Prince Fortunatus | Page 8

on one
or two tall-branching, trembling poplars just coming into leaf; while the
tulip-beds--the stars, the crescents, the ovals, and squares--were each a
mass of brilliant vermilion, of rose, of pale lemon, of crimson and
orange, or clearest gold. This new-found dawn seemed wholly to
belong to the birds. Perhaps it was their universal chirping and
carolling that concealed the distant echo of the highways; for surely the
heavily-laden wains were now making in for Covent Garden? At all
events there was nothing here but this continuous bird-clamor and the
voices of these modern nymphs and swains as they went this way and
that over the velvet-smooth lawn.
And now the bewitching Pastora appears upon the scene (but would
Mrs. Clive have worn a gold pince-nez at rehearsal?) and she has just
quarrelled with her lover Palæmon--
"Insulting boy! I'll tear him from my mind; Ah! would my fortune
could a husband find! And just in time, young Damon comes this way,
A handsome youth he is, and rich, they say."

The butterfly-hearted Damon responds at once:
"Vouchsafe, sweet maid, to hear a wretched swain, Who, lost in
wonder, hugs the pleasing chain: For you in sighs I hail the rising day,
To you at eve I sing the lovesick lay; Then take my love, my homage as
your due-- The Devil's in her, if all this won't do." [Aside.
It must be confessed that the pretty and smiling and blushing Miss
Georgie Lestrange looked just a little self-conscious as she had to listen
to this extremely frank declaration; but she had the part of the
coquettish Pastora to play; and Pastora, as soon as she discovers that
Damon has no thought of marriage, naturally declines to have anything
to do with him. And here came in the duet which had first suggested
this escapade:
[Illustration:
"You say at your feet that I wept in despair. And voic'd that no angel
was ever so fair; How could you believe all the nonsense I spoke? What
know we of angels? I meant it in joke I meant it in joke. What know we
of angels? I meant it in joke."]
"DAMON. From flow'r to flow'r, his joy to change, Flits yonder
wanton bee; From fair to fair thus will I range, And I'll be ever free.
From fair to fair thus will I range, And I'll be ever free.
"PASTORA. You little birds attentive view, That hop from tree to tree;
I'll copy them, I'll copy you, For I'll be ever free.
"DUETTO. Then let's divide to east and west Since we shall ne'er agree;
And try who keeps their promise best And who's the longest free. Let's
try who keeps their promise best And who's the longest free."
And again the audience made bold to clap their hands; for Miss
Georgie Lestrange, despite her self-depreciation, sang very well indeed;
and of course Lionel Moore knew how to moderate his voice, so that
the combination was entirely pleasing. The further progress of the little
comedy needs not to be described here; it has only to be said that the

injured Laura is in the end restored to her repentant lover; and that a
final duet between her and Damon closes the piece with the most
praiseworthy sentiments:
"For their honor and faith be our virgins renown'd, Nor false to his
vows one young shepherd he found; Be their moments all guided by
virtue and truth, To preserve in their age what they gain'd in their youth,
To preserve in their age what they gain'd in their youth."
Lord Rockminster rose from his chair, stretched his long legs, and
threw away his cigarette.
"Very well done," said he, slowly. "Congratulate all of you."
"This is the first time I ever saw Rockminster sit out a morning
performance," observed Percy Lestrange, with a playful grin.
"As for you young things," the mistress of the house said to her
girl-guests, as they were all trooping in by the French windows again,
"you must hurry home and get in-doors before the servants are up. I
don't want this frolic to be talked about all over the town."
"A frolic, indeed!" Miss Georgie protested, as her brother was putting
her cloak round her shoulders. "I don't call it a frolic at all. I call it very
serious business; and I'm looking forward to winning the deepest
gratitude of the English public--or at least as much of the English
public as you can cram into your garden, my dear."
Then, as soon as the light wraps and dust-coats had been distributed
and donned, the members of the gay little party said good-bye to Lady
Adela in the front hall, and went down the carriage sweep to the gate.
Here there was a division; for the Lestranges were going north