FIRST OLD WOMAN. Not before knocking at mine first.
YOUNG MAN. For the moment I really have no need for old leather.
FIRST OLD WOMAN. I know that you love me; perhaps you are surprised to find me at the door. But come, let me kiss you.
YOUNG MAN. No, no, my dear, I am afraid of your lover.
FIRST OLD WOMAN. Of whom?
YOUNG MAN. The most gifted of painters.
FIRST OLD WOMAN. Why, whom do you mean to speak of?
YOUNG MAN. The artist who paints the little bottles on coffins.[721] But get you indoors, lest he should find you at the door.
FIRST OLD WOMAN. I know what you want.
YOUNG MAN. I can say as much of you.