THE MARQUIS (laughing):
Good!
(Murmurs of admiration in hall. Roxane has just appeared in her box. She seats herself in front, the duenna at the back. Christian, who is paying the buffet-girl, does not see her entrance.)
SECOND MARQUIS (with little cries of joy):
Ah, gentlemen! she is fearfully—terribly—ravishing!
FIRST MARQUIS:
When one looks at her one thinks of a peach smiling at a strawberry!
SECOND MARQUIS:
And what freshness! A man approaching her too near might chance to get a
bad chill at the heart!
CHRISTIAN (raising his head, sees Roxane, and catches Lignière by the arm):
’Tis she!
LIGNIÈRE:
Ah! is it she?
CHRISTIAN:
Ay, tell me quick—I am afraid.
LIGNIÈRE (tasting his rivesalte in sips):
Magdaleine Robin—Roxane, so called! A subtle wit—a precieuse.
CHRISTIAN:
Woe is me!