I have no doubt it was meant for a purely operatic Faust.

A light mantle floated from his shoulders.

He strode theatrically up to our table and addressing me as "Young Ulysses" proposed I should go outside on the fields of asphalt and help him gather a few marguerites to decorate a truly infernal supper which was being organized across the road at the Maison Doree--upstairs.

With expostulatory shakes of the head and indignant glances I called his attention to the fact that I was not alone.

He stepped back a pace as if astonished by the discovery, took off his plumed velvet toque with a low obeisance so that the feathers swept the floor, and swaggered off the stage with his left hand resting on the hilt of the property dagger at his belt.
Meantime the well-connected but rustic Mills had been busy lighting his briar and the distinguished Captain sat smiling to himself.