The Lady.
And Monsieur's friend who sometimes came?...
That clever ... I forget the name.
M. Jolicœur.
The Baron?... It escapes me, too.
'Twas doubtless he that Madame knew?
The Lady (archly).
Precisely. But, my carriage waits.
Monsieur will see me to the gates?
M. Jolicœur (offering his arm).
I shall be charmed. (Your stratagem
Bids fair, I think, to conquer them.)
(Aside)
(Who is she? I must find that out.)
—And Madame's husband thrives, no doubt?
The Lady (off her guard).
Monsieur de Beau—?... He died at Dôle!
M. Jolicœur.
Truly. How sad!
(Aside)
(Yet, on the whole,
How fortunate! Beau-pré?—Beau-vau?
Which can it be? Ah, there they go!)
—Madame, your enemies retreat
With all the honours of ... defeat.
The Lady.
Thanks to Monsieur. Monsieur has shown
A skill Préville could not disown.
M. Jolicœur.
You flatter me. We need no skill
To act so nearly what we will.
Nay,—what may come to pass, if Fate
And Madame bid me cultivate ...
The Lady (anticipating).
Alas!—no farther than the gate.
Monsieur, besides, is too polite
To profit by a jest so slight.
M. Jolicœur.
Distinctly. Still, I did but glance
At possibilities ... of Chance.