Widow. So, I think that looks very neat. He sent me a line, so blotted that I can scarcely read it, to say he would be here almost immediately. She must have loved him well indeed to have forgotten his birth; for though he was introduced to her in disguise, he is too honorable not to have revealed to her the artifice; which her love only could forgive. Well, I do not wonder at it; for though my son is not a prince, he ought to be one, and that's almost as good. [Knock at door.] Ah! here they are.
Enter Melnotte and Pauline
Widow. Oh, my boy—the pride of my heart!—welcome, welcome. I beg pardon, ma'am, but I do love him so!
Pauline. Good woman, I really—why, Prince, what is this?—does the old lady know you? Oh, I guess you have done her some service. Another proof of your kind heart; is it not?
Mel. Of my kind heart, ay!
Pauline. So you know the Prince?
Widow. Know him, madam? Ah, I begin to fear it is you who know him not!
Pauline. Can we stay here, my lord? I think there's something very wild about her.
Mel. Madam, I—no, I cannot tell her; what a coward is a man who has lost his honor! Speak to her—speak to her—[to his mother] tell her that—O Heaven, that I were dead!
Pauline. How confused he looks!—this strange place!—this woman—what can it mean?—I half suspect—who are you, madam?—who are you? can't you speak? are you struck dumb?