THE BARON. Nay, 'twas a song of SAINTE-Aulaire. THE COUNTESS. Then read me one. We've time to spare: If I can catch the clock-face there, 'Tis barely eight. THE BARON. What shall it be, A tale of woe, or perfidy? THE COUNtess. Not woes, I beg. I doubt your woes: THE BARON (reads). "Ah, Phillis! cruel Phillis! "Ah, Colin! foolish Colin! THE BALLAD À-LA-MODE. "But when her Eyes she opened, She found the Shepherd had not stirred- "Ah, Cupid! wanton Cupid! When Maids would bid you ply your Wings, THE COUNTESS. Famous! He earned whate'er he got :- THE BARON (turning the page). I think not.-No. Unless 'tis this: THE COUNTESS. Now, that's a breach! Your bond is-not to make a speech. 53 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. 55 THE METAMORPHOSIS. "On s'enrichit quand on dort." SCENE.-A high stone Seat in an Alley of clipped Lime-trees. THE ABBÉ TIRILI. "T MONSIEUR L'ÉTOILE. THE ABBÉ (writing). HIS shepherdess Dorine adored-" What rhyme is next? Implored?—ignored? "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 ! (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. And woe to him whose luckless Flame Impeded that Olympic Game; Ere he could say an 'Ave' o'er, They changed him-like a Louis-d'or." ("Aves," and current coinage! O!O shade of NICHOLAS BOILEAU !) "Bird, Beast, or River he became: With Women it was much the same. In Ovid Case to Case succeeds; But Names the Reader never reads." (That is, Monsieur the Abbé feels His quantities are out at heels!) |