—­Flowers—­even palms.

—­Yes, even palms.  And all the trees trimmed as carefully and precisely as the lawn, some cut in the shape of pyramids, others in the shape of green columns.  There’s a lovely fountain and little plaster elves and deer scattered all around in the grass.

—­How rich!

—­How magnificent!

—­How brilliant!

—­How rich!

—­Man did me the honor of showing me his stables and barns.  I had to tell him how much I admired his horses and carriages.  I was particularly impressed by his motor car.

—­Think of it, he has seven servants; seven—­a chef, a woman-cook, two maids, gardeners—­

—­You forget the coachman and the chauffeur.

—­Yes, of course, the coachman and the chauffeur.

—­And they themselves do nothing at all.  They are too fine.

—­You must admit, it is a great honor to have been invited to Man’s ball.

—­Don’t you find the music somewhat monotonous?

—­No, I don’t, and I’m surprised you do.  Don’t you see what kind of musicians they are?

—­I should like to hear such music all my life.  That’s what I say. 
There’s something, in that music that stirs me.

—­Me too.

—­Me too.

—­It is a delicious sensation to abandon oneself to dreams of happiness under the influence of this music!

—­To transport oneself in fancy to the astral spheres!

—­How fine!

—­How rich!

—­How magnificent!

[These phrases are repeated.

—­I notice a stir at that door.  Man and his Wife will soon pass through the hall.

—­The musicians are working away for dear life.

—­There they are!

—­They’re coming!  Look, they’re coming!

[Man, his Wife, his Friends, and his Enemies appear in the door on the right, cross the room diagonally to the door on the left.  The dancers go on dancing, but part to make way for them.  The musicians play desperately loud and out of tune.  Man has aged greatly.  His long hair and long beard are beginning to turn gray.  But his face is manly and handsome, and he walks with calm dignity and an air of coldness.  He looks straight ahead of him, as if not noticing those around him.  His Wife has also aged, but she is still beautiful and walks leaning on his arm.  She too seems not to notice the people around her, but looks straight ahead, with a rather strange, almost fixed expression.  Both are richly dressed.

His Friends follow directly behind Man.  They resemble one another very much—­noble faces, high and candid foreheads, honest eyes.  They walk proudly, throwing out their chests, stepping firmly and confidently, and looking, now to this side, now to that, with condescension and slight disdain.  They wear white roses in their buttonholes.