Do not. You, who in your songs depict both town and court, can tell me the name of one for whom I am dying of love. Remain!
(The violins begin to play.)
I fear she may be something of a coquette and too subtle in her refinement. I dare not speak to her, for my wit is dull and the language of to-day confuses me. I am but a good soldier. She generally occupies that box to the right—that empty one.
LIGNIÈRE (as if to leave).
I must go.
CHRISTIAN (holding him).
Remain, please.
LIGNIÈRE.
I cannot. D'Assoucy expects me at the tavern. One might die of thirst here.