Oh, revenge and love; which of you is the stronger?--[Gazing
on the picture.] Sweet face, thou smilest on me from the canvas:
weak fool that I am, do I then love her still? No, it is the vision
of my own romance that I have worshipped: it is the reality to
which I bring scorn for scorn. Adieu, mother: I will return anon.
My brain reels--the earth swims before me.--[Looks again at
the letter.] No, it is not a mockery; I do not dream! [Exit.

ACT II.--SCENE I.

The Gardens of M. DESCHAPPELLEs' house at Lyons--the house seen
at the back of the stage.

Enter BEAUSEANT and GLAVIS.

Beau. Well, what think you of my plot? Has it not succeeded
to a miracle? The instant that I introduced his Highness
the Prince of Como to the pompous mother and the scornful daughter,
it was all over with them: he came--he saw--he conquered:
and, though it is not many days since he arrived, they have already
promised him the hand of Pauline.

Gla. It is lucky, though, that you told them his highness travelled
incognito, for fear the Directory (who are not very fond of princes)
should lay him by the heels; for he has a wonderful wish to keep
up his rank, and scatters our gold about with as much coolness
as if he were watering his own flower-pots.

Beau. True, he is damnably extravagant; I think the sly dog does it
out of malice. How ever, it must be owned that he reflects credit on