(An energetic VOICE.) 'Tis thou, ANTOINE? Ah, Addle-pate! What lungs! The infamous Soubrette! This is a turn I sha'n't forget : To make me sing my chansonnette (Retiring slowly.) And yet, and yet,-it can't be she. (A second VOICE.) IT WAS THE ABBÉ TI--RI-LI! (In a mocking falsetto.) "Where Gods can be mistaken, THE CAP THAT FITS 'Qui sème épines n'aille déchaux." SCENE. A Salon with blue and white Panels. Outside, Persons pass and re-pass upon a Terrace. HORTENSE. ARMANDE. MONSIEUR LOYAL. HORTENSE (behind her fan). NOT young, I think. ARMANDE (raising her eye-glass). And faded, too !— Quile faded! Monsieur, what say you? M. LOYAL. Nay, I defer to you. In truth, HORTENSE. Graceful? You think it? What, with hands That hang like this (with a gesture). ARMANDE. And how she stands! M. LOYAL. Nay, I am wrong again. I thought HORTENSE. But you amuse me― M LOYAL. Still her dress, Her dress at least, you must confess— ARMANDE. Is odious simply! JACOTOT HORTENSE. Edged with green!! M. LOYAL. The words remind me. Let me say BOTH (with enthusiasm). Monsieur, pray! M. LOYAL. "Myrtilla (lest a Scandal rise Much on Resource herself she prided-- To choose a Hat. Forthwith she flies On that momentous Enterprise. I know not: only this I know ;- Prudence,' she felt, was somewhat small; 'Retirement' seemed the Eyes to hide; Content,' at once, she cast aside. 'Simplicity,'-'twas out of Place; 'Devotion,' for an older Face; Briefly, Selection smaller grew, 'Vexatious!' odious!-none would do! Then, on a Sudden, she espied One that she thought she had not tried : |