and which ends (he speaks glowingly)—
... Iracundior Hadria
Tecum vivere amem; tecum obeam libens!
Madame d'Escurolles (doubtfully). Are you quite sure you have the Latin right? (She ponders awhile.) For my own part I prefer the simple songs of our own people about here and the rhymes of children. Do you know
Nous n'irons plus aux bois
Les lauriers sont coupés?
Monsieur de Noirétable (almost yawning). Oh! Bless you, yes. Who does not.... Madame?
(The music ceases and the reverences to the Queen begin. Madame d'Escurolles, as she moves forward, says in a low tone to Monsieur de Noirétable as she passes him, "When do you next come to Compiègne?")
Monsieur de Noirétable (as he goes out alone, to himself). When Compiègne comes to meet me halfway; which is perhaps a little difficult for so much stone.