So! The red wine here, The white wine there! (_To a fallen bottle._) Stand up, Aristocrat! LALAIN The sun is high! [_He approaches the terrace and addresses the nearest lackey._ How long must I await The pleasure of Monsieur the Baron here? THE LACKEY Monsieur? LALAIN Go, fellow, go! and to him say, Rémond Lalain— THE LACKEY I go, monsieur! [_Exit the lackey._ LALAIN ‘Tis well, René de Vardes, to keep me waiting thus! [GRÉGOIRE _pours wine into a glass and descending the steps offers it to_ LALAIN. GRÉGOIRE The old vintage, Monsieur Lalain! LALAIN Thanks, friend. The day is warm. [_He raises the glass to his lips. Laughter and voices from the winding garden paths._ What’s that? GRÉGOIRE (_shrugging_) More guests, no doubt! The count, the vidame, and the young marquise! All Morbihan felicitates Morbec, And brings our baron bonbons and bouquets, As if there were no hunger and no frost! [_A distant sound from the wood of harsh and complaining voices._ LALAIN And that? GRÉGOIRE Soldiers and huntsmen beat the woods; For half the village is in hiding there, Having assayed last night to burn Morbec! As if ‘twould burn! This time the soldiers came! Mon Dieu! the times are bad. LALAIN (_abruptly_) All the village! Did Yvette Charruel— GRÉGOIRE (_shrugging_) Yvette! FIRST LACKEY (_from the terrace_) Yvette! SECOND LACKEY I warrant monseigneur will hang Yvette! [LALAIN _pours the wine upon the ground and throws the glass from him. It shatters against the balustrade. Laughter and voices. Guests appear in the garden walks, the women in swelling skirts of silk or muslin, powdered hair and large hats; the men in brocade and silk with cane swords, or in hunting dress._ A LADY (_curtseying_) Monsieur le Vicomte! A GENTLEMAN (_bowing_) Madame la Baronne! MME. DE MALESTROIT A heavenly day.