srz. And you mean to look among all the three hundred volumes - out of the question ! look at the edges of the shelves. Louise. Why 1 Suz. Are they dusty ? Louise i getting on a chair). Yes *24 A SCRAP OF PAPER. [ACT H. Suz. All along ? Louise, ah along. Buz. Then it s not among the books. It he lu»d pulled one down, the dust would have been disturbed. Louise. To be sure. Buz. Just look at that little bit of paper folded together, and put to steady the leg of the table. Louise. This? Suz. Vcs ; (getting up) it's not worth the trouble, the paper is black and worn. Louise. Ves ; and he would never have put it there, where every- body eun see it. (she continues to hunt about.) Suz. It s very clear you don't know how to use your " antennae." Your knowing man would he sure to make so little concealment of an object he wished to hide, that nobody would be likely to look for it in a place so open to inspection. I'll wager now, that if we can't find this unfortunate letter, it is because it is lying about somewhere before our very eyes. Louise {who has been hunting about, r.). Nothing — nothing ! but there's another room here. Suz. (10 in, by all means. My right of search is unlimited, though. No matter ; you will give the alarm. | Exit into room, R. Louise (opening the dour, p.). If he should come back. Suz. (looking around her). Where can it be? He's clever enough to have put it simply under his letter-weight, (lifts up letter-press) No! — in this vase'.' Nothing but visiting cards, and a stick of seal- ing-wax. in this jar '! (opens tobacco-jar) Tobacco — cigarette-papers — several letters crumpled and torn, (reading superscription of Utter) "Monsieur Prosper Couramont, to the care of Mahony Brothers, Madrid " " Monsieur Prosper Couramont, Albany, London." — " Try Post-office, Paris." ((/arson with several other letters, which she passes, as she speaks from her Hght hand in her left) "Monsieur Prosper Couramont — to the care of the Reverend Mr. Huggins, Sandwich Islands!' " Monsieur Prosper Couramont " (stops, and takes up last litter) Stop! this letter has seen a good deal of the world. It must have been a very precious letter for him to have brought it all the way from the Sandwich Islands, and kept it so long; (weighing it in her hands) and yet it's very light There's only the veriest scrap of paper in it. Now who, I should like to know, would have sent a letter all the way to the Sandwich Islands, costing no end of postage-money, which cannot contain much more than " How do you do?" — "Very well,] thank you." It's very odd — very! (calling) Louise ! Louise (in the room, p.). I can't find it ! Buz. Was the letter large ? LOUISE (within). No ; only half a sheet of note paper folded in two. Si;z (feeling the envelope). A half-sheet of note-paper folded in two (aloud) On white paper? Louise (asbefore). No; pink. Suz. (holding the envelope up to the light). It is pink ! Louise (asbefore). I've found a quantity of papers. Suz. Have you, dear? — all right ! 'smelling the envelope) 'Tis an old scrap of paper ; all the perfume is gone ; (holding up the envelope again) if I could but see the writing, (about to open the envelope) He gave me permission to search everything that was open, and this en- ACT H. 1 A SCRAP OF PAPER. 25 velope j.« open, (checking kernel/) Stop, stop ! It's not quite the thing. One isn't in the habit of opening other peoples letters (feeling the envelope) And yet, it' it were Louise's letter. Oh ! my fingers burn — my fingers burn ! Ent( r Louise, i;. Louise (crying with vexation). Oh ! my dear Suzanne, I give it up ! We shall never find it now — we shall never find it now ! Suz. I can't bear it any longer — I can't see her cry. (opens envelope and takes out paper which she /mnd-s to Louise) is your letter any- thing like that ? Louise (opening the [in per). 'Tis the letter itself ! Suz. (bursting out laughing). What do say to my "antennae " now, my dear ? Louise. Oh, yes — it's the same — (reading) " 1 am obliged to leave home by daybreak ; but far or near " Could I have written such words V Fool that I was ! and should my husband ever know ! (violent knocking, L. door.) Suz. Some one knocks ! Louise, it was there — th>3re ! Baron (without, \,.). Open the door ! Suz. Your husband ! Give me the letter, (snatches it.) Louise Good heavens! where shall I hide 1 Suz. (low — going to open the door). Don't think of hiding — stay where you are. Louise. No, no — he would see my agitation, (runs to door, R. — Baron continues to knock.) Suz. (low — her hand on lock of door, l.1. No — stop, 1 tell you! (Louise enters room, H. — with vexation) Oh, foolish woman! (she opens the door, L.) Entt r B uiii\, l. door, in shooting dress, with his gun. Baron (t,., surprised)- You! Suz. (R., calm and smiling). Yes — I! What an uproar you have been making. Baron. Here? Suz. In this museum. I'm looking at all the curiosities. Baron (looking round him) Alone? Suz. You see [nits at table and examines a drawer full of shells) What a wonderful collection of shells to be sure— only look ! Baron (putting down his gun, i> ). But 1 heard talking. Suz. I was trying to pronounce these dreadful words aloud. Why will scientific men give such preposterous names to things? Oh, look — isn't that pretty? Baron. You were not alone -Louise was here. Suz. What should she be doing here? Baron. Something she was ashamed of apparently, sinceshe made her escape. Suz. (toughing, still looking at the shells). Ha, ha, ha ! does that fit often seize you, cousin? Baron. She was here, I say ! Suz. And if she was, why shouldn't she be here still ? Do yon think she has hidden herself under the table? Baron 'roughly, looking her full in the face). Then why didn't you open tlie door immediately ? 2fi A SCBAP OF PAPEK. [ ACT II. Buz. (not at all disconcerted). Because] thought the knocking was hi the other door — and [ opened that firsl Baron. In order thai Louise mighl gel away. That's the way she went, then ' (goes up to c. door.) Si/ VVhal a tiresome old bear you are ! If Louise went that way, go ami look after her ; ami Leave me to examine the shells. Baron in., coming down). My wife was strangely agitated this morning, alter her conversation with Monsieur What's-his-name — whom she knew before her marriage — more still, during that little affair about the statuette— whal did that mean? Suz. (coming down — looking at shells). Perhaps she was afraid he would drop it. Baron (getting more and more angry). The man made an offer of marriage for Mathilde, without ever having seen her — amere pre- text it is very clear, to get into the house, and see my wife — a got- up plan to divert my suspicions ! (seizing hold <>/ Suzanne) Look 11 ie in the face, and tell me it was not so, if you can. SUZ. It's as deal- as noonday — only let go my hand, please, for you hurt me ; and a pretty mess you have made of the poor shells. (opens her hand — shows t/u shells in i><>tr take, up his gun.) Suz. Baron ! Baron ! I beg of you Baron (searching in spite of her). Leave me ' Suz. (trying t<> xt"/i him). Hear me ! hear me ! Baron (finding th door, R.). Ah! there's a door here ! (Suzanne springs between him a>d (he door) She is concealed in that man's room. Let me go — by heaven, I'll have his life ! (menacing with his (run.) Suz. For my sake ACT n. ] A SCRAP OF PAPER. 27 Baron. For your sake? Suz. (icith feverish haute, as if regardless of •chatslu is saying . Yea — for mine ! you drive me to this confession by your violence. What! were you so blind? Did not my embarrassment — my agitation — at once reveal the truth ? 1 didn't open the door at once, tis true, be- cause I was afraid of being found here Your dog evidently recognized your wife's shawl which I wore Don't yon see? Louise refused her sister's hand to Prosper, because she knew I loved him years ago — don't you see? Prosper imagined I had deceived him, and so wanted to marry another, in order to revenge himself on me — don't you see? When Louise spoke low to him it was to justify me, and prevent this detested marriage, which 1 was resolved never should take place — don't you see ? don't you see ? BARON (l. ). Yes, yes, 1 remember now. lie spoke this morning of some heartless treachery on the part of a woman Si:z. He meant me — I was the heartless treachery ! (sighing) But it was all a mistake — a misunderstanding. Baron. Why not tell me this at once? Suz. Can you ask the question? What woman would willingly confess the weakness of her heart And then you were so violent.. and made such an awful noise — you don't know what a noise you do make. And I was so frightened, and — so out it came — I don't know how — and— don t you see ! don't you see ? (asidt ) I don't know what on earth I am talking about Baron. Be calm, my dear Suzanne — no one shall ever learn this secret from me. But I'll not allow this man to trifle with your feel- ings in this manner— I'll see him at once Suz. See him — what for? Baron. What for? Why, to tell him the state of affairs between you, make him withdraw his pretensions to the hand of Mathilde. and — and Suz. And what? Baron. What ? why, marry you to be sure ! Suz. (aside). Good heavens! 1 didn't take that into my reckoning. Baron. Yes, yes ; I'll see the fellow — speak out my mind at once. Suz. What are you thinking of, my dear friend ' Let me see him first — endeavor to lure him back myself. You would not deprive a woman of her dearest privilege— would you, cousin ? Baron. As you will, [going on with volubility , spite of the efforts of Suzanne to speak) Marry you he shall — dead or alive ' I won't have him play fast and loose with cousin Suzanne — that I won't. I owe him a grudge for making me suspect Louise — my own dear good Louise. (bursts out laughing) Good heavens! what a fool a man makes of himself sometimes ! But he shall pay for it — he shall marry you as a punishment — no, I don't mean that — but marry you he shall ! (taking iij/ his gun) Xow, then, to bring down my man! amicably — I mean amicably ! {patting his gun I Old trusty, here is foi the partridges — so ho. Fidele ! and off we go ! Suz. (aside) Now the popular opinion is, that man can't talk. Baron (turning ath. door). Not a word to Louise ! Suz. She shall not know more about the affair than she knows 8t this moment — I give you my word. Baron. I would not have her know for the world. [Exit, l. door. Re-enter Louise, r. door. 28 \ SCRAP OF PAPER. fiCT n. Louise [throufing herself into tin arms of Suzanne), oes the lamp smoke '.' SUZ. It does a little, {puts it out) There — I've put it out. Prosp. {asidt ). So much the better. (>rx tin inn !<,pr into tin fin I St /. {asidt |. Now I could positively hug the man for that ! ACT III.] A SCRAP OF TAPER. 31 Prosp (taking up the burning envelope with tongs). Look, madam, it burns— it burns. Srz I haven't the heart to send him away now. I must confess ail Prosp Shall I lay down the ashes at your feet. Suz. (laughingly). Are you quite sure you have burned the right thing? Prosp. Can you doubt ? Suz. Your good faith ? — oh, no ! But pick up that little scrap oi paper you had in your hand just now. Prosp. (hunting on the carpet). That little scrap of paper I What do you mean ? Suz. (pointing it out laughing). There it is ! Prosp. (picking it up with surprist ). Well, and what then ? Scz. (listening). Hush: what's that 1 hear? Prosp. (going to window). The barking of dogs ! (looks out) Brise- mouche and the Baron are, coming towards the house. Srz. And they may come upstairs ! Give me that scrap of papt-r, quick ! Prosp. This darkness is rather awkward — I understand. I'll light the candle at once, (he lights tht paper ) Baron (without, bensath the window). Here, Fidele ! Srz. (aside). It was fated that he should burn the paper after all ! (Prosper lights the candle with tJiebumdng paper, and throws it out of the window) Oh, what have you done? Baron (as before). Holloa ! Do you mean to set the house on fire? Prosp. (at windowlooking out). Some one is picking it up ! Srz. The Baron ! Oh, we're lost ! Prosp. What do you mean ? Srz. That was the very letter ! Prosp. (bewildered). That scrap of paper — the letter? Srz. The very letter ! Run ! — quick ! — get it back ! Why don't you run '! Prosp (losing his head, and running to the window). lam run- ning Srz. Not by the window, man — by the door ! Prosp {running to door, L.). Yes, to be sure ! Suz. Not that way ' Prosp. No, no, of course not ! (runs to dour, c, throwing down all /he furniture in his /ray.) Stz. You'll find me at the chateau in the conservatory ! Prosp. I'll have it, dead or alive ! [Runs out, < . door. Suz. That comes of being too clever by half ! [Exit, rapidly, i . door. CURTAIN. ACT III. SCENE —J. Conservatory attached to the Chateau. M -»ame Dupont. l. c. is taking fruit from a basket, which she peaces ■in a tray, and hands over to PAULINE. Ma_> I>. There, you have the fruit. [Exit Pauline, r. 2 E. 82 A SCRAP OF PAPBK, [ACT in. Enter Baptists, i.. So you are ba. ^ from accompanying the Baron om shooting. Bap. Sfes I've jusl had time to make myself genteel. The gentlemen will be here directly, and clamoring for their dinner. So, stir your stumps, old girl, {crosses to u. door.) M'\n D. Old girl, indeed ! Enter Brisemouche, c door, //< is still in his shooting-coat, and has his g an, with n littl sen wed up pap* r stuck in it. BRISK, (r.). Ah, Dupont, there you arc ! Is dinner ready? 1 want m\ dinner awfully | There is no time to go home, and dress for dinner ; .>ut I know Madam • de la Gflaciere will excise me ; and I am dreadfully tired with my day's sport, Mad, l>. (i. ). You have bagged a great deal of game, 1 suppose, sir'.' Bitisi<; Game ? — well, not exactly: not l>u, that I'm a good shot, when I choose — a very good shot. However, I've brought home a prize. Mad I). A fine bird ' BRISE. No, not exactly, -hist as i was about to bring down a par- tridge — sure, this time — I spied, trotting along to his nocturnal lair, a tiger MAD l>. A tiger! good gracious ! BRISE. Yes— a tiger ! — a gold-winged tiger — a tiger beetle ! the most beautiful specimen. With one eye on the partridge, and the other on the be, 'tie I missed the partridge ; but I bagged my beetle; and here he is. (shows the screw of pap rinhisgun) Don't touch the precious creature for the Life of you, woman! But how about the dinner '.' Mad l> it is not ready yet ; but the Baron is just returned. Bkisk. Yes yes; he left me under Couramont's window While dinner is getting ready, I should like to put myself to rights a little. B.u\ (advancing). If you will walk this way, sir. [ Exit, l. door. BRIBE. A pretty mess my tiger hunt has put my hands in. (turning it door) Has my sister come yet 7 M \i> 1> I have not seen her, sir Brisk. She's still at her toilet ; she is so very particular ahout her toilet She has so much decency and decorum. | Exit, L. door. Pauline has entered during this, from doom. Paul. Well, for my pari I think if that Mademoiselle Zenohie had so much decency and decorum, she might just show them by not trotting after that youmj Monsieur Anatole. Mux I> Hold your tongue. 1 won't have any scandal -mongering ; a i I don'l Stan 1 idling there ! The company will take coffee here. PAUL. You needn't stare at me, madam — I'm off ! I'm iroing to change my handkerchief (crosses t" i.. This is a shockingly unbe- coming one makes one look like a common housemaid. [ Exit, L. dour. Mad IV Yes; that's all one sees now-a-days — an affected creature that cin't stitch a hem. but wan's an hour every day for her piano! Good lord ' what will the world come to next ? {Exit into dining-room, R. door. ACT III. J A SC - r *F PAPER. c»5 Enter Prosper Couramont, c. d., agitated, and out of breath. 1'ROSP. In the conservatory, she said Enter Suzanne, l., in dgitaiion. SUZ. You've got it ? Prosp. Haven't vou ? Suz. No. Prosp. \ ( in despair)- ol1 ! Suz. What have you been doing ? Prosp. I rushed down stairs — 1 don't know how — heels over head ! When I got out of the house — no one — nothing — not a ghost of a scrap of paper. ' Now, one of two things must have happened/' said I ; " either the Baron stamped on the paper, to put it out, or picked it up to see that it was extinguished. But, as the paper was no longer there, it is most probable he flung it aside, as he walked along. Suppose, then, I follow his trail, and hunt on the ground? " So I followed his trail, and hunted Suz. But you found nothing ? Prosp. Absolutely nothing. Suz. Perhaps the wind has wafted it away. Prosp. But there isn't a 'breath of air. (sitting down in despair") Then I've all to begin over again, to-morrow morning. Suz. What do you mean by to-morrow morning ?— directly. Prosp. {shivering'). Without an overcoat? Suz. Would you leave some one else to pick it up, and bring it to the Baron ? Go at once. Frosp. (buttoning up his coat, and shivering). Well, I'm going. Burr, burr ! Suz. Poor fellow ! here, take this shawl, (throws Louise's shawl about him.) Prosp. No, no — I really can't. Suz. But I say you must. Prosp. (while Suzanne wraps him up in the shawl). You do with mo what you will. I'm caught — bandaged ; and (she puts the shawl over his mouth) muzzled ! Suz. Now go, quick — I implore you ! Prosp. I go ! ( with thick voice) 'muzzled — positively muzzled ! (runs out C. door. ) Suz Here have I been, ever since morning, running up and down, round and round, like a squirrel in his cage — worrying myself to death, all about a stupid little scrap of paper, and a tiresome man — hang him ! I'm so provoked with him, that I could — poor fellow ! — I'm sure, he's giving himself trouble enough to undo all the mis- chief he has done ! I can't be angry with him ! But I am all the more enraged with the silly folks who are idiotic enough to write in- sane love-letters! " I love you — I love you! "is all very pretty to say ; but it isn't the thing to write ! — and looks so cold on paper. I'm sure, if I were to send all the loves in the world in a letter to any one — this Monsieur Prosper, for instance — they wouldn't call up one flush of color in his face. Holloa ! what's this? They seem to have called one up in mine, though. Oh, come, come ; I'm not going to b^ en absurd, I hope, as to allow myself to be thinking about this good gentleman — pooh, pooh ! — this will never do, Mademoiselle Suzanne ! Mademoiselle Suzanne, I must have an eye upon you. and see what you are about, Mademoiselle 84 A SCRAP OF PAPEB. [ACT 111 h'.nd r Mathllde, i.. door. Math. (l.). Ah, godmother, there you arc ! Have you Been Anatole'.' Suz. r., aside). Poor child, she isn't troubled with any scruples. (aloud) NO. my dear — have you seen the Baron? Math. No; but 1 hoard him stumping up and down in his room like a wild beast in his den. Suz. (alarmed). Has he discovered the truth then? EnU r Baptiste, l., crosses to r. at back. [seeing him) Ah, Baptiste was with the shooting party — he may have seen what passed, (to Baptiste, who is going out, R. 2 E.) Baptiste, a word with you. Mathilde, dear, do you think dinner is getting ready ? Math. I'll go and see. | Exit into dining room. Suz. (l.). Baptiste, you accompanied the gentlemen out shooting? Bap. (p.). Yes, my lady. SlTZ. You were with them when a lighted paper was tiling out of a window of Monsieur Brisemouche's house? Bap. A lighted paper v Oh, yes, 1 recollect ! Suz. Who picked it up ? Bap. Really, I can't tax my memory, my lady. Suz. Think — was it the Baron? Bap. My master ? 1 fancy it was Suz. It was ? Bap. I don't exactly remember Suz. (aside). The man will drive me mad ' Bap Oh no, I recollect, /picked it up Suz. You ! What did you do with it ? Bap. I believe I flung it away — no, I didn't- Suz. Then you've got it? Bap. No, I haven't, my lady. Ah ! I know now — t handed it to Monsieur Brisemouche, who asked me for it. (ANA-fOi-iS appears, v. door, on seeing the others, conceals himself.) Suz. You gave it to Monsieur Brisemouche '? Bap. No, I didn't, my lady Suz. Grant me patience ! You said Bap. He took.it out of my hand. Suz. (aside). Brisemouche has it — unlucky chance! — there is no ♦rusting such a man. (aloud) Do you know where he is? Bap. He was there just now, my lady — I will call him ! (crosses ;o l.) Suz. No. no, don't call him — no noise — let him know I want to see him. [Exit Baptiste l. door. I must get it from him without awakening his suspicions. I am on burning coals, and cannot control my impatience ! I'll watch for him in the hall ! [ Exit, L. door. Anatole comes forward. Anat. They are gone — I think I may venture Enter Madame Dupont, from dining-room, R. door. Dt r. Bless my heart ! Monsieur Anatole ! ACT III. A SCKAP OF PAPER. 35 Axat. Hush, hush, not a word ! .Mad. P. (low). Mademoiselle Zenobie let nie know you wouldn't dine here. Axat. (sorrowfully). Yes ; she packed me off to my tutor's in the, market cart, and told old Jean to keep an eye on me. But I per- suaded him to get down for a glass of brandy — jumped out of the cart— and here I am. Mad. D. And now you are here, what do you mean to do here? A nat. Why — see lier — tell her I love her— love her a thousand times more than ever. I mean to hide here in the conservatory, where there, will be no Zenobie at my heels. But, first of all. I must write to Mademoiselle Mathilde. ( feeling in his pocket*) Now there, I've lost my pocketbook ! But here's the pencil ! Give me a sera]) of paper — any scrap of paper Mad. D. Yes, I daresay, and I suppose you'll want me to carry your letter next V Anat. Of course, you won't refuse me? Mad. D. Of course I shall! Well, I never !— the impudence. aside) I'd better go or he would wheedle me over in no time — the little rascal ! {Exit into dining-room, R. Anat. What am I to do now? I can't write without paper — oh bother ! (sits down in despair on bench, \..,just opposite Brisemouche's gun) What's this? — a paper screwed up. (takes the horn of the paper out of the gun and shakes it) There's something inside, (opens it) Oh, hid, a beetle! — one of my guardian's treasures. Well, what matter to him, a beetle more or less? He'll think he lost it as he came along, (shah 8 out the beetle) Poor thing, it little dreams it owes its life to the power of love, (tears burnt end from paper) There, it looks better with that ragged edge torn off — there's writing on it — never mind, there's one side clean, that will do. (writes) ' They wanted to send me away, but I have returned. They say I must complete my studies — but my only study henceforth will be to make you happy, by becoming your husband. I have hidden myself in the conservatory — for ever and ever your " Brisk, (without L.). The paper, the paper, what do you mean? ( Anatole springs in among the bushes, c. l., rind hides.) Enter BRisEMOtrcHE./oKowed by Suzanne, e. Brise. (R., aloud). What is all this about a paper? I haven't the slightest comprehension of what you mean ! Suz. (L.1. For heaven's sake, don't talk so loud ! Brisk. But what paper ? Srz. A scrap of paper, set <>n fire and thrown out of Monsieur Prospers window, to be sure ! Brise. Oh ! the scrap of paper set on fire and— then why didn't you say so at once '! Suz. At all events, I say so now. But where is it? — where is it? — where is it? Brise. But, what can you want with only a scrap of paper — half burned, too — a little paltry scrap not worth Srz. 'exasperated). What-did-you-do- with-it '.' Brisk. I made a cage of it. Srz. A cage? Brise. Yes ; to enclose a beautiful specimen of the tiger-beetle, which tickled the palm of my hand so confoundedly, kicking about in it, that I 36 A SCRAP OF PAPER. f ACT Hi. Si z. But again — where is it ? Brisk. Oli ! I stuck it into my gun. {goes >'j> and brings down hit gun without looking at it. ) Suz. I have it now ! Brisk. Why, it's no longer there? at hit gun.) Suz. No longer there '.' Brise. Clean gone ! Suz. {alarmed. | Losi ! Brisk. Oh! the little monster of a beetle ! He tnusl nave tickled iboul so much that he rolled down, cage and all. Buz. Then it can't he gone far ; let us hunt about for it. Brisk, {hunting among tlu plants). It's remarkable, it's very re- markable how intelligent these little animals are. I'll write a paper on the subject for the Entomological Society of the Department— a .nost interesting paper, {suddenly) Oh ! I've found (St zanne comet (hum, thinking //< has found tin paper) I've found such a good title! "The Insect's Escape; or, The Hectic's Bastille." (Suzanne turnt (iiniji angrily) Hey ! a capital title ! Suz. {hunting in ruin). Nothing — nothing' hut have it I must. Look everywhere — look everywhere! {seeing tin Baron coming)'So, no — don't look — don't look anywhere. Brisk. Eh ! what ? F.nti r Baron de la Glaciere, Louise, and Mademoiselle Zeno hie, l. door, Baron. Well, ain't we going to dine to-day? Water Mathilde, from dining room. R. Math. Yes ; dinner is all ready. Enter Baptiste, from dining room, r. Bar. Dinner is on table, my lady. Baron. That's all right. Louise (lo/r to Suzanne). Gone away : ; Suz. abst nf. "ml hunting after the In < th /rid, In r eyes). Yes, gone^ — entirely gone ; a tiresome little beast ! Lovisk (surprised). A. tiresome little beast ? Monsieur Prosper ? Suz. Monsieur Prosper! No — yes! (aside) Poor fellow. LOUISE. Now he is gone, and my letter burned, I breathe more freely, {got s up.) Suz. {asidt }. Do you v and I am suffocating ! Baron {looking at SUZANNE). Anxious and embarrassed — matters are not made up then. I must take the affair upon myself, I see. (off i rs his «riu to Suzanne) Cousin Suzanne ! (R.) Suz, {taking his arm mechanically , and looking back as she follows the party into tin dining-room). Ah! thank you. Math, {to St zanne). Have you lost anything? Suz. Nothing, only a Little beast — I mean a brooch. Karon {stopping). Here ! in the conservatory ? Si /.. {eagerly). Oh, don't think of looking for it — it's not worth the trouble. I assure you. (low to Matihi.dk) Tell Madame Dupont to Xrnie and speak t>> me. ' Exit with Baron into the dining-room after theothers. ACT m.l A SCRAP OF PAPER. 37 Math. I will, {apart — going) And to think of Anatole not coming after all. Oh, I'll give it him when I catch him. [Erit iitt" dining-room — Anatole opens tin branches of tin plants and ereepsout or, all fours, his letti r in Ins hand. Anat. At last I'm free again. And I can't say 1 was very com. fortahle in there, amidst a quantity of outlandish plants that scraped my face, and poked my neck, and pricked my legs ; but now, how to send my letter 1 i//< goes out and looks into the park.) Enter Pauline, l. door, with a smart handkerchief. Paul. Come, I look something like now. {'join;/ towards dining- room, sees Anatole) Well, if there isn't Mademoiselle Zenobie's young gentleman ! Anat. (&.,• turning, alarmed). Ah! pray, my good young woman, don't tell anybody that you have seen me here. Nobody must know — nobody ! Paul. (l. ). Make you mind easy. sir. It's my business to hold my tongue, {aside) When I'm not paid to the contrary. Anat. {aside). Oh, perhaps she would take the letter — I've read of such things in novels. Suppose I tried, {aloud) Mademoiselle! Paul. Sir ! Anat. {awkward and embarrassed). You — you — you are very pretty, Mademoiselle. Paul. I've heard people say so, sir. Anat. {as before, with his eyes cast dowri. And people say very right. But — but — there's one thing you haven't got ! Paul, i looking at him fixedly). Not line eyes. I suppose. Anat. Oh yes, you have very fine eyes — no, I mean a pair of nice ear-drops. Paul. So bribery and corruption is our little game, inside.) Anat. {aside). I hope she won't he indignant, and fly in a passion. {very timidly) Oh. if I dared to {slips r. mmppedin the shawl. Prosp. Nothing — I've got nothing but the rheumatism, and a per- fectly wolfish hunger, {noisi of plates and glasses Oh. yes! all the others are at dinner, satisfying their vile appetites without me. Was ever man in a more ridiculous position — a more ridiculous attire '.' Prosper, my friend, you are a pretty fellow, after sailing round the world in safety, to be wrecked all at once on the reefs of woman's wlieedledom ! This shawl is like the shirt of Nessus. It 1'"' A SCRAP OF PAPER. [ACT TTI. to the heart's core; and y*t I cannot tear it off! Dear shawl: ami dearer owner of the shawl ! whom 1 — 1 (kisses tin shawl) There, don't mince the matter, idiot I it's no use — whom I love ; whom I adore ! Ton my soul, I must adore her. if I go raving up and down here all day instead of getting my dinner, {goes R.) Enter Madame Dupont from dining-room, n. Mad. D. Sir ! PROSP. Don't stop me — I'm dying of hunger! (MADAME DUPONT ays hold of his shawl) Don't touch that shawl woman ! Mad. 1). Hut you are Monsieur Prosper. Prosp. Madame Dupont as befor< >. Don't touch my shawl, I tell you ! {makes a rush "t tin dining-room.) Mad D. But Madamoiselle Suzanne told me Prosp. {^returning eagerly). Mademoiselle Suzanne? What of her? Mad. D. {mysteriously). She told me to look for you as you came in. and let you know she had lost, somewhere about here' a pap< -, with a little beast in it. PBOSP. A little beast ! What's the little beast to me? Mad. D. I'm sure 1 don't know — only she said you were to look for it — and told me to ask for her shawl. Prosp. {giving up the shawl). Her shawl? (Jive it up ? that com pletes my misery ! {sinking down a.nat. {coming down as Prosper goes up). I don't hear anyone now — they are all at dinner, {looking <>nt cautiously, R. door^ I can see them all— they are changing plates. (Prosper reappears, find comesdown hunting, first t... then r.) Ah ! the maid-servant is mak ing signs to me. {makes signs iii return) Yes— ves— now's your time ' >he's taking up a plate and going. Holloa ! where the deuce is she going 1 Oh, you little fool it isn't— goodness gracious! She has given my letter to Mademoiselle Zenobie — oil ! Prosp. {seatedon h nch r. , turning suddenly). What's that ? (Ana- toTjE hides in tin- clump ■>/ bushes) I heard a sort of scream. Can I have trod on the little beast ? {he looks about again and picks "/> the end of burnt paper) A little bit of pink paper burnt at the edge. Why, it's a portion of the very letter ! — torn ?— who can have torn i; — who '.' Enter Baron, from dining-room,^ Ah— I see— it's clear enough ! It must have been the husband him self. Baron (r.V T thought I heard a voice, (perceiving him) Ah — it's VOU ' ACT m.J A SCBAP OF PAPER. 39 Prosp. (LA i beg your pardon — I'm afraid I'm rather late {g<>in£ to dining-room. ) Barox (stopping him). Two words, if you please. Prosp. {aside, coming back). I shall have to fight on an eiuptj stomach. Barox. Do you still entertain the same views you did this morn- ing-? Prosp. (asidt I. They will have done dinner soon. Barox. Do you still entertain the same views- Frosp. Yes— no — that is — (aside) I had forgotten all about that I [aloud) Well, in principle, yes — in practice, no ; certainly not — it fact. Madame de la Glaciere displayed so much opposition to my pro jectS Barox. She had her reasons, probably. Prosp. I don't know what reasons. Barox {quietly). Her unwillingness probably to see you sacrificing an old attachment to a new fancy. Prosp. {after looking at him steadily). Indeed! (((side) Nothing like making the plunge at once, {with n change of man ier) I see, sir, that vou know all. Baron. All. Prosp. Then perhaps you'll permit the conversation to drop until after dinner, (attempts again to enter dining-room — stopped by tlu Barox.) B.vrox. I beg pardon, sir — the affair is too serious to admit of any delay. Prosp. Serious — serious ! After all, there's nothing so very serious in the matter. I admit that I entertained a very strong regard for the lady — that there was a sort of understanding between us, an I that we even had a trifling correspondence ; but that was all — ami the lady has no longer the slightest regard for me. Barox. Her affection is undiminished. Prosp. I beg your pardon — I beg your pardon — I give you my word of honor that Barox. She has confessed it to me herself. Prosp. Confessed it .' — confessed what? Barox Her attachment to you. Prosp She confessed that — to you V Barox. To me. Prosp. (asidt . I'm thunderstruck ! Bakox. She has told me all, sir. Your desertion of her upon the most unfounded suspicion — your long absence in consequence — and spite of your unkindness, the affection she still bears you Prosp. She told you that ! Barox. She told me that. Prosp. (aside). Well I must say she might have chosen another confidant, (aloud) I understand you, sir ; and you have sought me to demand a reparation at the sword's point. Barox. Far from it — to try and effect a reconciliation between you Prosp. (stupefied). What ! Barox. And to take you by the hand, (stretches out hi* hand.) Prosp. You are too good, (ai'ide) Too good, a vast deal 1 Barox. Her happiness is in your handa. Prosp. Is it ? Barox. Make her happy, then. Prosi*. (shaking hands". I should be delighted to oblige you but 40 A SCRAP OF PAPER, [ACT IH. Baron. And make me happy, too. Prosp. But, my dear sir, have you maturely considered what jou are proposing to me ! Baron. Do you think, sir, I would permil von to refuse a lady so closely allied to me— after proffering her the most ardent attachment — ■ the satisfaction she lias a tight to demand? PROSP. Surely .Madame d»* la (Jlaciere could never have sent you to BARON. 1 must insist, sir, you don't mix up my wife's name in this business. PROSP. Hut how the deuce, sir, am 1 to do otherwise? Oil, 1 have had enough of this — you'll drive me mad, famished as 1 am. Do what you like — fight, or go to the BARON. Not another word — time and place. Prosp. {exasperated). When you please I Enter Suzanne and Louise, hastily, from, the dining-room, r. Suz. (aside). This is what I feared. Louise {asirfi). A challenge ! all is lost! Suz. (throwing h< rselffo twt < n tin m). Ah, Prosper ! has the Baron's persuasion, then, [crosses to c. ) had no more power over you than my tears ? PROSP. (.surprised). Hey ! what? Suz. Would you wish to see me at your feet ? Baron. Never would I suffer such a humiliation ! Prosp. (aside). What the deuce does all this mean ? Stz. But when I swear, Prosper, that 1 never deceived you. (lotr to him) Back me up in all I say. {aloud) It was only a misapprehension. (a. side) Back me up. Prosp. {bewildered). But I don't see Suz. (low to him}. Don't he stupid ! (almiih You don't see that you break my heart ? Prosp. Break your heart ! St z. Yes, my loving heart, and you are still silent. ! Speak, sir, speak ! BARON. Now, sir, what have you to say? Prosp. 1 have to say — 1 have to say — (aside) Oh, I have her now I (aloud) That if all she says he true Suz. Can you doubt me. Prosper? (apart to 7dm) That's right, go on — go on ! Prosp. (aside). That's right, is it 1 Just you wait a bit, (aloud) And you swear that you have never been faithless to me? Suz. Oh, never, never ! [apart to hint) Uo on — go on ! PROSP. That you love me still V Suz. Love you ! oh yes ! Prosp. Then, madam, I own that I, too, love — adore you ! I swear it before these witnesses of our mutual affection. Stz. (apart tohim). That will do now ! Quite enough ! Prosp. And I am ready to marry you. madam, as soon as you will. Suz. In make believe, of course, (apart t" hint.) Prosp. (aside). Deuce a hit ! in downright earnest ! (aloud) Come to my arms, Suzanne ! Srz. (springing bar/.). You go too far, sir — you go too far. Baron (pushing her into Prosper's arms). Nevermind us, Suz- anne ; it's all in the family. Embrace him, I tell you. Prosp. (embracing her). Oh, Suzanne I ACT HI. ] A SCRAP OF PAPER. 41 Suz. Oh, Prosper ! {apart to him) You horrid tra'itor ! Prosp. 1 think I've caught you now. Suz. (aside). Don't make too sure of that. Enter Mademoiselle Zenobie and Mathilde, from the dining room — Brisemotjche — then Baptiste and Pauline. (During tht following, Servants hand coffee — Brisemouche is alone in front. holding a piece of paper in his hand; he is slightly intoxicated.) Brise. It is a love letter !— a love letter to Zenobie ! I shouldn't have believed it, if I hadn't seen — with my own eyes seen — the young woman slip it under her plate, (reading) " I am obliged to leave home by daylight, dearest love." Now, who the deuce could ever call Zenobie "dearest love?" (reading again) " But far or near, my soul will follow thine." All this to Zenobie ! It is incredible ! but here it is. Ah, here's a chance — if I could but get rid of Zenobie — force the fellow to marry her — what a piece of good luck it would be. ( folds the paper in two.) Baron (coming down with a cup of coffee in his hand). Don't you take coffee ? (drops down, l. c.) Brise. (aside). Ah — an idea ! (gives paper to the Baron) Do you know that handwriting 1 Baron. This? (as he opens the paper, Prosper is coming down with a cup of coffee in his hand, and observes the Baron reading the reverse side to that read by Brisemouche) " They wanted to send me away, but I have returned." Brise. Nonsense — " returned " — he said he was obliged to go. Baron (continuing to read). " They say I must continue my studies." Brise. Nonsense — "studies" — no, no — " dearest love." Baron. No — " studies "—it is written in pencil ! Brise. No — " dearest love" — in ink. (takes letter and turns over to the other side) There — it is there ! (gives hark letter t<> the Baron.) Prosp. (coming down hastily). The letter! (snatching it from the Baron.) Baron (still laughing) Come let's see this wonderful letter. Prosp. No, no ; I can't allow it. Brise. But, why ? Prosp. (quietly finishing Ids cup of coffee). Because I don't want to admit everybody into my confidence, (gives his empty cup to Brise- mouche to hold.) Brise. Then you wrote that letter ? Prosp. Well, and if I did ? Brise. What! unworthy friend, you have taken advantage of being under my roof, to make love to Zenobie — delude her inno- cence Baron. He ! make love to Zenobie ? Brise But, of course, he will take her off my hands — I mean marry her? Baron (giving 7iis empty cup to Brisemouche to hold). What does all this mean, sir? This morning you make love to Mathilde — this evening, you promise to marry Suzanne — and all the while you are making love to Zenobie. Brise Don't you call Zenobie " Dearest love ?" Prosp. Never dreamed of such a thing ! Brise. But the proof is that scrap of paper. Baron. Yt j s — show us the scran of paper — what is if? 42 A SCRAP OF I Mil; [ACT m. PR08P. As you say — a mere scran of paper, (shoirs if behind his bnrk to Suzanne.) Si/., (to Loui&E, alarmed). It is the letter ! Louise {alarmed). The letter: PROSP. (coolly). Hut as you seem to attach some mystery to this Bcrap of paper, I request Mademoiselle Suzanne — my wife— to judge of its contents, (holds out papt /• to Suzanne.) Baron (seizing letter to th( alarm of Prosper and Suzanne). So be it— Suzanne shall read and judge ! Si ■/.. It is unnecessary — quite. 1 know what it contains, (takes the paper.) Baron. You know ? Srz. Yes — a men- bit of folly— a joke. Bhise. A joke ! a joke ! The chance of getting rid of Zenobie is no joke ! Baron. Beware, Suzanne— your life's happiness may be concerned. (crosses to Suzanne.) Suz. Well, even if it be? (gives paper to Prosper, k.. and holds a lighted candle, which she takes from a table cfrse by her) Burn it, my good friend. Baron. Suza r ie ! Srz. (holding candle). Burn — burn ! Baron. Ah ! you're a happy man to marry such a woman who trusts you so implicitly. Prosp. 1 know I am. (bums the letter and puts tin t-^delscope.-Testimonials— The Transformation and a miscel- laneous program. Address Orders to THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY CHICAGO, ILLINOIS OCT 2 01951* This book is DUE on the last date stamped below MAR 9 195r Southern Branch of the University of California Los Angeles Form L 1 545* $3s IT'T"'!. ' ' _ ... ■■/■: _>