"Oh, hush up, Zerbinette, with your alases! Those good times will come again."
"But when, madame?"
"Why, in the next world, of course. That was what I used to nearly wear myself out telling Abbé Robertin, who used to go nearly crazy over those delicious white truffles my cousin Doria used to send me. 'Well, madame la marquise, it is surely better to believe in that sort of an immortality than in nothing at all,' he used to reply, while he went on cramming himself. In other words, my girl, I expect to get my girlhood again, and all that goes with it, when I reach paradise."
"God grant it, madame," responded Zerbinette, devoutly. "Sixteen is certainly a delightful age."
"That is exactly what I said to myself yesterday while I was watching my grandson. What ardour and enthusiasm he displayed during the hunt! He's a handsome—But look, here is Grand Sire's Rock. It was in that little cave that the poor president played the part of an osprey."
"Don't go any closer to it, for Heaven's sake, madame. There may be some wild beast in it."
"I thought of going in to rest awhile."
"Don't think of such a thing, madame. It must be as damp as a cellar in there."
"That's a fact, so set my chair under this oak-tree, there on the sunny side. That is right. Where will you find a seat, Zerbinette?"
"Over there on that rock. It is a little closer to the cave than I like, but never mind."