Chapter 7

casements are on one side--opposite is the fireplace--and a staircase in the back scene conducts to an upper chamber--a table with a lamp burning, and a frugal supper stands in the middle of the stage.--Florian is discovered when the scene draws, kneeling at the hearth and chaffing his hands before the fire._

_Flor._ Eternal praise to the architect who first invented chimney-corners? the man who built the pyramids was a dunce by comparison. [_rises and looks round him._] All solitary and silent: faith, my situation here is somewhat whimsical. Well, I am left in undisturbed possession, and that's a title in law, if not in equity. [_he takes off his cloak and hangs it on a chair_] Yes, this shall be my barrack for the night. What an unsocial spirit must the fair mistress of this cottage possess. Egad, she seemed to think it necessary, like the man and woman in the weather-house, that one sex should turn forth into the storm, so soon as the other sought a shelter from its peltings: a plague on such punctilio.

[_Monica_ enters down the staircase from her chamber.]

_Mon._ [_speaking as she descends._] There, my garments are changed, and we may now enjoy our supper.

_Flor._ Ha! another woman! but old, by the mother of the Graces!

_Mon._ A stranger!

_Flor._ Not an impertinent one, I trust. One, who in the darkness of the storm has missed his road, despairs of regaining it till morning, and craves of your benevolence a shelter for the night. You shall be soon convinced I am no dangerous guest.

_Mon._ [_with a voluble civility._] Nay, young gentleman, never trouble yourself to inform me of your rank; you have told me your necessity, and that's a sufficient claim to every comfort my little cabin can afford; pray, sir, take a seat: I am much honoured by your presence: we have a little supper toward; you must partake it, sir: here! my good Silence! come hither. Ah! I do not see--[_looking anxiously round the cottage._]

_Flor._ I am afraid, my good madam, you miss one of your family.

_Mon._ I do, indeed, sir; and--

_Flo._ It was my misfortune to drive a female out of your house at the moment I entered it.

_Mon._ Sir!

_Flor._ But not intentionally, I protest. The fact is, though I have always esteemed myself as a well-manufactured person, yet something in my appearance so terrified the lady that--

_Mon._ Ah, I comprehend; you wear the habit of a soldier, sir, and my poor Silence never can abide to look upon that dress.

_Flor._ Indeed! that's rather a singular antipathy for a female. May I inquire--is she a daughter of yours?

_Mon._ Not by blood, sir; but she is the child of misfortune, and as such may claim a parent in every heart that has itself experienced sorrow; but come, sir, take a seat, I beseech you; my alarm ceases now I know the cause of her absence. She is accustomed to wander in the woods by night when any thing disturbs her mind. She'll return to me anon calm and passive as before: I have known it with her often thus. You look fatigued, sir; let me recommend this flask of Rhenish: pray drink, sir; it will do you good; it always does me good.

_Flor._ Madam, since you are so pressing, my best services to you--a very companionable sort of old gentlewoman this (_aside_); I protest, madam, I feel myself interested for this unfortunate under your protection; there was a wild and melancholy sweetness in her eye that touched me at our first exchange of looks with awe and pity; is her history a secret?

_Mon._ Oh, no--not a secret, but quite a mystery, you know nearly as much of it as I do; but since we are on the subject--another draught of wine, sir!

_Flor._ Madam, you will pledge me. And now for the mystery.

_Mon._ Well, sir, about sixteen years ago when I lived in Languedoc, for you must know I am but newly settled _here_, a stranger in Alsace, ay! about sixteen or seventeen years ago, there came a rumour to our village, of a _wild woman_, that had been caught by some peasants in the woods near _Albi_, following quite a savage and unchristian life; gathering fruits and berries for her food by day, and sleeping in the mossy hollows of a rock at night. She was brought round the country as a show. All the world in our parts went to look upon the prodigy, and you may be sure _I_ made one among the crowd. Well, sir, this wild woman was the very creature you beheld but now. At that time she was in truth a piteous object; her form was meagre and wasted, and her wretched garment hung over it in filthy tatters; her fine hair fell in matted heaps, and the sun and the wind together had changed her skin like an Indian's. Yet even in the midst of all this misery, there was a something so noble and so gentle in her air, that the moment I looked upon her, my curiosity was lost at once in pity and respect. The people by whom she was surrounded, were stunning her with coarse and vulgar questions, but never an answer did she deign to give, though some wheedled and some threatened; still 'twas to all alike: so most persons concluded she was dumb.

_Flor._ And a very natural conclusion it was, when a female remained silent, who had so excellent an opportunity of exercising her tongue.

_Mon._ Well, Sir, presently _my_ turn came to approach her, when somehow my heart swelled quite painfully, to see the gracious image of our Maker degraded, and one's own fellow creature treated like the brutes of the field, so, that when I touched her, my tears started unawares and fell upon her trembling hand. Would you believe it, sir? the poor desolate statue felt the trickling drops, and reason was rekindled by the warmth of pity. Suddenly her eyes, so lately dull and vacant, flashed with recovered brightness. She cast herself at my feet--clasped my knees--and cried out, in tones that might have moved a heart of rock--"Angel of compassion! save me from disgrace?" All present started as if a miracle were worked. "Will you preserve me?" cried the suppliant. I was a widowed and a childless woman; in an instant I raised the forlorn one to my arms, as a companion, as an adopted daughter. Her keepers were ignorant men, but not cruel; their hearts were softened by the scene, and they yielded their claims to my entreaties. I led the unfortune to my dwelling; from that moment, she has shared my mat and partaken of my morsel. I love her with the affection of a real parent, and were I now to lose her, I think my heart would break upon the grave that robbed it of its darling.

_Flor._ By heavens, I reverence your feelings! in truth 'tis a melancholy story.

_Mon._ Yes, sir; and melancholy stories make people dry, so let me recommend another cup of wine.

_Flor._ Madam, I can't refuse the challenge-- (_aside_) the old lady certainly designs to send me under the table. But pray, madam, have you never discovered the cause of that distress, from which you first relieved this suffering woman?

_Mon._ Never. On the subject of her early adventures she remains inflexibly silent. I have often tried to win the secret from her, but though she is mild and rational enough upon all other themes, yet, let but a hint remind her of her former wretchedness, her wits directly start into disorder, and for whole hours, nay, sometimes days together, she remains a lunatic. I do not even know her name, but call her Silence, because her voice is heard so very rarely. I think her dejection has increased since we quitted Languedoc, for about two months since, a kinsman of mine died, and bequeathed me this cottage with some land here in Alsace; 'tis a lone house, and the thick woods about I fear remind my poor Silence too much of her former way of life, sometimes she wanders in them half the night.

_Flo._ Are you not fearful of her safety? these woods are full of danger; within this half hour, I myself have encountered three ruffians lurking for their prey.

_Mon._ Ruffians! young gentleman. Blessed Mary save us!--'tis true, I am a stranger in these parts, but never did I hear of such neighbours. Well, well, I fear not for my child, she has no wealth to tempt a plunderer. Poverty is the mother of ills, but her offspring generally respect each other. Come, sir, finish the flask; and now let me prepare your chamber for the night. (_rises._)

_Flor._ Kind hostess! I am bounden to you ever. (_rises and fills his glass_) Here's woman! beauteous, generous woman! _admired_ when we are happy, but in our adversity _adored_! (_drinks._)

_Mon._ (_curtseying_) Sweet sir, down to the very ground I return your gallantry.

_Flor._ Hist!--don't I hear footsteps in the wood?

_Mon._ (_listening_) Ah, yes, perhaps my child returns to us.

[The casement is thrust open, and _Bertrand_ with the two bravoes look into the cottage.]

_Mon._ Ah! men in masks!

_Bert._'Tis he! (_they disappear from the casement._)

_Flor._ Swift! help me swift to bar the door!

_Mon._ Ah! 'tis forced already! (_noise at door._)

[The door is burst, the two bravoes instantly spring upon _Florian_ and grapple with him. _Bertrand_ seizes the woman.]

_Mon._ Murder! murder!

_Bert._ Silence, or you die!

[_Florian_ struggles towards the centre of the stage in front, and is there forced down upon one knee.]

_Flo._ Is it plunder that you seek? what is your purpose with me? speak!

_San._ Learn it by this! (_raises his dagger._)

_Bert._ Hold! not _here_, drag him into the wood, despatch him _there_!

_Flo._ Inhuman villains! by your soul's best hope--I charge you--I implore you--

_Bert._ (_stamping furiously, and casting Monica from him_) Toward the wood! --Follow me!

[_Bertrand_ turns to the door, and the bravoes struggle to force _Florian_ after him, at that instant, the unknown female enters from the wood, and pauses in the door-way exactly opposite to _Bertrand_, his advanced arm falls back nerveless by his side, his limbs shake with strong convulsion, and he reels backwards.]

_Bert._ Support me, ah! save me, or I die!

[The bravoes release _Florian_ to fly towards _Bertrand_, who sinks in their arms. The female, with a light and rapid step crosses in front of the group to the middle of the stage where _Florian_ remains kneeling, she spreads her wild drapery before the victim, and places herself between him and the ruffians in the attitude of protection.]

_Bert._ (_pursuing her with his eye deliriously_) Look! look! she rises from the grave! she blasts me with her frown! away! away! heaven itself forbids the deed!

[The ruffians rush forth into the wood again. _Florian_ and _Monica_ catch the hands of the unknown to their lips in transport, and the curtain falls suddenly upon the scene.]

End of act I.