The Dramas of Victor Hugo: Mary Tudor, Marion de Lorme, Esmeralda Part 63

The Dramas of Victor Hugo: Mary Tudor, Marion de Lorme, Esmeralda Part 63

GRACIEUX (_with profound obeisance_).


Its I, my lord. Im mad about her!


LAFFEMAS.


You!


[_Laffemas, disappointed, turns away with annoyance; then he comes back and shakes his purse in Gracieuxs eyes and ears._


Know you the sound of ducats?


GRACIEUX.


Heavenly tones!


LAFFEMAS (_aside_).


Ive 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_).


Id 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. Theyll 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.


Thats 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 cant Take all this crowd and put them to the torture.


This is worse work than hunting needles in A haystack. Faith! a chemists 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._ Thats it! The clever thought! Oh, joy! Hes mine!


[_Calling through the barn door._ Ho, gentlemen, comedians! one word, please.


[_The actors crowd out of the barn._