The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Vii Part 35

PRINCE.

Not until you promise me you will meet me there.

WILHELMINE.

Oh--if we should be surprised like this! Please get up!

PRINCE.

 

You will promise? You will meet me?

WILHELMINE.

Where? [_He points to the window._] There? But I am not alone even there.

PRINCE.

Those simple people are overjoyed when their Princess consents to linger an hour with them in their poverty. I have much to say to you, Princess, very much. I will tell you of the plans concerning England or Austria of which you are the central figure. And you must tell me again--in the very best style of Versailles, which I know thoroughly--that you hate me--that you detest me--

WILHELMINE.

Prince, you torture me--I hear voices. Some one is approaching--Please get up.

PRINCE.

Will you promise?

WILHELMINE.

Cruel one! You won't get up--

PRINCE.

Not until you promise--

WILHELMINE.

If you promise to talk only about the plans that concern me--and about French grammar--

PRINCE (_springing up_).

You promise? You will come? By every star in the firmament I swear I will begin with the verb _J'aime_--I love--and you shall see how, in comparison with the language of a devoted heart, in comparison with the art which unadorned nature can practise, even Voltaire is only--a wigmaker. [_He goes out._]

SCENE IX

_The noise of drums in the distance is no longer heard._ WILHELMINE _left alone, starts as if to follow the_ PRINCE. _Then she turns back hesitating, and walks with uncertain steps to the table. She rings the bell._ SONNSFELD _comes in, looks at the Princess as if surprised, speaks after a pause._

SONNSFELD.

Your Highness commands?

WILHELMINE (_as if awakening from a dream_).

I? Nothing.

SONNSFELD.

Your Highness rang?

WILHELMINE.

Yes, I did. My mantilla--my fan--the veil.

SONNSFELD.

Your Highness is going out?

WILHELMINE.

I am going out.

SONNSFELD.

Has Your Highness permission?

WILHELMINE.

Permission? Are you beginning to take that tone, too? Fetch the things I want.

[SONNSFELD _looks at her, astounded, then goes out._]

WILHELMINE (_alone_).

I am tired of all this. I am beginning to be conscious of myself, now that I know there is some one who recognizes my meagre worth. The situation here is unbearable. I am weary of this unworthy subordination, this barrack-room service.

[SONNSFELD _comes back with mantilla, fan and veil._]

WILHELMINE.

You might have chosen the mantilla with the Brussels lace.

SONNSFELD.

Your Highness--what is your purpose?

WILHELMINE.