]
PASQUINOT. Tell me, now, will you play _piquet_?
BERGAMIN. I beg your pardon--I don't know--
PASQUINOT. I invite you!
BERGAMIN. To tell the truth, I prefer _besigue_--
PASQUINOT. Then come at once.
BERGAMIN. [Following PASQUINOT, who goes out] You owe me ten
sous from the last time. [Turning round] Work hard, mason!
The MASON. Tra la la la la!
PASQUINOT. Beautiful voice! [They disappear.]
[When they are gone, the MASON turns round, and takes off his hat:
he is STRAFOREL.]
STRAFOREL. Now for the work of reconstruction! [He sits down on
the row or two of bricks.] The young man is still off on his quest
for adventure and romance. Life must be giving him a splendid bath
of disillusion. I can see him as he returns, his tail between his
legs. Now I am working on Sylvette--she, too, will soon be cured.
[He takes a letter from his pocket and puts it in the hollow of a
tree-trunk. SYLVETTE appears at the back.] It's she! Now to work!
SYLVETTE. [Looking anxiously about] Not a soul. [She lays her
muslin scarf on the bench to the left.] Will the letter be there
to-day as usual? [She goes toward the tree.] Every day some
gallant has left one for me. [She thrusts her hand into the
hollow.
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