"My music, which I am having burned."
"Your music?" demanded the regent.
"Yes, and even yours," answered the abbess; "look carefully and you will see your opera of 'Panthée' follow in its turn. You will understand that my resolution once taken, its execution was necessarily general."
"Well, madame, this time you are really mad! To light the fire with music, and then feed it with bass-viols and harpsichords is really a little too luxurious."
"I am doing penance, monsieur."
"Hum, say rather that you are refitting your house, and that this is an excuse for buying new furniture, since you are doubtless tired of the old."
"No, monseigneur, it is no such thing."
"Well, then, what is it? Tell me frankly."
"In truth, I am weary of amusing myself, and, indeed, I intend to act differently."
"And what are you going to do?"