The Marquis in Pink.
Fie, how vulgar!
The Marquis in Pale Blue.
What will happen to the Marshal?
The Marquis in Pink.
That seems to me doubtful. Sometimes she is pleasant with him, sometimes ill-humoured. I have tried to get rid of him, but he still stays by me. He causes me the pangs of jealousy. She must love one of us. We are here for that purpose. Yet inasmuch as this wandering fellow has stolen her heart, he must die--and that on the spot.
The Marquis in Pale Blue.
Patience, Marquis, patience! Of all the means of shaking off this insolent fellow, there is one which is really exquisite. Without breaking the laws, if we set the Marshal on him, instead of being disturbers of the peace, we shall escape scot-free. He dies, of course, and it would be a wonder--yet what am I saying?--He is already as good as a dead sparrow.
(All chuckle.)
The Marquis in Pink.