LIGNIERE (making as if to go):
I must go.

CHRISTIAN (detaining him):
Nay, stay.

LIGNIERE:
I cannot. D'Assoucy waits me at the tavern, and here one dies of thirst.

THE BUFFET-GIRL (passing before him with a tray):
Orange drink?

LIGNIERE:
Ugh!

THE BUFFET-GIRL:
Milk?

LIGNIERE:
Pah!

THE BUFFET-GIRL:
Rivesalte?

LIGNIERE:
Stay.
(To Christian):
I will remain awhile.--Let me taste this rivesalte.