France -- History -- Louis XIII, 1610-1643 -- Fiction
But his miseries are not yet at an end. Leander’s valet had been
arranging a clever little plot to prevent the fulfilment of the
proposed marriage between Isabelle and Captain Matamore. At his
instigation, a certain Doralice, very pretty and coquettish, makes her
appearance, accompanied by a fierce-looking brother—represented by
Hérode—carrying two immensely long rapiers under his arm, and evidently
“spoiling for a fight.” The young lady complains that she has been
shamefully jilted by Captain Matamore, who has deserted her for
Isabelle, the daughter of a certain Pandolphe, and demands instant
reparation for this outrage, adding that her brother is ready to exact
it at the point of the sword, or avenge the insult by taking the life
of the heartless villain who has trifled with her youthful affections.
“Make haste to give this rascal his quietus,” says Pandolphe to his
future son-in-law; “it will be only child’s play for you, who have
fearlessly encountered, single-handed, a whole army of Saracens.”
Very reluctantly, and after many most absurd grimaces, Matamore crosses
swords with Doralice’s ferocious brother, but he trembles so that the
latter, with one quick movement, sends his weapon flying out of his
hand, and chastises him with the flat of his sword until he roars for
mercy.
To cap the climax, Mme. Léonarde comes upon the scene, mopping her
streaming eyes with an enormous pocket-handkerchief, sighing and
sobbing, and bewailing herself. She goes straight to Pandolphe and
shows him a written promise of marriage, over Matamore’s signature,
cleverly counterfeited; whereupon the poor wretch, convicted of such
abominable and complicated perfidy, is assailed with a new shower of
blows and curses, and finally condemned, by the unanimous vote of all
present, to marry old Mme. Léonarde—who has made herself as hideous as
possible—as a fitting punishment for all his deviltries, rodomontades,
and cowardice. Pandolphe, thoroughly disgusted with Matamore at last,
makes no further objections to Leander’s suit, and the curtain falls as
he gives his consent to the marriage of the two young lovers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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