Lustucru. Do not reflect on my hash, madame, because your Cat objects to it. Moumouth never had good taste.
Michel. Humph! I suppose that is because he never took a fancy to you. I think he has very good taste; he adores me.
Lustucru. Vanity! vanity!
Michel (fiercely). Egotism! egotism!
Lustucru. Mother Michel, beware!
Michel. Father Lustucru, take heed!
Lustucru. B-e-w-a-r-e, woman!
Michel. Man, take heed!
[They burst into duo, same as Act II. Tune—"Dairy-maid am I." Curtain falls on them highly irate.]