The Marquis in Pink.
I am surprised at that. Yet whether we love or hate him, one thing is as clear to me as day: he must not be allowed to quit this palace alive.
Another Marquis.
Pardon me, Marquis, why not?
The Marquis in Pink.
You don't see deeply into this, Marquis. It seems almost as if you were a simpleton. Has she not mocked us, and exclaimed at our cooing, rustling, sweet speaking, and whimpering? Yet she delights to have him paint her; and as a reward, she loves him.
The Second Marquis.
Ha, terrible!
The Third Marquis.
Who told you that?