_Chignon._ Que diable veut dire tout ça----vat devil, all dis mean?--Monsieur Alscrip enragé----Mademoiselle Alscrip fly about like de dancing fury at de Opera----My littel musicienne, shut up, and in de absence of madame, I keep de key of de littel bastille----By gad, I vou'd rader have de custody of my pretty prisoniere than the whole college of cardinals----but vat have we here? _Enter SIR CLEMENT and CLIFFORD._ _Sir C._ [_Speaking to a SERVANT._] Mr. Alscrip not at home, no matter we'll wait his return----The French valet de chambre [_To CLIFFORD._]--It may be of use to make acquaintance with him--Monsieur, how do you like this country? _Chignon._ Ver good contrée, sire, by and bye--when you grow a little more poor. _Sir C._ Is that a Parisian rule for improvement? _Chignon._ Yes, sir, and we help you to follow our example--In good times you hang, and you drown--In bad time you will be like us.--Alway poor--alway gay--forget your politics--laugh at your grievances--take your snuff, vive la dissipation,--ver good country. _Sir C._ Thanks for your kind advice, monsieur, you Frenchmen are so obliging, and so communicative to strangers----I hear there is a young lady come into this family--we don't exactly know in what capacity--could not you contrive that she should pass through this room--or-- _Chignon._ [_Aside._] By gar here be one more old rake after de littel musicienne. _Sir C._ Only for curiosity,--we never saw her, and have particular reasons-- [_Gives Money._ _Chignon._ Ma foi, your reasons be ver expressive--[_Aside._]--but vat devil shall I do--open the cage of my little Rosignol--my pretty nightingale--no. Chignon--no--[_Looking out._] ah, hah; La Tiffany----Now for de politique----be-gar I undertake your business--and make you de dupe of de performance. [_Exit with a sign to SIR CLEMENT._ _Sir C._ So--Clifford--There goes as disinterested a fellow now as any in Europe. But hark you--Can you yet guess the purpose for which I brought you here? _Cliff._ I profess, sir, I am in the dark. If it concerns Lord Gayville's secret. _Sir C._ Namely, that this dulcinea has started up in the shape of Miss Alscrip's musical companion--Her name is Alton. [_Leering._] I tell it you, because I am sure you are not acquainted with it. _Cliff._ Sir, you will not know me.-- _Sir C._ Tut, tut, don't do me such injustice----Come, all delicacy being over, by my having made the discovery, will you talk to this girl? _Cliff._ For what end, sir? _Sir C._ If you state yourself as Lord Gayville's friend, she will converse with you more readily, than she would with me--Try her--find out what she is really at. If she has no hold upon him but her person, I shall be easy. _Cliff._ Sir, let my compliance convince you how much I wish to oblige you. If I can get a sight of this wonder, I promise to give you my faithful opinion of my friend's danger.