Michel. Oh no! no! no! What shall I do!
Lustucru. Have you looked in the store-room? I imagined I heard a meowing just now as I passed by the door.
Michel. No, but I will go look. Oh, Lustucru, I forgive you everything, you are so kind. Oh, my Cat, Moumouth!
[Exit, and is heard calling in the distance. Lustucru returns to his dance.]
Solo.—Lustucru.
Tune—"Lucy Long."
Call, my charming Michel,
Call till you are hoarse;
You will not find your Moumouth,
For he is dead, of course.
Enter Michel, mournfully. Lustucru sober again.
Lustucru. Alas! my friend, you have not found him?