Pauline. Three years ago! Poor Claude!--Thank you; I think I will have some coffee. Oh! if he were but a poor gentleman, even a merchant: but a gardener's son--and what a home!--Oh no,--it is too dreadful! They seat themselves at the table, BEAUSEANT opens the lattice and looks in. Beau. So--so--the coast is clear! I saw Claude in the lane--I shall have an excellent opportunity. [Shuts the lattice and knocks at the door. Pauline. [starting]. Can it be my father?--he has not sent for--him yet? No, he cannot be in such a hurry to get rid of me. Widow. It is not time for your father to arrive yet; it must be some neighbor. Pauline. Don't admit any one. [Widow opens the door, BEAUSEANT pushes her aside and enters. Ha! Heavens! that hateful Beauseant! This is indeed bitter! Beau. Good morning, madam! O widow, your son begs you will have the goodness to go to him in the village he wants to speak to you on particular business; you'll find him at the inn, or the grocer's shop, or the baker's, or at some other friend's of your family--make haste. Pauline. Don't leave me, mother!--don't leave me. Beau. [with great respect]. Be not alarmed, madam. Believe me your friend--your servant. Pauline. Sir, I have no fear of you, even in this house! Go, madam, if your son wishes it; I will not contradict his commands whilst, at least he has still the right to be obeyed. Widow. I don't understand this; however, I sha'n't be long gone. [Exit. Pauline. Sir, I divine the object of your visit--you wish to exult in the humiliation of one who humbled you. Be it so; I am prepared to endure all--even your presence! Beau. You mistake me, madam--Pauline, you mistake me! I come to lay my fortune at your feet. You must already be disenchanted with this impostor; these walls are not worthy to be hallowed by your beauty! Shall that form be clasped in the arms of a base-born peasant? Beloved, beautiful Pauline! fly with me--my carriage waits without--I will bear you to a home more meet for your reception. Wealth, luxury, station--all shall yet be yours. I forget your past disdain--I remember only your beauty and my unconquerable love! Pauline. Sir! leave this house--it is humble: but a husband's roof, however lowly, is, in the eyes of God and man, the temple of a wife's honor! Know that I would rather starve--yes--with him who has betrayed me, than accept your lawful hand, even were you the prince whose name he bore.--Go. Beau. What! is not your pride humbled yet? Pauline. Sir, what was pride in prosperity in affliction becomes virtue. Beau. Look round: these rugged floors--these homely walls--this wretched struggle of poverty for comfort--think of this! and contrast with such a picture the refinement, the luxury, the pomp, that the wealthiest gentleman of Lyons offers to the loveliest lady. Ah, hear me! Pauline. Oh! my father!--why did I leave you?--why am I thus friendless? Sir, you see before you a betrayed, injured, miserable woman!--respect her anguish.