GREEN. Well now this is something like an adventure. (_putting down the umbrella and bandbox, R._) There's a romantic mystery attached to me that I can't unravel, in fact I feel myself like a tangled penn'orth of thread; the more I try to clear myself the more complicated I become. Let me calmly consider my singular position. (_throws the cloak on the easy chair, R. and places the carpet bag beside it_) In the first place here I have arrived at the Hotel d' Angleterre in Dieppe accompanied by the Countess de Rambuteau--a real Countess! Poor Mrs. Greenfinch little dreams what a rake I am--but for a long time I've been dying for an aristocratic flirtation--I have looked at lovely women in the private boxes at the theatres--and have run after carriages in the park--but all in vain, and now, startling as the fact may seem, I have been for the last thirty hours the travelling companion of a French Countess, and have shared her post-chaise from Paris: when I say shared, I mean the Countess and her maid took the inside and left me the outside, where I was exalted to the dickey amongst a miscellaneous assortment of trunks and bandboxes, by which I have been jolted and jammed till I haven't a bone in my body without its particular ache. But the most extraordinary part of the affair is that I have never yet seen the Countess's face, for she has always concealed it from me beneath a thick veil. However that's nothing, there's a secret sympathy by which I think I could discover a pretty face under a piecrust. Hah! here she comes, and now for the tender revelation--the soft confession--the blushing avowal--the-- _Enter MRS. GREENFINCH, 2 E. R., in a travelling dress closely veiled, she carries in her hand a lady's walking basket._ Ah, my charming Countess, at length after a painful--I mean a delightful journey--we have arrived in Dieppe, and now permit me to gaze on those lovely features. MRS. G. (_retires as he approaches_) No, no, _je ne permittez pas;_ nevare, not at all, Monsieur Grinfeench. GREEN. Dear, Countess, take pity on me. (_aside_) What delightful accents! She told me she could speak English fluently, and she does. Am I never to see your face, dear Countess? Oh! have pity on me. MRS. G. _Oui_, you sall ordere diner _toute de suite._ GREEN. Dinner? certainly, Countess. _Exit 3 E. L._ BETSY. (_peeping in at door, R._) Is he gone, mum? MRS. G. Yes, Betsy, you may come in. (_lays the basket she carries on table, L. and puts up her veil_) BETSY. (_enters by door, R._) Well, mum, does he suspect nothing yet? MRS. G. Nothing. He has not yet seen my face--but if he had, I think this red wig, these spectacles, and this cravat would completely prevent his recognizing me. BETSY. He little thinks, mum, 'tis his own lawful wife he's running away with instead of a fine foreign Countess.