Apothecary (tragically). And now, Lustucru, mix it well.
Lustucru (mixing hash in plate gloomily). Hand me yonder phial, and quickly too.
Apothecary (handing bottle). 'Tis done.
Lustucru (holding up plate). 'Tis done. Revenge is mine!
[Both return to duo as before.]
Hush! ah, hush! a step draws near.
Hush! ah, hush! lest Michel hear, etc., etc.
[At end Apothecary goes out mysteriously.]
Lustucru. At last, dear Moumouth, I have you. Thou wast never known to refuse so sweet a hash. Why, 'tis charming. [Sniffing it sarcastically.] But yesterday that old fool Michel didst say thou hadst lost appetite. Blessed words! holy inspiration! from them I obtained the idea.
[Michel heard without: "Moumouth! Moumouth!">[