That loaded form—that hesitating gait—
'Tis Santa Claus himself, as sure as fate!
I've not sufficient strength to flee away.
I'm positively frozen with dismay.
[Gaspard and the Baron now eye each other in great comic bewilderment. The Baron gives a nervous cough, and Gaspard starts in ludicrous terror.]
Gaspard [aside].
I'm nearly dead with fright—I choke and pant.—
I'll speak to him—ask pardon. No, I can't.
[Gaspard here gives a heavy groan, at which the Baron starts in great alarm.]
Baron [aside].
Of course he means to do some dreadful thing.
Even now he seems preparing for a spring.
[The Baron here makes a loud shuddering sound, at which Gaspard sinks upon his knees.]
Gaspard [aside].
My legs have both collapsed—I'm most unwell.