RAGUENEAU:
Some little rolls!
LIGNIÈRE (severely):
They were milk-rolls! And as for the theater, which you love?
RAGUENEAU:
Oh! to distraction!
LIGNIÈRE:
How pay you your tickets, ha?—with cakes.
Your place, to-night, come tell me in my ear, what did it cost you?
RAGUENEAU:
Four custards, and fifteen cream-puffs.
(He looks around on all sides):
Monsieur de Cyrano is not here? ’Tis strange.
LIGNIÈRE:
Why so?
RAGUENEAU:
Montfleury plays!
LIGNIÈRE:
Ay, ’tis true that that old wine-barrel is to take Phedon’s part to-night;
but what matter is that to Cyrano?
RAGUENEAU:
How? Know you not? He has got a hot hate for Montfleury, and so!—has
forbid him strictly to show his face on the stage for one whole month.
LIGNIÈRE (drinking his fourth glass):
Well?