Puslapio vaizdai
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M. LOYAL.
Nay,—I am wrong again. I thought
Her air delightfully untaught!

HORTENSE. But you amuse me

M. LOYAL.

Still her dress, Her dress at least, you must confess

ARMANDE.
Is odious simply ! JACOTOT
Did not supply that lace, I know;
And where, I ask, has mortal seen
A hat unfeathered !

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HORTENSE.

Edged with green!

Let me say

M. LOYAL.
The words remind me.
A Fable that I heard to-day.
Have I permission?

Both (with enthusiasni).

Monsieur, pray !

M. LOYAL. Myrtilla (lest a Scandal rise The Lady's Name I thus disguise), Dying of Ennui, once decided, Much on Resource herself she prided, To choose a Hat. Forthwith she flies On that momentous Enterprise. Whether to Petit or Legros, I know not: only this I know;Head-dresses then, of any Fashion, Bore Names of Quality or Passion. Myrtilla tried them, almost all: 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: Becoming, rather,--'edged with green,'Roses in yellow, Thorns between. 'Quick! Bring me that!' 'Tis brought. 'Complete, Divine, Enchanting, Tasteful, Neat,' In all the Tones. And this you call-?' ""ILL-NATURE,Madame. It fits all.''

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HORTENSE.
A thousand thanks! So naively turned !

ARMANDE. So useful too ... to those concerned ! 'Tis yours?

M. LOYAL.

Ah no,-some cynic wit's ; And called (I think)(Placing his hat upon his breast),

The Cap that fits.”

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NINETTE.

This way, then. (They enter the Chalet.) You are as changing, Child,-as Men.

NINON.
But are they? Is it true, I mean?
Who said it ?

NINETTE.

Sisier SÉRAPHINE. She was so pious and so good,

With such sad eyes beneath her hood,
And such poor little feet,--all bare !
Her name was EUGÉNIE LA FÈRE.
She used to tell us,-moonlight nights, -
When I was at the Carmelites.

NINON.
Ah, then it must be right. And yet,
Suppose for once-suppose, NINETTE,

NINETTE.

But what?

NINON.

Suppose it were not so ? Suppose there were true men, you know !

NINETTE.

And then ?

NINON.

Why,—if that could occur, What kind of man should you prefer?

NINETTE. What looks, you mean?

NINON.

Looks, voice and all.

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