the Grand Duke was dancing duets in the Market-place, but I don't
see him. (Sees RUDOLPH.) Hallo! Who's this? (Aside.) Why, it
is the Grand Duke!
RUD. (sobbing). Who are you, sir, who presume to address
me in person? If you've anything to communicate, you must fling
yourself at the feet of my Acting Temporary Sub-Deputy Assistant
Vice-Chamberlain, who will fling himself at the feet of his
immediate superior, and so on, with successive foot-flingings
through the various grades—your communication will, in course of
time, come to my august knowledge.
LUD. But when I inform your Highness that in me you see
the
most unhappy, the most unfortunate, the most completely miserable
man in your whole dominion—
RUD. (still sobbing). You the most miserable man in my
whole dominion? How can you have the face to stand there and say
such a thing? Why, look at me! Look at me! (Bursts into
tears.)
LUD. Well, I wouldn't be a cry-baby.
RUD. A cry-baby? If you had just been told that you were
going to be deposed to-morrow, and perhaps blown up with dynamite
for all I know, wouldn't you be a cry-baby? I do declare if I
could only hit upon some cheap and painless method of putting an
end to an existence which has become insupportable, I would
unhesitatingly adopt it!
LUD. You would? (Aside.) I see a magnificent way out of
this! By Jupiter, I'll try it! (Aloud.) Are you, by any
chance, in earnest?
RUD. In earnest? Why, look at me!
LUD. If you are really in earnest—if you really desire to
escape scot-free from this impending—this unspeakably horrible
catastrophe—without trouble, danger, pain, or expense—why not
resort to a Statutory Duel?
RUD. A Statutory Duel?
LUD. Yes. The Act is still in force, but it will expire
to-morrow afternoon. You fight—you lose—you are dead for a
day. To-morrow, when the Act expires, you will come to life
again and resume your Grand Duchy as though nothing had happened.
In the meantime, the explosion will have taken place and the
survivor will have had to bear the brunt of it.
RUD. Yes, that's all very well, but who'll be fool enough
to be the survivor?
LUD. (kneeling). Actuated by an overwhelming sense of
attachment to your Grand Ducal person, I unhesitatingly offer
myself as the victim of your subjects' fury.
RUD. You do? Well, really that's very handsome. I
daresay
being blown up is not nearly as unpleasant as one would think.
LUD. Oh, yes it is. It mixes one up, awfully!
RUD. But suppose I were to lose?
LUD. Oh, that's easily arranged. (Producing cards.) I'll
put an Ace up my sleeve—you'll put a King up yours. When the
drawing takes place, I shall seem to draw the higher card and you
the lower. And there you are!
RUD. Oh, but that's cheating.
LUD. So it is. I never thought of that. (Going.)
RUD. (hastily). Not that I mind. But I say—you won't
take an unfair advantage of your day of office? You won't go
tipping people, or squandering my little savings in fireworks, or
any nonsense of that sort?
LUD. I am hurt—really hurt—by the suggestion.
RUD. You—you wouldn't like to put down a deposit,
perhaps?
LUD. No. I don't think I should like to put down a
deposit.
RUD. Or give a guarantee?
LUD. A guarantee would be equally open to objection.
RUD. It would be more regular. Very well, I suppose you
must have your own way.
LUD. Good. I say—we must have a devil of a quarrel!
RUD. Oh, a devil of a quarrel!
LUD. Just to give colour to the thing. Shall I give you a
sound thrashing before all the people? Say the word—it's no
trouble.
RUD. No, I think not, though it would be very convincing
and it's extremely good and thoughtful of you to suggest it.
Still, a devil of a quarrel!
LUD. Oh, a devil of a quarrel!
RUD. No half measures. Big words—strong language—rude
remarks. Oh, a devil of a quarrel!
LUD. Now the question is, how shall we summon the people?
RUD. Oh, there's no difficulty about that. Bless your
heart, they've been staring at us through those windows for the
last half-hour!
FINALE.
RUD. Come hither, all you people—
When you hear the fearful news,
All the pretty women weep'll,
Men will shiver in their shoes.
LUD. And they'll all cry "Lord, defend us!"
When they learn the fact tremendous
That to give this man his gruel
In a Statutory Duel—
BOTH. This plebeian man of shoddy—
This contemptible nobody—
Your Grand Duke does not refuse!
(During this, Chorus of men and women have entered, all trembling
with apprehension under the impression that they are to be
arrested for their complicity in the conspiracy.)
CHORUS.
With faltering feet,
And our muscles in a quiver,
Our fate we meet
With our feelings all unstrung!
If our plot complete
He has managed to diskiver,
There is no retreat—
We shall certainly be hung!
RUD. (aside to LUDWIG).
Now you begin and pitch it strong—walk into me abusively—
LUD. (aside to RUDOLPH).
I've several epithets that I've reserved for you
exclusively.
A choice selection I