Gla. Yes,—Beauseant, Glavis, and Co., manufacturers of princes, wholesale and retail,—an uncommonly genteel line of business. But why so grave?
Beau. You think only of the sport,—I of the revenge. [Exeunt within the Inn.
SCENE III.
The interior of MELNOTTE’S cottage; flowers placed here and there; a guitar on an oaken table, with a portfolio, etc.; a picture on an easel, covered by a curtain; fencing foils crossed over the mantelpiece; an attempt at refinement in site of the homeliness of the furniture, etc.; a staircase to the right conducts to the upper story.
[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?