The Love-Tiff. Жан-Батист Мольер

grief, which you cannot understand, holds my happiness in suspense, and makes it difficult for me to trust completely anything Lucile says to me. I should feel delighted if I saw Valère animated by a little more jealousy; his anxiety and impatience would then reassure my heart. Do you as yourself think it possible for any one to see a rival caressed and be as satisfied as he is; if you do not believe it, tell me, I conjure you, if I have not a cause to be perplexed?

      GR. – RE. Perhaps he has changed his inclination, upon finding that he sighed in vain.

      ERAS. When love has been frequently repelled it frees itself, and wishes to flee from the object it was charmed with; nor does it break its chain so quietly as to be able to continue at peace. When once we have been fond of anyone who influenced our destiny we are never afterwards indifferent in her presence; if our dislike does not increase when we behold her our love is upon the point of returning again. Believe me, however much a passion may be extinguished, a little jealousy still dwells in our breast; no one can see, without feeling some pang, the heart he has lost possessed by another.

      GR. – RE. For my part, I do not understand so much philosophy. I candidly believe what my eyes see, and am not such a mortal enemy to myself as to become melancholy without any cause. Why should I try to split hairs, and labour hard to find out reasons to be miserable? Shall I alarm myself about castles in the air? Let Lent come before we keep it! I think grief an uncomfortable thing; and, for my part, I never foster it without good and just cause. I might frequently find a hundred opportunities to become sad, but I do not want to see them. I run the same risk in love as you do; I share in your bad or good luck. The mistress cannot deceive you but the maid will do the same by me; yet I carefully avoid thinking about it. I like to believe people when they say "I love you." In order to be happy, I do not try to find out whether Mascarille tears the hair out of his head or not. Let Marinette allow herself to be kissed and caressed by Gros-René as much as he likes, and let my charming rival laugh at it like a fool, I will laugh too as much as I like, and follow his example; we shall then see who will laugh the heartiest.

      [Footnote: In several editions of Molière we find, instead of Gros-René the name of Jodelet. The latest, and and if I might be permitted to say so, the most careful editor of our author, Mons. E. Despois, thinks that "Gros-René" ought to be mentioned here. The sense shows he is right.]

      ERAS. That is like your talk.

      GR. – RE. But here she comes.

      SCENE II. – MARINETTE, ÉRASTE, GROS-RENÉ

      GR. – RE. Hist! Marinette.

      MAR. Hallo! what are you doing there?

      GR. – RE. Faith! do you ask? We were just talking about you.

      MAR. Are you there too, sir? Upon my word you have made me trot about like a flunkey for this hour past.

      ERAS. How so?

      MAR. I have walked ten miles to look for you, and give you my word that…

      ERAS. What?

      MAR. That you were neither at church, in the fashionable walk, at home, nor in the market-place.

      GR. – RE. You may swear to that.

      ERAS. But pray, tell me who sent you?

      MAR. One, in good truth, who bears you no great ill-will; in a word, my mistress.

      ERAS. Ah! dear Marinette, do your words really express what she feels? Do not hide some ominous secret from me. I should not dislike you for this. For Heaven's sake tell me if your charming mistress does not merely pretend to love me?

      MAR. Ha! ha! ha! What has put that funny notion into your head? Does she not sufficiently show her inclination? What further security does your love demand? What does it require?

      GR. – RE. Unless Valère hangs himself, or some such trifle, he will not be reassured.

      MAR. How so?

      GR. – RE. He is so very jealous.

      MAR. Of Valère? Ha! a pretty fancy indeed! It could only be hatched in your brain. I thought you a man of sense, and until now had a good opinion of your intellect; but I see I was very much deceived. Have you also got a touch of this distemper in your head?

      GR. – RE. I jealous? Heaven forbid! and keep me from being so silly as to go and make myself lean with any such grief. Your heart guarantees your fidelity; besides, I have too good an opinion of myself to believe that any other could please you after me. Where the deuce could you find any one equal to me?

      MAR. You really are right; that is as it should be. A jealous man should never show his suspicions! All that he gains by it is to do himself harm, and in this manner furthers the designs of his rival. Your distrust often is the cause that a mistress pays attention to a man, before whose merits your own have paled. I know a certain person who, were it not for the preposterous jealousy of a rival, had never been so happy as he now is. But, in any case, to show suspicion in love is acting a foolish part, and after all is to make one's-self miserable for nothing. This, sir (to Éraste), I mean as a hint to you.

      ERAS. Very well, let us talk no more about it. What have you to say to me?

      MAR. You deserve to be kept in suspense, In order to punish you, I ought to keep from you the great secret which has made me hunt for you so long. Here, read this letter, and doubt no more. Read it aloud, nobody listens.

      ERAS. (Reads). "You told me that your love was capable of doing anything It may be crowned this very day, if you can but get my father's consent. Acquaint him with the power you have over my heart; I give you leave so to do; if his reply be favourable, I can answer for it that I shall obey." Ah I how happy am I! I ought to look upon you, the bearer of this letter, as a divine creature.

      GR. – RE. I told you so. Though you do not believe it, I am seldom deceived in the things I ponder on.

      ERAS. (Reading the letter again). "Acquaint him with the power you have over my heart; I give you leave so to do; if his reply be favourable, I can answer for it that I shall obey."

      MAR. If I should tell her you are weak-minded enough to be jealous, she would immediately disown such a letter as this.

      ERAS. I beseech you, conceal from her a momentary fear, for which I thought I had some slight foundation; or, if you do tell it her, say to her at the same time that I am ready to atone for my fit of madness with my life, and would die at her feet, if I have been capable of displeasing her.

      MAR. Let us not talk of dying; this is no time for it.

      ERAS. However, you have laid me under a great obligation; I intend shortly to acknowledge in a handsome manner the trouble so gentle and so lovely a messenger has taken.

      MAR. That reminds me. Do you know where I looked for you just now?

      ERAS. Well?

      MAR. Quite near the market-place; you know where that is.

      ERAS. Where did you say?

      MAR. There… in that shop where last month you generously and freely promised me a ring.

      ERAS. Um! I understand you.

      GR. – RE. What a cunning jade!

      ERAS. It is true; I have delayed too long to make good my promise to you, but…

      MAR. What I said, sir, was not because I wished you to make haste.

      GR. – RE. Oh, no!

      ERAS. (Giving her his ring). Perhaps this ring may please you; accept it instead of the one I owe.

      MAR. You are only jesting, sir; I should be ashamed to take it.

      GR. – RE. Poor shame-faced creature! Take it without more ado; only fools refuse what is offered them.

      MAR. I will only accept it so that I may have something to remember you by.

      ERAS. When may I return thanks to that lovely angel?

      MAR. Endeavour to gain over her father.

      ERAS. But if he rejects me, should I…?

      MAR. We will think about