Cha. Madam, in a few minutes I shall have the honor of presenting myself. (Goes to window, calling.) Mr. Red Lion, or Mr. White Horse!
Luc. (aside). I suppose I’d better alter my dress a little for the occasion.
[Exit L. 1 E.
Cha. (coming down stage). He has absolutely condescended to hear me, – this landlord. Upon my word, I’m rather pleased with this little adventure; if I’d gone to the ball, at any rate, I should never have heard so sweet a voice.
Enter Prichard, slightly intoxicated
Pri. For nobody else but you, sir, would I have disturbed myself upon the auspicious occasion. To-day! yesterday! did I tell you that my daughter was married? Yes, sir, to make —
Cha. You couldn’t do better, my dear White Horse, if you intended giving your daughter a husband. Just listen to me for a moment; you will oblige me by going up – yourself, mind – into that lady’s room next door.
Pri. Marrying one’s daughter, sir, when one is a father, is a grave responsibility; my emotions —
Cha. Of course you feel as a father; you will be good enough to take up plenty of candles, some flowers —
Pri. So long as she’s happy, so long as – (Charles, movement of impatience) – candles, sir, yes, sir, and flowers; yes, sir.
Cha. Afterwards you will bring up some refreshments; tea, for instance.
Pri. Tea, sir?
Cha. Yes; tea, tea, tea.
Pri. Senna tea?
Cha. No, confound you, ordinary tea!
Pri. Ordin – ordmorary – onding (Charles impatient) – You’re not ill, I hope, sir?
Cha. Not in the least, thanks. (Going, Charles stops him.) Ah, by the way, landlord, that lady in the next room – what sort of a person is she?
Pri. Char – ming, sir; be-a-u-ti-ful. Oh! she’s much handsomer than her father; but if hereafter he should betray her, if he should —
Cha. Who the devil are you talking about?
Pri. My shon-in-law.
Cha. Confound your son-in-law!
Pri. Yes, sir, certainly, sir: that’s what I say, and —
Cha. Be off, and do what I told you.
Pri. Yes, sir, directly; but you’ll understand that on such an auspicious —
Cha. There, there – be off; Red Lion – he’s gone.
Pri. (turning at door). White Horse Hotel, sir, please.
[Exit.
Cha. (alone). I suppose he’ll do what I’ve told him. I ought to change my coat too. Upon my honor (dressing himself), I’m delighted with my evening; and somehow or another, oddly enough, I feel quite curious to see this woman; in fact, I begin to be interested. It’s so long since I’ve been in the least interested – yes, it’s six months since any thing of the kind has happened. And my heart is, after all, but human: it detests a void.
[Goes on dressing.
Enter Prichard and George, L. 2 E., carrying candelabra
and vase of flowers
Pri. (still drunk). George, your conduct is schandalush: your master’s daughter is married to-day, and you take no more notish of the event than a cow, than a cow or calf; you’ve no heart, George, you’ve no shoul.
George. But, sir —
Pri. Hold your tongue; pray for her happiness, and go down and tell her I’m coming.
[Exit George.
Enter Lucy 1 E. L., veil in hand, and long cloak on, hiding figure
Luc. (perceiving flowers). Oh, what a charming change! I congratulate you, sir.
Pri. I’ll tell her, madam, she will be delighted; such a day, you understand, madam. If she’s only happy! May heaven —
Cha. He’s having a reel in the next room now.
Luc. Who are you talking about?
Pri. Eh, my daughter, madam; at this moment she’s so happy – may she be so all her life! and as to your maid, madam, she dances as if my daughter’s happiness depended on her legs, you understand. Madam, of course I mean —
Luc. Perfectly; be good enough to open that door, and show the gentleman in, who is in there.
[Sits down, and puts on veil.
Pri. But, madam —
Luc. Do what I tell you.
Pri. (hesitating, yet opens door of communication, and enters Charles’s room). Sir!
Cha. All right, I’ve heard; you can announce me.
Pri. You wrote your name in my book; but you see, sir, my daughter’s —
Cha. You’ve forgotten it; say Mr. Charleston King.
Pri. (re-entering L. H.). Mr. Charles, son of a king!
Luc. Son of a king!
Cha. (entering). Charleston King, at your service, madam.
Pri. (aside, going). A veiled woman in my house on such a day!
[Exit.
Cha. (taking a chair near Lucy). It is really too good of you, madam, to receive a man in your rooms who you never saw; and I scarcely know how to thank you.
Luc. You will thank me, sir, by explaining how it is that one can be —
Cha. Too lazy for any thing.
Luc. Precisely. If you will take the chair near you, you can be seated.
Cha. Well, you see, in this world men have all sorts of faces. (Prichard enters with tea-tray.) Confound this fellow! Just as I was getting on so nicely!
Pri. (putting down tea). Madam —
Cha. Talking of faces, let me draw your attention, madam, to this one (pointing to Pri.’s face). There is a face that has committed faults – crimes.
Pri. Crimes! Faults! Me, madam! me, sir! Here is the best tea, which upon this auspicious day —
Cha. That’ll do.
Pri. Crimes! Faults! Yes, madam, your maid has charmed us to such an extent with her dancing on this auspicious —
Luc. (taking no notice of Pri.). Go on talking, sir, whilst I pour out the tea.
Cha. Well, madam, in consequence of my misfortune my lifetime has indeed been a miserable one, – sorrow upon sorrow, faults accumulating upon faults.
Pri. (leaving). Crimes! Faults, indeed!
[Exit.
Cha. My friends always insisted on declaring that I was too lazy to do any thing; and the unlucky star that I was born under, gossiping tongues, and certain circumstances all combined, seemed to favor such a prediction.
Luc. But, sir, was this merited? (Making tea.) Will you have a cup of tea, Mr. – Mr. —
Cha. (absorbed). Apollo.
Luc. Mr. Apollo.
Cha. Madam! Ah, a thousand pardons. I was absorbed in thinking of my miserable self.
Luc. (getting interested). Have you no relations?
Cha. I had an uncle, a well-known merchant, but he died two years ago.
Luc. And didn’t he leave any thing?
Cha. Oh, dear, yes; he left a very nice fortune. In fact, he adopted this young lady on purpose to do that.
Luc. Oh, that wasn’t right.
Cha. I don’t know that it’s wrong; but it is not on account of this that I owe him a grudge. I heard that the only way in which he could discharge an obligation to a friend of his was by adopting this friend’s daughter, who was left an orphan, a very charming person, I heard; at least, so I was told, for I refused to put my foot inside his house.