ALINE. Well, give me fiddles: fiddles and a wedding feast. It tickles your heart till your heels make a runaway match of it. I don't mind extra work, I don't, so long as there's fun about it. Hand me up that pile of plates. The quinces there, before the bride. Stick a pink in the Notary's glass: that's the girl he's courting. DUMONT (_entering; with CHARLES_). Good girls, good girls! Charles, in ten minutes from now what happy faces will smile around that board! CHARLES. Sir, my good fortune is complete; and most of all in this, that my happiness has made my father happy. DUMONT. Your father? Ah, well, upon that point we shall have more to say. CHARLES. What more remains that has not been said already? For surely, sir, there are few sons more fortunate in their father: and, since you approve of this marriage, may I not conceive you to be in that sense fortunate in your son? DUMONT. Dear boy, there is always a variety of considerations. But the moment is ill chosen for dispute; to-night, at least, let our felicity be unalloyed. (_Looking off L.C._) Our guests arrive: here is our good Curate, and here our cheerful Notary. CHARLES. His old infirmity, I fear. DUMONT. But, Charles--dear boy!--at your wedding feast! I should have taken it unneighbourly had he come strictly sober. SCENE II _To these, by the door L.C., the CURATE and the NOTARY arm in arm; the latter owl-like and titubant_ CURATE. Peace be on this house! NOTARY (_singing_). "Prove an excuse for the glass." DUMONT. Welcome, excellent neighbours! The Church and the Law. CURATE. And you, Charles, let me hope your feelings are in solemn congruence with this momentous step. NOTARY (_digging CHARLES in the ribs_). Married? Lovely bride? Prove an excuse! DUMONT (_to CURATE_). I fear our friend? perhaps? as usual? eh? CURATE. Possibly; I had not yet observed it. DUMONT. Well, well, his heart is good. CURATE. He doubtless meant it kindly. NOTARY. Where's Aline? ALINE. Coming, sir! (_NOTARY makes for her._) CURATE (_capturing him_). You will infallibly expose yourself to misconstruction. (_To CHARLES._) Where is your commanding officer? CHARLES. Why, sir, we have quite an alert. Information has been received from Lyons that the notorious malefactor, Robert Macaire, has broken prison, and the Brigadier is now scouring the country in his pursuit. I myself am instructed to watch the visitors to our house. DUMONT. That will do, Charles: you may go. (_Exit CHARLES._) You have considered the case I laid before you? NOTARY. Considered a case? DUMONT. Yes, yes. Charles, you know, Charles. Can he marry? under these untoward and peculiar circumstances, can he marry?