PASQUINOT. [To his daughter] Do you love him?
SYLVETTE. Yes.
STRAFOREL. [To BERGAMIN] Shall I have my money?
BERGAMIN. You shall.
SYLVETTE. [Trembling as she hears STRAFOREL's voice and recognizes it] But—that—voice—the Marquis D'Asta—fior—
STRAFOREL. [Bowing] —quercita. Yes, my dear Mademoiselle. 'Tis Straforel. Pardon my excessive zeal. I have at least taught you how tiresome and hollow and useless real adventures are. You might, like this young man, have had your share, but I allowed you to see them in prospect through the magic-lantern of my imagination.
PERCINET. What is this?
SYLVETTE. [Quickly] Nothing, nothing. I love you!
BERGAMIN. [Pointing to the wall] And to-morrow we shall knock down these few rows of bricks!
PASQUINOT. Yes, away with it!