[to the chickens]

...Is he gone? [seeing he is, hurried outside, a bucket of chickens feed in her hand] Can you imagine? He asked me to marry him. Me, the wife of that boorish, brainless? [walks of the animals, and feeding the chickens, singing]
Madame Gaston, can't you just see it?
Madame Gaston, his little wife. [kicks the buckets, the chickens clucking and goats bleats]
No sir, not me, I guarantee it.
I want much more than this provincial life.