SCENE XII.--TRUFALDIN, MASCARILLE.
MASC. Soho, there!
TRUF. What do you want?
MASC. This ring, which you know, will inform you what business brings me
hither.
TRUF. Yes, I recognise that ring perfectly; stay a little, I will fetch
you the slave.
SCENE XIII.--TRUFALDIN, A MESSENGER, MASCARILLE.
MESS. (_To Trufaldin_). Do me the favor, sir, to tell me where
lives a gentleman....
TRUF. What gentleman?
MESS. I think his name is Trufaldin.
TRUF. And what is your business with him, pray? I am he.
MESS. Only to deliver this letter to him.
TRUF. (_Reads_). "_Providence, whose goodness watches over my
life, has just brought to my ears a most welcome report, that my
daughter, who was stolen from me by some robbers when she was four years
old, is now a slave at your house, under the name of Celia. If ever you
knew what it was to be a father, and if natural affection makes an
impression on your heart, then keep in your house this child so dear to
me, and treat her as if she were your own flesh and blood. I am
preparing to set out myself in order to fetch her. You shall be so well
rewarded for your trouble, that in everything that relates to your
happiness (which I am determined to advance) you shall have reason to
bless the day in which you caused mine_.
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