Page:Orphée aux Enfers (Chicago 1868).djvu/10

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. He is out. When he returns, he will find his house covered with flowers. Throws the rest of the flowers into the cabin.

. What do I see? Is it not the nymph, Maquilla, the beautiful nymph that I adore? Alone! Let us reveal my presence with the tune she loves so much. Plays a passionate tune.

. My husband!

. My wife! Blockhead! I must scold, else she will scold before me. Ah! ah! I catch you, madam.

. Catch me! how?

. How? To whom were you throwing those flowers, if you please?

. Flowers? to the winds! And you, my tender friend, to whom were you throwing the passionate strains of your fiddle?

. To the moon.

. All right. Do you know what I conclude from all this, my darling? That, if I have my shepherd, you have your shepherdess. Well, I leave her to you; leave me my shepherd.

. Madame, it is very bad taste on your part.

. Why, please?

. Because, because you make me blush!

. Well, it is high time we should come to an understanding, and I must give you a piece of my mind. Know then that I detest you; that I thought I was wedding an artist, and I have wedded the greatest bore in creation. You think that you are an eagle, because you have invented hexameters; but in my eyes it is your greatest crime. Do you believe that I will pass my young days listening to your classical dreams, and fiddling away on that tin pan of yours?

. My violin. Do not touch that chord, Madame.

. Your violin is a bore, like your verses. Go and charm with them third class shepherdesses, whom you love. I am the daughter of a nymph, and a demi-god. I need liberty and fancy—to-day I love that shepherd—he loves me. Nothing can sever Aristee and me.