THE BARON. If, in return, Countess, I could your hand but earn! THE COUNTESS. I thought as much. This comes, you see, Where vows are hung on every tree. . . THE BARON (offering his arm, with a low bow). And no one dreams-of PERFIDY. THE METAMORPHOSIS. "On s'enrichit quand on dort." SCENE.-A high stone Seat in an Alley of clipped Lime-trees. THE ABBÉ TIRILI. MONSIEUR L'ÉTOILE. 66 THE ABBÉ (writing). "Twhat thyme is next? Implored?—ignored? HIS shepherdess Dorine adored-" Poured?-soared?-afford? That facile Dunce, "Twill come in time. Meanwhile, suppose We take a meditative doze. (Sleeps. By-and-by his paper falls.) M. L'ÉTOILE (approaching from the back). Monsieur the Scholar? Sleeping too! (Picks up the fluttering paper.) More "Tales," of course. One can't refuse To chase so fugitive a Muse! Verses are public, too, that fly "Cum privilegio”—Zephyri! (Reads.) "CLITANDER AND DORINE." Insane! He fancies he's a LA FONTAINE ! At least, authentic Records say so (Three names for one. This passes all. 'Tis "furiously" classical!) "No doubt their Purpose oft would be Some Nodus dignus Vindice'; 'On dit,' not less, these earthly Tours Were mostly matters of Amours. Impeded that Olympic Game; "Suffices that, for this our Tale, Of Tales like this the frequent Scene, Trim Waist, ripe Lips, bright Eyes, had she ;— Her Beauty made some local Stir ; Men marked it. So did Jupiter. This Shepherdess Dorine adored.. Implored, ignored, and soared, and poured— (He's scrawled them here!) We'll sum in brief His fable on his second leaf. (Writes.) There, they shall know who 'twas that wrote:"L'ÉTOILE's is but a mock-bird's note." THE ABBÉ (waking). Implored's the word, I think. But where, Where is my paper? Ah! 'tis there! [Exit. Eh! what? (Reads.) THE METAMORPHOSIS. (not in Ovid.) "The Shepherdess Dorine adored |