MUS. MAS. I should like, first of all, for you to hear an air which he (pointing to his PUPIL) has just composed for the serenade you asked of me. He is one of my pupils, who has an admirable talent for this kind of thing.
MR. JOUR. Yes; but you should not have had it done by a pupil; you were not too good for the business yourself.
MUS. MAS. You must not be deceived, Sir, by the name of pupil. These kind of pupils know sometimes as much as the greatest masters; and the air is as beautiful as possible. Only just listen to it.
MR. JOUR. (to his SERVANTS). Hand me my dressing-gown, so that may hear better…. Stay, I believe that I shall be better without…. No, give it me back again; that will be best.
THE PUPIL
All night and day I languish on;
the sick man none can save
Since those bright eyes have laid him low,
to your stern laws a slave;
If thus to those you love
a meed of care you bring,
What pain, fair Iris, will you find
your foemen's hearts to wring?
MR. JOUR. This song seems to me rather dismal; it sends one to sleep; could you not enliven it a bit here and there?
MUS. MAS. We must, Sir, suit the air to the words.
MR. JOUR. I was taught a very pretty one quite lately; stop a moment … ahem … What is it? How does it begin?
DAN. MAS. Upon my word, Sir, I do not know.
MR. JOUR. There is some lamb in it.