"Well, well! are we bound to find this tall Spaniard in front of us all the time?" said the pink domino to the shepherdess. "Is he chasing us? What on earth does he want of us?"
"My dear, you or me must have made a conquest!"
"Do you think so? Then it must be you, as you are not masked."
"But he seems to be looking at you."
"He looks to me like a big simpleton."
"We might as well have some fun with him while we're waiting for our men to join us."
"We must make him treat us to something."
Notice that this is the constant refrain of the ladies whom one meets at public balls.
While the two women whispered to each other, Chamoureau, with one hand on his hip, assumed a seductive smile and kept his eyes fixed on the pink domino, who finally said to him in a voice that seemed in the habit of crying fish for sale:
"What makes you look in my eyes like that, my handsome Spaniard? Do you know me? If you do, say something to prove it, instead of standing there staring at me like a porcelain dog!"