The Love-Tiff | Page 7

are they
possessed by? What? Is it thus they receive our favours? How shocked
my mistress will be when she hears this!
* * * * *

ACT II.

SCENE I.--ASCANIO, FROSINE.
FROS. Thank Heaven! I am a girl who can keep a secret, Ascanio.
ASC. But is this place private enough for such a conversation? Let us
take care that nobody surprises us, or that we be not overheard from
some corner or other.
FROS. We should be much less safe within the house; here we can
easily see anybody coming, and may speak in perfect safety.
ASC. Alas! how painful it is for me to begin my tale!
FROS. Sure, this must be an important secret then?
ASC. Too much so, since I even entrust it to you with reluctance; even
you should not know it, if I could keep it concealed any longer.
FROS. Fie! you insult me when you hesitate to trust in me, whom you
have ever found so reserved in everything that concerns you--me, who
was brought up with you, and have kept secret things of so great an
importance to you; me, who know...
ASC. Yes, you are already acquainted with the secret reason which
conceals from the eyes of the world my sex and family. You know that
I was brought into this house, where I have passed my infancy, in order
to preserve an inheritance which, on the death of young Ascanio
(whom I personate), should have fallen to others; that is why I dare to
unbosom myself to you with perfect confidence. But before we begin
this conversation, Frosine, clear up a doubt which continually besets
me. Can it be possible that Albert should know nothing of the secret,
which thus disguises my sex, and makes him my father?
FROS. To tell you the truth, what you now wish to know has also
greatly puzzled me. I have never been able to get at the bottom of this
intrigue, nor could my mother give me any further insight. When
Albert's son died, who was so much beloved, and to whom a very rich
uncle bequeathed a great deal of property, even before his birth; his
mother kept his death secret, fearing that her husband, who was absent

at the time, would have gone distracted, had he seen that great
inheritance, from which his family would have reaped such advantage,
pass into the hands of another. She, I say, in order to conceal this
misfortune formed the plan of putting you into the place of her lost son;
you were taken from our family, where you were brought up. Your
mother gave her consent to this deceit; you took the son's place, and
every one was bribed to keep the secret. Albert has never known it
through us, and as his wife kept it for more than twelve years, and died
suddenly, her unexpected death prevented her from disclosing it. I
perceive, however, that he keeps up an acquaintance with your real
mother, and that, in private, he assists her; perhaps all this is not done
without a reason. On the other hand, he commits a blunder by urging
you to marry some young lady! Perhaps he knows that you took the
place of his son, without knowing that you are a girl. But this
digression might gradually carry us too far; let us return to that secret
which I am impatient to hear.
ASC. Know then that Cupid cannot be deceived, that I have not been
able to disguise my sex from love's eyes, and that his subtle shafts have
reached the heart of a weak woman beneath the dress I wear. In four
words, I am in love!
FROS. You in love!
ASC. Gently, Frosine; do not be quite so astonished; it is not time yet;
this love-sick heart has something else to tell you that will surprise you.
FROS. What is it?
ASC. I am in love with Valère.
FROS. Ha! I really am surprised. What! you love a man whose family
your deceit has deprived of a rich inheritance, and who, if he had the
least suspicion of your sex, would immediately regain everything. This
is a still greater subject of astonishment.
ASC. I have a more wonderful surprise for you yet in store--I am his
wife.
FROS. Oh, Heavens! his wife!
ASC. Yes, his wife.
FROS. Ha! this is worse than all, and nearly drives me mad.
ASC. And yet this is not all.
FROS. Not all!
ASC. I am his wife, I say, and he does not think so, nor has he the least

idea of what I really am.
FROS. Go on, I give it up, and will not say any thing more, so much
every word amazes me. I cannot comprehend anything of