Monsieur De Pourceaugnac. Жан-Батист Мольер
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The honour was mine, Sir.
Era. You do not remember my face?
Mr. Pour. Yes, yes. (To Sbrigani) I don't know him a bit.
Era. You do not remember that I had the pleasure of drinking with you I don't know how many times?
Mr. Pour. Excuse me. (To Sbrigani) I don't know anything about it.
Era. What is the name of that pastrycook who cooks such capital dinners?
Mr. Pour. Petit-Jean.
Era. Just so. We used often to go there together to enjoy ourselves. How do you call that place where people go for a walk?
Mr. Pour. The cemetery of the Arènes.
Era. Exactly. It is there I enjoyed so many happy hours of your pleasant talk. Don't you remember it all now?
Mr. Pour. Pardon me; yes, I remember. (To Sbrigani) Deuce take me if I do.
Sbri. (aside to Mr. de Pourceaugnac). There are a hundred things like that which one is apt to forget altogether.
Era. Let us embrace, I pray, and renew our former friendship.
Sbri. (to Mr. de Pourceaugnac). This man seems to have a great affection for you.
Era. Tell me some news of all the family. How is that gentleman your … he who is such an honest man?
Mr. Pour. My brother the sheriff? 7
Era. Yes.
Mr. Pour. He is as well as can be.
Era. I am delighted to hear it. And that good tempered man? You know, your …
Mr. Pour. My cousin, the assessor?
Era. Exactly.
Mr. Pour. Always gay and hearty.
Era. It gives me much pleasure to hear it. And your uncle, the …
Mr. Pour. I have no uncle.
Era. But you had one in those days?
Mr. Pour. No; only an aunt…
Era. Ah! it's what I meant; your aunt; Mrs… How is she?
Mr. Pour. She died six months ago.
Era. Alas! poor woman. She was so good, too!
Mr. Pour. We have also my nephew, the canon, who almost died of the smallpox.
Era. What a pity if it had happened!
Mr. Pour. Do you know him also?
Era. Indeed I do; a tall handsome fellow.
Mr. Pour. Not so very tall.
Era. No; but well-shaped.
Mr. Pour. Yes, yes.
Era. He's your nephew, isn't he?
Mr. Pour. Yes.
Era. Son of your brother or your sister?
Mr. Pour. True.
Era. A canon of the church of… How do you call it?
Mr. Pour. Saint Stephen.
Era. Just so; I don't know any other.
Mr. Pour. (to Sbrigani). He knows all my relations.
Sbri. He knows you better than you think.
Mr. Pour. You must have lived a long time in our town, I see.
Era. Two whole years.
Mr. Pour. You were there, then, when our governor was godfather to my cousin the assessor's child?
Era. To be sure; I was one of the first invited.
Mr. Pour. The thing was well done.
Era. Very.
Mr. Pour. The dinner was well got up.
Era. Yes, indeed.
Mr. Pour. Then you must remember the quarrel I had with that gentleman from Périgord.
Era. Yes.
Mr. Pour. He met with his match, eh?
Era. Ah! ah!
Mr. Pour. He slapped my face; but I paid him back handsomely.
Era. Very handsomely. By the bye, I shall not allow you to go to any other house but mine.
Mr. Pour. I would not…
Era. Nonsense! I will not allow one of my best friends to go anywhere but to my house.
Mr. Pour. It would be disturb…
Era. No; deuce take it all. You shall stay with me.
Sbri. (to Mr. de Pourceaugnac). Since he will have it so, I advise you to accept.
Era. Where is your luggage?
Mr. Pour. With my servant, where we stopped.
Era. Send somebody to fetch it.
Mr. Pour. No. I forbade him to let it go out of his sight, for fear of swindlers.
Sbri. You did quite right.
Mr. Pour. It is good to be cautious in this place.
Era. We always know a man of sense.
Sbri. I will accompany this gentleman, and bring him back where you wish.
Era. Do so. I have a few orders to give; but you only need come to that house yonder.
Sbri. We will come back presently.
Era. (to Mr. de Pourceaugnac). I shall expect you with great impatience.
Mr. Pour. (to Sbrigani). I find an acquaintance when I little expected to meet with one.
Sbri. He looks like an honest man. (Exeunt.)
Era. (alone). Ah! ah! Mr. de Pourceaugnac, you will get it hot! Everything is ready, and I have only to give the word. Soho! there.
SCENE VII. – ÉRASTE, AN APOTHECARY
Era. I think, Sir, that you are the doctor to whom somebody went to speak in my name.
Apo. No, Sir. I am not the doctor; such an honour does not belong to me. I am only an unworthy apothecary; at your service.
Era. Is the doctor at home, then.
Apo. Yes; he is in there, trying to get rid quickly of some patients. I will tell him that you are here.
Era. No; you need not disturb him; I will wait till he has done. I have to entrust to his care a certain relation of mine he was told about today. He is attacked with a sort of madness that we should like to see cured before we marry him to anyone.
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