Part 2 (1/2)

Oh, oh, whence comes this ill temper?

NATHANAEL (to Hoffmann).

It's as if one did not know you.

HERMANN.

On what thorn have you trod?

HOFFMANN.

Alas, on a dead herb With the iced breath of the north.

NICKLAUSSE.

And there by this door, On a drunkard who sleeps.

HOFFMANN.

'Tis true... that rascal, by Jove, I envy him.

A drink. Like him, let's sleep in the gutter.

HERMANN.

Without pillow.

HOFFMANN.

The flags.

NATHANAEL.

Without curtains.

HOFFMANN.

The sky.

NATHANAEL.

The rain.