n, sir; they
are my last words Farewell! [Exit.

Damas. I will go after him.--France will thank me for this.

Pauline [starting from her father's arms]. Claude!--Claude!--my husband!

M. Deschap. You have a father still!

ACT V.

Two years and a half from the date of Act IV.

SCENE I.

The Streets of Lyons.

Enter First, Second, and Third Officers.

First Officer. Well, here we are at Lyons, with gallant old Damas: it is
his native place.

Second Officer. Yes; he has gained a step in the army since he was here
last. The Lyonnese ought to be very proud of stout General Damas.

Third Officer. Promotion is quick in the French army. This
mysterious Morier,--the hero of Lodi, and the favorite of the
commander-in-chief,--has risen to a colonel's rank to two years and a
half. Enter DAMAS, as a General.

Damas. Good morrow, gentlemen; I hope you will amuse yourselves during
our short stay at Lyons. It is a fine city: improved since I left it.
Ah! it is a pleasure to grow old, when the years that bring decay to
ourselves do but ripen the prosperity of our country. You have not met
with Morier?

First Officer. No: we were just speaking of him.

Second Officer. Pray, general, can you tell us who this Morier really
is?

Damas. Is!--why a colonel in the French army.

Third Officer. True. But what was he at first?

Damas. At first? Why a baby in long clothes, I suppose.

First Officer. Ha, ha! Ever facetious, general.

Second Officer. [to Third]. The general is sore upon this point; you
will only chafe him.--Any commands, general?

Damas. None. Good day to you. [Exeunt Second and Third Officers.

Damas. Our comrades are very inquisitive. Poor Morier is the subject of
a vast deal of curiosity.

First Officer. Say interest, rather, general. His constant melancholy,
the loneliness of his habits,--his daring valor, his brilliant rise
in the profession,--your friendship, and the favors of the
commander-in-chief,--all tend to make him as much the matter of gossip
as of admiration. But where is he, general? I have missed him all the
morning.

Damas. Why, captain, I'll let you into a secret. My young friend has
come with me to Lyons in hopes of finding a miracle.

First Officer. A miracle!

Damas. Yes, a miracle! in other words,--a constant woman.

First Officer. Oh! an affair of love!

Damas. Exactly so. No sooner did he enter Lyons than he waved his hand
to me, threw himself from his horse, and is