The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Double Widowing, by Charles Rivière Dufresny

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THE DOUBLE WIDOWING BY RIVIERE DUFRESNY

TRANSLATED AND ADAPTED BY FRANK J. MORLOCK C 1986

CHARACTERS, four men, six women:
The Countess, an imperious woman of no particular age
Mr. Bramble, her steward
Widow, Bramble's wife
Tuneless, the Countess's butler who composes music
Desmond, Mr. Bramble's nephew, a sentimentalist in love with Arabella
Arabella, the Widow's niece, a rationalist in love with Desmond
Maid, the Countess's maid
Lucy, the Widow's maid
Mr. MacPherson, a servant of the Countess
Mrs. MacPherson, his wife

The scene is set in a room in the Countess's country house. The time is the early 18th Century.

Lucy I am delighted to see you return, sir. I've been looking for you all over the place, in the gardens, everywhere.

Lucy You've come at just the right time. The Countess, and I, and all the house have been waiting for you to return with great impatience. But, quickly—tell me news of your uncle— Is Mr. Bramble dead or alive?

Lucy We are in the same incertitude. Only Mrs. Bramble is certain. We've told her he's dead for sure—to make her fall into the trap we've set for her. She thinks she's a widow, and it's on that belief that we build our little project of your marriage, sir.

Lucy I told you, that to facilitate your marriage with Arabella, the Countess, who protects you both, has pulled a thousand strings to prove to my mistress that your uncle is dead. Mrs. Bramble is so sure of being a widow that she put on mourning yesterday, sir.

Lucy I'm telling you business that concerns both of us. For the thirty gold crowns you promised me has the same appeal to me that Arabella has for you. Listen to me, then—. To help us, you must hide from our widow the love you have for Arabella, for if she suspects you love her niece—

Lucy Sir, pardon my useless talk. I ought first to talk of the charms of this young beauty who—

Lucy The most pretty little charms. Not fifteen years old, these charms, and new ones added every day. And, you will marry all of them soon.

Lucy A misfortune to possess something you love so much! Here's one of your bizarre refinements. You are the most reasonable gentleman in England—but you've no common sense. Speak to me reasonably: do you wish to marry her?

Lucy
If you wish this marriage ardently, let's work in concert. I hope
Arabella will be your wife today.

Desmond No, Lucy, no—it is not caprice, it is not exaggeration. I fear with my mind that which I want with all my heart. I am well aware that I cannot live without the adorable Arabella. But, I foresee we will be unhappy together. In a word, we are unable to agree about anything.

Lucy My word, you're not wise. What! You despair because she's delighted to see you?

Desmond Delighted to see me! I cannot compare that dissipated delight with the sensitive pleasure and passion the sight of a loved one should inspire. For example, from the moment I saw her I stood immobile, seized by a languor—my heart beat, my eyes clouded. Ahh! That's the way to express passion. But she is incapable of such a solid, passionate love—which is the only kind that can content me.

Lucy If I was a man, I'd choose for my wife a woman who was always gay, never moody or sensitive.

Lucy Virtue doesn't always make a woman faithful. I'd like a woman better who had no passions rather than one who is governed by them.

Arabella Hey! Here you both are— You don't see what's going on here because you're wrapped up in your somber mood.

Arabella Oh, your exaggerations are always full of reason. But they don't make you happy.

Lucy I have nothing to gain by judging. Judge yourselves. I am going to get my mistress up.

Lucy Your aunt Bramble is not yet awake—and between the wake up and the coming down of a middle aged woman, there are numerous ceremonies of the toilette.

Arabella Nice question! With this type of humor we're going to get along fine; and I'm going to get rid of all your peculiarities.

Desmond I am not being peculiar, when, after quiet reasoning, I conclude that your frivolousness—

Arabella Oh, my frivolousness, my frivolousness; I believe that my gayety ought to prove my tenderness. Here's how I think you ought to have reasoned, knowing me, and my fear of marriage because it is sad. I naturally fear marriage. I see they want to marry me to you—and I show no emotion. Well—to be gay under these circumstances—doesn't that prove I love you?

Arabella If you don't want me to hate you, don't anger me any more with the tone you're taking. Seems to me, I love you passably well.

Desmond That joy would be properly expressed if you were sure our marriage will succeed—but in the situation we are in, you ought to tremble. And if you were in love, you'd be like me: ill at ease, agitated, in a cruel uncertainty, languishing, sighing, trembling.

Arabella On the contrary, Madame, I am ill at ease, agitated, and in a cruel uncertainty, languishing, sighing, and trembling. Is that how I should love, sir?

Countess Enough, Arabella, enough. Desmond, it was I who told her to tease you a bit over your emotionalism. It's not that I don't esteem you highly; the interest I take in your marriage proves that. But today, I've resolved to laugh, and to ridicule all those who happen to be around me. I have nothing but a boring day to pass in the country, and I am gong to amuse myself at the expense of anyone who happens to be around. So beware. Our widow will be the principal subject of my diversion—and the way I intend to get the money out of Mrs. Bramble is a comedy which will amuse me immensely.

Arabella If you are able to get money out of aunt Bramble, don't mock her. We must pity the afflicted.

Countess When her husband's death was announced to her, I perceived that only her facial expression showed any signs of affliction.

Desmond Maybe so, but I beg you to spare her. For if her affection was false, that of my uncle was true enough. And my uncle had the honor to be your steward.

Countess Oh, Bramble's enriched himself at my expense—and now I will laugh at the expense of his widow. After all, it's an outrage. She wants to disinherit her niece—who's my godchild—in a word, she hates what you love. Why manipulate, if it weren't for love of you?

Countess A less excusable folly is the speed with which she took to mourning yesterday. (to Maid) Miss, tell me how she has been able to find so much crepe in the country?

Maid I heard this morning from Lucy, that she's always kept a mourning outfit hidden in her trunk, so as always to be well prepared for the unexpected death of her husband. She says every well-ordered wife ought to do the same, so she can celebrate her misfortune from the very first moment of widowhood.

Countess
And you don't want me to ridicule such an affectation? There, Desmond!
Go, put on mourning, too—to prove that your uncle is dead.

Countess
Miss, you will have to sing a little aria in the opera that Mr.
Tuneless is preparing for me. It's right that my servants contribute
to my amusements today.

Maid I wish your Scotsman were here. He sings well. His wife is also a good singer and dances well for a highlander.

Mrs. MacPherson
Rejoice, Madame, my husband has just returned from Tunbridge Wells.

Countess I am delighted. He will tell us if Mr. Bramble is dead or alive. He hasn't already told you, has he?

Mrs. MacPherson My husband never tells me his secrets. He's right, for I am too much of a gossip. I like it better when he tells me nothing, because he's so pompous when he tells me a secret. He has such long oaths, so long that I would as soon listen to a hundred sighs from another man. Before he will tell me one word!

Mrs. MacPherson Madame, to appear to you in his proper attire, he has gone to have his wig curled and powdered.

Mrs. MacPherson Don't mock him before her, mam. He went to the waters to improve his health. And to please me, for he loves me, and I am determined that he be healthy.

Mrs. MacPherson I am happy because my husband has returned. And also, because your servant has been slipping us a little wine—discreetly. Women from my country are born for wine, like the French are born for love. Each to his custom and often enough the one does not impede the other.

Maid Here is Mr. MacPherson, Madame. You are going to hear an interesting speech, because he's erudite, your Highlander.

MacPherson It is necessary to explain all these things to you by direction. For, when I left you, you directed that I should bring you a report of all the circumstances of our trip in writing.

MacPherson My journal consists of words without paper. For I have written in my mind—in three little chapters—our departure, our trip, our return.

MacPherson With regard to the first, Mr. Bramble was very ridiculous, very ridiculous. He said he'd been married to his wife for ten years without children, and it was to cure sterility that he was going to the waters. So much for what he said as soon as he arrived.

MacPherson In the second chapter, your bailiff was also very ridiculous. For I like wine, and he went to the waters to drink water, and in this water, he found, in place of virility—illness-so much illness, that he is dying.

Countess
Now, we're at the point. Bramble thought he was dying and is not dead.
Listen, you must tell his wife that when her husband was dying—he
died.

MacPherson Ha, ha, ha. When one finds the widow of a living man, we'll have a good laugh.

MacPherson I left him yesterday, about thirty leagues from here, when his coach broke down. Go on ahead, he said, for I'm likely to be sick here until tomorrow, and my coach won't be ready till Monday. I will come on Tuesday.

Countess According to that, he won't be here until tomorrow—and cannot disturb our project today. So, Miss, tell my dancing women to prepare for the wedding I intend to celebrate today.

Maid We will do all our best to please you, and though I sing poorly, I can sing a sad song about being a widow.

Countess It's Tuneless who is getting everything ready. He wants to be a music master, my Butler.

Maid He's an original. Look here. I believe he's composing—for he's walking to the beat. Hold, hold, Madame, the spirit torments him—he's possessed by the demon of music.

Tuneless (entering) Nothing's going right, dammit. La, la, la, la. I can never find a completely new idea. (slowly) La, la, la, la, la—no, that opening's in Lully. La, la, la, la, la, la—Lully again. La, la, la, la—Lully again. That Lully everywhere—everywhere I turn. I am very unfortunate not to have been born before him. Everything I have in my head is useless because they say I plagiarize him. La, la, la, la, la—good there. La, la, la, la, la. Admirable. La, la. Marvelous. And the second, lower—la, la, la, low tone, what invention. La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la—what reflections of genius. The notes are coming to me—write them down quickly. (with one knee on the ground, he writes on some paper on the other knee, until, perceiving the Countess, he takes off his hat in this position and continues to write) (singing) Pardon me, Madame, oh pardon, Madame, da, de, da, de da, Madame. I note the last tone. (rising and bowing to the Countess) It's a duo for an aria about widowhood, as you have commanded. (giving her a paper. Wait, Madame—you know how to sing without a book.

Tuneless (to Maid) Now you will represent the widow. Carefully imitate the affliction of widows. Cry with your eyes down in your chin.

Lucy (entering)
Retire. My mistress approaches. She's coming here to cry on the way.
She needs practice.

Lucy I'm sorry for her. When the Countess guaranteed she was a widow, it was like a knife thrust in her heart.

Lucy Think what she's going to feel when they undeceive her. The loss of her delightful status of widowhood will cause her to die.

Tuneless Let's come to the business. Tell me truly, now that she believes her husband is dead—is she in love with Desmond, and does she plan to marry him?

Lucy She thought about it even while she was alive. And I always thought she prayed the nephew would outlive his uncle.

Tuneless >From the confidences her husband has made to me, I have often thought he destined his niece for the post of her aunt. He was quite explicit that Arabella was the niece of his wife only in the third degree.

Lucy She's proper in public, but with certain women, public morals and private morals differ as much their faces do from the time they get up and the time they go to bed.

Tuneless Everything considered, I judge that these two are perfectly matched in all the arts of conjugal hypocrisy.

Lucy They love each other, in proportion to the wealth they hope to obtain from each other.

Tuneless Yes, self-interest by itself produces more false love in some families than true love produces in all the sincere lovers in London.

Lucy I admire the wisdom of our law which permits spouses to disinherit one another. For only the hope of inheriting is the dike that can prevent a torrent of family quarrels. Go quickly. Here is my mistress. To gain her confidence, I am going to help her out of her sorrows.

(Exit Tuneless and the Maid. Enter from another direction, the
Countess and the Widow Bramble.)

Countess
Save your tears, Madame, save your tears. To tremble, to sigh, to sob.
All these demonstrations of sorrow are worse than sorrow itself.

Countess Don't avoid the offer I'm making you any more. Respond to me exactly. You don't like to have your niece around. I'm going to take her off your hands and marry her off in the country. Won't you give her some wedding present?

Widow (to Countess)
Well, Madame, since then I haven't had any nourishment at all.

Countess While your husband was living, you gave the excuse that you hoped to have children. Now, your hopes and excuses are dead with your husband: you are mistress of your estate. You must marry Arabella, or tell me that you don't wish it.

Widow I cannot make up my mind to marry Arabella. Really, I don't wish her so much ill as to expose her to marriage.

Countess To hear you speak thus about marriage, one would think you didn't like it.

Widow On the contrary, it was because my happiness was so perfect, that I don't wish to marry my niece.

Widow She will be too overcome if she loses him, to marry her would be to expose her to the risk of becoming a widow. (cries) And, to unhappiness like mine. Ah, Madame, in the abyss in which I find myself—retreat and solitude—that's the road my niece ought to take.

Widow No, no—I am too afflicted. I intend that she spend her life in a convent.

Countess >From the bad reasons you give me, I discern the good ones you keep to yourself. You wish to protect your money, so you can remarry.

Countess Listen, to undertake a second marriage, you need the great wealth your husband left you. And, this great wealth, having been earned in managing my affairs—I could—I haven't yet signed off on your husband's accounts—. That's why I beg you not to refuse the ten thousand crowns that you have in your strongbox. I beg you, I really do.

Lucy Are a sort of command. A great lord who asks a citizen to do him a service is like a banker respectfully asking payment on a promissory note.

Lucy You'd have less reason to fear if your husband were alive. For he was as clever in protecting his prey as he was in catching it.

Lucy Madame, the Countess could easily cheat you. You may say that she cannot cheat the widow of an honest steward, who enriched himself as everyone does by entangling his affairs with hers. But, now she is going to take from you unjustly that which your husband earned on the fair and square.

Lucy They ought not to oppress widows—because they have lost their main support.

Lucy Without support! That's why you ought to pacify the Countess. That way you would peaceably obtain your husband's wealth. Then, find some young man to be your support.

Widow Ah, Lucy. If I think of accommodating the Countess, it is not to gain peace. But, before I give her anything, I wish to consult with some smart man.

Widow Ah, Lucy, how ashamed I am to tell you of the distant vows I have made to Desmond.

Widow If I were less virtuous than those ancient wives who could envisage no other consolation except to swallow the ashes of their husbands!

Lucy
You see in your nephew the living features of your husband, his uncle.
Catching the possessor of those features will cure you of your
scruples.

Lucy
Not at all. I'm sure he understands them perfectly. But, be discreet.
A man understands a widow's hint.

Widow I have expressed all the ideas of tenderness with perfect circumspection, but—shrewdly, delicately, with refinement. Really, without these precautions, I would expose myself to continual remorse. I would imagine, without end, that the soul of the departed reproached me. Yes, even in this moment, I hear his complaints, the sound of his voice, actually in my ears.

Widow Ah, Heaven, shh! It's you, Desmond. You've frightened me. I thought I heard the voice of my husband.

Desmond Really, there's quite a resemblance in our voices. The whole world used to mistake us.

Widow The resemblances in families is remarkable. You've got your uncle's manners—even his brusqueness.

Widow You have his gestures, his manner, his way of looking. I love most your way of looking—

Widow What still charms me in my husband is your softness, your wit, your entire person.

Desmond Madame, I've spoken to the Countess, and I think it's important that you pacify her—but you are not honoring me with your attention.

Widow You don't know how much better it would be if I keep it. It would be better for you.

Widow
For, in the future—you understand, sir. I could really, for you—
Right, Lucy—I can't explain any more, sir. You understand, don't
you—

Widow I will say only, that having reflected on what the Countess didn't say, I fear that the husband she intends for Arabella is none other than yourself.

Widow I believe it, but from the fear that the Countess will give you, in spite of yourself, to Arabella, I have resolved not to give my money until the marriage contract is signed—and a husband other than yourself is the lucky man. And, I have a thousand other good reasons to communicate to you about this. But, I can't say a word now. Follow me, Lucy.

Desmond I think I've convinced her that she should let me arbitrate between her and the Countess.

Desmond She's disposed to agree to whatever I suggest, and—in a word—she's working for our marriage, without even knowing it.

Arabella You will judge against her interest. Nothing could be funnier. It charms me totally.

Desmond You are pleased by the joke. The humor of it is what touches you. Your first sensation ought to be a passionate feeling of happiness.

Arabella
Oh, don't quibble with me. I am going to have a good laugh with the
Countess.

Arabella Ah, Lucy, everything is going wonderfully. You see me in joy. But, in recompense, Desmond is angry. I believe he almost wishes that our marriage should be prevented, and that he will run into some obstacle.

Lucy Then he can rejoice, for the obstacle has come. Your uncle is returned, sir.

Arabella
All our schemes are ruined. Ah, Desmond, why do you love me so much?
It always makes you so unhappy. Really, I feel worse than you—no
hope—I am desolated.

Desmond Ah, what a joy for me! You have feelings. I am loved. I don't want anything else in the world. I want only your heart.

Desmond But Lucy, is it really true that my uncle is back? What, in the very moment I was convinced we'd be happy forever. Ah Heaven, is there a misery equal to mine?

Tuneless The steward is back. What a reversal. He took an express coach and returns just in time to desolate us. His wife's rage is going to rebound on us—for she already knows.

Lucy For me, I wish them both what they deserve. To the wife, a dead husband. To the husband, a dead wife. At least their desires will not be accomplished quickly.— You will never be married.

Bramble
Listen, what's this all about? Vainly do I question everybody. Each
one turns his back on me, without any response. Everyone in mourning.
Nephew, why are you dressed in mourning?

Bramble Again—hey, I beg you, Lucy, ease me of my uncertainty. Why the mourning?

Bramble And you, Tuneless—won't you explain to me what I already begin to suspect. If it were the Countess who was dead, then everybody would be in mourning—right? My dear Tuneless, hide nothing from me. You are my only confidant—

Tuneless In seeing all this black clothing, you ought to think they are dressed in black.

Tuneless (aside) This give me an idea. Let him believe it. He is in love with Arabella, that's good, too. (aloud) Yes, my word, sir. There's no keeping it from you. One divines immediately what one fears or wishes most. You've guessed it. Your wife is—dead.

Tuneless It jumps right at you. I dared not tell you. I am certain you are strong enough to bear it.

Bramble I saw an invisible phantom. There—who disappeared. But, how did her death occur?

Tuneless In the moment she appeared to you—death took her. But the ghost already told you—

Tuneless If you absolutely wish to know the circumstances, I'll tell you right away that she died suddenly.

Tuneless
No, sir—of—of emotion. They just told her you had died at the wells.
Suddenly, a seizure came on—and the faint turned into a coma—and you
are now a widower.

Bramble (drawing out a handkerchief) If it is true she died of sadness, I am obligated to weep. (low) But, how shall I manage it? Boo hoo.

Bramble Tender—boo—sincere hoo—honest boo—the best heart—the best heart— hoo—hoo—hoo.

Tuneless (aside) If he's going to weep forever, he'll mess up my plans. (pulling Bramble by the arm) Sir, you make me feel compassion for you. The woman didn't die of sadness. I told you at first to console you. But the truth is—as all the doctors agree—she died of pure joy!

Tuneless To wish your death, no, but she hoped you wouldn't live as long as she.

Tuneless Interest rendered her soft and caressing. But, at the bottom she had a hardness for you.

Tuneless You remember, one day, enraged against you, she had such self control she was able to embrace you. She almost split. She told her maids all the injuries she wished, but didn't dare to express to you. In her mind, she was strangling you.

Tuneless Therefore, cry no more. Recollect the tenderness you have for Arabella—remember you told me of it? In confidence, of course. If you still love that little Arabella, I warn you, the Countess intends to marry her today.

Tuneless >From friendship, that's what I wish you to prevent. But, before going into that, it's essential that you avoid the Countess until we have taken certain measures with Arabella. But, hide yourself quickly in these apartments while I go to Arabella.

Tuneless Go in, quickly. (pushing him out) Because I will lead Arabella to you instantly.

Tuneless My idea is good; he's fallen into the trap. A weak little genius wrapped up in his business affairs—and stupid in everything else. One sees many like that. Now to prevent— But, if someone should undeceive him— (going, then stopping) Still, I have to go. (returning) Better stay. How to begin—

Tuneless Listen to me—if you what to celebrate, we must make him believe his wife is dead.

Tuneless
If he asks you—say no more than "She is dead."— But when? But how?
But why?

Tuneless Very good. But that's not the only thing. We must prevent these two from meeting, and to do that you may have to counterfeit drunkenness.

MacPherson
That's a fine idea. A fine idea, Hem, la, la, la.
My wife is dead, my wife is dead,
And my heart, it feels like lead—Ooh!

Mrs. MacPherson
You wife has left us. It's sad. We must drink until she returns.

Bramble I'm getting nothing from these drunks. I'd better wait till Tuneless returns.

Mrs. MacPherson While we're waiting for Tuneless, we'll sing you a little song to chase your sorrows away.

Mr. and Mrs. MacPherson Heigh ho, heigh ho, it's off to the funeral we'll go, heigh ho, heigh ho—

Bramble Console yourself, my dear child. I will prevent the Countess from marrying you.

Arabella She wants to marry me to a man with no money at all. That's what distresses me.

Tuneless No money at all. Sir, you know she has nothing. And, when one marries without money—it makes for a lot of sad children. The Countess said this fellow had a fortune.

Arabella I don't believe in fortunes, except when I see them already in existence.

Tuneless The older a man is, the more likely you'll love him for the rest of his life.

Bramble I like the prudence, the wisdom, and the good taste of this tasty little person.

Arabella It's my natural taste, you know, sir. I am incapable of loving a young man. But, I am capable of a real affection for those who treat me right.

Bramble Noble sentiments, noble sentiments. I am so charmed, so delighted, that I am going to see the Countess right now. Ah, there she is in the gallery. I am going to speak to her this moment.

Tuneless Fear nothing. These two departed will not meet so soon. For Desmond is keeping the widow in the garden, and we are keeping the husband here. The Countess is in on the plot, and is going to keep him in his apartment, one way or another.

Tuneless You must make your contribution by making the old widower in love, while Desmond does the same with the widow.

Countess Love doesn't hide itself, sir, and you have accosted me in a manner that convinces me you have a great deal for Arabella.

Countess I have only one word to say to you about the matter. If you don't want me to marry off Arabella, and to keep her to console you in your grief, and then later marry her—then you must do something for your nephew. You know how highly I think of Desmond. I have spoken to you a hundred times for him—uselessly. And I am going to take this opportunity—the solicitor is downstairs—I am going to marry Arabella, before your very eyes, if you don't transfer some of your wealth to Desmond.

Countess
We'll go see. But, come to my apartment to agree on the contract.
Follow us, Arabella. Your presence will facilitate this little
accommodation.

(Exit Bramble, Countess, Arabella, and Tuneless. After a moment, enter
Desmond and Lucy.)

Lucy They are about to tax your uncle. What have you done to hasten the liberality of our widow?

Desmond I pressed her in a lively way. But she was pressing me in a lively way, also.

Desmond I pretend not to understand her passionate talk. But the less I seem to understand, the more she reveals. I can't hold her back. I had to leave her alone in the garden—where she stayed to hide her confusion. She sighs, she excites herself—

Lucy A declaration is coming. It wants to come forth. She will unburden her heart. She is meditating some passionate declaration which may be obscure—or plain enough.

Desmond All too plain, I fear. I see her coming. I am not going to wait to hear this.

Tuneless He wishes to be first secure of Arabella. He will give, when the contract is signed.

Tuneless He's too clever. Very well. Lucy, let us at least have the pleasure of dashing their hopes of this double marriage.

Lucy What you suggest will do no good as far as I can see. I haven't the audacity to laugh about it. They'll be furious.

Tuneless Me, I always have the courage to amuse myself. Let's see what will become of this. The husband is left alone in his apartment—his wife is alone in hers. They are both saddled for the race. Let's see who will win. Good, here's the husband. I also see the wife. Let's turn out the lights so as to make this double widowhood last a bit longer.

Bramble The Countess thinks she's found her dupe. She intends to get me to give my money to Desmond, and then marry Arabella to whoever she pleases. But Arabella would be in despair not to marry me. I told her to meet me here so we could take some precautions. She's on her way. Let's wait here. (stepping into the shadows)

Widow I can't find Desmond anywhere. Someone turned out the lights. He couldn't have given Arabella a rendez-vous here?

Bramble (aside) If Arabella agrees, I will marry her, in spite of the Countess. I've only to take her away secretly. But, what's happening?

Bramble Arabella is following me. How lucky I am, that she's promised to marry me. Ah!

Widow The resemblance of their voices always astonishes me. How I love one and hate the other.

Widow His voice makes me tremble— But, I am crazy—it's Desmond's voice that sounds like that. I'll pretend to be Arabella. I've come to our rendez-vous, my dear, Desmond.

Bramble Desmond—what, is it Desmond you come to see, after having promised never to be with anyone but me?

Widow His ghost returns. Let's get out of here! (runs and falls into a chair) My legs have betrayed me! Let me call for help. Ah! My voice fails me.

Bramble She trembles and calls me her husband. She fears the Countess. There's only me here—don't be afraid. Follow me.

Bramble Yes,—while you call me your husband, you will be my wife. You will love me a little—right? Hey—modesty renders her silent. Hmm. How much more delightful this hand is to kiss than that of my late wife. Hers was rough, this is soft. But don't lose any time. Come with me. (pulling her) What is it? What's wrong?

(Enter Tuneless with a candle. The Widow and Bramble see each other, scream, and exit in different directions.)

Tuneless
I turn the thing into raillery. Now, we shall see. I have an idea that
I must communicate to Lucy.

Lucy Mr. Bramble is outraged not to be a widower. He curses the Countess who has given him his false joy—but, he doesn't break with Tuneless, because he's afraid Tuneless will inform his dear lady of his infidelity. He still loves you, but he's still more amorous of inheriting from his wife. This should make it easier for Tuneless to bring him round.

Lucy It may help—with luck. But frankly, I don't think it will help. Let's retire. I'm going to see in what shape my lady is in.

Tuneless Yes, sir, it's dissimulation that keeps society going between men— civil and matrimonial.

Tuneless Under the shelter of dissimulation, courtiers embrace each other, women compliment each other, and authors bow to each other at a distance. Dissimulation creates new friendships and smoothes over old hatreds.

Tuneless Without dissimulation, how many secret separations would grow into public divorces. But dissimulation gives wisdom to men, joy to husbands—that's why there are so many happy families at present.

Tuneless You begin to dissimulate—. You hide from me your fear that I might reveal to your wife your passion for— Don't worry, I am discreet, and she herself cannot prove, even if she suspects, that you took her for Arabella—for you spoke low and she fainted.

Bramble What! All the caresses that she gave me for ten years were only to have my wealth.

Bramble
Heaven will punish her and all those who wish the death of others.
Such people always die first.

Bramble Now, I must dissimulate to keep the peace at home, and to preserve my honor before the world.

Tuneless
Very good. But, remember the essential thing. Send your nephew to the
Indies.

Tuneless Here—begin your dissimulation with the Countess. Go joke with her about the trick she played on you, and joke in the faces of all those who do nothing but laugh behind your back.

Tuneless I've brought him to the point at which I want him. He will dissimulate. But, I had trouble calming his rage.

Tuneless It's the strength of women to have such little weaknesses ready at their command. For when these great accidents occur—the attack is very strong—and a woman saves herself by fainting or weeping.

Lucy She fortifies herself in this way against reflections, and when she gets her strength back, there are tirades of abuse against her husband—but she leave the name blank.

Widow Where are you at, Lucy? You've abandoned me in my rage. I am furious against the Countess.

Widow To deceive me, to betray me. He wanted me to die—the cruel man—the traitor.

Lucy Oh, yes, more a traitor than the Countess. But, your husband also deserves your rage. First of all, because he is alive—and because he is unfaithful. But for fear that he may realize you are also unfaithful, feign, Madame, as I have told you.

Widow I tremble with fear that he suspects me. Perhaps, in my mourning, I innocently called on Desmond.

Lucy Innocently, of course. But now virtue and propriety insist, that in the batting of an eye, change your love into esteem. And, if your husband should eventually die, you may, in another bat of an eye, change your esteem into love.

Widow Your advice is so wise. I will follow it. And send Arabella a hundred leagues from here.

(Bramble and the Widow look at each other and run to embrace. As they hug, their faces show outraged grimaces.)

(They embrace and separate several times, breathing like divers who surface for air, nauseated.)

Bramble (turning to his wife with a joyful, but somehow tortured look)
My joy is so great that it's frightful—ah-ecch!

Widow Emotions of rage come over me—against the Countess. In making you believe I was dead, she exposed you to a possible seizure. You might have died.

Widow Thank God's Mercy, you look—well. You appear healthy. I am furious with—that woman.

Bramble All this has merely redoubled my feelings for you. I can't really express them.

Widow I feel, also, that my love for you—I don't know how to say it. Huh— how I hate the Countess.

Bramble A renewal of my love. Yes, I also wish to take these little precautions that will assure you are cared for properly when I die.

Bramble As, so as to no longer have to put up with the presence of anyone around me who might take something from you when I die, I've decided to send my nephew to the Indies.

Widow (with surprise and spite) And, for the same reason, I—I am going to marry Arabella a hundred leagues from here.

Bramble You tell me that with a little spite. It's innocently that I speak to you of separating from Desmond.

Maid Here is the Countess, coming to rejoice. We are going to sing and dance all night. It's not only for the three marriages I see on the agency, WE are ready for a wedding, you see.

Maid Don't you know? Didn't you know the joke was to get money from you to marry Desmond in Wales. And you, Madame, understood, of course, that the money asked from you was to marry Arabella in Scotland. But, since you refused to give it, the Countess is bearing the expenses herself.

Countess
I come to share your joy in being reunited, in seeing each other
again, like Orpheus and Eurydice. And to celebrate the two marriages
I've made. Now, enjoy yourselves.

Countess Stop the singing. I perceive that instead of rejoicing you, something saddens you. There's something here I don't understand. When I marry a nephew who displeases you so much that you are sending him away—

Countess I don't believe that you love them at all. Yet—your tenderness for them gives me an idea. It would keep them here. I'll marry them to each other—if you give your consent to it.

Tuneless This marriage would enrage your wife, and—Arabella would always be where you could get at her.

Lucy This marriage would punish your husband, and someday, with Desmond about, you might—

Widow Because, Madame, having destined my wealth for a husband who is unspeakably dear to me—

Countess Oh, I'm delighted to be deceived in my suspicions. I see the point that causes you hesitation. I ask nothing for them. Leave your money to each other, and let them take from the survivor. That way, they will ultimately get all your wealth, and you will take proper care of your spouse.

Arabella (to Bramble, low)
Sir, will you let them take me away from you into Scotland?

Tuneless Such a pretty marriage merits a complete Opera. But unfortunately, we have neither musicians nor dancers. And, in the town they have only peasants. Be content, therefore, to listen to the little cantata I have composed. We are going to rehearse it in your presence. And, while we lack musicians, I myself will sing it for you. La, la, la.

CURTAIN

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