Damas. Is he good-looking?

Mme. Deschap. I never notice such canaille--an ugly, mean-looking clown,
if I remember right.

Damas. Yet I heard your porter say he was wonderfully like his highness.

Mel. [taking snuff]. You are complimentary.

Mme. Deschap. For shame, cousin Damas!--like the Prince, indeed!

Pauline. Like you! Ah, mother, like our beautiful prince!
I'll never speak to you again, cousin Damas.

Mel. [aside]. Humph!--rank is a great beautifier! I never passed
for an Apollo while I was a peasant; if I am so handsome as a prince,
what should I be as an emperor! [Aloud.] Monsieur Beauseant,
will you honor me? [Offers snuff.

Beau. No, your highness; I have no small vices.

Mel. Nay, if it were a vice, you'd be sure to have it, Monsieur Beauseant.

Mme. Deschap. Ha! ha!--how very severe!--what wit!

Beau. [in a rage and aside]. Curse his impertinence!

Mme. Deschap. What a superb snuff-box! Pauline. And what
a beautiful ring!