Gentz.
Elssler? Won't love me. I'm ridiculous
From every point of view. She loves the Duke.
I'm but a screen; but I'm content to suffer
When I remember how it serves the state
If he's amused. And so I play the fool,
And dance attendance on the little dancer.
She bade me bring her here this very night,
Just to surprise the Duke.
Metternich.
You scandalize me.
Gentz.
His mother's going out. There's dancing.
[He hands Metternich a letter which he has
taken out of a pocket-book.]
Read—
From Fouché's son.
Metternich.
[Reading the letter.] August the twentieth,
Eighteen hundred and thirty—
Gentz.
He'd transform—
Metternich.
Good Viscount of Otranto!
Gentz.
Our Duke of Reichstadt to Napoleon Two.
Metternich.
[Handing back the letter.]
A list of partisans?
Gentz.
Yes.
Metternich.
Make a note.
Gentz.
Do we refuse?
Metternich.
Without destroying hope.
Ah, but my little Colonel serves me well
To keep these Frenchmen straight. When they forget
Their Metternich, and lean too much to the left,
I let him show his nose out of his box, and—crack!—
When they come right, I pop him in again!
Gentz.
When can one see the springs work?
Metternich.
Now.
[Enter the French Attaché.
Metternich.
The Envoy
Of General Belliard. Welcome, sir.
[Hands him papers.] The papers.
We accept in principle King Louis Philip;
But don't let's have too much of '99,
Or we might crack a little egg-shell!
The Attaché.
Sir,
Are you alluding to Prince Francis Charles?
Metternich.
The Duke of Reichstadt? Oh, sir, as for me,
I don't admit his father reigned.
The Attaché.
[Generously.]
I do.
Metternich.
So I'll do nothing for the Duke. Yet—
The Attaché.
Yet?
Metternich.
Yet, should you give too loose a reign to freedom,
Permit yourself the slightest propaganda,
Let Monsieur Royer-Collard come too often
And bare his bosom to your king; in short,
If your new kingdom's too republican,
We might—our temper's not angelical—
We might remember Francis is our grandson.
The Attaché.
Our lilies never shall turn red.
Metternich.
And while
They keep their whiteness bees shall not approach them.
The Attaché.
'Tis feared in spite of you the Duke may hope.
Metternich.
No.
The Attaché.
Things are happening.
Metternich.
But we filter them.
The Attaché.
Doesn't he know that France has changed her king?
Metternich.
Yes; but the detail he does not yet know
Is that his father's flag, the tricolor,
Is re-established. 'Twill be time enough—
The Attaché.
He would be drunk with hope!
Metternich.
We'll keep him sober.
The Attaché.
He's not so strictly guarded here at Baden.
Metternich.
Oh, here there's nought to fear. He's with his mother.
The Attaché.
Well, sir?
Metternich.
What spy could have such interest
In watching him? For any plot would trouble
Her lovely calm.
The Attaché.
Is not that calmness feigned?
She cannot have a thought but for her eaglet!
Maria Louisa.
[Entering hurriedly.
My parrot!
The Attaché.
[Starting.]
Eh?
Maria Louisa.
[To Metternich.]
Margharitina's flown!
Metternich.
Oh!
Maria Louisa.
My parrot, Margharitina!
Metternich.
[To the Attaché.]
There, sir!
The Attaché.
[To Maria Louisa.]
May I not seek it, Highness?
Maria Louisa.
[Curtly.]
No. [She goes out.
The Attaché.
[To Metternich.]
What's wrong?
Metternich.
We say, Your Majesty; you called her Highness.
The Attaché.
But if we don't allow the Emperor reigned
She cannot be addressed as Majesty
Except as Parma's Duchess—
Metternich.
That's her title.
The Attaché.
Then that was why she looked such daggers at me!
Metternich.
Question of protocols and of precedence.
The Attaché.
[Preparing to take his leave.]
May the French Embassy from this day forward
Display the tricolor cockade?
Metternich.
[With a sigh.] Of course,
Since we're agreed—
[Seeing the Attaché silently throw away the
white cockade which was on his hat and replace
it with a tricolor which he takes out of his
pocket.]
Come, come! You lose no time!
[Noise of harness-bells without.]
Metternich.
What is it now?
Gentz.
[Who is on the terrace.]
The guests of the Archduke.
The Meyendorffs, Lord Cowley, Thalberg—
Bombelles.
[Who has quickly come in R. at the sound of the
bells, followed by Tiburtius.]
Meet them!
The Archduchess.
[Appearing on the threshold surrounded by a
crowd of lords and ladies in elegant summer
costumes. (Light dresses and parasols; large
hats.) Two little boys and a little girl dressed in the
latest fashion.]
'Tis but a villa; not a palace.
[The room is crowded. She turns to a young
man.]
Quick!
Thalberg, my Tarantelle!
[Thalberg sits at the piano and plays.]
[To Metternich.] Where is her Majesty,
My lovely sister?
A Lady.
We looked in to fetch her.
Another Lady.
We're rushing through the valley on a coach.
Sandor is driving.
A Man's Voice.
We must thrust the lava
Back in its crater!
The Archduchess.
Oh! do hold your tongues
They will insist on talking of volcanoes.
Bombelles.
What's this volcano?
A Lady.
[To another.]
Astrachan this winter.
Sandor.
[To Bombelles.]
Why, liberal opinions.
Bombelles.
Ah!
Lord Cowley.
Or, rather, France!
/>
Metternich.
[To the Attaché.]
You hear him?
A Lady.
[To a young man.]
Montenegro, sing to me
Under your breath, for me alone.
Montenegro.
[Whom Thalberg accompanies, sings very softly.]
Corazon—
[He continues, pianissimo.]
Another Lady.
[To Gentz.]
Ah, Gentz!
[She dips into her reticule.]
Some bon-bons, Gentz?
[She gives him some.]
Gentz.
You are an angel.
Another Lady.
[Similar business.]
Perfume from Paris?
[She takes out a little bottle of scent and gives it to him.]
Metternich.
[Hurriedly to Gentz.]
Tear the label off!
"The Reichstadt scent"!
Gentz.
[Smelling perfume.]
It smells of violets.
Metternich.
[Snatches the bottle out of his hand and scrapes
the label off with a pair of scissors he takes from
the table.]
If the Duke came he'd see that still at Paris—
A Voice.
[Among the group at the back of the stage.]
The Hydra lifts its head—
A Lady.
Our husbands talk
Of Hydras!
Lord Cowley.
And it must be stifled.
A Lady.
Yes;
Volcanoes first, then hydras.
A Maid of Honor of Maria Louisa.
[Followed by a servant bringing a tray with large
glasses of iced coffee.]
Eis-Kaffee?
The Archduchess.
[Seated; to a young lady.]
Recite some verses, Olga.
Gentz.
May we have
Something of Heine's?
Several Voices.
Yes!
Olga.
[Rising.]
The Grenadiers?
Metternich.
[Quickly.]
Oh! No!
Scarampi.
[Coming out of Maria Louisa's apartment.]
Her Majesty is on her way!
All.
Scarampi!
Sandor.
We'll drive out to Krainerhütten,
The ladies there can rest upon the green.
Metternich.
[To Gentz.]
What are you reading yonder?
Gentz.
The "Debats."
Lord Cowley.
The politics?
Gentz.
The Theatres.
The Archduchess.
How futile!
Gentz.
Guess what they're playing at the Vaudeville.
Metternich.
Well?
Gentz.
"Bonaparte."
Metternich.
[With indifference.]
Oh?
Gentz.
The Nouveautés?
Metternich.
Well?
Gentz.
"Bonaparte." And the Variétés?
"Napoleon." The Luxembourg announces
"Fourteen years of his life." At the Gymnase
They are reviving the "Return from Russia."
What is the Gaiety to play this season?
"Napoleon's Coachman" and "La Malmaison."
An unknown author's done "Saint Helena."
The Porte-Saint-Martin's going to produce
"Napoleon."
Lord Cowley.
It's the fashion.
Tiburtius.
It's the rage.
Gentz.
The Ambigu "Murat;" the Cirque "The Emperor."
Sandor.
A fashion.
Bombelles.
Yes, a fashion.
Gentz.
Yes, a fashion
Which will recur from time to time in France.
A Lady.
[Reading the paper over Gentz's shoulder through
a long-handled eye-glass.]
They want to bring his ashes home.
Metternich.
The Phœnix
May rise again, but not the eagle.
Tiburtius.
What
An unknown quantity is France!
Metternich.
Oh, no;
I've gauged it.
A Lady.
Well, then, mighty prophet, speak!
The Archduchess.
His words are graven in bronze.
Gentz.
Or, maybe, zinc.
Lord Cowley.
Who will be France's Saviour?
Metternich.
Henry the Fifth.
The others—Fashion.
Theresa.
That's a useful name
For calling glory by at times.
Metternich.
So long
As all the shouting's only done in theatres,
I think there's no—
Cries.
[Without.]
Long live Napoleon!
All.
What?—Here, at Baden!—Here!
Metternich.
Ridiculous!
Pray, have no fear!
Lord Cowley.
We must not lose our heads
Because a name is shouted.
Gentz.
He is dead.
Tiburtius.
[On the terrace.]
It's nothing.
Metternich.
Yes, but what?
Tiburtius.
An Austrian soldier.
Metternich.
Austrian?
Tiburtius.
Two of them. I saw them.
Metternich.
Vexing!
Maria Louisa.
[Entering hurriedly and pale with fear from her room.]
Did you not hear the shout? Oh, horrible!
It brought to mind—One day the people surged
About my coach in Parma with that cry!
It's done to vex me!
Metternich.
What could it have meant?
Tiburtius.
Two of the Duke of Reichstadt's regiment
Caught sight of him as he was riding homeward.
You know the deep ditch bordering the road?
His Highness wished to leap it, but his horse
Shied, swerved, and backed. The Duke sat firm,
And brought him to it again, and—over! Then
The men, to applaud him, shouted. And that's all.
Metternich.
[To a lackey.]
L'Aiglon Page 2