Marphise—"You may well be proud of such a choice. Your lover is a marvel, a phoenix. What is the name of that admirable lover?"
Eglantine—"Lady Confessor, I may boldly name him. His name is Mylio the Trouvere."
Marphise (thrilling and blushing with emotion)—"What! Did you say, dear daughter, that it is—Mylio the Trouvere?"
Eglantine (with downcast eyes)—"Yes, Lady Confessor. That is his name."
Marphise (seeking to suppress her surprise and emotion)—"Go, dear daughter, I pray to God that your lover be faithful to you."
The canoness steps forward in her turn, kneels down, and, slightly smiling, slightly smites her well-rounded bosom with her white hands.
Marphise—"These tokens of sorrow denote some great sin, dear daughter! Is your choice, perchance, blame-worthy?"
The Canoness—"Oh! Not at all! I only fear I am not beautiful enough for my lover, who is the most accomplished of men: youth, wit, beauty, courage—he joins them all in his person! What joy there is in his company!"
Marphise—"And the name of that phoenix?"
The Canoness (languorously)—"Mylio the Trouvere. That is my friend's name."