Opéra Comique.

By the echo of the neighborhood
It is always spoken.
Let a sound strike my ear,
I listen... and in all my senses
My soul, which always keeps watch,
Believes it hears his accents.
These accents, this tone so tender,
This sound of an enchanting voice,
These accents that let one hear
Everything that flatters my heart.
Even in the smallest thing, etc.

You are mocking me; one does not learn such things in convents.

My noble Lady.

What do you want? I gave you some just now.

I know, it is you who honored my deep misery with the precious treasures of your benevolence.

Well, what do you ask for?

The briars of poverty have not stifled within me the respectable seeds of honor.

That may be: and then?

In pulling out your purse, you let fall...

Me! I do not think so.

Here is what I found in that very spot.

It is a gold Louis French gold coin: ah! yes, it is mine.

My nanny, you should give him something.