Stella.—What is it?
Czeska.—To-morrow we must make some collections for them, and provide them with clothing.
Doctor.—I will go with you, ladies. It will be the first case in which misery did not search for the doctor, but the doctor searched for misery.
Czeska.—Very clever.
Prince (rapping with the stick).—Pretwic!
George.—Your Highness, what do you order?
Prince.—You say that this rabble is very poor?
George.—Very poor, indeed.
Prince.—You say that they have nothing to eat?
George.—Almost nothing, my prince.