[The clowns and Briquet are crying. Mancini is overwhelmed. The Baron and HE are motionless, each in his place.]
Jackson
[Drawing out a large prismatic clown's handkerchief to wipe away his tears]: Faded, like a flower. Sleep, little Consuelo! The only thing that remains of you is the trace of your little feet on the sand. [Cries.] Ah, what did you do, what did you do, He!... It would have been better if you had never come to us. [There it music in the ring.]
Briquet
[Gesticulating]: The music! Stop the music! They are crazy there. What a misfortune!
[Someone runs off. Zinida approaches the crying Bezano and strokes his bowed, pomaded head. When he notices her, he catches her hand and presses it to his eyes. The Baron takes the rose from his button-hole, tears off the petals, and drops it, grinding it with his foot. A few pale faces peer through the door, the same masquerade crowd.]
Zinida
[Over the head of Bezano]: Louis, we must call the police.
Mancini
[Awakening from his stupor, screams]: The police! Call the police! It's a murder! I am Count Mancini, I am Count Mancini! They will cut off your head, murderer, damned clown, thief! I myself will kill you, rascal! Ah, you! [HE lifts his heavy head with difficulty.]