SECOND MASK.

The Punchinello?

THIRD MASK.

I don't know.

FOURTH MASK.

It's too delicious.

FIFTH MASK.

All incognito.

THE PUNCHINELLO.

[_To a lady in a domino._]

Your ear--

THE DOMINO.

What for?

THE PUNCHINELLO.

Ah, hush! My secret!

FIRST MASK.

Watteau--

THE PUNCHINELLO.

[_To another_ DOMINO.]

Your ear--

FIRST MASK.

Would have delighted in these figures--

THE DOMINO.

[_To the_ PUNCHINELLO.]

What for?

THE PUNCHINELLO.

Ah, hush! My secret!

FIRST MASK.

And these ruins.

ANOTHER MASK.

All is uncertain, tremulous, and vague-- Our hearts, the music, moonbeams, and the water.

METTERNICH.

And so, dear Attache of the French Emba.s.sy, Here I've contrived half-darkness and half-silence, And yonder in the music and the light The ball--

THE ATTACHe.

It's really--

METTERNICH.

Rather good, I think.

This way--

THE ATTACHe.

You condescend to be my guide?

METTERNICH.

Dear friend, I'm prouder of this little ball, Of having mingled all these courtly perfumes With the wild odors of the midnight woods, Than ever of the Congress of Verona.

That is the vestiary and the way out So that in leaving you may find at once Your Polish mantle or your overcoat.

Lastly, the theatre which I've contrived On yonder bowling-green, near Cupid's fountain, Where, in a set-piece made of natural foliage, Some princely amateurs will play "Michel And"--I don't know--some dainty little piece By a French author: Eugene--what's-his-name?

THE ATTACHe.

And--supper?

METTERNICH.

Here.

THE ATTACHe.

What?

METTERNICH.

Every box will blossom With snowy tablecloths and golden dishes.