This is early dawn, as you can see, shining bright. Prince Mendicula, whose head feels so thick as that of any low serf, wakes to repent of his folly and have a conscience attack as he recalls his neglected wife Patricia back in Gorica. We witness his agony – the clenched fists, the look to heaven – as he becomes afraid that Patricia might have been unfaithful to him yielding during the night to the advances of the General Gerald. He rides furiously back to Gorica, a prey to remorse and jealousy.
Arriving early at the Gorica Palace, his spurs clattering over the marble corridors – well, matting, as you can see – the prince finds both Patricia, his beloved, and his general are slumbering virtuously in their different compartments in different parts of the building. How sweet she looks asleep, those lovely pink cheeks – she is always well fed, our princess! Mendicula awakens her with a kiss and pours out his love. At this point in Bengtsohn’s story, I thought to myself, Well, it is all very splendid for Bonihatch that he plays the prince! He enjoys most of the excitement of both the women! This is what I get for acting with a pack of Progressives. Now I understand why the State suppresses them. Sooner or later, Bonihatch is going to linger a whole petrified five minutes – which in the circumstances rates considerably longer than eternity – with his lips upon Armida’s lips, as the slumbering Patricia. He’ll be more than mercurised, the low churl! I should have played the prince!
And what impression will I make on my audience as the stupid General Gerald, lying guilelessly abed, eyes closed and moustaches rolled in a white handkerchief. This fustian does me no favour.
Even as Prince Mendicula embraces Patricia and pours out his affectionate declarations (continued Bengtsohn, moving us about for the next tableau as if we were dummies) she can smell that he has been drinking away the night. Instinctively, the sensitive girl a trifle draws away from him.
Examine, if you will, the psychology in his countenance! For how does he respond to this slight withdrawal of hers? Why, a tiny seedling from doubt blooms in his mind. Perhaps the withdrawal implies that she after all did lie with the general. Much pleasure of the intimate sort may be had in two hours without spending all night about it, particularly if you are the passionate disposition what he knows Patricia to be, because she lives off the best meats and fruits, unlike the poor.
Ah, this next picture! ‘Trust vanquishing Doubt!’ No more soon does dark mistrust spring in the prince’s mind up than he suppresses it with scorn. He believes it to be a reflection of his own guiltiness and unworthy totally of him – also of her what he loves and honours. (Here we shall move the zahnoscope so that we see only Mendicula’s noble face in the appropriate slide …)
Abolishing all base doubts like apples from an orange tree, Prince Mendicula from this moment holds Patricia and his soldier-hero more highly than ever in his self-esteem. More, he encourages them to be friends, to share confidences, and to enjoy generally each other’s company without fear of restraint on his account. Witness the three of them, arms about each, people of noble birth behaving nobly, eh?
Contentedly, Mendicula steps back and engages himself in administering the realm, allowing General Gerald to escort Patricia to balls, to the opera, and other idle occasions. Far from showing to her husband gratitude for his trust, Patricia is slightly cool towards him, as he notes with sorrow, hand on brow. Again, far from blaming her, he still blames himself for having chased Jemima.
So he is forced into a position where thoughts of Jemima pursue him. Although she repelled his advances, he knows she liked his company. We’ll have some music here. One day, he rides back through the forest to see her. To the prince’s delight, Jemima still resides at the inn. He discovers her polishing one of the tankards. They fervently talk for hours. He presses her for a kiss, which she warmly bestows. Although she permits no liberties further, her company is so animated that Prince Mendicula sits all night up talking to her. As you observe, the Lady Jemima also plays the lute and sings well.
Night passes too soon. When dawn filters across the lake, which of course is outside, the Prince once more remembers the realities of his life. Embracing Jemima and thanking her courteously, he tears away himself from her to saddle his horse and ride furiously back to Gorica. Or possibly he will have to run furiously, since Bonihatch and I cannot find no horse what will stand motionless in a galloping position for five minutes in a time.
Back to the city, he bursts into Patricia’s room. He has dismounted first, by the way, if he has a horse. If not, then not. Her bed lies unemployed. The prince then runs to General Gerald’s apartments. The general’s bed is empty also. In anguish, he rushes through the entire building, to come upon them both in the garden of roses.
Sharply, he dismisses his general, what goes out looking so angry as you can observe, and questions sharply his wife about her actions. She becomes as cold as a snowman, explaining how it happened merely that both she and Gerald rose early and met in the garden by accident. This is after all a day of festival, when many people rise early. Here we see some of them, having risen. She says he has no right to question her.
Trouble-sore and saddle-sore, the prince sinks to a bench. She says nothing. He faintly asks her if she and Gerald kiss like lovers. At this, she becomes more angry, evades his question, and demands to know where he has been all night; word has reached her ear – you see how beautiful it is – that what he has somewhere a woman outside the city. The prince replies that no woman means anything in his life except her to what he is wedded to. Patricia scorns this remark, saying that she has observed how he is continually interested in women. We see them stand backs to backs in a picture of frustration and good breeding.
This difficult position is resolved by the return of General Gerald in his military hat. He has put on a good face and a new tunic to announce that on the morrow he will bring his betrothed to Gorica to meet the prince. Patricia walks away with her bunch of roses. Or perhaps just one rose, to save expense.
Once again, Mendicula summons up all his upbringing and dismisses suspicions to the wall. He shakes warmly hands in the eternal emblem of friendship with Gerald, proclaiming what a good friend he is and commending Gerald for his attention to Patricia at a period when their marriage goes through a difficult tunnel. He would do anything to make Patricia happy. Gerald says he would also. They agree.
In a little formal speech, so typical of a military man, Gerald thanks the prince for his indulgence, praising his enlightened attitude and jealousy lack. As we see, they on the shoulder slap each other and Prince Mendicula then admits, man to man, that there is another lady for what he feels attraction, and begs Gerald to continue undeterred his kindnesses to Patricia.
That is rather a long conversation. Perhaps we shall enliven it for the performance with views of sportive nymphs and shepherdesses, or something refined.
So now good relations appear to be restored between the prince and his lovely wife. They amiably ride together on a hunt for ancestral animals in a nobleman’s park. The bag will provide food for the nuptials forthcoming of General Gerald. Towards the end of this golden afternoon, when they are by a lake – that flat will serve twice – a messenger arrives from Gorica with a message for Mendicula. As we observe, he tears it open. It comes from the Lady Jemima, announcing her arrival in the city and craving a mere hour from his time in order to him bid farewell.
In this scene, note the high colour of the participants. Mendicula tells Patricia that urgent matters of state require attention, so he must leave for a while. She is suspicious. She becomes angry and accuses him of assignations. He in turn angers. He begs her to practise toleration, just as he tolerates her fondness with General Gerald. She replies that that relationship has to do nothing with their marriage. He cannot understand this remark, but keeps quiet wisely and rides from the park in high dudgeon. Or perhaps he strides from the park. Or we possibly may procure a stuffed horse what will hold still.
Prince Mendicula goes to the palace to change into state regalia and slip into a crown. There he is met by a deputation from the defeated city councillors. They have honest faces but gloomy ones. They try to prevail upon him to issue an immediate proclamation curtailing activities of his soldiery. These soldieries have been laying waste the countryside and, more importantly, looting,