Weathervane. Hélas! I am not a Frenchman!
Indolent. What makes you groan so?
Weathervane (sorrowfully). I am a Russian, and that is a burden on my heart.
Indolent. And so you regard it an insult to be a Russian? A fine distinguished nobleman!
Weathervane. I am very, very glad, on ne peut plus, that I have pleased you, monsieur; que vous avez the same thoughts as I. How can we best prove our nobility? By not knowing Russian, despising all that is ours,—those are the veritable signs of our descent.
Indolent. Though I cannot understand everything you say, since I do not know any foreign words, yet by the marks....
Weathervane. Vous vous moquez, monsieur. You do know French.
Indolent (angrily). No, no, no!
Weathervane. At your age, monsieur, it is not proper for you to deceive me. You speak French like a Frenchman, or like myself.
Indolent (impatiently). Wife, assure him of it, and put a stop to this nonsense.