Kitty. No, mother has just gone out.
Grap. Oh! the old lady have gone out? Parbleu! I feel all ze better, ver much; I feel quite ze comfortable. Ha, you be ver pretty girl!
Kitty. Oh, pshaw!
Grap. What for you say ‘pshaw’? You know I speaks ze truth all ze time! You break ze young men’s hearts all to pieces ver much.
Kitty. No, I don’t, Mr. Frenchman.
Grap. Ah, ma chere, but you do, you leetle rogue! Did I not see ze young man viz ze red hair? He be ver much in love all over.
Kitty. He,—March—in love with me! You are quite mistaken.
Grap. Ah, but he be ver much. I see it in his eyes. (Enter March, C.)
Kitty. March love me? No, sir! He’s a selfish—
Grap. Take care, ma chere,—take care! You leetle rogue, you love him,—you know you do!