y among them to celebrate chevalier Florian's return; and now the
honest grateful souls would fain thank their benefactor by the song that
tells him they are happy.

_De Val._ Their thanks are hateful to me; ungenerous wretches! is it not
enough that they are happy whilst I am miserable, but they must mock my
anguish by a saucy pageant of their joys, and force my shrinking senses
more keenly to remark the contrast of our fates? (_Tabors, &c.
without._) Quick! quick! begone and drive them from my gate (_stamps
imperatively_).

_Gas._ (_frighted_) I am gone, my lord! --I am gone.

_De Val._ Hold! another word--perhaps the unthinking creatures might
design this torture kindly, and I would not punish the mistakes of
ignorance. Do not dismiss them harshly--I would have them indulge their
gayety, but I cannot bear to be a witness of it. Gaspard, this house is
Melancholy's chosen home; and its devoted master's heart, like a
night-bird that abhors the animating sun, has been so long familiarized
to misery, it sickens and recoils at the approach of mirth.

_Gas._ (_pressing his hand_) My kind, unfortunate, my beloved master!

_De Val._ (_snatching it from him_) Pshaw! I loathe pity-- (_shouts_)
--hark! again! go, go, send them from the gate, but not harshly.

[Exit _Gaspard_.

_De Val._ All hearts rejoicing; mine only miserable! every peasant
yielding to delight, their lord alone devoted to despair; a subtle, slow
despair that, drop by drop, congeals the blood of life, yet will not bid
the creeping current quite forbear to flow; that has borne its victim
just to the sepulchre 's tempting edge, but holds him there to envy, not
partake its slumbers. Well, well, your own appointed hour, just
heavens!--if it be the infirmity of man to repine here, it is the
Christian's hope to rejoice hereafter.

Re-enter _Gaspard_.

_Gas._ I've sent them hence; they'll not be heard again; but since they
may not thank, they are gone to pray for you--Mass! I had nigh
forgotten--young Madam Geraldine is in the anti-room, and waits to see
your lordship.

_De Val._ Admit her! (_Exit_ Gaspard) My gentle one! my desolate, orphan
maid, if any softening drop were yet permitted in my cup of bitters,
I think the affectionate hand of Geraldine would mingle and prepare it
for my lip.

Enter _Geraldine_.

_Ger._ (_Tenderly embracing him_) Ah! my dear, dear uncle! how am I
rejoiced by a permission to visit you again; for four long days yo