Mad. A. Ah, sir, you might think so; but the least sound jars upon his poor nerves.
[Weeps.
Bev. [Aside.] I never saw such a devil of a woman as this is, to cry.
Man. But I assure you, Madame, that I would rather walk. If I pretend to be your steward—why steward I must be, and not fine gentleman.
Mad. L. [To Marguerite.] My dear, would it be proper to allow M. Manuel to walk?
Mar. I believe it is usual for the steward to do so. However, I see no reason why he should not ride, if he chooses. There are plenty of horses in the stable.
Mad. A. Ah!
[Weeps.
Bev. What's the matter, Madame?
Mad. A. Talking of riding always overcomes me.