SCA. Well, Silvestre, what are our people doing?

SIL. I have two things to tell you. One is that Octave is all right; our Hyacintha is, it seems, the daughter of GÉronte, and chance has brought to pass what the wisdom of the fathers had decided. The other, that the old men threaten you with the greatest punishments—particularly Mr. GÉronte.

SCA. Oh, that's nothing. Threats have never done me any harm as yet; they are but clouds which pass away far above our heads.

SIL. You had better take care. The sons may get reconciled to their fathers, and leave you in the lurch.

SCA. Leave that to me. I shall find the means of soothing their anger, and....

SIL. Go away; I see them coming.