ROXANE (choking):
What mean you? The Guards go to Arras?
DE GUICHE (laughing):
Bethink you, is it not my own regiment?
ROXANE (falling seated on the bench—aside):
Christian!
DE GUICHE:
What ails you?
ROXANE (moved deeply):
Oh—I am in despair! The man one loves!—at the war!
DE GUICHE (surprised and delighted):
You say such sweet words to me! ’Tis the first time!—and just when I must
quit you!
ROXANE (collected, and fanning herself):
Thus,—you would fain revenge your grudge against my cousin?
DE GUICHE:
My fair lady is on his side?
ROXANE:
Nay,—against him!
DE GUICHE:
Do you see him often?