MADAME DE KRIEGSCHENMAHL:
Do you think that the one wouldn't be as agreeable as the other?
SIGNORA FANTASTICI: Well! Madame. Play the great flirts. I abdicate and I give them to you.
MR. DE KRIEGSCHENMAHL:
What now, Madame De Kriegschenmahl?
MADAME DE KRIEGSCHENMAHL: Dear spouse, control your jealous transports. I will be a flirt only on the stage. Everywhere else—you know me.
SIGNORA FANTASTICI: Now then, here we are all content and we are going to celebrate suitably, the triumph of poetry over prose.