hat she was
looking for._]

Ah! here it is!

THE VOICE.

You've found it?

THE COUNTESS.

On the harp.
You understand, it's gathered up in folds--

[_She goes into_ MARIA LOUISA'S _room._]

THE YOUNG MAN.

Well? You accept?

THE DUKE.

I don't quite understand
Zealous Imperialism from a liberal--

THE YOUNG MAN.

True: a republican--

THE DUKE.

You come to me
Rather a long way round--

THE YOUNG MAN.

All roads to-day
Lead to the King of Rome. My scarlet badge
I thought unfading--

THE DUKE.

Faded in the sun?

THE YOUNG MAN.

Of Austerlitz! Yes! History makes us drunk.
The battles which no more are fought, are told.
The blood is vanished, but the glory gleams.
So that to-day there is no he but _HE_!
He never won such victories as now:
His soldiers perished, but his poets live.

THE DUKE.

In short--

THE YOUNG MAN.

In short the huckstering times; the god
They exiled; you, your touching fate, our weariness,
And everything--I said--

THE DUKE.

You said as artist
'Twould be effective to be Bonapartist!

THE YOUNG MAN.

So you accept?

THE DUKE.

No.

THE YOUNG MAN.

What?

THE DUKE.

I listened well.
And you were charming as you spoke, but nothing.
No quiver of your voice, told me of France;
You voiced a craze, a form of literature.

THE YOUNG MAN.

I've carried out my mission clumsily;
Could but the Countess yonder speak!

THE DUKE.

No use.
I love the bravery glowing in her eyes,
But that's not France: that is my Family!
When next you seek me, later, by and by,
Let the call come through some untutored voice,
Wherein rough accents of the people throb;
Your Byronism is much too like myself.
You could not have persuaded me to-night--
I feel myself unready for the crown.

THE COUNTESS.

[_Coming out of_ MARIA LOUISA'S _apartment._]

Unready? You?

[_She turns toward the room._]

Don't trouble; I'm just going.
And for the ball the white one, not the mauve.

[_Coming hastily toward the_ DUKE.]

Unready? What do you want?

THE DUKE.

A year of dreams,
Of study.

THE COUNTESS.

Come and r