"Well, but first of all, where are we?" asked M. de Jonzac.
"Scene three of the second act."
"Still?" exclaimed Bijou, astonished.
"Alas, yes."
"My dear children, you will never have it finished," remarked the marchioness.
"Oh, yes, grandmamma, we shall," said Bijou merrily; "you will see how we are going to work now. Come now, we are at the third scene of the second act,—it is where the poet is defending himself after the accusations—rather spiteful ones, too—which Venus has brought against him."
"Well, and what then?" asked M. de Rueille after a pause.
"Well," said Bijou, "in my opinion, we want a little couplet there; what do you think, Jean?"
Jean de Blaye, with an absorbed look on his face, was lounging in a deep arm-chair, his head thrown back on the cushions. He appeared to be in a reverie, and had not even heard the question.
"Are you asleep?" asked Bijou.