MAR. Ye gods! see the leaves well-nigh perished.

COL. How vain is the drama we cherished.

MAR. They crackle! they curl up! they die!

MAR. and COL. The author--down with him, we cry.

(_From the middle door two boys enter, carrying provisions and fuel;
the three friends turn, and with a surprised cry, seize the provisions
and place them on the table._ COLLINE _carries the wood to the
fireplace._)

RUD. Fuel!

MAR. Wine, too!

COL. Cigars!

RUD. Fuel!

MAR. Bordeaux!

RUD., MAR. and COL. The abundance of a feast day
We are destined yet to know.

(_Exeunt the two boys_)

(_Enter_ SCHAUNARD.)