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Under a Veil

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[Commences re-reading in a low tone.

Cha. (rousing himself). Oh! I can’t lay here any longer. Morpheus won’t come to my aid. What shall I do? Well, I might just as well finish my letter to George. Why! what the deuce have I done with it? (Searches in his pockets.) Why, it seems to me I left it on the table before I went to sleep.

[He looks upon the table.

Luc. (again reading letter). “In that case, the only thing I can see for me to do is to join my mother.”

Cha. (striking his forehead). Confound it! I’ve left it in the next room.

Luc. (putting down letter, and taking up book). After all, I’m not George, and I’ve no right to read that letter.

Cha. But then my letter must be in the power of this woman. It appears to me that I’ve a perfect right to —

[Knocks gently at door.

Luc. Good gracious! there’s some one knocking. Who is there? What do you want?

Cha. A thousand pardons, madam. I am the person who inhabited a few minutes ago the room you now occupy; and by accident in leaving the room I left an unfinished letter.

Luc. (aside). Dear me! This is the young gentleman that’s too lazy for any thing.

Cha. Would you be kind enough to return me my letter?

Luc. (embarrassed). Sir, I’ll ring in order that your letter may be brought to you.

Cha. A thousand pardons, madam; but pray don’t trouble to ring. Can’t you slip it under the door?

Luc. Oh, certainly! There it is.

[Passes letter.

Cha. Thanks. (Aside.) A charming voice, – soft as a bird’s; and, if the plumage only corresponds – (He goes to examine fastening.) Confound this bolt! Infamous hotel! (He returns to table, and prepares to write.) By the way, I should like to know if she’s read this (looking at letter). Well, there’s a very old method for ascertaining that: ask her. (Goes to door, and knocks.) Madam, pardon me —

Luc. What do you want, sir?

Cha. Madam, my letter was left open on the table; and in taking it up – without, of course, the slightest desire – your eye must naturally have fallen upon it, and —

Luc. (aside). I understand. (Aloud.) I don’t understand you, sir; and, inasmuch as I’ve done what you desire, I must beg that we have no further conversation, as I shall refuse to answer.

Cha. Why, may I ask? I was asleep just now, and dreaming charmingly. If you like, I’ll tell you the dream.

Luc. Certainly not, sir.

Cha. Very good: it’ll keep for another time; but then, inasmuch as it was you that woke me up, permit me at least to converse with you as a compensation.

Luc. (aside). He is not stupid.

Cha. I beg pardon: did you speak?

Luc. (aside). What have I to dread? He seems a gentleman. (Aloud.) Well, sir, proceed, as you consider yourself aggrieved; only remember that I trust to your feelings as a gentleman, and your discretion.

Cha. Madam, you may depend upon it. (Wheeling arm-chair to door, and speaking through keyhole.) Are you married?

Luc. (affronted and aside). Upon my word! (Aloud.) Do you call that discretion, sir?

Cha. Most certainly; as a subject of conversation I see nothing against it. Society prescribes certain forms of conversation; and, to ascertain what forms to use, one must know whether one is speaking to a widow or a young girl, to an old maid or a married woman.

Luc. In – I – I am married.

Cha. (aside). So much the worse. I, madam, am a bachelor, and I’m going to Baden. Where may you be going?

Luc. A long way off, sir.

Cha. To —

Luc. To rejoin my husband, naturally.

Cha. By the way, madam, do you love your husband?

Luc. Excuse me, sir, but, if you don’t mind, we’ll change the conversation.

Cha. Whatever pleases you, madam, pleases me. (Pause.) A charming hotel, madam, is this Golden Lion. So well furnished, so well decorated! My goodness me! it gives me the inclination to set fire to the place.

Luc. If you’ve any such intentions, sir, pray remember that I’m in the hotel.

Cha. Very good; only just remember, that, in not setting fire to the hotel, I’m saving your life. (A pause.) By the way, madam, now I come to think of it, you do not love your husband.

Luc. Sir!

Cha. When one is compelled to separate one’s self from a husband that one loves, one is not so light-hearted as you were just now, and —

Luc. Really, sir!

Cha. Madam, pardon me, but you do not evidently possess a husband who would make you cry out in the words of Sterne, “Oh, Love, king of gods and men!” Now, if it had been my fate to have crossed your path, I swear that —

Luc. And I swear to you, sir, that I would never marry a man who was too lazy to do any thing.

Cha. Madam, you have read my letter.

Luc. I, sir? oh, dear, no! I can assure you I only looked at it. By the way, would you mind informing me how it is that you came to inhabit this room?

Cha. Well, the fact is, I went to sleep on the sofa: I’ve some faint recollection of the landlord coming in and asking me something about moving out; but he was so long about it that I fell asleep again, and during that time I fancy he had me quietly carried, sofa and all, into the next room. By the way, I have a charming idea.

Luc. May I venture to ask it? (Aside.) I should like to have a look at this man.

Cha. Madam, in the East, you are aware that a veil is a protecting wall between man and woman. If you would endeavor to put on such a veil, and would do me the honor of granting me an interview, – the landlord can supply us with refreshments, – we can converse more easily than through this partition; in fact, we shall be in the East; and, further, I pledge myself on my honor as a gentleman, that nothing shall in any way cause you to regret our interview.

Luc. (aside). His letter announces that he intends to risk his fortune. What if I could dissuade him? it would at least be the act of a Christian, and – and a woman.

Cha. What! not a word? must I then beseech you in song? —

(Sings.)

 
Oh! let my voice persuasive
Penetrate to your inmost heart;
Oh! list to my prayer so plaintive,
Through the door that keeps us apart.
 

Luc. I consent, but upon one condition; and that is, that you explain to me how it is that a man can be too lazy to do any thing.

Cha. Very good; at least I will explain to you the meaning of this somewhat bad joke.

Luc. Sir, upon these conditions in a few moments I shall be prepared to meet you – in China.