e a chair--I shall faint I certainly shall. What will the
world say? Child, you have been a fool. A mother's heart is easily
broken.

Damas. Ha, ha! most noble Prince--I am sorry to see a man of your
quality in such a condition; I am afraid your highness will go to the
House of Correction.

Mel. Taunt on, sir; I spared you when you were unarmed--I am unarmed
now. A man who has no excuse for crime is indeed defenceless!

Damas. There's something fine in the rascal, after all!

M. Deschap. Where is the impostor?--Are you thus shameless, traitor? Can
you brave the presence of that girl's father?

Mel. Strike me, if it please you--you are her father.

Pauline. Sir--sir, for my sake; whatever his guilt, he has acted nobly
in atonement.

Mme. Deschap. Nobly! Are you mad, girl? I have no patience with you--
to disgrace all your family thus! Nobly! Oh you abominable, hardened,
pitiful, mean, ugly villain!

Damas. Ugly! Why he was beautiful yesterday!

Pauline. Madame, this is his roof, and he is my husband. Respect your
daughter, or let blame fall alone on her.

Mme. Deschap. You--you--Oh, I'm choking.

M. Deschap. Sir, it were idle to waste reproach upon a conscience like
yours--you renounce all pretensions to the person of this lady?

Mel. I do. [Gives a paper.] Here is my consent to a divorce--my full
confession of the fraud which annuls the marriage. Your daughter has
been foully wronged--I grant it, sir; but her own lips will tell you
that, from the hour in which she crossed this threshold, I returned
to my own station, and respected hers. Pure and inviolate, as when
yestermorn you laid your hand upon her head, and blessed her, I yield
her back to you. For myself--I deliver you for ever from my presence.
An outcast and a criminal, I seek some distant land, where I may mourn
my sin, and pray for your daughter's peace. Farewell--farewell to you
all, for ever!

Willow. Claude, Claude, you will not leave your poor old mother? She
does not disown you in your sorrow no, not even in your guilt. No
divorce can separate a mother from her son.

Pauline. This poor widow teaches me my duty. No, mother,--no, for you
are now my mother also!--nor should any law, human or divine, separate
the wife from her husband's sorrows. Claude--Claude--all is forgotten
forgiven--I am thine for ever!

Mme. Deschap. What do I hear?--Come away, or never see my face again.

M. Deschap. Pauline, we never betrayed you!--do you forsake u