FRANCESCA. And yet, Laura,
I somewhat fancied that soft sound he made.
'Twas all on the same tone,--but 'twas a sweet tone.

LAURA. 'Tis like you. As for myself, let music change
From time to time, or have done altogether.
Sing us the song, Fidelio, that you made
Last night,--a song of flowers, and fair skies,
And nightingales, and love.

FIDELIO. I know the song.
It is a song of winter.

LAURA. How is that?

FIDELIO. Because it is a song of summer set
To a sad tune.

FRANCESCA. [Sadly] Ah, well,--so that it be not
A song of autumn, I can bear to hear it.

LAURA. In any case, music. I am in a mood for music.
I am in a mood where if something be not done
To startle me, I shall confess my sins.

[Enter Carlotta.]

CARLOTTA. Ha! I will have that woman yet by the hair!

LAURA. What woman, pray, Carlotta?