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 Did not supply that lace, I know; M. LOYAL. "Myrtilla (lest a Scandal rise I know not: only this I know;— "Content' at once she cast aside. 'Simplicity,'- 'Devotion,' for an older face; 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." F HORTENSE. A thousand thanks! So naïvely 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." (They enter the Chalet.) You are as changing, Child,—as Men. NINON. But are they? Is it true, I mean? Who said it? NINETTE. Sister SERAPHINE. She was so pious and so good, With such sad eyes beneath her hood, She used to tell us,-moonlight nights,- NINON. Ah, then it must be right. And yet, But what? NINETTE. NINON. Suppose it were not so? Suppose there were true men, you know! And then? NINETTE. NINON. Why, if that could occur, What kind of man should you prefer? NINETTE. What looks, you mean? NINON. Looks, voice and all. |