M. VIEUXBOIS (turning querulously).
AY of my life! Where can she get?

BABETTE! I say! BABETTE!-BABETTE!

BABETTE (entering hurriedly).

Coming, M'sieu'! If M'sieu' speaks
So loud, he won't be well for weeks!

M. VIEUXBOIS.

Where have you been?

ВАВЕТТЕ.

Why M'sieu' knows :-

April !... Ville-d'Avray !...Ma'am'selle ROSE!

M. VIEUXBOIS.

Ah! I am old, and I forget.

Was the place growing green, Babette?

ВАВЕТТЕ

But of a greenness !—yes, M'sieu' !
And then the sky so blue !-so blue!
And when I dropped my immortelle,
How the birds sang !

(Lifting her apron to her eyes.)

This poor Ma'am'selle!

M. VIEUXBOIS.

You're a good girl, BABETTE, but she,—

She was an Angel, verily.

Sometimes I think I see her yet

Stand smiling by the cabinet;

And once, I know, she peeped and laughed

Betwixt the curtains . .

...

Where's the draught?

(She gives him a cup.)

Now I shall sleep, I think, Babette ;—
Sing me your Norman chansonnette.

BABETTE (sings).

"Once at the Angelus

(Ere I was dead),

Angels all glorious

Came to my Bed ;-
Angels in blue and white

Crowned on the Head,"

M. VIEUXBOIS (drowsily).

"She was an Angel "..." Once she laughed "...

What, was I dreaming?

Where's the draught?

BABETTE (showing the empty cup).

The draught, M'sieu'?

M. VIEUXBOIS.

How I forget!

I am so old! But sing, BABETTE !

BABETTE (sings).

"One was the Friend I left

Stark in the Snow;
One was the Wife that died
Long,-long ago;

One was the Love I lost

How could she know?"

M. VIEUXBOIS (murmuring).

Ah, PAUL!...old PAUL!...EULALIE too!
And ROSE...And O! "the sky so blue !"

BABETTE (sings).

"One had my Mother's eyes,

Wistful and mild;

One had my Father's face;
One was a Child:

All of them bent to me,—

Bent down and smiled!"

(He is asleep!)

M. VIEUXBOIS (almost inaudibly).

"How I forget!"

"I am so old!"..." Good-night, BABETTE !"

H

EPILOGUE.

EIGHO! how chill the evenings get!

Good-night, NINON!-good-night, NINETTE!

Your little Play is played and finished ;—

Go back, then, to your Cabinet!

LOYAL, L'ÉTOILE ! no more to-day!

Alas! they heed not what we say:
They smile with ardour undiminished;
But we, we are not always gay!