



Produced by Paul Haxo from page images generously made
available by the University of Toronto and the Internet
Archive.





A DUEL IN THE DARK.

_An original Farce,_

IN ONE ACT.


BY J. STIRLING COYNE,

AUTHOR OF

"_My Wife's Daughter_," "_Binks the Bagman_," "_Separate
Maintenance_," "_How to settle Accounts with your Laundress_," "_Did
you ever send your Wife to Camberwell_,"
_&c. &c. &c._


THOMAS HAILES LACY,

WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND,

LONDON.




_First Performed at the Theatre Royal Haymarket,
On Saturday, January_ 31_st,_ 1852.


CHARACTERS.

MR. GREGORY GREENFINCH         Mr. BUCKSTONE.

MRS. GREENFINCH        }

COUNTESS DE RAMBUTEAU  }       Mrs. FITZWILLIAM.

CHARLEY BATES          }

BETSY                          Mrs. CAULFIELD.

WAITER                         Mr. EDWARDS.


COSTUMES.

Mr. GREENFINCH.--Green coat, light blue trowsers, and French
travelling cap.

Mrs. GREENFINCH.--Fawn polka jacket, waistcoat and skirt.

COUNTESS DE RAMBUTEAU.--Loose travelling pelisse, bonnet and green
veil.

CHARLEY BATES.--Blue frock coat and white trowsers.

BETSY.--Travelling dress and servant's dress.

WAITER.--Gendarme suit.


SCENE _lies at a Hotel at Dieppe._


Time in Representation, 50 minutes.




A DUEL IN THE DARK!

SCENE.--_A handsomely furnished Apartment on the ground floor of a
Hotel at Dieppe. A French window at back opening on a garden. Door,
2 E. L. Door, 3 E. L. A large stove, L. between the two doors. Door,
2 E. R. Easy chair near door, R. Tables, R. and L. C. at back; bottle
of brandy with glasses on table, L. Chairs, &c. Two lighted candles
on._

_Enter GREENFINCH, carrying bandbox, large travelling cloak, carpet
bag and umbrella, L. 3 E._

GREEN. Well now this is something like an adventure. (_putting down
the umbrella and bandbox, R._) There's a romantic mystery attached to
me that I can't unravel, in fact I feel myself like a tangled
penn'orth of thread; the more I try to clear myself the more
complicated I become. Let me calmly consider my singular position.
(_throws the cloak on the easy chair, R. and places the carpet bag
beside it_) In the first place here I have arrived at the Hotel d'
Angleterre in Dieppe accompanied by the Countess de Rambuteau--a real
Countess! Poor Mrs. Greenfinch little dreams what a rake I am--but for
a long time I've been dying for an aristocratic flirtation--I have
looked at lovely women in the private boxes at the theatres--and have
run after carriages in the park--but all in vain, and now, startling
as the fact may seem, I have been for the last thirty hours the
travelling companion of a French Countess, and have shared her
post-chaise from Paris: when I say shared, I mean the Countess and her
maid took the inside and left me the outside, where I was exalted to
the dickey amongst a miscellaneous assortment of trunks and bandboxes,
by which I have been jolted and jammed till I haven't a bone in my
body without its particular ache. But the most extraordinary part of
the affair is that I have never yet seen the Countess's face, for she
has always concealed it from me beneath a thick veil. However that's
nothing, there's a secret sympathy by which I think I could discover a
pretty face under a piecrust. Hah! here she comes, and now for the
tender revelation--the soft confession--the blushing avowal--the--

_Enter MRS. GREENFINCH, 2 E. R., in a travelling dress closely veiled,
she carries in her hand a lady's walking basket._

Ah, my charming Countess, at length after a painful--I mean a
delightful journey--we have arrived in Dieppe, and now permit me to
gaze on those lovely features.

MRS. G. (_retires as he approaches_) No, no, _je ne permittez pas;_
nevare, not at all, Monsieur Grinfeench.

GREEN. Dear, Countess, take pity on me. (_aside_) What delightful
accents! She told me she could speak English fluently, and she does.
Am I never to see your face, dear Countess? Oh! have pity on me.

MRS. G. _Oui_, you sall ordere diner _toute de suite._

GREEN. Dinner? certainly, Countess.

_Exit 3 E. L._

BETSY. (_peeping in at door, R._) Is he gone, mum?

MRS. G. Yes, Betsy, you may come in. (_lays the basket she carries on
table, L. and puts up her veil_)

BETSY. (_enters by door, R._) Well, mum, does he suspect nothing yet?

MRS. G. Nothing. He has not yet seen my face--but if he had, I think
this red wig, these spectacles, and this cravat would completely
prevent his recognizing me.

BETSY. He little thinks, mum, 'tis his own lawful wife he's running
away with instead of a fine foreign Countess.

MRS. G. Oh, Betsy, when I think of that, I could tear his eyes out. A
man, Betsy, that I thought the most faithful creature woman ever was
blessed with, to deceive me so. A working model of a husband that I
may