ssy.

TIBURTIUS.

_You_ challenge _me!_
You represent the King, sir!

GENTZ.

Quite amusing!

THE ATTACHE.

The King is not in question, but my country.
You are insulting France, when you insult
The man she loved through many glorious years.

TIBURTIUS.

Buonaparte--

THE ATTACHE.

Please say Bonaparte.

TIBURTIUS.

Well, Bonaparte--

THE ATTACHE.

The Emperor!

TIBURTIUS.

Your card?

FLAMBEAU.

[_Who has disappeared for a moment, and has come back cloaked._]

Come! I've got Gentz's cloak. It's lined with fur.

[TIBURTIUS _and the_ ATTACHE _have exchanged
cards_. TIBURTIUS _steps forward and nervously
lights a cigar._]

TIBURTIUS.

[_To a_ LACKEY.]

A light.

THE LACKEY.

You hate the Corsican?

TIBURTIUS.

What's that?

THE LACKEY.

Your sister loves his son. Would you surprise them?

TIBURTIUS.

When?

THE LACKEY.

Now.

TIBURTIUS.

Where?

THE LACKEY.

Where I know--

TIBURTIUS.

Wait for me here.
Austria shall be relieved.

THE DUKE.

[_Placing his hand on the_ ATTACHE'S _shoulder._]

I thank you, sir.

THE ATTACHE.

[_Turning._]

What for, sir?

THE DUKE.

Hush.

THE ATTACHE.

The Duke!

THE DUKE.

A plot.

THE ATTACHE.

Amazement!

THE DUKE.

I've nothing but my secret. Now it's yours.
We meet to-night at Wagram. _Be_ there.

THE ATTACHE.

I!

THE DUKE.

Are you not one of us?

THE ATTACHE.

I am the King's.

THE DUKE.

But you're to fight a duel for my Father.
And so we're somewhat brothers. Fare-you-well.

THE ATTACHE.

You hope to win me?

THE DUKE.

I am sure to win you.
Did not my Sire win Philippe de Segur?

THE ATTACHE.

To-morrow I return to France. I warn you--

THE DUKE.

You are a future Marshal of the Empire.

THE ATTACHE.

I warn you, if my regiment meets yours
I shall not hesitate to fire.

THE DUKE.

Of course not.
Shake hands before we cut each other's throats.

THE