the cat need those boots for?--to be able to walk better?
Silly stuff!

SCHLOSS.

But it seems as though I saw a cat before me.

LEUTNER.

Be still, the scene is changing.

_Hall in the royal palace_

_The_ KING _with crown and sceptre. The_ PRINCESS, _his daughter_

KING.

A thousand handsome princes, my precious daughter, have already sued
for your hand and laid their kingdoms at your feet, but you have
continued to refuse them. Tell us the reason for this, my treasure.

PRINCESS.

My most gracious father, I have always believed that my heart must
first feel certain emotions before my neck would bow under the yoke of
marriage. For a marriage without love, they say, is truly hell upon
earth.

KING.

That is right, my dear daughter. Ah, indeed, indeed, have you spoken
words of truth: a hell on earth! Alas, if only I were not qualified to
discuss it! Indeed I should have preferred to remain ignorant! But as
it is, dear treasure, I have my tale to tell, as they say. Your
mother, my consort of blessed memory--ah, Princess, see, the tears
rush to my eyes even in my old age--she was a good queen, she wore the
crown with an indescribable air of majesty--but she gave me very
little peace. Well, may her ashes rest in peace among her royal
relatives.

PRINCESS.

Your majesty excites yourself too much.

KING.

When the memory of it returns to me, O my child, on my knees I would
entreat you--do be careful in marrying! It is a great truth that linen
and a bridegroom must not be bought by candle-light, a truth which
should be found in every book. What did I suffer! No day passed
without a quarrel; I could not sleep peacefully, could not conduct my
administrative business quietly, I could not think of anything, could
not read a book--I was always interrupted. And still my spirit
sometimes yearns for you, my blessed Klothilde! My eyes smart--I am a
real old fool.

PRINCESS (_tenderly_).

My father!

KING.

I tremble to think of the dangers that face you, for, even if you do
fall in love now, my daughter, ah! you should just see what thick
books wise men have filled on this subject--see, your very passion,
then, can also make you miserable. The happiest, the most blissful
emotion can ruin us; moreover, love is, as it were, a magic cup;
instead of nectar we often drink poison; then our pillow is wet with
tears; all hope, all consolation are gone. (_The sound of a trumpet is
heard_.) Why, it isn't dinner-