False Confidences

By Marivaux

"A lover is permitted to look for ways to please, and he must be forgiven when he succeeds." Dorante, a well-bred and handsome but penniless young businessman, takes a position as an administrator for a rich and beautiful widow.

Translated from French (2012) by Juan LePuen
Genre: theater (comedy)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fario
• Release date: Sep 2, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476477039

Book preview

Marivaux

False Confidences

A Comedy in Three Acts

Translated by Juan LePuen

First staged by the King’s stable troupe of Italian actors on 16 March 1737.

Original title: Les Fausses Confidences

English translation copyright 2012 Juan LePuen and Fario

Published at Smashwords by Fario

Contents

Dramatis Personae

Act One

Act Two

Act Three

Notes

More from Fario

Dramatis Personae

Araminte, daughter of Madame Argante.

Dorante, nephew of Monsieur Remy.

Monsieur Remy, attorney.

Madame Argante.

Harlequin, Araminte’s valet.

Dubois, Dorante’s former valet.

Marton, an attendant to Araminte

The Count.

A speaking servant.

An apprentice jeweler.

The action takes place at Madame Argante’s

ACT ONE

SCENE ONE

Dorante and Harlequin

HARLEQUIN (accompanying Dorante in). Be so kind, Monsieur, as to take a seat for a moment in this room. Mademoiselle Marton is with the mistress and will be down shortly.

DORANTE. I’m much obliged.

HARLEQUIN. If you like I’ll keep you company to keep you from getting bored. We can chat while you wait.

DORANTE. I thank you, but it won’t be necessary. Don’t put yourself out.

HARLEQUIN. Don’t worry about me, Monsieur: we have orders from the mistress to be polite, as you can see that I am.

DORANTE. No, no. I’ll be very glad to be alone for a moment.

HARLEQUIN. Of course, Monsieur, do as you please.

SCENE TWO

Dorante and Dubois, entering with an air of mystery.

DORANTE. Ah, you here?

DUBOIS. Yes, I was watching out for you.

DORANTE. I thought I wouldn’t be able to get rid of the servant who brought me in here and who insisted on keeping me from getting bored by staying. Tell me, has monsieur Remy not yet come then?

DUBOIS. No, but now it’s about the time he told you he would be coming. (He checks and looks around.) Is there anyone who can see us together? The servants here mustn’t know I know you.

DORANTE. I don’t see anyone.

DUBOIS. You didn’t tell your relative monsieur Remy anything about our plans?

DORANTE. Not a word. He introduced me as an administrator, with all the sincerity in the world, to this woman I talked to him about and whose attorney he happens to be. He has no idea it was you who directed me to him. He let her know yesterday; he told me that I should come here this morning, that he’d introduce me to her, that he’d be here before me, or that if he wasn’t there yet I should ask for a mademoiselle Marton. That’s all, and I wouldn’t let him in on our plans anymore than I would anyone else: they seem extravagant to me, and I’m consenting to them. But I’m not any less grateful for your help. Dubois, you served me—I couldn’t keep you, I couldn’t even compensate you well for your zeal; even so, it occurred to you to be a boon to me. In truth, there’s not a mark of gratitude I don’t owe you.

DUBOIS. Let’s drop this, Monsieur. Look, in a word, I’m content with you—I’ve always liked you; you’re an excellent man, a man I’m fond of; and if I had any money it would be at your service.

DORANTE. When will I ever be able to acknowledge your feelings for me? My fortune would be yours. But I expect nothing of our enterprise other than the shame of being sent away tomorrow.

DUBOIS. Eh, well! You’ll be back.

DORANTE. This woman has a station in society; she’s connected to all the finest things: the widow of a husband who had an excellent position in finance. And you she think that she’ll pay me any mind, that I, who am nothing, who have no property, will marry her?

DUBOIS. No property? Your good looks are a gold mine. Turn a little bit so I can get a better look at you. Come on, Monsieur, you’re joking. There’s no grander seigneur in Paris than you. There’s a figure worth more than all possible honors, and our business can’t go wrong. It seems to me I’m already seeing you in shirtsleeves in her apartment.

DORANTE. What a fantasy!

DUBOIS. Yes, I’ll say it again. You’re in your living room now, and your horse and carriage are in the shed.

DORANTE. She has an income of more than fifty thousand livres [1] a year, Dubois.

DUBOIS. Ah, you have at least sixty!

DORANTE. And you tell me she’s very reasonable.

DUBOIS. All the better for you, and all the worse for her. If she likes you, she’ll be so ashamed of it, she’ll be so conflicted, she’ll get so weak that she’ll be able to hold up only by getting married. You’ll see I’m right. You’ve seen her, and you love her.

DORANTE. I love her passionately, and that’s what frightens me.

DUBOIS. Oh, you annoy me with your fears. Eh, what the devil! A little confidence. You’ll succeed, I’m telling you. I’ll take care of it. I want to. I’ve got it in my head to do it. We’re set on everything we’re going to do; all of the steps have been taken. I know my mistress’s temperament, I know your merit, I know my talents, I’ll lead you, and she’ll love you, no matter how reasonable she is; she’ll marry you, no matter how proud she is, and she’ll make you rich, no matter you ruined you are. Do you understand? Pride, reason, and riches—all will have to fall. When love talks, it’s the master, and it will talk. Good-bye, I’m leaving you. I hear someone: it may be monsieur Remy. We’ve begun now, so let’s keep going. (Takes a few steps and comes back.) By the way, try to get Marton to take a bit of