Gaspar. Thou art moved, Melnotte; think not of me; I would go through fire and water to serve thee; but,a blow! It is not the bruise that galls,it is the blush, Melnotte.
Mel. Say, what message?How insulted!Wherefore?What the offence?
Gaspar. Did you not write to Pauline Deschappelles, the daughter of the rich merchant?
Mel. Well?
Gaspar. And are you not a peasanta gardeners son?that was the offence. Sleep on it, Melnotte. Blows to a French citizen, blows! [Exit.
Widow. Now you are cured, Claude!
Mel. tearing the letter. So do I scatter her image to the windsI will stop her in the open streetsI will insult herI will beat her menial ruffiansI will[Turns suddenly to Widow.] Mother, am I humpbackeddeformedhideous? Widow. You!
Mel. A cowarda thiefa liar?
Widow. You!
Mel. Or a dull foola vain, drivelling, brainless idiot? Widow. No, no. Mel. What am I thenworse than all these? Why, I am a peasant! What has a peasant to do with love? Vain revolutions, why lavish your cruelty on the great? Oh that wewe, the hewers of wood and drawers of waterhad been swept away, so that the proud might learn what the world would be without us! [Knock at the door.
Enter Servant from the Inn.
Servant. A letter for Citizen Melnotte.
Mel. A letter! from her perhapswho sent thee?
Servant. Why, MonsieurI mean CitizenBeauseant, who stops to dine at the Golden Lion, on his way to his chateau.
Mel. Beauseant![Reads].
Young man, I know thy secretthou lovest above thy station: if thou hast wit, courage, and discretion, I can secure to thee the realization of thy most sanguine hopes; and the sole condition I ask in return is, that thou shalt be steadfast to thine own ends. I shall demand from thee a solemn oath to marry her whom thou lovest; to bear her to thine home on thy wedding night. I am seriousif thou wouldst learn more, lose not a moment, but follow the bearer of this letter to thy friend and patron,CHARLES BEAUSEANT.