The little Marquis

Von Langenau repositions himself in his saddle and says:

"Marquis..."

At first his neighbor, the fine little Frenchman,

had spoken and laughed for three days.

Now he knows nothing anymore.

He is like a child who wants to sleep.

Dust is settling on his fine white lace collar;

he does not notice it. He is slowly wilting

in his velvety saddle.

But von Langenau smiles and says:

"You have strange eyes, Marquis.

No doubt you resemble your mother.-"

At that the little one blossoms one more time

and dusts off his collar and is as new.