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THE LORD.
Good day, Madame Simon. to M. Simon. Would that not be your daughter there?
M. SIMON.
You will forgive me, My Lord.
THE LORD.
Ha, ha, Madame Simon, my dear Simon, I did not know you possessed such a treasure. Mademoiselle your daughter is charming. Come closer, Mademoiselle.
Madame S I M O N, in a low voice.
Stay here.
M. SIMON.
Come here, come here.
THE LORD.
Come closer.
T R I O .
| THE LORD. | M. S I M O N. | HIS WIFE |
|---|---|---|
| She is touching; | ||
| What an air of candor! | ||
| Such modesty! | ||
| She tempts me. | ||
| You hesitate! What charms are here. | ||
| Allow me to touch this. (1) | No, no, I do not want that, | |
| The little hand is charming, | Let us say nothing to His | His Greatness |
| Greatness: | ||
| Ravishing; | And what does it matter? | Is too insolent: |
| And these fingers | It is My Lord; | I have too much heart |
| Are a hundred times | It is because he is joking. | To endure that. |
| More roguish, | It is just banter, | |
| More dainty, | that. | |
| More rounded. | ||
| These softnesses, | My Lord | Come near to me, |
| These refinements | Does us honor. | Fanchette, |
| Have a way about them! | Be quiet; | Come near to me, |
| It is Love. | Be quiet. | Come near to me. |
(1) Fanchette, who has changed her fichu, must have one on that is worn very modestly.
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