Vatel--I will blow my brains out before I dishonor my name.
Poirier [aside]--Another fellow who adores his name! [Aloud.] You may burn your brains, Monsieur Vatel, but don't burn your sauces.--Well, bon jour! [Exit Vatel.] And now to write invitations to my old cronies of the Rue des Bourdonnais. Monsieur le Marquis de Presles, I'll soon take the starch out of you.
[He goes out whistling the first couplet of 'Monsieur and Madame Denis.']
A CONTEST OF WILLS
From 'The Fourchambaults'
Madame Fourchambault--Why do you follow me?
Fourchambault--I'm not following you: I'm accompanying you.
Madame Fourchambault--I despise you; let me alone. Oh! my poor mother little thought what a life of privation would be mine when she gave me to you with a dowry of eight hundred thousand francs!
Fourchambault--A life of privation--because I refuse you a yacht!