Himself. O poet of the Occident, I come to visit you. I have learned of your enchantment, but I hear that it is not yet too late to converse with you. How humid it is here! It is not at all surprising that your voice is harsh, and you will certainly need a medicament to clear it. I approached you dancing. Is there no way of saving you from the situation in which you have placed yourself.
CRONIAMANTAL
Bah! But tell me who taught you to dance.
PAPONAT
The angels themselves were my dancing masters.
CRONIAMANTAL
The good or the bad angels? But no matter. I have had enough of all the dances, save one which the Greeks call kordax.
PAPONAT
You are gay, Croniamantal, we shall be able to amuse ourselves. I am glad I came here. I love gaiety. I am happy!
And Paponat, his bright eyes profoundly whirling, rubbed his hands gleefully.