I am his son.

THE YOUNG MAN.

Well! Feeble, feverish, dreaming of the past, Like you rebellious, what is left to do?-- We're all, to some extent, your father's sons.

THE DUKE.

You are his soldiers' sons: that's just as glorious.

And 'tis no less redoubtable a burden; But it emboldens me, for I can say They're but the sons of heroes of the empire: They'll be content to take the Emperor's son!

THE COUNTESS CAMERATA.

[_Coming out of_ MARIA LOUISA'S _apartments._]

The scarf!--Oh, hush! I'm doing such a trade!

THE DUKE.

Thank you!

THE COUNTESS.

I only wish 'twere selling swords!

That silly baby-talk will be my death.

THE DUKE.

Warlike, I know.

A VOICE.

[_Within._]

The scarf!

THE COUNTESS.

I'm looking for it!

THE DUKE.

It seems this little hand can tame--

THE COUNTESS.

I love A fiery horse.

THE DUKE.

You're mistress of the foils?

THE COUNTESS.

And of the sword!

THE DUKE.

Ready for anything?

THE COUNTESS.

[_Speaking toward the room._]

Indeed, I'm looking for it everywhere.

[_To the_ DUKE.]

Ready for anything for your Imperial Highness.

THE DUKE.

You're lion-hearted, Cousin!

THE COUNTESS.

And my name Is glorious.

THE DUKE.

Which name?

THE COUNTESS.

Napoleone!

SCARAMPI'S VOICE.

[_Within._]

Well? Can't you find it?

THE COUNTESS.

No.

A VOICE.

Look on the piano.