Sylvette. [Screaming] Help!  Percinet!  Man, not another step!

Straforel. [Gallantly] Why this hostile attitude?  I am the man whose letter you love, I am he whose words have had the honor of pleasing you, and upon whose love you just called.  Come, fly with me!

Sylvette. [Not knowing what to do] Man!

Straforel.  You think I am a mason?  Charming!  Know, then, that I am the Marquis D’Astafiorquercita.  My heart is languishing for you, I seek to color my drab existence with a few pigments from your own.  I must travel—­but with you.  That is why I have penetrated into your garden, disguised as a mason! [He throws off his workman’s clothes and hat, and appears in a dazzling costume.  His wig is powdered and his moustache bristles.]

Sylvette.  Monsieur!

Straforel.  I learned your story from a man named Straforel.  I felt at once a mad, unreasoning love for the victim of that unfortunate affair.

Sylvette.  Marquis!

Straforel.  Don’t be afraid of me.  That fellow who played the trick on you—­I killed him!

Sylvette.  Killed him!

Straforel.  With a single blow!

Sylvette.  Monsieur!

Straforel.  I understand you, you who have never been understood. 
You want romance, do you not?  Romance at any price?

Sylvette.  But, Marquis—­

Straforel.  To-night we elope!

Sylvette.  Monsieur!

Straforel.  We shall go away, never to return.

Sylvette.  Monsieur!

Straforel.  My dream is realized.  You consent!  To-night!  If your father objects, so much the worse for him!

Sylvette.  Monsieur!

Straforel.  Let them follow us—­I know how to deal with pursuers. 
In some far land, at last, we shall live happily in a little cottage!

Sylvette.  But I—­

Straforel.  For I am poor.  I have nothing.  We shall live on bread soaked in sweet tears!

Sylvette.  But, I tell you—­

Straforel.  We shall thrive on misfortune—­with you I shan’t care for anything else.  A tent, perhaps—­

Sylvette.  A tent?

Straforel.  Of nothing at all—­just the stars!

Sylvette.  Oh, I—­

Straforel.  Why, you’re trembling—­possibly you don’t want to go so far away?  Then we shall hide somewhere—­

Sylvette.  But, Monsieur, you are mistaken!

Straforel.  Let people say what they will!

Sylvette.  Good Heavens!

Straforel.  I shall spend every moment of my time telling you how
I love you!

Sylvette.  Monsieur—­

Straforel.  Ours shall be a long life of poetry.  And I shall be furiously jealous!