(With solemn gesture, extending his hand over the pastry)
No! dainties of this kind
Are but the stored-up fodder
Saved for the morrow,
Fraught with gloom and sorrow, (clearing the table)
To dine at home on the day of Christmas vigil,
While the Quartier Latin embellishes
Its ways with dainty food and tempting relishes.
Meanwhile the smell of savory fritters
The old street fills with fragrant odor.
There singing joyously, merry maidens hover,
Having for echo each a student lover.
(RUDOLPH locks the door; then all go to the table and pour out wine.)
RUD., MAR. and COL. 'Tis the gladsome Christmas Eve.
SCH. A little of religion, comrades, I pray;
Within doors drink we, but we dine away.
(Two knocks are heard at the door.)
BEN. (from without) 'Tis I.
MAR. Who is there?
BEN. 'Tis Benoit.
MAR. 'Tis the landlord is knocking!