DUKE. Only the unfortunate thing is that one never makes a conquest of the right woman, and always kills the wrong man. And that as a matter of fact is how one misses one's youth. You know what Rollin says? FRANCOIS. What does Rollin say? DUKE. I was thinking of his new piece that they are playing at the Comedie--there is such a pretty simile in it. Don't you remember? FRANCOIS. I have no memory for verses. DUKE. Nor have I, unfortunately ... I only remember the sense. He says, youth which a man does not enjoy is like a feather-ball, which you leave lying in the sand instead of throwing it up into the air. ALBIN (like a wiseacre). I think that is quite right. DUKE. Is it not true? The feathers gradually lose their color and fall out. 'Tis better for it to fall into a bush where it cannot be found. ALBIN. How should one understand that, Emile? DUKE. 'Tis more a matter of feeling than of understanding. If I could repeat the verses, you would understand it at once. ALBIN. I have an idea, Emile, that you, too, could make verses if you wished. DUKE. Why? ALBIN. Since you have been here, it seems to me as though life were flaming up. DUKE (smiling). Yes? Is life flaming up? FRANCOIS. Won't you come and sit with us after all? [Meanwhile, two nobles come in and sit down at a distant table. HOST appears to be addressing insults to them.] DUKE. I cannot stay here. But in any case I will come back again. MICHETTE. Stay with me. FLIPOTTE. Take me with you. (They try to hold him.) HOST (coming to the front). Just you leave him alone. You're not bad enough for him by a long way. He's got to run after a whore off the streets--that's where he feels most in his element. DUKE. I shall certainly come back, if only not to miss Henri. FRANCOIS. What do you think, when we came, Henri was just going out with Leocadie. DUKE. Really--he has married her. Did you know that? FRANCOIS. Is that so? What will the others have to say to it? ALBIN. What others? FRANCOIS. She is loved all around, you know. DUKE. And he wants to go away with her ... what do I know about it?... Somebody told me. HOST. Indeed? Did they tell you? (Glances at the DUKE.) DUKE (having first looked at HOST). It is too silly. Leocadie was made to be the greatest, the most splendid whore in the world. FRANCOIS. Who doesn't know that? DUKE. Could anything be more unreasonable than to take people away from their true calling? (As FRANCOIS laughs.) I am not joking. Whores are born, not made--just as conquerors and poets are. FRANCOIS. You are paradoxical. DUKE. I am sorry for her, and for Henri. He should stay here--no, not here--I should like to bring him to the Comedie--though even there--I always feel as though nobody understood him as well as I do. Of course, that may be an illusion, since I have the same feeling in regard to most artists. But I must say if I were not the Duc de Cadignan, I should really like to be a comedian like him--like him, I say ...