Arg. No, no!
Lou. My dear papa, don’t whip me.
Arg. Yes, you shall be whipped.
Lou. For pity’s sake! don’t whip me, papa.
Arg. (going to whip her). Come, come.
Lou. Ah! papa, you have hurt me; I am dead! (She feigns to be dead.)
Arg. How, now! What does this mean? Louison! Louison! Ah! heaven! Louison! My child! Ah! wretched father! My poor child is dead! What have I done? Ah! villainous rod! A curse on the rod! Ah! my poor child! My dear little Louison!
Lou. Come, come, dear papa; don’t weep so. I am not quite dead yet.
Arg. Just see the cunning little wench. Well! I forgive you this once, but you must tell me everything.
Lou. Oh yes, dear papa.