quickly; all my own work!

"The tears of the girl softened the good old lady, and she assented
to our marriage." Excellent, excellent! it could not be better done.

"Orders were given for a notary to be called in, and the marriage
service was performed in the presence of two witnesses."

Admirable--all has gone on well. "I cannot express to you my confusion,
not having the courage to ask anything but your kind wishes; the rest
will be added in the writing of your daughter, whom you will more
readily pardon. I kiss your hand."

What does he want of me that he has not the courage to ask, and gets
my daughter to intercede? Let me read the enclosed. He must have gone
immediately to my sister's, to let Giannina know when the marriage was
over. Well, what says my daughter?

"Dear father." She writes well--a good mercantile hand; she is a fine
girl, God bless her. "Permit me, through this letter, to throw myself
at your feet, and to ask your pardon." Oh, Heavens! what has she done?

"Informed by yourself of the advice you had given to Monsieur de la
Cotterie, and of the money you furnished him with to carry it into
execution, I have yielded to my affection, and married the Lieutenant."

Oh, infamous! Deceiver! traitress! abandoned! They have killed me!

_Enter_ Marianna.

_Mar._ What has happened, sir?

_Phil._ Help me! support me! for Heaven's sake do not leave me!

_Mar._ How can such a blockhead help you?

_Phil._ You are right; laugh at me--abuse me--show me no mercy. I
deserve it all, and I give you full liberty to do so.

_Mar._ No; I feel compassion for you.

_Phil._ I am not worthy of your compassion.

_Gas._ Do not, sir, abandon yourself to despair; my master is an
honourable gentleman, of a noble family.

_Phil._ He has ruined my daughter; he has destroyed my hopes.

_Mar._ You are able to provide handsomely for him.

_Phil._ And shall my estate go in this way?

_Gas._ Pardon me, sir; the same arguments you urged to convince Monsieur
Riccardo may serve to convince yourself.

_Phil._ Ah, traitor! do you amuse yourself at my folly?

_Mar._ Gascoigne speaks to the purpose, and you have no right to
complain of him. [_With warmth._]

_Phil._ Yes, insult me, rejoice at my disgrace!

_Mar._ I have pity on you, blinded as you are by anger.

_Gas._ Condemn yourself for the fruits of your own bad advice.

_Phil._ Why deceive me? why make me believe the love of the officer was
for Mademoiselle Cost