Chapter 5

the tempest becomes violent, and the stage appears alternately illumined by the lightning, and enveloped in utter darkness. Florian is seen advancing cautiously through the thickets from a distance._

_Flor._ A plague upon all dark nights, foul ways, and runaway horses! a mettlesome madcap, to start at the lightning and plunge with me head over heels in the brushwood; in scrambling out of that thicket, I certainly turned wrong, and have missed my road--how to regain it? 'sdeath! I could as soon compose an almanac as and a clue to this puzzle. Well, I was found in a wood when a baby, and have just lived to years of discretion to be lost in a wood again! Fortune! Fortune! thou spiteful gipsy! was this an honest trick to pass upon a faithful servant, who has worn thy livery from his cradle, and taken off thy hands a thousand knocks and buffetings without a murmur? Just at this moment too, when hope and fancy were dancing merrily, and had made the prettiest ball-room of my heart--just too when the image of my Geraldine-- (_rain, storm increases_) but a truce with meditation, this pelting shower rather advises action-- (_turns to an opening_) --No; that can't be the path; which ever way I turn I may only get farther entangled; then there are pit-falls, wolves, bears--yes! I've the prospect of a delectable night before me; what if I exercise my lungs and call for help? oh! there's scarcely a chance of being heard; well, 'tis my forlorn hope and shall e'en have a trial. Holloa! Holloa! Holloa! [_a whistle answers from the right_] Huzza! somebody whistles from the right! kind lady Fortune! never will I call thee names again. [_another whistle from the opposite side._] Ha! answered from the left too! --Lucky fellow!--where are you my dear boys--where are you?

_Florian_ runs toward the right--a very vivid flash of lightning at that instant gleams upon the path before him, and displays the figure of a masqued bravo, _Sanguine_, with an unsheathed poniard advancing between the trees, _Florian_ recoils.

_Flor._ Ha! a man armed and masqued!--perhaps some ruffian!--'sdeath! I am defenceless, my pistols were left in the saddle!

_Sanguine._ (_advancing_) Who called?

_Flor._ If I return no answer in the darkness I may retreat unseen.

[He creeps silently to the left as the bravo advances.

_San._ Speak! where are you?

[2d bravo emerges from the gloom and directly crosses the path by which _Florian_ is about to escape.

_Len._ Here! [_Thunder._

[_Florian_ at the second voice discovers himself to be exactly between the ruffians, and stops.

_Flor._ God!

[He recedes a single step, and strikes his hand against a tree immediately behind him, the trunk of which is hollowed by time, and open towards the audience.

Ha! a tree!

[By his touch he discovers the aperture, and glides into the hollow, at the very instant the two bravoes stepping forward quickly from either side of the tree, encounter each other's extended hands in front.

_San._ (_raising his poniard_) Die!

_Len._ Hold! 'tis I--your comrade!

_San._ Why did you not answer before, I took you for--hark?

[_Bertrand_ comes through the trees from the top of the stage.]

_Bert._ Hist! Sanguine?--Lenoire?

_San._ Here!--both of us.

_Bert._ (_coming forward_) Why did you whistle?

_San._ In answer to your call--you hallooed to us.

_Bert._ When?

_San._ But now--a minute back.

_Bert._ I never spoke.

_San._ I'll swear I heard a voice--no doubt then but 'twas he that--

_Bert._ From what quarter did the cry proceed?

_San._ I thought it sounded hereabouts, but the storm kept such a confounded patter at the time--

_Bert._ Well--let us take the left-hand path; and if we hear the call repeated--

_San._ Ay!--our daggers meet all questions with a keen reply.

[Exeunt to the left.

_Flor._ (_extricating himself cautiously from the tree._) Eternal Providence, what have I heard! Murderers then are upon the watch for me! no, no--not for _me_. _I_ cannot be the destined victim. I never yet offended a human being, and fiends themselves would not destroy without a cause for hatred. Heaven guard the threatened one, whoe'er he be! Well, Prudence at least admonishes me to avoid the left-hand path; faith any turn but that must prove the right for _me_. Ha! unless my eyes are cheated by a Will-o'-th'-Wisp, a friendly light now peeps out through yonder coppice. (_looking out_) Perhaps some woodman's hut, with a fresh faggot just crackling on the hearth. Oh, for a seat in such a chimney corner. (_Whistle again at a distance_) I hear you, gentlemen, a pleasant ramble to you. Adieu, Messieurs! space be between us! yours is a left-handed destiny; I'll seek mine to the right. [_Exit._