First Officer. Well, here we are at Lyons, with gallant old Damas: it is his native place. Second Officer. Yes; he has gained a step in the army since he was here last. The Lyonnese ought to be very proud of stout General Damas. Third Officer. Promotion is quick in the French army. This mysterious Morier,--the hero of Lodi, and the favorite of the commander-in-chief,--has risen to a colonel's rank to two years and a half. Enter DAMAS, as a General. Damas. Good morrow, gentlemen; I hope you will amuse yourselves during our short stay at Lyons. It is a fine city: improved since I left it. Ah! it is a pleasure to grow old, when the years that bring decay to ourselves do but ripen the prosperity of our country. You have not met with Morier? First Officer. No: we were just speaking of him. Second Officer. Pray, general, can you tell us who this Morier really is? Damas. Is!--why a colonel in the French army. Third Officer. True. But what was he at first? Damas. At first? Why a baby in long clothes, I suppose. First Officer. Ha, ha! Ever facetious, general. Second Officer. [to Third]. The general is sore upon this point; you will only chafe him.--Any commands, general? Damas. None. Good day to you. [Exeunt Second and Third Officers. Damas. Our comrades are very inquisitive. Poor Morier is the subject of a vast deal of curiosity. First Officer. Say interest, rather, general. His constant melancholy, the loneliness of his habits,--his daring valor, his brilliant rise in the profession,--your friendship, and the favors of the commander-in-chief,--all tend to make him as much the matter of gossip as of admiration. But where is he, general? I have missed him all the morning. Damas. Why, captain, I'll let you into a secret. My young friend has come with me to Lyons in hopes of finding a miracle. First Officer. A miracle! Damas. Yes, a miracle! in other words,--a constant woman. First Officer. Oh! an affair of love! Damas. Exactly so. No sooner did he enter Lyons than he waved his hand to me, threw himself from his horse, and is now, I warrant, asking every one who can know anything about the matter, whether a certain lady is still true to a certain gentleman! First Officer. Success to him! and of that success there can be no doubt. The gallant Colonel Morier, the hero of Lodi, might make his choice out of the proudest families in France. Damas. Oh, if pride be a recommendation, the lady and her mother are most handsomely endowed. By the way, captain, if you should chance to meet with Morier, tell him he will find me at the hotel. First Officer. I will, general. [Exit. Damas. Now will I go to the Deschappelles, and make a report to my young Colonel. Ha! by Mars, Bacchus, Apollo, Virorum,--here comes Monsieur Beauseant! Enter BEAUSEANT. Good morrow, Monsieur Beauseant! How fares it with you?