a round of
applause from the aristocratic audience. The piece opens with a quarrel
between the testy old bourgeois, Pandolphe, and his daughter, Isabelle,
who, being in love with a handsome young suitor, obstinately refuses to
obey her father's commands and marry a certain Captain Matamore, with
whom he is perfectly infatuated. She is ably supported in her resistance
by her pretty maid, Zerbine, who is well paid by Leander, the favoured
lover, to espouse his cause. To all the curses and abuse that Pandolphe
showers upon her, she answers gaily with the most exasperating and
amusing impertinences, advising him to marry this fine captain himself
if he is so fond of him; as for her part she will never suffer her dear,
beautiful mistress to become the wife of that horrid old codger, that
abominable bully, that detestable scarecrow! Whereupon Pandolphe,
furiously angry, orders her into the house, so that he may speak to his
daughter alone; and when she refuses to obey, and defies him to make
her, he takes her by the shoulders and attempts to force her to go, but
she, bending forward with admirable elasticity, from the waist only, at
each vigorous effort of his, stands her ground and does not budge one
inch from her place, breaking into peals of laughter at every fresh
attempt, and accompanying it all with an irresistibly saucy,
comical by-play, that wins her round after round of enthusiastic
applause--whilst the Marquis de Bruyeres, enchanted with her spirited
acting, congratulates himself anew upon the happy chance that threw this
charming creature in his way.

Another character now enters upon the scene, looking cautiously about
him at every step, as if he feared an unpleasant surprise. This is
Leander, the horror of fathers, husbands, and guardians, the delight of
wives, daughters, and wards--in one word, the lover--the very beau-ideal
of a lover; young, handsome, ardent, ready for anything, winning
over strict old duennas, bribing pert waiting-maids, climbing up
rope-ladders, overcoming every obstacle to reach the fair mistress
of his affections, and kneeling at her feet to pour out burning
protestations of love and devotion, that no mortal woman could ever
resist. Suddenly perceiving that Pandolphe is here, where he only
expected to find Isabelle, Leander stops and throws himself into an
attitude, which he has frequently practised before the mirror,
and which, he flatters himself, shows his handsome person to great
adv