L'Aiglon - BestLightNovel.com
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No. To-morrow.
The d.u.c.h.ess put it off to see this ball.
[_Pointing to a Domino who pa.s.ses at the back accompanied by a Mask._]
She's yonder with Bombelles: the greenish cape.
TIBURTIUS.
I'm glad you're going, for _n.o.blesse oblige_; I couldn't stand much more of those asides Between the little Bonaparte and you.
THERESA.
What?
TIBURTIUS.
'Tis our glory that our ancestors Have not been over-prudish with our kings; It is no fall to pick up handkerchiefs When on the handkerchief a lily's broidered.
But honor never will accept a rag Which bears the Bonapartist weed and hornet, Woe to the Ogre's brat--!
THERESA.
What!
TIBURTIUS.
If he touched you!
THERESA.
You use expressions, brother--
TIBURTIUS.
They are warnings.
A BEAR.
[_Pa.s.sing with a Chinese woman._]
How do you know I am a diplomat?
THE CHINESE WOMAN.
Why, by the skilful way you hide your claws.
THE ATTACHe.
[_Pursuing_ f.a.n.n.y.]
Is there no way of knowing who you are?
Now, are you English?
f.a.n.n.y.
_Ja._
THE ATTACHe.
Or German?
f.a.n.n.y.
_Oui._
PROKESCH.
[_Entering with the_ DUKE.]
My Lord, is not the ball beyond compare?
THE PUNCHINELLO.
[_To a_ DOMINO.]
Your ear--!
THE DOMINO.
What for?
THE PUNCHINELLO.
My secret! Hus.h.!.+
[_To another_ DOMINO.]
Your ear!
PROKESCH.
This corner's charming, given up to shadows--
THE CHINESE WOMAN.
[_To the_ BEAR.]
What are you carrying on your arm?
THE BEAR.
