hussars! Now this is a conversation just to my
heart's content. I dearly love to hear of battles and sieges. The
household are all retired to rest, and my room is private; so here we
may sit peaceably, and talk about war for the remainder of the night.

_L'Ec._ Bravo! agreed: we'll make a night of it; but harkye, is not this
room of yours built in a queer sort of a circular shape?

_Gasp._ No; a most perfect square.

_L'Ec._ Well, I never studied mathematics; but, for a perfect square,
methinks it has the oddest trick of turning round with its company I
ever witnessed.

Enter _Rosabelle_.

_Ros._ Here's a display of profligacy! So, gentlemen, are these your
morals? Methinks you place a special example before the household;
drinking and carousing thus after midnight, when all decent persons
ought to be at rest within their beds.

_Gasp._ Marry now, my malapert lady! How comes it you are found abroad
at these wild hours?

_Ros._ I have always important motives for my conduct. A strange female
waits at the castle-gate, who clamors for admittance; she seems in deep
distress, refuses to accept denial or excuse, and demands to speak with
the person of first consequence in the family. Now, Mr. Gaspard, as you
happen to be steward--

_Gasp._ (_rises pompously_) I am of course the personage required. You
say a female?

_Ros._ Yes; she waits for you in heavy trouble at the gate.

_Gasp._ I fly. Gallantry invites, and I obey the call. Good Mr.
L'Eclair, I cast myself upon your courtesy for this abrupt departure:

'Tis woman tempts from friendship, war, and wine--
My fault is human--my excuse divine! [_Exit._

_Ros._ In sooth, the old gentleman has not forgotten his manners in his
cups; but as to you, sir, (_to L'Eclair_) how stupidly you sit--have you
nothing to say for yourself?

_L'Ec._ (_rising and reeling towards her_). Much, very much--
love--midnight--all snug and private.

_Ros._ Mercy O me! the wretch is certainly intoxicated; how wickedly his
eyes begin to twinkle. Why, Scapegrace, I'm sure you're not sober.

_L'Ec._ Don't say so, pray don't, you wound my delicacy. O! Rosabelle!
beautiful but misjudging Rosabelle! I am unfortunate, but not criminal.
This morning I beheld only one Rosabelle, and yet I was undone; now I
seem to behold two Rosabelles; ergo, I either see double, or am doubly
undone. There's logic for you. Now, could a man who wasn't sober, talk
logic? only answer me that.

_Ros._