RAGUENEAU (proudly):
His sword--'tis one half of the Fates' shears!

FIRST MARQUIS (shrugging his shoulders):
He will not come!

RAGUENEAU:
I say he will! and I wager a fowl--a la Ragueneau.

THE MARQUIS (laughing):
Good!

(Murmurs of admiration in hall. Roxane has just appeared in her box. She
seats herself in front, the duenna at the back. Christian, who is paying the
buffet-girl, does not see her entrance.)

SECOND MARQUIS (with little cries of joy):
Ah, gentlemen! she is fearfully--terribly--ravishing!

FIRST MARQUIS:
When one looks at her one thinks of a peach smiling at a strawberry!

SECOND MARQUIS:
And what freshness! A man approaching her too near might chance to get a
bad chill at the heart!

CHRISTIAN (raising his head, sees Roxane, and catches Ligniere by the arm):
'Tis she!