t'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 Embassy,
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.

THE ATTACHE.

The orange-trees?

METTERNICH.

My own idea. They'll bring
All they can find. Under each leafy ball
Two couples will be seated, starved and laughing.

THE ATTACHE.

Supper in short at separate orange-trees?
Splendid.

METTERNICH.

Why, yes.--And as for grave affairs--

[_To a_ LACKEY.]

Tell them to play no more Slavonic dances--

[_To the_ ATTACHE.]

I do not put them off. Not I. I leave

Ere supper-time to meet the Hospodars--
They are awaiting me--

[_To a_ LACKEY.]

Those wreaths ar