[Enter Pasquinot, left.]

Pasquinot.  Well, Mademoiselle, what are you doing here?

Sylvette.  Nothing.  Taking the air.

Pasquinot.  Alone?  But, you silly girl, are you not afraid?

Sylvette.  Not in the least.

Pasquinot.  Near this wall?  I forbade you to come near it!  You see that park over there?  That belong to my mortal enemy!

Sylvette.  I know it, Father dear.

Pasquinot.  Why, here you are exposed to any insult, any—­if those rascals knew that my daughter were walking alone in this park—­ Brr!  It makes me shiver to think of!  I’m going to have the wall repaired, and erect a huge iron grill on top of it.

Sylvette. [Aside] He’ll never do it—­it would cost too much!

Pasquinot.  Now go into the house—­quick! [She goes out, Pasquinot glowering at her.]

Bergamin. [Heard from the other side of the wall, as he enters]
Take this note at once to Monsieur Straforel.

Pasquinot. [Running to the wall and climbing to the top of it]
Bergamin!

Bergamin. [Doing likewise] Pasquinot! [They embrace.]

Pasquinot.  How are you?

Bergamin.  Pretty well.

Pasquinot.  How’s your gout?

Bergamin.  Better.  And how is your cold?

Pasquinot.  Still troubles me, devil take it!

Bergamin.  Well, the marriage is arranged!

Pasquinot.  What?

Bergamin.  I heard everything—­I was hidden in the bushes.  They adore each other!

Pasquinot.  Bravo!

Bergamin.  We must bring matters to a head. [He rubs his hands.]
Ha, ha!  Now we can do as we had planned—­

Pasquinot.  Yes, and tear down the wall.

Bergamin.  And live together.

Pasquinot.  Joining our properties.

Bergamin.  By marrying our children.  But I wonder whether they would be so anxious if they knew we wished it?  A marriage arranged beforehand is not so tempting to two young children so romantic as ours.  That is why we kept our own wishes a secret.  I felt sure that after they had been separated—­Sylvette in the convent, Percinet at school—­they would thrive on their secret love.  That is how I came to invent this hatred of ours.  And you even doubted its success!  Now all we have to do is to say Yes.

Pasquinot.  But how can it be done?  Remember, I’ve called you a scoundrel, fool, idiot—­

Bergamin.  Idiot?  Scoundrel was sufficient.

Pasquinot.  Now what pretext—?

Bergamin.  Your daughter herself has given me an inspiration.  This evening they are to meet here at eight.  Percinet comes first.  At the moment Sylvette appears, mysterious men in black will emerge from the shadows and start to carry her off.  An abduction!  She screams, then our young hero gives chase, draws his sword—­the ravishers pretend to flee—­I arrive on the scene, then you—­your daughter is safe and sound.  You bless the couple and drop a few appropriate tears; my heart is softened.  Tableau.