It is rightly so. I had almost begged him, at the court where we men are forbidden, proudly to represent the eternal masculine. (Laughing, they both bow to him.)
(Exit The Valet.)
The Painter.
But we are going into the flowery open, to our merry pursuits.
The Marshal.
And to combat! (They walk arm in arm, bowing right and left, toward the door, past The Marquises, who, without hiding their disrespect, nevertheless recognise them in a not uncourtly fashion.)
Curtain.
FOOTNOTE:
[Footnote 1]: Milchbart--literally "milky beard."
[Footnote 2]: The colonel.