The Comedies of Carlo Goldoni. Goldoni Carlo

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      ACT I

      Mar. May I wish good-morning to Monsieur Gascoigne?

      Gas. Yes, my sweet Marianna, I thank you for your good-morning, but good-night would be more agreeable to me from your lips.

      Mar. From what I see, I should rather wish you a pleasant journey.

      Gas. Oh, my precious jewel, such a melancholy departure must be followed by a most doleful journey!

      Mar. Then you are sorry to go?

      Gas. How can you doubt it? After having enjoyed your delightful society for six months, can I leave you without the deepest sorrow?

      Mar. And who forces you to do what is so disagreeable?

      Gas. Do you not know? My master.

      Mar. Masters are not wanting at the Hague, and you can easily find one who will give you better wages than a poor French officer, a prisoner of war, and a man in every way roughly used by fortune.

      Gas. Pardon me, such language does not become so good a girl as you are. I have for many years had the honour of serving my excellent master; his father, I may say, recommended me to him; I have attended him in the war, and have not shunned danger to show my fidelity. He is poor, but never man had a better heart. Were he promoted, I am sure I should share his good fortune. Would you desire me to abandon him, and let him return to France without me?

      Mar. You speak like the worthy fellow you are; but I cannot conceal my affection for you.

      Gas. Dear Marianna, I am as much distressed as you are, but I hope to see you again, and then to be able to say, Here I am, I can support you, and, if you wish it, I am yours.

      Mar. Heaven grant it! But why is the Lieutenant in such haste to depart? My master is fond of his company, and I think the daughter not less so than the father.

      Gas. Too true; and that is his reason for going.

      Mar. What! does he dislike people to be fond of him?

      Gas. Ah, my Marianna, my poor master is desperately in love with your young mistress; he leads the most wretched life in the world; he knows their love for each other is increasing every day, and, as they can no longer hide it, he fears for himself, and for Mademoiselle Giannina. Your master is rich, and mine is poor. Monsieur Philibert has this only daughter, and will not give her to a younger son, a soldier; one, in short, who would have to live on her means. The Lieutenant, though poor, is a man of honour; he respects the obligations of hospitality, of friendship, of good faith; he fears he may be overcome and seduced by love, and that he in turn may seduce his mistress from her duty. This being the case, he does violence to his feelings, sacrifices love to principle, and is resolved to go.

      Mar. I admire his heroic conduct, but could not imitate it.

      Gas. We must exert self-control.

      Mar. You can do so more easily than I.

      Gas. Indeed, a man's resolution is stronger than a woman's.

      Mar. Say rather his affections are weaker.

      Gas. So far as regards me, you are wrong.

      Mar. I look at acts, not words.

      Gas. What can I do to convince you of my love?

      Mar. Monsieur Gascoigne does not need me for a teacher.

      Gas. Do you wish me to marry you before I go?

      Mar. That would, indeed, remove all doubt.

      Gas. But then I should have to leave you.

      Mar. And could you have the heart to abandon me?

      Gas. Oh, you might go with me!

      Mar. That would be much better.

      Gas. To encounter so many hardships?

      Mar. In truth, that would not suit me so well.

      Gas. Should I remain here with you, would that satisfy you?

      Mar. Perfectly.

      Gas. For how long?

      Mar. A year at least.

      Gas. And after a year, would you let me go?

      Mar. Yes, a year after our marriage, if you found it easy to do so.

      Gas. I daresay you would let me go after a month.

      Mar. I know better.

      Gas. I am sure of it.

      Mar. Let us try.

      Gas. My master is coming; another time we will talk it over.

      Mar. Ah, Monsieur Gascoigne, this conversation has unnerved me; do what you please, I trust to you. – [Aside.] Indeed, I know not what I say.

      Gas. If I had not more sense than she, the folly would have been committed before now.

      De la Cot. [To himself.] Oh, Heaven! how wretched I am! how unfortunate!

      Gas. The trunk, sir, is packed.

      De la Cot. Ah, Gascoigne! I am in despair.

      Gas. Alas! what misfortune has happened?

      De la Cot. The worst that could befall me.

      Gas. Our troubles seldom come alone.

      De la Cot. Mine is alone, but so great that I cannot support it.

      Gas. I suppose you allude to your love?

      De la Cot. Yes; but it has increased to such a degree that I have no longer firmness enough to resist it.

      Gas. What if the lady is unconcerned at your departure, and does not love you as you imagine she does?

      De la Cot. On the contrary, she is more affectionate, and more devoted to me than ever. Oh, God! what will my despair drive me to? I saw her weep.

      Gas. Well, this is bad enough, but I thought it was something much worse.

      De la Cot. Inhuman! unfeeling! vile plebeian soul! can you imagine anything worse in the world than the tears of a tender-hearted, distressed lady, who accuses me of cruelty, who makes my resolution waver, and puts to a severe trial my honour, my reputation, and my friendship?

      Gas. I am not conscious of deserving so harsh a reproof; this is a just recompense for ten years' service.

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