Pauline. How could they have learn'd thy rank? One's servants are so vain!--nay, let it not Chafe thee, sweet prince!--a few short days and we Shall see thy palace by its lake of silver, And--nay, nay, spendthrift, is thy wealth of smiles, Already drain'd, or dost thou play the miser? Mel. Thine eyes would call up smiles in deserts, fair one. Let us escape these rustics: close at hand There is a cot, where I have bid prepare Our evening lodgment--a rude, homely roof, But honest, where our welcome will not be Made torture by the vulgar eyes and tongues That are as death to Love! A heavenly night! The wooing air and the soft moon invite us. Wilt walk? I pray thee, now,--I know the path, Ay, every inch of it! Pauline. What, thou! Methought Thou wert a stranger in these parts? Ah, truant, Some village beauty lured thee;--thou art now Grown constant? Mel. Trust me. Pauline. Princes are so changeful! Mel. Come, dearest, come. Pauline. Shall I not call our people To light us? Mel. Heaven will lend its stars for torches! It is not far. Pauline. The night breeze chills me. Mel. Nay, Let me thus mantle thee;--it is not cold. Pauline. Never beneath thy smile! Mel. [aside.] O Heaven! forgive me! [Exeunt SCENE II. MELNOTTE'S cottage--Widow bustling about--a table spread for supper. Widow. So, I think that looks very neat. He sent me a line, so blotted that I can scarcely read it, to say he would be here almost immediately. She must have loved him well indeed to have forgotten his birth; for though he was introduced to her in disguise, he is too honorable not to have revealed to her the artifice, which her love only could forgive. Well, I do not wonder at it; for though my son is not a prince, he ought to be one, and that's almost as good, [Knock at the door.] Ah! here they are. Enter MELNOTTE and PAULINE. Widow. Oh, my boy--the pride of my heart!--welcome, welcome! I beg pardon, ma'am, but I do love him so! Pauline. Good woman, I really--why prince, what is this?--does the old lady know you? Oh, I guess, you have done her some service. Another proof of your kind heart? is it not? Mel. Of my kind heart, ay! Pauline. So you know the prince? Widow. Know him, madam?--Ah, I begin to fear it is you who know him not! Pauline. Do you think she is mad? Can we stay here, my lord? I think there's something very wild about her. Mel. Madam, I--no, I cannot tell her; my knees knock together: what a coward is a man who has lost his honor! Speak to her--speak to her [to his mother]--tell her that--O Heaven, that I were dead! Pauline. How confused he looks!--this strange place?--this woman--what can it mean?--I half suspect--Who are you, madam!--who are you! can't you speak? are you struck dumb? Widow. Claude, you have not deceived her?--Ah, shame upon you! I thought that, before you went to the altar, she was to have known all.