ALB. Ho! Lucile, one word with you.
VAL. (To Mascarille), I fear…
MASC. Fear nothing.
SCENE IX.—VALÈRE, ALBERT, LUCILE, MASCARILLE.
MASC. Signor Albert, at least be silent. At length, madam, everything conspires to make your happiness complete. Your father, who is informed of your love, leaves you your husband and gives his permission to your union, provided that, banishing all frivolous fears, a few words from your own mouth corroborate what we have told him.
LUC. What nonsense does this impudent scoundrel tell me?
MASC. That is all right. I am already honoured with a fine title.
LUC. Pray, sir, who has invented this nice story which has been spread about today?
VAL. Pardon me, charming creature. My servant has been babbling; our marriage is discovered, without my consent.
LUC. Our marriage?