Part 1

A DUEL IN THE DARK.

_An original Farce,_

IN ONE ACT.

BY J. STIRLING COYNE,

AUTHOR OF

"_My Wife's Daughter_," "_Binks the Bagman_," "_Separate Maintenance_," "_How to settle Accounts with your Laundress_," "_Did you ever send your Wife to Camberwell_," _&c. &c. &c._

THOMAS HAILES LACY,

WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND,

LONDON.

_First Performed at the Theatre Royal Haymarket, On Saturday, January_ 31_st,_ 1852.

CHARACTERS.

MR. GREGORY GREENFINCH Mr. BUCKSTONE.

MRS. GREENFINCH }

COUNTESS DE RAMBUTEAU } Mrs. FITZWILLIAM.

CHARLEY BATES }

BETSY Mrs. CAULFIELD.

WAITER Mr. EDWARDS.

COSTUMES.

Mr. GREENFINCH.--Green coat, light blue trowsers, and French travelling cap.

Mrs. GREENFINCH.--Fawn polka jacket, waistcoat and skirt.

COUNTESS DE RAMBUTEAU.--Loose travelling pelisse, bonnet and green veil.

CHARLEY BATES.--Blue frock coat and white trowsers.

BETSY.--Travelling dress and servant's dress.

WAITER.--Gendarme suit.

SCENE _lies at a Hotel at Dieppe._

Time in Representation, 50 minutes.

A DUEL IN THE DARK!

SCENE.--_A handsomely furnished Apartment on the ground floor of a Hotel at Dieppe. A French window at back opening on a garden. Door, 2 E. L. Door, 3 E. L. A large stove, L. between the two doors. Door, 2 E. R. Easy chair near door, R. Tables, R. and L. C. at back; bottle of brandy with glasses on table, L. Chairs, &c. Two lighted candles on._

_Enter GREENFINCH, carrying bandbox, large travelling cloak, carpet bag and umbrella, L. 3 E._

GREEN. Well now this is something like an adventure. (_putting down the umbrella and bandbox, R._) There's a romantic mystery attached to me that I can't unravel, in fact I feel myself like a tangled penn'orth of thread; the more I try to clear myself the more complicated I become. Let me calmly consider my singular position. (_throws the cloak on the easy chair, R. and places the carpet bag beside it_) In the first place here I have arrived at the Hotel d' Angleterre in Dieppe accompanied by the Countess de Rambuteau--a real Countess! Poor Mrs. Greenfinch little dreams what a rake I am--but for a long time I've been dying for an aristocratic flirtation--I have looked at lovely women in the private boxes at the theatres--and have run after carriages in the park--but all in vain, and now, startling as the fact may seem, I have been for the last thirty hours the travelling companion of a French Countess, and have shared her post-chaise from Paris: when I say shared, I mean the Countess and her maid took the inside and left me the outside, where I was exalted to the dickey amongst a miscellaneous assortment of trunks and bandboxes, by which I have been jolted and jammed till I haven't a bone in my body without its particular ache. But the most extraordinary part of the affair is that I have never yet seen the Countess's face, for she has always concealed it from me beneath a thick veil. However that's nothing, there's a secret sympathy by which I think I could discover a pretty face under a piecrust. Hah! here she comes, and now for the tender revelation--the soft confession--the blushing avowal--the--

_Enter MRS. GREENFINCH, 2 E. R., in a travelling dress closely veiled, she carries in her hand a lady's walking basket._

Ah, my charming Countess, at length after a painful--I mean a delightful journey--we have arrived in Dieppe, and now permit me to gaze on those lovely features.

MRS. G. (_retires as he approaches_) No, no, _je ne permittez pas;_ nevare, not at all, Monsieur Grinfeench.

GREEN. Dear, Countess, take pity on me. (_aside_) What delightful accents! She told me she could speak English fluently, and she does. Am I never to see your face, dear Countess? Oh! have pity on me.

MRS. G. _Oui_, you sall ordere diner _toute de suite._

GREEN. Dinner? certainly, Countess.

_Exit 3 E. L._

BETSY. (_peeping in at door, R._) Is he gone, mum?

MRS. G. Yes, Betsy, you may come in. (_lays the basket she carries on table, L. and puts up her veil_)

BETSY. (_enters by door, R._) Well, mum, does he suspect nothing yet?

MRS. G. Nothing. He has not yet seen my face--but if he had, I think this red wig, these spectacles, and this cravat would completely prevent his recognizing me.

BETSY. He little thinks, mum, 'tis his own lawful wife he's running away with instead of a fine foreign Countess.

MRS. G. Oh, Betsy, when I think of that, I could tear his eyes out. A man, Betsy, that I thought the most faithful creature woman ever was blessed with, to deceive me so. A working model of a husband that I may say I made out of nothing.

BETSY. Ah, mum, I know what husbands is made of! I was once accidentally married myself for three weeks to a sea cap'n, who took me, mum, as his mate--but I diskivered I was only his second mate, for he'd got another wife alive, mum--and so he slipped hisself through the wedding ring that way. Oh! mum, husbands isn't to be trusted no ways.

MRS. G. 'Twas your experience and advice, Betsy, that put me upon this plan of trying Mr. Greenfinch's fidelity. Before he went to Paris about that legacy left him by his aunt, there wasn't a more dutiful little husband in Peckham Rye.

BETSY. No, more there wasn't, mum. But after he'd been a month in Paris, he wrote to say he'd got into the hands of the French lawyers, and couldn't return so soon as he expected.

MRS. G. Upon which I resolved to run over to Paris, if 'twas only for a day--for I thought he must be miserable without his wife.

BETSY. A very popular delusion amongst women, mum.

MRS. G. And so as you know, Betsy, I took you with me and crossed to Boulogne. What I suffered from the roughness of the waves and the custom-house officers I need not repeat. I didn't however think of anything but the joyful surprise it would be to Mr. Greenfinch when I should drop suddenly like a lump of sugar out of heaven into his solitary tea.

BETSY. Yes, mum, but you know I had my suspicions that it wasn't the lawyers kept master in Paris--so I persuaded you to take lodgings opposite the hotel where he was stopping, and keep a watchful eye on his proceedings from the window, with your veil down.

MRS. G. Yes, Betsy, that was certainly your plan,--and what has been the consequence? The very first day my gentleman kissed his hand to me--the second day he performed a love pantomime at his window for my diversion--and the third day he sent me a daguerreotype portrait of himself backed by a Westphalia ham.

BETSY. And before the week was out you had induced him to run away with you.

MRS. G. I'll never forgive him that.

BETSY. Of course you won't--you've too much spirit to forgive any man, much less a husband. Now, mum, if you'll help me in a little plan I've hit upon, I think we'll torment him to that degree that he'll never hear a Countess mentioned without trembling.

MRS. G. I'll do anything, Betsy, to make the little wretch miserable.

BETSY. Well then, mum, this is my plan.

_GREENFINCH speaks outside, L. 3 E._

MRS. G. Hist, I hear him returning; run into my room and I'll come to you presently. (_draws down her veil_)

_Exit BETSY, 2 E. R._

_Enter GREENFINCH, 3 E. L._

GREEN. I've ordered dinner at five; and now, my charming Countess--mysterious being, whom I have loved distractedly for three long weeks through that envious veil--permit me. (_about to remove her veil, she motions him to desist_) Well I won't; delicacy forbids intrusion. However, I hope I may not be considered particularly inquisitive, if I beg to be informed why you and I should be here in Dieppe under such mysterious circumstances.

MRS. G. Oh, _certainment_, Monsieur Grinfeench, I sall confess to you dat I vas _frappè_ vis your mug--dat is your superbe countenance in de vindere of your hotel.

GREEN. (_aside_) Struck by my superb countenance! a clear case of fascination. My dear Countess, it is no less extraordinary that whenever you were sitting in your balcony, I generally found myself flattening my nose against the centre pane of my window.

MRS. G. _Oui_, _oui_, I did regard your flat nose vare mosh, _en attendant_, it happen I did find myself in a position _tres embarrasant_--a situation of danger; I was in want of a friend--_un ami_.

GREEN. And you thought of me.

MRS. G. _Oui_, you were at de top of my mind--dat is, uppermost in my thoughts.

GREEN. Tender confession! and then you wrote to me this dear little note. (_produces a note and kisses it_) Imagine the indescribable emotion I experienced in my interior when I opened it and read these lines. (_reads_) "Interesting stranger, I am not insense to your merits, but circumstances demand secresy. I shall be wait for you this evening at nine o'clock in a post carriage outside the Barriere d'Enfer.--PAULINE, Countess de Rambuteau." I hastened accordingly to the barrier at the hour named.

MRS. G. Vare I did attend, as vas appoint.

GREEN. Yes, but instead of inviting me to take a seat beside you, I was lifted by two fellows, whose muscular developments forbade any opposition on my part, into the dickey of the carriage--the postillion cracked his whip, away we started--and that is all I know about the affair.

MRS. G. Ha, ha! I fear I have trespass on your complaisance, your vat you call spooney disposition--dat is, your good nature.

GREEN. Countess, my good nature is public property like Kennington Common--you can't trespass on it. Is there any other way I can be serviceable to you?

MRS. G. _Oui_, dere is one oder little ting; vil you permit me, vile in dis _maison_, to be _apellez_ your _femme_, your best half of de vorst--to be called Madame Grinfeench?

GREEN. Madame:--in English that means Missus--Mrs. Greenfinch!

MRS. G. _Oui_. I have particulere reason for my request.

GREEN. Hem! hem! Perhaps, Countess, you are not aware that there's a previous Mrs. Greenfinch at this moment on the British shores; a splendid woman, though I say it, who sits like a pensive dove mourning for her absent mate at Peckham Rye.

MRS. G. (_aside_) There's some good in him still. Oh dat is no obelisk in de vay. I go to-morrow in de packey bote, and sall only be your little rib for a little time.

GREEN. Why if I thought it was only for a little time I might. (_aside_) She's a lovely creature no doubt, and as Mrs. G. can never know anything of my delinquency--pooh! what's there to be afraid of? (_to her_) Well, Countess, I can refuse nothing to your sex--consider yourself as the temporary Mrs. Greenfinch.

MRS. G. _Merci, mon ami_. (_aside_) The atrocious wretch!

GREEN. Now that point's settled, may I not in the profane language of poetic fiction be permitted to feast these longing eyes on those heavenly features?

MRS. G. Ah! you persuade me what you like you leetle rascal.

GREEN. Gracious condescension! So from the face of heaven the cloud withdraws and (_she has raised her veil; seeing her face he starts_) and--ahem! the face of heaven. (_aside_) The Countess's face don't improve upon close inspection. I never liked red hair, and I hate green spectacles.

MRS. G. You like my pheezog?--it is your taste? Ah! _oui_, now I sall leave you to change my toilette--_restez vous ici_, and _n'oubliez pas_--don't forget I am Madame Grinfeench.

_Exit R._

GREEN. Shall I ever forget it? never! Hem! The Countess adores me that's clear, and if she hadn't red hair, she'd be a remarkably fine woman. But she may dye her hair:--Gad, so she may; its only dying for love after all.

MRS. G. (_returning_) Ah! I did forget--you must _prenez garde_--be vide awake, and take care of our secret, for de most little cause of suspect vill _coupez_ both our neck at one slice.

_Exit R._

GREEN. What does she mean? I feel I'm up to the ears in some terrible mystery. I don't know whether 'tis conscience or cowardice, but my sympathy for the Countess is evaporating very rapidly, in fact I'm beginning to feel dreadfully uncomfortable here--why should she want to pass as my wife? Why does she want to escape from France? Eh? Echo returns no answer to its correspondent! (_sees the basket on the table, L._) Hah! here's her basket she has forgotten, perhaps it may contain something to clear up this mystery. (_takes basket off table_) Bless me, 'tis very heavy for its size, what can she have in it? (_feeling the basket_) 'Tis not a smelling bottle, nor it can't be a case of razors--Countesses don't usually shave. I shouldn't wonder if it was--no, no, it's--eh? what is it then? (_draws a pistol from the basket_) Ha--a--oh! A p-p-pistol! Oh, dear! there's more in this than meets the eye!--Why does she travel with these deadly weapons? Hah! A horrid thought flashes across my tortured brain--perhaps she's Abd el Kader in disguise, or more horrible still she maybe a female bandit intending to make me her unsuspecting victim; murder me perhaps in my sleep; she looks as if she could do it. (_MRS. G. appears watching at door, R._) Oh, lord! I'll go this moment and inform the police.

MRS. G. (_entering and intercepting him_) _Arrétez!_ Stop!

GREEN. (_starting_) Ah!

MRS. G. I have _entendez vous_.

GREEN. Oh, ha--I--I--I merely--ha, ha! You perceive I was----

MRS. G. You vas go to betray me; _mais_ you perceive dis little machine? (_produces a pistol from her pocket_)

GREEN. Oh, oh!--distinctly, Countess.

MRS. G. Madame Grinfeench!

GREEN. I beg pardon, Madame Grinfeench. Pray oblige me by pointing the other end of that article this way. I've an uncommonly weak head, and couldn't stand anything from that quarter.

MRS. G. _Prenez garde_, then how you betray de _confiance_ I have put into you?

GREEN. What confidence? I haven't the most distant idea of the object for which I have been brought here.

MRS. G. Den I sall vispare at your ear dat you are flying from justice with a denounced leader of a secret club.

GREEN. Me!--a Greenfinch flying from justice!--good gracious! what do you mean?

MRS. G. _Ecoutez donc!_ de police break in on our meeting--de officier seize me to take me to quod.

GREEN. And what did you do?

MRS. G. Bang! shoot him through the nob--den one, two, tree jump out of de vindère.

GREEN. Shot a police officer! (_aside_) I'm paralysed!

MRS. G. Dey have offer large reward for my take; but if I voyager as your _femme_, I may _echappér_--bolt avay! But if ve are catch, ve vill die nobly--_oui_, mon Grinfeench, on de same scaffold--togedder ve vill hop de twig! (_clasps him in her arms_)

GREEN. Her English is not very elegant, but it's very expressive. (_faintly_) I feel the guillotine hanging over me; I shall be sent back to Peckham Rye a head shorter than I left it.

MRS. G. _Entendez bien_ that your safety as well as mine depends on your _taisez vous_. Remember dat from my chamber dere I can watch, and _ecoutez_ all dat sall pass here--den, if you go to spleet, I sall sew you up--bang! _Comprenez vous?_

(_shewing pistol, and exit, R._)

GREEN. Yes, I _comprenez vous_--my safety depends on my _taisez vous_. What a dreadful situation is mine! If this is having an aristocratic flirtation, I don't care how soon I get democratic in my _penchants_ again. This terrible Countess is a perfect masked battery; I shouldn't wonder if she had a Colt's revolver inside her parasol, and that a cartouche box did duty for a certain popular appendix to the female figure. I declare I feel quite nervous and agitated--I'll go and smoke a cigar in the garden. (_takes a cigar from his case_) Hah! I wish they may ever catch me running away with a Countess again.

_Exit through window at back, to garden, and disappears._

_BETSY looks from room R., and then enters, carrying a small brown trunk with an address card on the top._

BETSY. (_speaking to MRS. G. inside_) All's clear, mum!

_Enter MRS. G. from room R._

He's smoking his cigar in the garden. Now here I lays the trap that's to catch him--your trunk, with your address upon it. (_puts trunk in centre of room_)

MRS. G. So that when he sees it, he may be aware that I am here in my proper person.

BETSY. Exactly, mum; and as there's a way by a passage at the back of the hotel from your room there, (_pointing R._) to this apartment on the other side. (_points to door 2 E. L._) Nothing can be easier than to come out of that door as the Countess, and out of that door as Mrs. Greenfinch, according as your game goes.

MRS. G. I understand perfectly--but I see him returning. Let's get away. (_they return into room R._)

_Enter GREENFINCH, C., from garden, smoking a cigar._

GREEN. Poo-ah! There's nothing like a cigar for puffing away fear--poo-ah! I feel a deal more composed now--poo-ah!--cooler and more determined--poo-ah! I've been bracing up my courage by repeating that heroic maxim--"The brave man dies many times--a coward never dies at all." Stay--I don't believe I've got it right--but it don't matter. (_stumbles over the trunk_) What's here? umph! a trunk! Bless me! surely I know it: that brown leather is familiar to me. Hah! here's the owner's address on a card. (_drops on his knees to examine it, and reads in a tone of intense alarm_) "Mrs. Greenfinch, Passenger." O--a--ah! That's her writing--and she's here!

_Enter MRS. GREENFINCH, R.; GREENFINCH'S head sinks on the trunk._

MRS. G. _Que faites vous ici, mon cher_ Grinfeench?

GREEN. Oh! Countess, we're lost.

MRS. G. Ha! _perdu!_ Ave de poliss come?

GREEN. No, but my wife has. See here! (_reads address on trunk_) "Mrs. Greenfinch, Passenger to Paris." That's her writing after six lessons. (_in a suppressed voice_) I know she's somewhere in the vicinity of this brown leather trunk.

MRS. G. (_coolly_) _Eh bien!_ you know that a man can have but one wife at one time.

GREEN. The law in its wisdom and great mercy says so.

MRS. G. _Justement_--I am it.

GREEN. _You?_ Oh, yes, Countess--I beg pardon, Mrs. Greenfinch _pro tempore;_ but as the original Mrs. G. has turned up unexpectedly, what am I to do?

MRS. G. (_aside_) Now I'll prove him. Say that you did nevare see her.

GREEN. How! disown Mrs. G., and turn my back upon my marriage certificate? (_aside_) She's a Mephistopheles in petticoats.

MRS. G. It but want de courage.

GREEN. But I've no courage; one look from Mrs. G. would dissolve me into my own wellingtons.

MRS. G. If you _tombè_, I sall be close to prop you up. Den stand firm on your _epingles_--your pins; courage--_entendez; ne funkez pas!_

_Exit, R. door, showing pistol._

GREEN. This is what I call a tremendous situation. Deny my wife, and such a wife as Mrs. G.: a woman that won't be denied. How shall I ever attempt it? And if I don't, there's the Countess prepared to shoot me through the head! Oh, dear! I must have some brandy to screw up my nerves. (_goes to a side table, pours brandy into a glass, and drinks_) Hah! that revives me and brings back my courage, which was sneaking away in spite of me. (_drinks_) There! nothing like brandy. (_MRS. G. is heard singing in room, L._) Hah! that's her voice--the voice of my wife--that's her high G, and that's her shake. I can't be mistaken in her shake, for it makes me shiver all over. Brandy! (_drinks_) Hah! I must be stern and resolved--the Countess has her eye upon me, and my wife's coming. Never mind, I'm prepared for the worst. More brandy! (_drinks_) I feel myself growing desperately profligate--I'm becoming a brick. (_drinks_) I don't care a straw for the world in general, nor for Mrs. G. in particular. Here she comes!

_Enter BETSY, 2 E. L._

No, it's only her maid Betsy.

BETSY. La! it surely never can be my master! Why, Mr. Greenfinch, sir--bless me! who could have thought of meeting you? Well, this will be a surprise to missus! (_runs to L. 2 E., and speaks in_) Oh, mum, make haste, please! here's master--here he is, mum--he is, indeed--quite nat'ral, mum.

_Enter MRS. GREENFINCH, 2 E. L., in her own attire, hastily._

MRS. G. Who? Your master, my dear Gregory? Ah! 'tis he, indeed! (_rushing to embrace him_)

GREEN. He--hem! (_aside, and turning away_) She has me.

MRS. G. (L.) Good heavens, Gregory! Why, Gregory! Mister Greenfinch, don't you know me?

GREEN. (C.) A--a--hum! I haven't the pleasure of your acquaintance, ma'am.

MRS. G. What, sir? Don't know me?

BETSY. (L.) Nor me, sir?

GREEN. I never saw either of you before in my life.

BETSY. Well, if that's not audacious!

GREEN. Don't be impertinent, young woman.

BETSY. Oh, mum, he calls me a young woman!

GREEN. (_aside_) More brandy. (_goes to table and drinks_)

MRS. G. (_apart to BETSY_) Oh! Betsy, he's more depraved than I could have imagined. I know I shan't be able to keep my temper.

GREEN. (_drinks, and aside_) I'm firmer now.

MRS. G. (_confronting him_) Mr. Greenfinch! Sir! Will you look at me and repeat you don't know me?

GREEN. (_uneasily_) Hem! ah! (_aside_) I feel the Countess has her eye upon me--I'm a dead man if I give way. (_to MRS. G._) I tell you I haven't the slightest knowledge of you. (_goes to table_)

MRS. G. (_aside to BETSY_) This is going beyond a joke, Betsy--the man's quite serious--looks in my face and denies me.

BETSY. Yes, mum; and means to stick to it.

MRS. G. (_aside to BETSY_) Does he? Mr. Greenfinch! (_taking hold of him_) you'd better mind what you are doing--I'm not a woman to be trifled with.

GREEN. (_aside_) I'm well aware of that; but now that I have the Countess at my back, I don't mind aggravating her. (_sings_) Toll, loll, de roll, loll, &c.

MRS. G. Mister Greenfinch!

GREEN. That's my name, madam.

MRS. G. Answer me one question, sir, plainly and distinctly--am I, or am I not, your wife?

GREEN. Plainly and distinctly, then--No! (_dances to the table and sings_) Toll, loll, de roll, loll, doll, lay! (_fills a glass of brandy_) Ha, ha, ha, ha! I'll give you a toast. Here's "Lovely woman all over the world!" (_drinks_)

MRS. G. (_apart to BETSY_) Oh! he's delirious! We've frightened him out of his senses. Look at his eye, Betsy--there's madness in that eye.

BETSY. (_apart_) There's brandy in it, mum; not madness.

MRS. G. (_apart to BETSY_) It won't do to irritate him now. (_to GREENFINCH_) My dear Gregory, of course 'tis all a joke. (_coaxingly_) You remember me--your dotey little wife--your lovey dovey? Why don't you speak to your own pidgey-widgey, and give her a toosey-woosey kiss?

GREEN. (_aside, and turning away_) Oh! this is too much for a husband's feelings! (_to MRS. G._) Don't please--don't talk that way; you don't know me; I'm a domestic fiend--doomed for a certain time to walk this earth in patent leather boots. Farewell, farewell for ever! (_he rushes into the garden through window at back_)

MRS. G. Gregory, stop! I must follow him, Betsy, or he'll do himself an injury.

BETSY. La! mum, he's not mad enough for that yet. Don't think of following him, or you'll spoil all we've done; he's not half punished yet.

MRS. G. Well, if you think so, 'tis my duty as a wife not to spare him.

BETSY. 'Course it is, mum. I've the plan all cut out in my head. You've got a suit of master's clothes in that trunk, ma'am? (_points to trunk on floor, C._)

MRS. G. Yes, Betsy; his new suit that he forgot to take with him to Paris. I meant to surprise him with it.

BETSY. And so you shall, mum. (_takes the trunk_) Come with me, and I'll show you how.

_Exeunt MRS. G. and BETSY, L. 2 E.; the latter carries the trunk._

_Enter GREENFINCH, C._