SCENE III.--_The same.

_Enter_ SCYTHE, _with glass. He seats himself in a corner, observes the moon, and takes notes. Enter_ BLUEGRASS _and_ NINON, _who do not observe him_.

BLUEGRASS.

We have tripped into the hour of midnight, the fairies’ hour. Now the fairest face, night-blooming like a mystic flower, may unmask its sweetness.

NINON.

Charmant! Monsieur Rainbow, you delight me all ze night.

BLUEGRASS.

Here I’ll unmask, for your two eyes have kindled a flame in my breast such as could not be lighted by all the stars burning in yonder heavens.

[_He unmasks._

NINON.

Monsieur Rainbow, you is ze fiery lover,--ze grand gentleman. Take away ze bad mask.

BLUEGRASS.

In the nineteenth century, bright little sister of Venus, I’ll unmask you.

[_He unmasks and kisses her._

NINON.

Très joli! Oh, Monsieur Rainbow, you is ze grand American lover.

BLUEGRASS.

You are the sweetest little maid upon this magnificent star of ours.

NINON.

Charmant! Monsieur, you are ze Rainbow more sparkling zan ze wine-cup.

BLUEGRASS.

There is a wine finer than that of the grape to-night. Let this sparkling envelope of air be our distraction. See, Ninon, how it holds this globe like a cup star-jewelled, and proffered to our senses with all its myriad distilments of rapturous motions, varied colors, gladsome odors, and sweet sounds.

NINON.

Monsieur Rainbow, we will drink from zat cup, and hunt ze buffalo in ze West. Magnifique!

BLUEGRASS.

[_Aside_] Beautiful simplicity! Arcadia had no better than this untutored Parisian. [_Aloud_] Dear Ninon, the advance-guard and keen-eyed pickets of civilization have driven the buffalo from our future home in Cornville; but you shall have amusement.

NINON.

[_Aside_] Oh, he is ze grand American lover!

BLUEGRASS.

Ninon, in Paris were you ever courted,--that is to say, were you ever in a court of love or law?

NINON.

Why, Major Bluegrass, I did not know ze court was for ze love. I thought ze court was only for ze law.

BLUEGRASS.

Give me simplicity! O Love, the entangler, do not unravel us! Let no frog croak in Cornville.

SCYTHE _takes a glance at them through his glass_.

NINON.

Très beau! Good Monsieur Rainbow, ze frog is ze great beau in ze springtime, with his fine green coat and gold buttons.

BLUEGRASS.

Now I remember me, the frog has a gallant look when the spring is in the meadows and the banks are grassy. Now I remember me more closely, he also has a romantic look; for once, when a boy, I watched him sitting, like a sybarite Turk, upon a dewy bank in the pale moonlight, enjoying the downward fragrance of an o’erbending lily, which o’er him hung like a wedding bell. He gazed upon the moon sailing above him, and then upon the moon below him, glistening in the pond which was his bed,--Neptune’s trundle-bed, made for frogs,--until, between these two perplexities of light, his eyes like diamonds shone. Shall I halt here?

SCYTHE _looks at the earth and moon alternately with his glass_.

NINON.

No, no, dear Monsieur; go on, good Monsieur Rainbow. I have ze grand interest. His eyes shone like ze diamonds, ze beautiful diamonds. Superbe!

BLUEGRASS.

Well, his eyes, like twin solitaires encrusted in rims of red gold, shone more translucently than any that e’er sparkled in the betrothal ring of an expectant bride. It seems this gentleman in green had grown fixedly practical between the real moon and the ideal moon, and would not have an ideal when he had not the real; for he, poor frog, like some of our practical humans, did not know that the ideal moon in a pond was much finer than a pond in the real moon. Now do I see him, as plainly as if it were to-night, there coolly sitting and meditating, quite philosophical.

NINON.

Oui, oui; zat was a foolish froggie, Monsieur Rainbow. Beware of ze philosophy. Ah, Major Bluegrass, you have ze fervent language zat thrills me.

BLUEGRASS.

Dear Ninon, my description, like your own pretty costume with all its frills, tucks, and love-knots, has a moral with it. Before this philosophic gentleman in green had reconciled himself to an ideal, a flying cloud curtained the moon; and thus in his philosophy he let bright opportunity slip, and went dark below.

SCYTHE _discontinues using glass_.

NINON.

Oui, oui; too true. I pity ze poor froggie.

BLUEGRASS.

Dear Ninon, render him no pity; for although I was but a green boy, I then resolved that opportunity was greater than philosophy. Ninon, yonder glorious moon shines brightly as on that memorable night in the meadows. ’Tis a bright opportunity; let me kiss thee again.

NINON.

Pardon, sweet Monsieur Rainbow; wait for ze grand opportunity when ze honeymoon upon our wedding shines; then you shall have ze thousand kisses. Charmant!

[_Exeunt._