Scene: The same as in the previous act.
A miscellaneous crowd of men, women and children are discovered on the rising of the curtain. They are being placed in order by anOfficer.
The Officer.Line up. Be quiet. Boy, behave yourself.The Emperor enters here; so leave a passage.You, giant Highlander, don't scrape your feet.A Man.Will he pass here?The Officer.Yes; and he'll take your papers.Hold your petitions so that he can see them.No tedious twaddle—Ah!—and you're forbiddenTo kneel when he comes in.A Woman.Forbidden or not,That won't prevent us—[TheEmperorenters quite simply, without beingannounced. All the people, in spite of the warning,fall on their knees.]The Emperor.Rise, my children, rise.[He passes from one to the other, taking theirpapers. To aWoman.]Your pension's doubled.The Woman.Sire!The Emperor.[To aMan.]What? What? A teamOf oxen? That's expensive!—Granted.The Man.Father!The Emperor.[Reading another paper.]Granted.A Woman.Father Franz—The Emperor.What, you? All wellAt home?The Woman.Oh, so-so.The Emperor.Well, old woman? Well?The Old Woman.Why, don't you see, the wind has killed my chickens.The Emperor.Granted.—A vocalist?The Vocalist.I yodle.The Emperor.ComeAnd yodle to the Court at Baden.The Chamberlain.Name?The Vocalist.Schnauser.The Emperor.A Highlander?The Highlander.Out yonderMy home is, on the mountains, in the skies.I want to be a cabman in Vienna.The Emperor.Well, so you shall.[Taking another paper.]A wealthy husbandmanBegs Franz to give him back his daughter's loveWhich a Bohemian glass-blower has stolen.[Handing back the paper.]You'll wed your child to her Bohemian lover.The Husbandman.But—The Emperor.I'll endow him.The Chamberlain.Name?The Husbandman.Johannes Schmoll.I kiss your hands.The Emperor.[Taking another paper.]"A shepherd of the Tyrol,A friendless orphan, robbed of all his land,Driven from his homestead by his father's foes,Yearns for his native woods and skies"—how touching!—"And his paternal meadow." 'Tis restored.The Chamberlain.What is the shepherd's name, who asks for help?The Shepherd.The Duke of Reichstadt! And the meadow's France!The Emperor.[To thePetitioners.]Begone![All go.]What's this?The Duke.It seems if I were onlyA mountain shepherd or a forester,With nothing to attract your notice, Sire,Save a cock's feather in my huntsman's hat,You would have drawn me to your melting heart.The Emperor.But Franz—!The Duke.Ah, now I know why all your subjects,All those who are unhappy, call themselvesYour sons as much as we; but is it just,Sire, is it just, that I, when I'm unhappy,Have less of kinship than the least of these?The Emperor.But why just now—for I must scold you, sir—When I was busy with these wretched people—Why come to me just now, and not in private?The Duke.I wished to find you when your heart was open.The Emperor.My heart—my heart!—You're somewhat over-bold!The Duke.I know that you can do the thing I ask,That I am wretched almost past endurance,And that you are my Grandfather—that's all.The Emperor.But there is Europe—England—above all,There's Metternich.The Duke.You are my Grandfather.The Emperor.You don't know half the difficulties.The Duke.ButI am the grandson of your Majesty.The Emperor.But—The Duke.Sire, in whom alone I place my trust,Be Grandfather a little while!The Emperor.But I—The Duke.Just for a moment drop the Emperor.The Emperor.Ah, what a coaxing way you always had.The Duke.You know I cannot bear you when you lookLike the great portrait hanging in the throne-room,With the ermine cloak and Golden Fleece upon you;But here, like this, I like you very much.With the dear silver of your floating hair,Your kindly eyes, your simple coat and waistcoat;For now you're just a dear old gentleman,By whom a grandchild might be petted.The Emperor.Petted!The Duke.Are you not bored to see the heavy jowlsOf Louis-Philip on the coins of France?The Emperor.Hush! hush!The Duke.Do you adore these podgy Bourbons?The Emperor.You are not like your cousins the Archdukes.The Duke.Indeed?The Emperor.Where did you learn your saucy tricks?The Duke.I learnt them playing in the Tuileries.The Emperor.Ah, you come back to that?The Duke.I wish I could.The Emperor.Can you recall those days?The Duke.Oh, only vaguely.The Emperor.Can you recall your father?The Duke.I rememberA man who pressed me hard against a star,And as he pressed I felt with tears of frightThe diamond star was stamped upon my heart:Sire, it has stayed there!The Emperor.Do I blame you for it?The Duke.Yes, let the goodness of your nature speak!When I was small you loved me, did you not?You loved to have me with you at your meals,And so we used to dine together—The Emperor.Charming.The Duke.My hair was long, and I was Prince of Parma;And when they punished me you let me off.The Emperor.Do you remember how you hated ponies?The Duke.One day they showed me one as white as snow;I stamped with fury in the riding-school.The Emperor.You thought a pony was a deadly insult.The Duke.I cried with rage: I want a great, big horse!The Emperor.And now you want another great, big horse!The Duke.And how I used to beat my German nurses.The Emperor.And how with Colin you would calmly digEnormous holes about my park—The Duke.For Crusoe.The Emperor.He was Man Friday.The Duke.And I used to hide.I had a gun, three hatchets and a bow.The Emperor.Then you stood sentinel before my door.The Duke.As a hussar.The Emperor.And ladies, coming late,Found this excuse quite natural:—"Oh, Sire,We only stopped to kiss the sentinel!"The Duke.You loved me then.The Emperor.I love you now.The Duke.Then prove it!The Emperor.My Franz! my grandson!The Duke.Is it true the KingWould simply disappear if I appeared?The Emperor.Well—The Duke.Is it true?The Emperor.I—The Duke.Don't tell lies!The Emperor.Perhaps!The Duke.I love you!The Emperor.Yes; if you appeared alone,Without a drum, upon the bridge at Strassburg,The King would vanish.The Duke.I adore you, Grandad!The Emperor.I'm stifled!The Duke.No.The Emperor.I should have held my tongue.The Duke.Besides, the climate of Vienna's bad:I'm ordered Paris—The Emperor.Really?The Duke.For my cough.If I'm to spend a season there, of courseI can't stop anywhere but at the Louvre.The Emperor.Indeed!The Duke.And if you liked—The Emperor.They've often begged usTo wink at your escaping—The Duke.Wink at once!The Emperor.Oh, for all me—The Duke.There's no one else.The Emperor.I'll think.The Duke.Don't think! Don't think those horrid second thoughts!Consult your feelings only, and your heart,'Twould be so pretty if an Emperor onceUpset all history to spoil his grandson.And then it's something, something rather fine,If you can just remark quite innocently,Youknow: "My Grandson, Emperor of the French."The Emperor.Certainly.The Duke.And you'll say it! Say you'll say it!The Emperor.Well—The Duke.Speak, Sire!The Emperor.Yes, then—Sire!The Duke.Ah, Sire![They salute each other as equals.]The Emperor.Sire!The Duke.Sire![A door opens.]The Emperor.Metternich. Have no fear; I'll—The Duke.All is lost![EnterMetternich.]The Emperor.It is my will this child shall reign.Metternich.Delightful.I'll tell your partisans at once.The Duke.I feared.The Emperor.What should you fear? Am I not master here?The Duke.Whom will you send me as Ambassador?Metternich.Delightful.The Duke.And you'll visit me in state?The Emperor.Yes, very likely; when the chambers rise.Metternich.We'll only ask some trifling guarantees.The Duke.Ask what you like.The Emperor.Well? are you happy?Metternich.FirstWe'll come to terms on trivial points of detail:Certain seditious groups should be dissolved:Our neighbors must not harbor thunderbolts.The Duke.Dear grandfather!Metternich.Ah—then we're very wearyOf hearing of the Heroes of July.The Duke.But—Metternich.Now the imperialists and radicalsAre linked: we'll cut the link; we cannot favorThe dangerous modern spirit. We'll expelLammenais.The Duke.But—Metternich.And Chateaubriand. Ah—We'll also put a muzzle on the press.The Duke.Oh, there's no hurry.The Emperor.Pardon me, there is.The Duke.Pardon me, that's attacking freedom.The Emperor.Freedom!Metternich.Ah—we must have free hand in Italy.Ah—not so much excitement about Poland.The Duke.Ah? And what else?Metternich.Well, we shall have to solveThe question of the names. You know, the namesOf battles, Sire, which you—well—did not win:The Marshals must not wear them.The Duke.What is that?The Emperor.Perhaps—Metternich.Forgive me; but they must not thinkThey're lords of Austrian places; and you cannotApprove their way of carrying off to FranceOur villages by means of upstart titles.The Duke.Grandfather! Grandfather!The Emperor.Well—it's evident—The Duke.Yet you and I were in each other's arms![ToMetternich.]And have you nothing further to demand?Metternich.Yes; the suppression of the Tricolor.The Duke.Your Excellency wishes me to washThe banner based in blood and crowned with heaven—For it was dipped in horrors that bear fruit,And it was bathed in universal hopes!—Your Excellency asks me to effaceThat gleam of heaven and that stain of blood,And, having nothing but a blank sheet left,To make a shroud for Freedom out of that!The Emperor.Freedom again!The Duke.Upon my father's sideI am related closely, Sire, to Freedom.Metternich.Yes, the Duke's grandsire was the eighteenth Brumaire!The Duke.Yes, and the Revolution was my granddam!The Emperor.Silence!Metternich.The Emperor a republican!Utopia!—Play the Marseillaise in AOn trumpets, while the sentimental fluteSighs "God preserve the Empire" in E flat.The Duke.The two go very well together, sir,And make a tune that frightens Kings away!The Emperor.This to my face? How dare you, sir? How dare you?The Duke.Ah, now I know what is expected of me!The Emperor.What does it mean? What is the matter with him?The Duke.I am to be an Austrian ArchdukeOn a French throne!The Emperor.What has he read or seen?The Duke.I have seen egg-cups, handkerchiefs, and pipes!The Emperor.He's mad! The words he utters are a madman's!The Duke.Mad to have thought you'd help me to my own.Metternich.'Tis you alone obstruct your going home.The Duke.Yes, in a gig instead of on a gun!The Emperor.You shall not go at all!The Duke.A cage?The Emperor.We'll see!The Duke.For all your cages I am still the Eaglet!The Emperor.The eagle on my flag has many eaglets:You're one of them: that's all.The Duke.Oh, gloomy eagle!Sad, double-headed fowl, with heavy eye:Eagle of Austria, cruel bird of night!A glorious eagle of the dawn has passedAthwart thine eyrie, and with ruffled feathers,Raging and terror-stricken, thou beholdestOne of thine eaglets sprouting golden plumage!The Emperor.My heart was softening: I regret my tears.These books and weapons shall be taken from you.Dietrichstein!Metternich.He is not in the palace.The Emperor.Poor, morbid child, we will suppress whateverToo much reminds you who your father was.The Duke.Then you must root up every violet,Drive every single bee out of your park!The Emperor.Change all the servants!Metternich.I'll dismiss them all:Otto, Fritz, Hermann, Albrecht—The Duke.Close the shutters,Lest yonder star remind me of my father's.The Emperor.And as for Dietrichstein, I'll sign at onceNew regulations—[ToMetternich.]Write.Metternich.Where is the ink?The Duke.My inkstand's on the table; you may use it.Metternich.Where? I see nothing!The Duke.The Minerva's head,In bronze and marble.Metternich.Still I cannot see it.The Duke.Then take the other, made of burnished gold,On yonder console—Metternich.Where?The Emperor.What inkstands?The Duke.Sire,Those which my father left me.The Emperor.What do you mean?The Duke.Yes! in his testament! And there, the pistols,Four pistols of Versailles. Take them away.The Emperor.[Bringing his fist down on the table.]What's this?The Duke.You must not hit the table, Sire!Now you've knocked down the sword he wore as Consul!The Emperor.These things you speak of—The Duke.Are before my eyes!"They are to be surrendered to my sonWhen he has reached sixteen." Despite the crimeWhich holds them back, they're mine: I have their soul!The soul of every cross, of every jewel,And all is here: the three mahogany caskets,And all the snuff-boxes, and all the spurs,The golden garter-buckles and the gorgets,I've all! The iron sword, the enamelled sword,The sword in which a never-setting sunHas left its fires imprisoned, so that noneMay dare to draw it lest the sun leap forth;I have the sword-belts also, all the six!The Emperor.Silence!The Duke."To be surrendered to my sonWhen he has reached sixteen." Oh, Father, sleep.For I have all; even your uniforms.Oh, yes! To you my uniform looks white—Well, it's not true—it's false—I am pretending!Father, behold, it's blue and red, behold!Colonel? Not so! Lieutenant in your Guard!By the device your soldiers bore I know it,Father, who gave me victories for sisters!'Twas not in vain you wished me to possessThe alarm-clock of King Frederick of Prussia,Which you magnificently stole from Potsdam,For here it is! 'Tis ticking in my brain!It is the clock which wakes me every morning,Drives me exhausted by my midnight toilBack to my narrow table, to my toil,To be more fit by night-fall for the throne!The Emperor.The throne! the throne! Oh, never hope againThat you may reign in France, you—Upstart's son,Because our nobler blood has made you lookRather more kingly than your father was.The Duke.Forgive me, but at Dresden, you remember,You all appeared like lackeys of my father.The Emperor.A common soldier!The Duke.He had but to askAnd Emperors gave their daughters to this soldier.The Emperor.Perhaps. I cannot say. Mine is a widow.The Duke.Pity I'm here as living evidence!The Emperor.Have you forgotten how we loved each other?The Duke.No! No! My birth is proof that you were beaten!No! you can only hate me; for I amWagram personified before your eyes!The Emperor.Out of my sight! Begone![Exit theDuke.]The child I loved!Metternich.Well, Sire, is he to have an empire?The Emperor.Never!Metternich.Do you perceive what I have saved you from?The Emperor.Ah! did you hear the monstrous things he said?Metternich.We must subdue him.The Emperor.For his own sake; yes,Metternich.For the world's peace and yours.The Emperor.We must subdue him.Metternich.I'll come and speak to him to-night.The Emperor.What griefHe gives me!Metternich.[Trying to lead him away.]Come.The Emperor.You'll speak to-night?Metternich.This sceneMust never be repeated.The Emperor.It has hurt me.Unhappy child!Metternich.[Leading him off.]Come, Sire.The Emperor.[Without.]The child—[His voice dies away.][TheDukeopens his door very gently, sees theyare gone, listens a moment, then enters quicklyand places one of Napoleon's little hats on thetable.]The Duke.The signal![He returns to his room.][Flambeauenters.]Flambeau.'Tis time. Well, signal? Are you here?—Perhaps.[He hunts for it.]"Flambeau," he said, "you cannot fail to find it."Now, is it high or low, or black or white?Or great or small?[He sees the hat.]The Emperor's—! Smallandgreat![He goes toward the window.]Oh, but the Countess watches in the park,And if the signal's here I am to signal:[He takes out his handkerchief.]No! This won't do. A white flag makes her ill.[A servant enters with a reading-lamp, which hecarries toward theDuke'sroom.]The Servant.The Duke of Reichstadt's reading-lamp.Flambeau.[Leaping upon him and seizing the lamp.]You dolt!It's leaking! It must have fresh air![He takes it out on the balcony.]You wave it three times so: arrange the wick;[He does as he says and gives the lamp back totheServant.]That's it. See that?The Servant.Oh, aren't you clever?[He carries the lamp into theDuke'sroom.]Flambeau.Rather!To-morrow—flight![Sedlinzkyenters.]Sedlinzky.The Duke?Flambeau.[Pointing to the room.]In there.Sedlinzky.Watch here.Flambeau.I'm watching.Sedlinzky.Lock![He goes out.]Flambeau.[Locking the door after him.]Locked!Sedlinzky.[Without.]Take the key out.Flambeau.Out.Sedlinzky.None but the Emperor has the key. Be careful—Watch.Flambeau.As I always do.[He bends over the key-holes and arranges themcarefully.]And for the nightI'll close the eyelids of the key-holes softly.Sedlinzky's Voice.Good-night, you Piedmontese.Flambeau.Good-night, my Lord.Sedlinzky's Voice.Remember! you're on duty.Flambeau.I'm on duty.Sedlinzky's Voice.Well, that's all right. Good-night.Flambeau.Good-night![He throws off his livery coat. Puts on the busby,which is standing on the console, and shouldersthe musket. He is now in the full accoutrementof a Grenadier of the Guards.]And thus,Suddenly upright, thin, unliveried,Locked in till dawn, and safe against surprise,Glowering with grizzled brows beneath his busby,Straight in his ancient uniform, his gunFirm in his arm, his hand on his right nipple,The fixed and regulation attitude,Standing thus every night before your threshold,Giving himself a password full of pride,Pleased with a deed that's grave, and yet a jest,A Grenadier at Schönbrunn stands on guardAbout the son as once about the Father.'Tis the last time! You'll never hear of it.'Tis for myself. A private luxury.I must be mad to do a thing like thisFor no one's eye, but just to say "By Jove,That's rather good!" At Schönbrunn! In their teeth!But I'm delighted!—I'm content![He hears the noise of a key in the door.]I'm damned![The door opens gently.]Who can have got the key?[He retires into the shadow by theDuke'sdoor.][Metternichenters, carrying a large candelabrum.]Metternich.No, no! This sceneMust never be repeated.Flambeau.Nepomuk!Metternich.Yes, I will speak to-night. We are alone.[As he puts down the candelabrum he sees the hat.]What's this? I never knew he had one like—Ah! the Archduchess must have sent him this;So there thou art, thou legendary hat!'Tis many years—Good day!—What sayst thou? What?No, from thy little sable pyramidTwelve years of splendor gaze on me in vain,I do not fear thee now.The leathern tagWith which he constantly could take thee off,And so win cheers yet leave thy shape unharmed.With thee he fanned himself after each victory;Thou couldst not fall from his unheeding fingers,But straight a king would stoop to pick thee up.To-day, my friend, thou art a reach-me-down,And if I tossed thee through the casement yonderWhere wouldst thou end thy days?Flambeau.[To himself.] In a museum!Metternich.The famous little hat—how very ugly!They called it little—is it really little?No; it is big; enormous; it's the hatA little man puts on to increase his inches.For 'twas a hatter set the legend going:The real Napoleon, after all, was Poupart.Ah, never think my hatred of thee slumbers!'Twas for thy shape's sake first I hated thee,Thou vampire-bat of bloody battle-fields,Hat that seemed fashioned out of raven's wings.I hated thee for pitilessly soaringAbove the fields which witnessed our defeats,Half-circle, seeming on the ruddy skyThe orb half-risen of some sable sun!And for thy crown wherein the devil lurks,Thou juggler's hat, laid with a sudden handUpon a throne, an army, or a nation—When thou wert lifted all had disappeared.I hated thee for the salutes I gave thee,For thy simplicity—mere affectation—Thy insolent joy, thou piece of common beaverAmid the glittering diadems of gold;For staying firmly on his haughty headWhen I sought flattering epithets to please thee.Conqueror, new, acclaimed, I hated thee!I hate thee now, old, conquered and betrayed!I hate thee for thy haughty shadow, castForever on the wall of history;I hate thee for thy Jacobin cockade,Staring upon me like a bloodshot eye;For all the murmurs sounding in thy shell,That huge black shell the waves have left behindWherein the shuddering listener may hearThe rumor of a nation on the march.I hate thee for the pride of France, whose boundsThou hast enlarged until she scorns the world;For Béranger I hate thee, and Raffet,For all the songs and all the pasquinades,And for the halo of Saint Helena.I hate thee, hate thee. I shall not be happyUntil thy clumsy triangle of cloth,Despoiled of its traditions, is againWhat it should ne'er have ceased to be in France—The headgear of a village constable.I hate—but suddenly—how strange!—the presentSometimes with impish glee will ape the past!—Seeing thy well-known shape before me thusCarries my mind back to a distant day,For it was here he always put thee downWhen twenty years ago he sojourned here.This room was then the ante-chamber; here,Waiting till graciously he showed himself,Dukes, Princes, Magyars, huddling in a corner,Fixed from afar their humbled eyes upon thee,Like lions, dreading with a helpless furyThe tamer's hat forgotten in the cage.'Twas thus he placed thee, and here lay, as now,Weapons and papers. One might say 'twas heHad tossed thee carelessly upon the map,That this were still his home, this Bonaparte!And that by turning, on the threshold—there—I should behold the Grenadier on—[He starts on seeingFlambeaustanding rigidbefore theDuke'sdoor; he rubs his eyes.]Ha!No! no! I'm feverish; mytête-à-têteWith the old hat plays havoc with my nerves![He looks and draws near.Flambeaudoes notmove.]Or have the moonbeams conjured up a spectre?What is it, then? Let's see—let's see—let's see![He strides furiously towardFlambeau.]Who are you, fellow?Flambeau.[Presenting his bayonet.]Who goes there?Metternich.[Recoiling.]The devil!Flambeau.[Coldly.]Pass, devil.Metternich.[With a forced laugh, coming toward him again.]Yes,—a very clever jest,But—Flambeau.[Presenting his bayonet again.]Who goes there?Metternich.[Recoiling.]But—Flambeau.Move and you are dead.Metternich.But—I—Flambeau.Quiet!Metternich.Let me pass!Flambeau.The Emperor sleeps!Metternich.What!Flambeau.Silence!Metternich.I'm the Austrian Chancellor!I am all-powerful! I'm—Flambeau.Shut your mouth!Metternich.I want to see the Duke of Reichstadt!Flambeau.Out!Metternich.How—out?Flambeau.What's Reichstadt? Never heard of Reichstadt!Auerstadt, Elchingen, they're dukes I know.Reichstadt's no duke. There's been no victory there.Metternich.But, we're at Schönbrunn!Flambeau.I should rather think so!Thanks to our new success we're quartered here;And here we're getting ready at our leisureTo give the world another drubbing! See?Metternich.What's that you say? A new success?Flambeau.Colossal!Metternich.This is July the ninth in Eighteen—Flambeau.Nine!Metternich.Can I be mad?Flambeau.Who are you? Where d'you spring from?Why aren't you snug in bed? It's very fishy—Metternich.I—Flambeau.Who let this braggart pass? The Mameluke?Metternich.The Mameluke?Flambeau.All's going to the dogs!Metternich.But—Flambeau.You here in the ante-room at night!Metternich.But I—Flambeau.You calmly cross the Rosa chamberUnchallenged by the sentinel on guard!Metternich.What?Flambeau.When you ventured through the small rotunda,Was there no yatagan to shave your cheek?Were there no sergeants in the white saloonBrewing their punch upon the golden stove?No bristling veterans in the china-room?And in the galleries? The GrenadiersSaw you come strolling as a matter-of-course?A man may cross the oval cabinetAnd not be turned to mince-meat by Duroc?Metternich.The Marshal—?Flambeau.Is the bulldog turned to lapdog?Metternich.I come here—Flambeau.So the palace is an inn?And when you'd managed all the sentinels,Where were the rest? The porter? Gone to bed?The valet? Absent? And the secretary?Where was he hidden? In his own portfolio?Metternich.But I—Flambeau.Instead of being after you,No doubt the Aide-de-Camp was after women!Metternich.But—Flambeau.And the Moor was saying prayers to Allah?At any rate it's lucky I was here.What discipline! If he looks into thisI'll bet my head he'll let the beggars know!Metternich.I'm going—Flambeau.Ah! don't stir! You'll wake him!He's sleeping on his little bed of laurels.Metternich.[Falling into an arm-chair.]Was never such a dream! 'Twill make an epic![His hand touches the flame of one of the candles.]Well, but this candle—Flambeau.Burns.Metternich.[Feeling the point ofFlambeau'sbayonet.]This weapon—Flambeau.Stings!Metternich.Then I'm awake! I'm—Flambeau.Hold your tongue!Metternich.And what of Waterloo?Flambeau.Of water—what?[Listening.]The Emperor stirred.Metternich.The Emperor?Flambeau.Oh, my stars!Now you turn whiter than a bugler's horse!Metternich.It is the Duke of Reichstadt! I'm not scared!It is the Duke! I'm sure of it!Flambeau.The Emperor![TheDukeenters, with the reading lamp in hishand.]Metternich.Aha! Tis you! 'Tis you! It is your Highness!Ah, but how glad I am!The Duke.[Puzzled.]Why are you glad?Metternich.The joke was played so well, I really thoughtAnother might come out!Flambeau.[As if waking from a dream.]Faith, so did I!The Duke.[ToFlambeau.]What's this?Flambeau.My little joke.Metternich.[Ringing.]Help!The Duke.Fly!Flambeau.The window!The Duke.The sentinel will shoot you!Flambeau.If he can.The Duke.Your livery!Metternich.[Putting his foot on it.]No!Flambeau.Bah![Aside to theDuke,whileMetternichringsagain.]I will seek my cavern.The Duke.But I—Flambeau.The ball to-morrow!The Duke.Are you mad?Flambeau.You'll find me.The Duke.Quiet![Flambeaugoes out by the window.]Metternich.If he'd only breakHis neck—He's singing!The Duke.[On the balcony.]Hush!Flambeau's Voice.My little joke![A shot is heard.]The Duke.Missed!Metternich.With what ease he finds his way about.The Duke.He knows it; he has been here once before.Metternich.[To theLackeyswho show themselves at the door.]Too late. Begone. I do not need your help.[TheLackeysdisappear.]The Duke.And not a word of this to the police!Metternich.I never raise a laugh against myself.What's the importance of a veteran's joke?You're not Napoleon?The Duke.Who has settled that?Metternich.You have his hat, perhaps, but not his head!The Duke.Ah, yes, an epigram to damp my ardor.'Tis not the pin-prick this time, 'tis the lashThat drives me headlong toward the wildest dreams.I've not the head, you say? How do you know?Metternich.[Takes the candelabrum in his hand and leads theDuketo the cheval glass.]How do I know? Just glance into this mirror.Look at the sullen sadness of your face,The grim betrayal of your fair complexion,This crushing golden hair—I bid you look!The Duke.[Struggling to get out of his grasp.]No!Metternich.You're environed with a fatal mist!The Duke.No!Metternich.Though you know it not, 'tis Germany,'Tis Spain, for ages dormant in your blood,Make you so haughty, sorrowful, and charming.The Duke.No! no!Metternich.Bethink you of your self-distrust!You—reign? Come, come! You would be pale and wan;One of those timid, introspective kingsWho are imprisoned lest they abdicate.The Duke.No, no!Metternich.Not yours the energetic brow!Yours is the brow of languor and of yearning.The Duke.[Shaking, passes his left hand across his brow.]My—brow?Metternich.And drearily your Highness passesOver an Austrian brow a Spanish hand!The Duke.My—hand?Metternich.Observe the frail and tapering fingersSeen fair and jewelled in long lines of portraits!The Duke.No!Metternich.And those eyes through which your ancestorsLook forth!The Duke.The eyes—?Metternich.Ay! note them well! The eyesWherein how many eyes we've seen beforeDream of the fagot, weep for perished squadrons!Dare you, whose conscience is so sensitive,Ascend the throne of France with eyes like those?The Duke.Ah! but my Father!—Metternich.Naught of him is in you!Search! Search again! Come closer to the light!He stole our ancient blood to mix with his,That his might grow more ancient. But he stoleOnly the racial melancholy, andThe feebleness, and—The Duke.I beseech you!Metternich.Look!Look in the mirror! You turn pale?The Duke.Enough!Metternich.And on your lips you recognize the poutAs of a doll, of Marie Antoinette,Her whom your France beheaded; for your Father,While stealing glory, stole mishap as well!Nay! raise the chandelier![He forces the chandelier into theDuke'srighthand, and holds him by that wrist.]The Duke.I am afraid.Metternich.You cannot gaze into this glass at night,But all your race will gibber at your back!Look—in the gloom—that shade is Mad Johanna,And yonder Thing, that moves so deathly slow,Is the pale sovereign in his crystal coffin.The Duke.No! 'Tis the radiant pallor of my Father!Metternich.Yonder, recoiling, Rudolph and his lions!The Duke.The clash of steeds and weapons! 'Tis the Consul!Metternich.Lo! in a noisome crypt one fashions gold.The Duke.He fashions glory on the sands of Egypt.Metternich.Aha! Here's Charles the Fifth, with hair cropped close,Dying for having sought self-burial!The Duke.Help!Father!Metternich.The Escurial! Grisly phantomsAnd frowning walls!The Duke.Ah, hither! smiling visions:Compiègne and Malmaison!Metternich.You see them! see them!The Duke.Roll, drums of Arcola, and drown his voice!Metternich.The mirror's teeming!The Duke.[Twisting his wrist loose, but still holding the chandelier.]I will shatter it!Metternich.Others, and others yet, arrive!The Duke.[Hurling the chandelier into the mirror.]'Tis shattered!Not one remains! Not one!Metternich.[Pointing at theDukewith a terrible gesture.]Yes!—One!The Duke.No, no!It is not I! Not I!—My Father!—Help!Curtain.
decoration of five torches with a hand for the flame
The Park at Schönbrunn. Ruins of a Roman Arch in the centre, in front of which is a fountain. Entrances on the right and on the left. Towards the right, in front, is a pile of stones, parts of columns, a head of Neptune, a broken urn, the whole covered with ivy and shrubs. Orange-trees in boxes, bearing fruit and blossom, are dotted about, with lamps hanging in their foliage. At the rise of the curtain a gay throng ofLordsandLadiesin dominos and other disguises are moving about the stage.