owed by_ TIBURTIUS.]

Meet them!

THE ARCHDUCHESS.

[_Appearing on the threshold surrounded by a
crowd of lords and ladies in elegant summer
costumes. (Light dresses and parasols; large
hats.) Two little boys and a little girl dressed in the
latest fashion._]

'Tis but a villa; not a palace.

[_The room is crowded. She turns to a young
man._]

Quick!
Thalberg, my Tarantelle!

[THALBERG _sits at the piano and plays._]

[_To_ METTERNICH.] Where is her Majesty,

My lovely sister?

A LADY.

We looked in to fetch her.

ANOTHER LADY.

We're rushing through the valley on a coach.
Sandor is driving.

A MAN'S VOICE.

We must thrust the lava
Back in its crater!

THE ARCHDUCHESS.

Oh! do hold your tongues
They will insist on talking of volcanoes.

BOMBELLES.

What's this volcano?

A LADY.

[_To another._]

Astrachan this winter.

SANDOR.

[_To_ BOMBELLES.]

Why, liberal opinions.

BOMBELLES.

Ah!

LORD COWLEY.

Or, rather, France!

METTERNICH.

[_To the_ ATTACHE.]

You hear him?

A LADY.

[_To a young man._]

Montenegro, sing to me
Under your breath, for me alone.

MONTENEGRO.

[_Whom_ THALBERG _accompanies, sings very softly._]

Corazon--

[_He continues, pianissimo._]

ANOTHER LADY.

[_To_ GENTZ.]

Ah, Gentz!

[_She dips into her reticule._]

Some bon-bons, Gentz?

[_She gives him some._]

GENTZ.

You are an angel.

ANOTHER LADY.

[_Similar business._]

Perfume from Paris?

[_She takes out a little bottle of scent and gives it to him._]

METTERNICH.

[_Hurriedly to_ GENTZ.]

Tear the label off!
"The Reichstadt scent"!

GENTZ.

[_Smelling perfume._]

It smells of violets.

METTERNICH.

[_Snatches the bottle out of his hand and scrapes
the label off with a pair of scissors he takes from
the table._]

If the Duke came he'd see that still at Paris--

A VOICE.

[_Among the group at the back of the stage._]

The Hydra lifts its head--

A LADY.

Our husbands talk
Of Hydras!

LORD COWLEY.