sed by vulgar
tradesmen and common laborers: mere wind and stink. [He rises, exalted
by his theme.] A king is a splendid reality, a man raised above us like
a god. You can see him; you can kiss his hand; you can be cheered by his
smile and terrified by his frown. I would have died for my Panjandrum
as my father died for his father. Your toiling millions were only too
honored to receive the toes of our boots in the proper spot for them
when they displeased their betters. And now what is left in life for me?
[He relapses into his chair discouraged.] My Panjandrum is deposed and
transported to herd with convicts. The army, his pride and glory, is
paraded to hear seditious speeches from penniless rebels, with the
colonel actually forced to take the chair and introduce the speaker.
I myself am made Commander-in-Chief by my own solicitor: a Jew,
Schneidekind! a Hebrew Jew! It seems only yesterday that these things
would have been the ravings of a madman: today they are the commonplaces
of the gutter press. I live now for three objects only: to defeat the
enemy, to restore the Panjandrum, and to hang my solicitor.

SCHNEIDEKIND. Be careful, sir: these are dangerous views to utter
nowadays. What if I were to betray you?

STRAMMFEST. What!

SCHNEIDEKIND. I won't, of course: my own father goes on just like that;
but suppose I did?

STRAMMFEST [chuckling]. I should accuse you of treason to the
Revolution, my lad; and they would immediately shoot you, unless you
cried and asked to see your mother before you died, when they would
probably change their minds and make you a brigadier. Enough. [He rises
and expands his chest.] I feel the better for letting myself go. To
business. [He takes up a telegram: opens it: and is thunderstruck by its
contents.] Great heaven! [He collapses into his chair.] This is the worst
blow of all.

SCHNEIDEKIND. What has happened? Are we beaten?

STRAMMFEST. Man, do you think that a mere defeat could strike me down as
this news does: I, who have been defeated thirteen times since the war
began? O, my master, my master, my Panjandrum! [he is convulsed with
sobs.]

SCHNEIDEKIND. They have killed him?

STRAMMFEST. A dagger has been struck through his heart--

SCHNEIDEKIND. Good God!

STRAMMFEST. --and through mine, through mine.

SCHNEIDEKIND [relieved]. Oh, a metaphorical dagger! I thought you meant
a real one. What has happened?

STRAMMFEST. His daughter the Grand Duchess Annajanska, she who