Damas. What's all that whispering? I am sure there is some juggle here:
hang me, if I think he is an Italian after all. Gad, I'll try him.
Servitore umillissimo, Eccellenza.*
(* Your Excellency's most humble servant.)

Mel. Hum--what does he mean, I wonder?

Damas. Godo di vedervi in buona salute.*
(* I am glad to see you in good health.)

Mel. Hem--hem!

Damas. Fa bel tempo--the si dice di nuovo? *
(* Fine weather. What news is there?)

Mel. Well, sir, what's all that gibberish?

Damas. Oh, oh!--only Italian, your highness!--The Prince of Como
does not understand his own language!

Mel. Not as you pronounce it; who the deuce could?

Mme. Deschap. Ha! ha! cousin Damas, never pretend to what
you don't know.

Pauline. Ha! ha! cousin Damas; you speak Italian, indeed!

[Makes a mocking gesture at him.