—Well, there they are, but do not touch.
—Oh, oh, you are cheating. That is only half, I want to see them all … up to the knees; at the least what I saw in the market-place.
—No, sir.
—Ah, you must not say no to me…. I do not like no. Let me help you, my pretty. Women always have a lot of strings under their petticoats and sometimes there are knots, knots, knots. I know that, so let me do it.
—But I don't want to, I tell you.
—Nevertheless, just to show me your calves, your fine big calves.
—You have seen them enough.
—What, cried Monsieur Tibulle, indignant at length at such obstinacy, you refuse to show to me what you exhibit in public, to everybody, in the market-places, in the streets, to the first who comes along; you refuse me when I am all alone, in this little room where nobody sees us. Ah, it is very wrong, wrong, wrong. I intend to punish you for that naughty act.
—In public, that is my profession, and besides I have a costume.
—She is nice enough to eat! A costume! If you only want that, it is very easy to find. I know of a little costume, very nice and not dear; and if you like, we will both of us put it on.