The Miser | Page 3

good for us;
that we ought to trust their experience rather than the passion which
blinds us; and that the rashness of youth often carries us to the very
brink of dangerous abysses. I know all this, my sister, and I tell it you
to spare you the trouble of saying it to me, for my love will not let me
listen to anything, and I pray you to spare me your remonstrances.
ELI. Have you engaged yourself, brother, to her you love?
CLE. No, but I have determined to do so; and I beseech you once more
not to bring forward any reason to dissuade me from it.
ELI. Am I such a very strange person, brother?
CLE. No, dear sister; but you do not love. You know not the sweet
power that love has upon our hearts; and I dread your wisdom.
ELI. Alas! my brother, let us not speak of my wisdom. There are very
few people in this world who do not lack wisdom, were it only once in
their lifetime; and if I opened my heart to you, perhaps you would think
me less wise than you are yourself.
CLE. Ah! would to heaven that your heart, like mine....
ELI. Let us speak of you first, and tell me whom it is you love.
CLE. A young girl who has lately come to live in our neighbourhood,
and who seems made to inspire love in all those who behold her.
Nature, my dear sister, has made nothing more lovely; and I felt
another man the moment I saw her. Her name is Marianne, and she
lives with a good, kind mother, who is almost always ill, and for whom

the dear girl shows the greatest affection. She waits upon her, pities and
comforts her with a tenderness that would touch you to the very soul.
Whatever she undertakes is done in the most charming way; and in all
her actions shine a wonderful grace, a most winning gentleness, an
adorable modesty, a ... ah! my sister, how I wish you had but seen her.
ELI. I see many things in what you tell me, dear brother; and it is
sufficient for me to know that you love her for me to understand what
she is.
CLE. I have discovered, without their knowing it, that they are not in
very good circumstances, and that, although they live with the greatest
care, they have barely enough to cover their expenses. Can you imagine,
my sister, what happiness it must be to improve the condition of those
we love; skilfully to bring about some relief to the modest wants of a
virtuous family? And think what grief it is for me to find myself
deprived of this great joy through the avarice of a father, and for it to be
impossible for me to give any proof of my love to her who is all in all
to me.
ELI. Yes, I understand, dear brother, what sorrow this must be to you.
CLE. It is greater, my sister, than you can believe. For is there anything
more cruel than this mean economy to which we are subjected? this
strange penury in which we are made to pine? What good will it do us
to have a fortune if it only comes to us when we are not able to enjoy it;
if now to provide for my daily maintenance I get into debt on every
side; if both you and I are reduced daily to beg the help of tradespeople
in order to have decent clothes to wear? In short, I wanted to speak to
you that you might help me to sound my father concerning my present
feelings; and if I find him opposed to them, I am determined to go and
live elsewhere with this most charming girl, and to make the best of
what Providence offers us. I am trying everywhere to raise money for
this purpose; and if your circumstances, dear sister, are like mine, and
our father opposes us, let us both leave him, and free ourselves from the
tyranny in which his hateful avarice has for so long held us.
ELI. It is but too true that every day he gives us more and more reason

to regret the death of our mother, and that....
CLE. I hear his voice. Let us go a little farther and finish our talk. We
will afterwards join our forces to make a common attack on his hard
and unkind heart.

SCENE III.--HARPAGON, LA FLÈCHE.
HAR. Get out of here, this moment; and let me have no more of your
prating. Now then, be gone out of my house, you sworn pickpocket,
you veritable gallows' bird.
LA FL. (aside). I never saw anything more wicked than this