PRINCE (turning his eyes a moment from the picture).
What do you say, Conti? What was your enquiry?
CONTI.
Oh, nothing--nothing; mere idle observations! Your soul, I observe, was wholly in your eyes. I like such souls and such eyes.
PRINCE (affecting coldness).
And so, Conti, you really consider Emilia Galotti amongst the first beauties of our city.
CONTI.
Amongst them? Amongst the first? The first of our city? You jest, Prince, or your eyesight must have been all this time as insensible as your hearing.
PRINCE.
Dear Conti (again fixing his eyes on the picture), how can we uninitiated trust our eyes? In fact, none but an artist can judge of beauty.