“You know the way, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes; drive on, I’ll show you.—When the curtain rises for the third act, the princess is in her lover’s camp, lying on a cannon.——”
“Have you been to this country house before?”
“Once; but that’s enough for me; I have such an accurate memory!—The soldiers are resting on their pikes—or their muskets, for I am not quite sure whether pikes were in use under King Ferdinand; but it makes no difference. The prince, having no desire to sleep——”
“I should say that we were told to go to the left.”
“No, no! straight ahead!—The prince, I say, is on his knees before the princess, who is still unconscious; and he sings her a superb air, adagio in D minor, to restore her.—I wrote the music, too. Can’t you see the tableau in your mind’s eye?”
“I see that if you don’t drop your prince and princess soon, we shall be in Montmorency, and that certainly isn’t on our road. I’m too good-natured, to sit here and listen to your nonsense. Here—as you are so certain we’re on the right road, just take the reins and drive.”
“Oh! I ask nothing better; I’ll stake my head that we’re not two hundred yards from Madame de Marsan’s.”
“But I don’t see any light.”
“Because it’s too dark a night.—This infernal horse has a mouth like iron.”