Do you want me to write him a little note?
Mancini
[Angrily]: A little note? Your little notes would make a horse laugh! Good-bye.
[He goes out toying angrily with his cane. The clowns follow him respectfully, playing a funeral march. HE and Jackson laugh. The actors disappear one by one.]
Consuelo
[Laughing]: Do I really write so badly? And I love so to write. Did you like my note, Alfred—or did you laugh, too?
Bezano
[Blushing]: No, I did not. Come on, Consuelo.
[They go, and meet Zinida, entering. Consuelo passes on.]
Zinida