t our enemies have confessed his power to conquer; and trust me, girl,
the brave man's laurel blooms with as fresh an honour in the poor
peasant's cap as when it circles princely brows; nay, Justice deems it
of a nobler growth, for Flattery often twines the laurel round a
coronet, but Truth alone bestows it on the unknown head.

_Ros._ I confess the Chevalier is a proper gallant for any woman. Ay,
and so is the Chevalier's man. I warrant me, that knave, L'Eclair, when
he returns, will follow me about, wheedling and whining, to recollect
certain promises. Well, well, let but the soldiers return with whole
hearts from the war, and your ladyship and myself know how to reward
fidelity. In sooth, the chateau has been but a doleful residence in
their absence; the count never suffered his dwelling to be a merry one;
but of late his strange humours have so increased, that the household
might as well have lodged in purgatory.

_Ger._ Hold! I must not hear my uncle's name pronounced with levity. An
angel at his birth, mingled the divine spirit with less than human
frailty; but fiends have since defaced the noble work with more than
human trials. That fatal night, when the fierce Huguenots fired his
castle, and buried both his wife and infant in the blazing ruin; that
night of horrors has to his shocked and shrinking fancy still been ever
present; there still it broods--settled, perpetual and alone! Ah!
Rosabelle! the petulancies of misfortune claim our pity, not resentment.
My dear uncle is a recluse, but not a misanthrope; he rejects the
society of mankind, yet is he solicitous for their happiness; and while
his own heart breaks in silence under a weight of undivided sorrows,
does he not seek incessantly to alleviate the burthen of his complaining
brethren?

_Ros._ I know the count has an excellent heart; but surely his temper
has its flaws.

_Ger._ And shall we deem the sun that cheers the season less gracious in
its course, because a cloud at intervals may hide or chill its beams?
(_A bell rings_). Hark! 'tis the bell of his chamber. Perhaps he will
admit me now; for four days past I have applied at the door in vain. Ah
me!--these constant growing maladies sometimes make me tremble for his
life. Girl! if from the turret-top at distance you espy the hastening
travellers, turn, swift as thought, and call me to partake your watch!
[_Exit._

_Ros._ If they arrive before sun-set, I'm sure I shall know L'Eclair a
mile off by