Mrs. M. O, Munseer Adonis!
Eva. Politest of Frenchmen.
Ida. Paragon of dancing-masters.
Mons. A. Pardon me, charmant medmoiselles and adorable madam, if ze modest blush of shame paint my cheek wiz ze hues of ze roses. I am ze humble instrument of ze divine art which gives ze grace to ze figure, and ze airy lightness to ze beautiful toes of madam and ze charmant medmoiselles.
Eva. Now, Munseer Adonis, we are all impatience. When will the dance begin?
Mons. A. On ze instant. Ze company have assemble in ze grande salon. When madam and her friends make ze grande entrée, zen will ze music strike ze signal.
Ida. We are all ready.
Mrs. M. Munseer Adonis, one word with you.
Mons. A. Wiz ze uttermost pleasure. Am I not ze slave of ze matchless madam (aside) and her money. (They retire up stage, and converse.)
Dasher. Miss Eva, I must have an interview with you this evening. I have much to say. Meet me here in half an hour.