THE SONG OUT OF SEASON. "Point de culte sans mystère.". SCENE.-A Corridor in a Château, with Busts and Venice chandeliers. MONSIEUR L'ÉTOILE. TWO VOICES. M. L'ÉTOILE (carrying a Rose). "Through the Mancini room, and near The fifth Venetian chandelier. The fifth ?-She knew there were but four ;- (Humming.) Tra-la, tra-la! If BIJOU wake, She'll bark, no doubt, and spoil my shake! I'll tap, I think. One can't mistake; This surely is the door. (Sings softly.) "When Jove, the Skies' Director, First saw you sleep of yore, He cried aloud for Nectar, "The Nectar quickly pour,— (No sound. I'll tap once more.) (Sings again.) "Then came the Sire Apollo, He past you where you lay; (A rustling within.) (Coquette! She heard before.) (Sings again.) "And urchin Cupid after O Venus, witch the World!"" (Now comes the last. 'Tis scarcely worse, I think, than Monsieur l'ABBÉ's verse.) "So waken, waken, waken, O You, whom we adore! Mere Mortals must be more,- (That merits an encore!) "So waken, waken, waken! O YOU whom we adore!" (An energetic VOICE.) 'Tis thou, ANTOINE? Ah, Addle-pate! A thousand times! (Great agitation.) But wait, but wait,— M. L'ÉTOILE (stupefied). Just Skies! What hideous roar !What lungs! The infamous Soubrette! This is a turn I sha'nt 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, Mere Poets must be more, BAD POETS must be more." 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. Nay, I defer to you. In truth, To me she seems all grace and youth. HORTENSE. Graceful? You think it? What, with hands ARMANDE. And how she stands |