has chosen, and that of Amintha, which I have taken, possesses a charm that you must needs acknowledge.
GORGIBUS. Listen--one word will be enough. I do not allow you to take any other names than those that were given you by your godfathers and godmothers; and as for those gentlemen we are speaking about, I know their families and their fortunes, and am determined they shall be your husbands. I am tired of having you upon my hands. Looking after a couple of girls is too heavy a responsibility for a man of my age.
CATHOS. As for me, uncle, all I can say is, that I think marriage a very shocking business. How can one endure the thought of lying beside a man who's actually naked?
MADELON. Give us leave to take the air for a while among the beaumonde of Paris, where we have just arrived. Allow us to sketch at leisure the outline of our novel, and do not hurry on the conclusion too abruptly.
GORGIBUS [aside]. I can no longer doubt it: they are stark mad. [Aloud] Once more, I tell you, I understand nothing of all this gibberish. I will be master, and to cut short all kinds of arguments, either you shall both be married shortly, or, upon my word, you shall be nuns-- that I swear.
CATHOS. Good Heavens, my dear, how deeply is your father still immersed in material things! how dense his understanding, and what gloom overcasts his soul!
MADELON. What can I do, my dear? I am ashamed of him. I can hardly persuade myself I am indeed his daughter; I believe that, some time or other, it will be discovered that I am of more illustrious descent.
CATHOS. I believe it; really, it is very likely. As for me, when I consider myself . . .
MAROTTE [entering]. Here is a footman asks if you are at home, and says his master would like to come to see you.
MADELON. Learn, stupid, to express yourself a little less vulgarly. Say, "Here is an attendant inquiring if it is commodious for you to become visible."
MAROTTE. Bless me! I don't understand Latin, and haven't learned ph'los'phy out of Cyrus, like you.
MADELON. Impertinent creature! How can this be borne! And who is this footman's master?
MAROTTE. He told me it was the Marquis de Mascarille.
MADELON. Ah, my dear, a marquis! Well, go and tell him we are visible. This is certainly some wit who has heard of us.