I!
The Man.
Yes. And see how people are bowing down to us, and whispering about us, and pointing us out with their fingers. Here is a city father shedding tears of joy as he exclaims, "Happy is our town to have been the birthplace of such children!" Here, too, a certain young man turns pale with emotion as he gazes upon his handiwork; for fortune has smiled upon him at last, and he has built a City Hall that is the pride of all the land.
His Wife.
Yes, even as you are my pride. And even as I have placed this wreath of oak-leaves upon your head, so will the day come when you are accorded one of laurels.
The Man.
But look again. Here are other magnates of my native town advancing to pay me their respects. They make low bows—yes, to the very ground—and say, "Our town rejoices at having been accorded the honour of——"
His Wife.
Oh!
The Man.