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!
Mel. You like the box—a trifle—interesting perhaps from associations— a present from Louis XIV. to my great-great grandmother. Honor me by—accepting it.