“I’ll take it with me,” he said.
“Oh no, read it here at once!” I insisted. “Shall I read it to you?”
“No, no,” he replied; “your voice is treacherous. It makes charming poetry of the worst lines possible. Well, let me have it,” he continued, sitting down in his arm-chair. He began to read whilst I looked at the newspapers.
“It’s delicious!” he soon exclaimed. “It’s a perfect masterpiece.”
I sprang to my feet in joy.
“And you will get Chilly to accept it?”
“Oh yes, you can make your mind easy. But when do you want to play it?”
“Well, the author seems to be in a great hurry,” I said, “and Agar too.”
“And you as well,” he put in, laughing, “for this is a rôle that just suits your fancy.”
“Yes, my dear ‘Duq,’” I acknowledged. “I too want it put on at once. Do you want to be very nice?” I added. “If so, let us have it for the benefit of Madame —— in a fortnight from now. That would not make any difference to other arrangements, and our poet would be so happy.”