Ninon.
Oui, oui; zat was a foolish froggie, Monsieur Rainbow. Beware of ze philosophy. Ah, Major Bluegrass, you have ze fervent language zat thrills me.
Bluegrass.
Dear Ninon, my description, like your own pretty costume with all its frills, tucks, and love-knots, has a moral with it. Before this philosophic gentleman in green had reconciled himself to an ideal, a flying cloud curtained the moon; and thus in his philosophy he let bright opportunity slip, and went dark below.
Scythe discontinues using glass.
Ninon.
Oui, oui; too true. I pity ze poor froggie.
Bluegrass.
Dear Ninon, render him no pity; for although I was but a green boy, I then resolved that opportunity was greater than philosophy. Ninon, yonder glorious moon shines brightly as on that memorable night in the meadows. ’Tis a bright opportunity; let me kiss thee again.
Ninon.