_De Val._ All hearts rejoicing; mine only miserable! every peasant yielding to delight, their lord alone devoted to despair; a subtle, slow despair that, drop by drop, congeals the blood of life, yet will not bid the creeping current quite forbear to flow; that has borne its victim just to the sepulchre 's tempting edge, but holds him there to envy, not partake its slumbers. Well, well, your own appointed hour, just heavens!--if it be the infirmity of man to repine here, it is the Christian's hope to rejoice hereafter. Re-enter _Gaspard_. _Gas._ I've sent them hence; they'll not be heard again; but since they may not thank, they are gone to pray for you--Mass! I had nigh forgotten--young Madam Geraldine is in the anti-room, and waits to see your lordship. _De Val._ Admit her! (_Exit_ Gaspard) My gentle one! my desolate, orphan maid, if any softening drop were yet permitted in my cup of bitters, I think the affectionate hand of Geraldine would mingle and prepare it for my lip. Enter _Geraldine_. _Ger._ (_Tenderly embracing him_) Ah! my dear, dear uncle! how am I rejoiced by a permission to visit you again; for four long days you have secluded yourself, and indeed I have been so distressed--but I will not speak of past anxieties now; war restores its hero to our vows; Florian returns to us--are not you quite happy, uncle? _De Val._ Happy? I? my good child--do not mock me. _Ger._ Nay, could I intend-- _De Val._ Well! let it pass; you it seems, my Geraldine, are really happy; your lips confess much, but your eyes still betray more--niece, you love my adopted Florian. _Ger._ Love! fy, uncle--Oh yes, yes, I do certainly love him like a brother. _De Val._ Something better.--Suppose I should offer this Florian to you as a husband _Ger._ (_looking down demurely._) I never presume to dispute my dear uncle's commands. _De Val._ Little equivocator! answer me strictly: do you not wish to become his wife? _Ger._ Indeed, I never yet have asked my heart that question. _De Val._ But if Florian married any other woman, would you not hate the object of his preference? _Ger._ (_throwing herself upon his neck._) Ah! uncle, you have my secret: no, I would not hate my fortunate rival--I would pray for her happiness, but my heart would break while it breathed that prayer! _De Val._ My excellent ingenuous child, indulge the virtuous emotions of your heart without disguise--Florian and Geraldine are destined for each other. _Ger._ Generous benefactor! what delightful dazzling visions your words conjure up to my imagination; the universe will concentrate within the fairy circle of our hearth; a waking consciousness of bliss will ever freshly dress our day in flowers, and at nights, fancy will gild our pillow with the dream that merrily anticipates the future. _De Val._ Enthusiast! you contemplate the ocean in a calm, nor dream how frightfully a tempest may reverse the picture.