Leopold: If it is a ransom you seek, my uncle won't pay a cent. Except, perhaps, for my demise.

Leopold: As I see it, Patrice has not an inkling of your affections, and it's no wonder. You, Charles, are a merry-andrew.

Charlie: A what?

Leopold: Everything plays a farce to you. Women respond to sincerity. No-one wants to be romanced by a buffoon.