[Shout without]. "Long live Claude Melnotte!" "Long live the Prince!"

The Widow Mel. Hark!--there's my dear son;--carried off the prize,
I'm sure; and now he'll want to treat them all.

Claude Mel. [opening the door]. What! you will not come in,
my friends! Well, well,there's a trifle to make merry elsewhere.
Good day to you all,--good day!

[Shout]. "Hurrah! Long live Prince Claude!"

Enter CLAUDE MELNOTTE, with a rifle in his hand.

Mel. Give me joy, dear mother!--I've won the prize!--never missed
one shot! Is it not handsome, this gun?

Widow. Humph!--Well, what is it worth, Claude?

Mel. Worth! What is a riband worth to a soldier? Worth! everything!
Glory is priceless!

Widow. Leave glory to great folks. Ah! Claude, Claude, castles in
the air cost a vast deal to keep up! How is all this to end?
What good does it do thee to learn Latin, and sing songs,
and play on the guitar, and fence, and dance, and paint pictures?
All very fine; but what does it bring in?

Mel. Wealth! wealth, my mother! Wealth to the mind--wealth to the heart--
high thoughts--bright dreams--the hope of fame--the ambition to be
worthier to love Pauline.