The Dramas of Victor Hugo: Mary Tudor, Marion de Lorme, Esmeralda - novelonlinefull.com
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GRACIEUX (_with profound obeisance_).
It's I, my lord. I'm mad about her!
LAFFEMAS.
You!
[_Laffemas, disappointed, turns away with annoyance; then he comes back and shakes his purse in Gracieux's eyes and ears._
Know you the sound of ducats?
GRACIEUX.
Heavenly tones!
LAFFEMAS (_aside_).
I've got my Didier!
[_To Gracieux._] Do you see this purse?
GRACIEUX.
How much!
LAFFEMAS.
Gold ducats--twenty!
GRACIEUX.
Humph!
LAFFEMAS (_jingling the gold in his face_).
Will you?
GRACIEUX (_grabbing the purse from him_).
Most certainly!
[_With theatrical tone to Laffemas, who listens anxiously._
My lord, if your back bore Just in the center a great hump, as big As is your belly, and if those two bags Were filled with louis, sequins, and doubloons, In that case--
LAFFEMAS (_eagerly_).
Well, what would you do?
GRACIEUX (_putting the purse into his pocket_).
I'd take The whole of it, and I would say-- [_With profound obeisance._ I thank you; You are a gentleman!
LAFFEMAS (_aside, furious_).
Plague on the monkey!
GRACIEUX (_aside, laughing_).
The devil take the cat!
LAFFEMAS (_aside_).
They have agreed On what to do, if any one suspects.
'Tis a conspiracy. They'll all be dumb; Accursed gypsy devils!
[_To Gracieux who is going away._
Give me back My purse!
GRACIEUX (_turning around, with tragic tone_).
What do you take me for, my lord?
What will the world think of us, pray, if you Propose and I agree to anything So infamous as sell for gold a life, My soul? [_Turns to go._
LAFFEMAS.
That's as you please; but give me back My money!
GRACIEUX.
No, I keep my honor, sir, And we have no accounts to settle.
[_He salutes him and re-enters barn._
SCENE IX
LAFFEMAS (_alone_).
Humph!
The wretched juggler! Pride in such base souls!
If you some day should fall into my hands Unoccupied with better sort of game-- But this will not find Didier! Now, I can't Take all this crowd and put them to the torture.
This is worse work than hunting needles in A haystack. Faith! a chemist's crucible Bewitched I ought to have, which, eating up The lead and copper, would reveal at last The golden ingot hid by much alloy.
Go to the Cardinal without my prize?
[_Striking his brow._ That's it! The clever thought! Oh, joy! He's mine!
[_Calling through the barn door._ Ho, gentlemen, comedians! one word, please.
[_The actors crowd out of the barn._
