The Bores | Page 8

you will do much better to let them know that you follow them by my express orders.
LA M. (_Returning_). Shall I find you here?
ER. Plague take you. I declare you are the biggest bore in the world!

SCENE IV.--éRASTE, alone.
Ah, how anxious I feel; how I wish I had missed this fatal appointment! I thought I should find everything favourable; and, instead of that, my heart is tortured.

SCENE V.--LISANDRE, éRASTE.
LIS. I recognized you under these trees from a distance, dear Marquis; and I came to you at once. As one of my friends, I must sing you a certain air which I have made for a little Couranto, which pleases all the connoisseurs at court, and to which more than a score have already written words.
[Footnote: See Vol. I., page 164, note 14.]
I have wealth, birth, a tolerable employment, and am of some consequence in France; but I would not have failed, for all I am worth, to compose this air which I am going to let you hear. (_He tries his voice_). La, la; hum, hum; listen attentively, I beg. (_he sings an air of a Couranto_). Is it not fine?
ER. Ah!
LIS. This close is pretty. (_He sings the close over again four or five times successively_). How do you like it?
ER. Very fine, indeed.
LIS. The steps which I have arranged are no less pleasing, and the figure in particular is wonderfully graceful. (_He sings the words, talks, and dances at the same time; and makes éraste perform the lady's steps_). Stay, the gen-man crosses thus; then the lady crosses again: together: then they separate, and the lady comes there. Do you observe that little touch of a faint? This fleuret? These coupés running after the fair one.
[Footnote: A fleuret was an old step in dancing formed of two half coupées and two steps on the point of the toes.]
[Footnote: A coupé is a movement in dancing, when one leg is a little bent, and raised from the ground, and with the other a motion is made forward.]
Back to back: face to face, pressing up close to her. (_After finishing_). What do you think of it, Marquis?
ER. All those steps are fine.
LIS. For my part, I would not give a fig for your ballet-masters.
ER. Evidently.
LIS. And the steps then?
ER. Are wonderful in every particular.
LIS. Shall I teach you them, for friendship's sake?
ER. To tell the truth, just now I am somewhat disturbed ....
LIS. Well, then, it shall be when you please. If I had those new words about me, we would read them together, and see which were the prettiest.
ER. Another time.
LIS. Farewell. My dearest Baptiste has not seen my Couranto; I am going to look for him. We always agree about the tunes; I shall ask him to score it.
(_Exit, still singing_.)
[Footnote: Jean Baptiste Lulli had been appointed, in the month of May of 1661, the same year that The Bores was first played, Surintendant et Compositeur de la musique de la chambre du Roi.]

SCENE VI.--éRASTE, alone.
Heavens! must we be compelled daily to endure a hundred fools, because they are men of rank, and must we, in our politeness, demean ourselves so often to applaud, when they annoy us?

SCENE VII.--éRASTE, LA MONTAGNE.
LA M. Sir, Orphise is alone, and is coming this way.
ER. Ah, I feel myself greatly disturbed! I still love the cruel fair one, and my reason bids me hate her.
LA M. Sir, your reason knows not what it would be at, nor yet what power a mistress has over a man's heart. Whatever just cause we may have to be angry with a fair lady, she can set many things to rights by a single word.
ER. Alas, I must confess it; the sight of her inspires me with respect instead of with anger.

SCENE VIII.--ORPHISE, éRASTE, LA MONTAGNE.
ORPH. Your countenance seems to me anything but cheerful. Can it be my presence, éraste, which annoys you? What is the matter? What is amiss? What makes you heave those sighs at my appearance?
ER. Alas! can you ask me, cruel one, what makes me so sad, and what will kill me? Is it not malicious to feign ignorance of what you have done to me? The gentleman whose conversation made you pass me just now...
ORPH. (_Laughing_). Does that disturb you?
ER. Do, cruel one, anew insult my misfortune. Certainly, it ill becomes you to jeer at my grief, and, by outraging my feelings, ungrateful woman, to take advantage of my weakness for you.
ORPH. I really must laugh, and declare that you are very silly to trouble yourself thus. The man of whom you speak, far from being able to please me, is a bore of whom I have succeeded in ridding myself; one of those troublesome and officious fools who will not suffer a lady to be anywhere alone, but come up