Eloise.
Why, certainly. But then you need not start.
There's no occasion to express content
By quite misunderstanding what I meant.
Gaspard (very agitatedly).
I don't misunderstand—oh, not at all.
You meant that if by chance it should befall
Yourself, Eloise, at midnight here to stray,
And look on Santa Claus, you might repay
Such privilege by—
Eloise.
Ah, could I see the Saint,
Speeding his jovial pranks, with visage quaint,
'Twere hard to warn you where my grateful mood
Would place the limit of its gratitude.
Gaspard [aside].
What if to-night, disguised with cunning art,
I should myself enact Kris Kringle's part?
Eloise.