VAL. To be brief: whatever be the consequence, Isabella has my solemn promise; I also have hers; if you consider everything, I am not so bad a match that you should blame her. AR. What he says is not... SGAN. Be quiet! I have a reason for it. You shall know the mystery. (_To Valére_). Yes, without any more words, we both consent that you shall be the husband of her who is at present in your house. MAG. The contract is drawn up in those very terms, and there is a blank for the name, as we have not seen her. Sign. The lady can set you all at ease by-and-by. VAL. I agree to the arrangement. SGAN. And so do I, with all my heart. (_Aside_). We will have a good laugh presently. (_Aloud)_. There, brother, sign; yours the honour to sign first. AR. But why all this mystery... SGAN. The deuce! what hesitation. Sign, you simpleton. AR. He talks of Isabella, and you of Léonor. SGAN. Are you not agreed, brother, if it be she, to leave them to their mutual promises? AR. Doubtless. SGAN. Sign, then; I shall do the same. AR. So be it. I understand nothing about it. SGAN. You shall be enlightened. MAG. We will soon return. (_Exeunt Magistrate and Notary into Valeère's house_). SGAN. (_To Ariste_). Now, then, I will give you a cue to this intrigue. (_They retire to the back of the stage_). SCENE IX.--LÉONOR, SGANARELLE, ARISTE, LISETTE. LEO. Ah, what a strange martyrdom! What bores all those young fools appear to me! I have stolen away from the ball, on account of them. LIS. Each of them tried to make himself agreeable to you. LEO. And I never endured anything more intolerable. I should prefer the simplest conversation to all the babblings of these say-nothings. [Footnote: The original has _contes bleus_, literally "blue stories" because old tales, such as _The Four Sons of Aymon, Fortunatus, Valentine and Orson_ were formerly sold, printed on coarse paper and with blue paper cover; a kind of popular, but not political, "blue-books."] They fancy that everything must give way before their flaxen wigs, and think they have said the cleverest witticism when they come up, with their silly chaffing tone, and rally you stupidly about the love of an old man. For my part, I value more highly the affection of such an old man than all the giddy raptures of a youthful brain. But do I not see... SGAN (_To Ariste_). Yes, so the matter stands. (_Perceiving Léonor_). Ah, there she is, and her maid with her. AR. Léonor, without being angry, I have reason to complain. You know whether I have ever sought to restrain you, and whether I have not stated a hundred times that I left you full liberty to gratify your own wishes; yet your heart, regardless of my approval, has pledged its faith, as well as its love, without my knowledge. I do not repent of my indulgence; but your conduct certainly annoys me; it is a way of acting which the tender friendship I have borne you does not merit.