MASCARILLE. The ribbon is well chosen.
MADELON. Fabulously. It is real Perdrigeon.
MASCARILLE. What do you say to my knee ruffles?
MADELON. They certainly are smart.
MASCARILLE. I may at least boast that they are a quarter of a yard wider than any that have been made.
MADELON. I must admit I never saw elegance of dress carried further.
MASCARILLE. Fasten the reflection of your olfactories upon these gloves.
MADELON. They smell terribly good.
CATHOS. I never inhaled a more exquisite perfume.
MASCARILLE. And this? [He gives them his powdered wig to smell.
MADELON. It has the most aristocratic odor. It titillates the higher senses most deliciously.
MASCARILLE. You say nothing of my plumes. How do you like them?
CATHOS. Frightfully beautiful.
MASCARILLE. Do you know that every single one of them cost me a Louis-d'or? But it is my hobby to have everything of the very best.
MADELON. I assure you that you and I are sympathetic. I am furiously particular about everything I wear. I cannot even endure stockings unless they are bought at a fashionable shop.
MASCARILLE [crying out suddenly]. Oh! oh! oh! gently. Damme, mesdames, you treat me very badly--I have reason to complain of your behavior--it is not fair.
CATHOS. What is it? What is the matter?
MASCARILLE. What! two at once against my heart! To attack me thus right and left. Ha! This is contrary to the law of nations, the combat is too unequal, and I must cry out, "Murder!"
CATHOS. Well, he does say things in a peculiar way.
MADELON. He is a consummate wit.
CATHOS. You are more afraid than hurt, and your heart cries out before it is even wounded.
MASCARILLE. The devil it does! it is wounded all over from head to foot.
MAROTTE [entering]. Madam, somebody asks to see you.
MAROTTE. The Viscount de Jodelet.
MASCARILLE. The Viscount de Jodelet?
MAROTTE. Yes, sir.
CATHOS. Do you know him?