is tiring you--give it to me.

SONNSFELD.

No, let me have it. You take the other one that is started. In this way
we will gain time to rest later.

WILHELMINE (_listening toward the door_).

And we aren't even allowed a word with each other in freedom.

SONNSFELD (_rises and looks toward the door_).

It is cruel to let soldiers see a Princess humiliated to the extent of
knitting stockings.

WILHELMINE.

Why complain? It is--of itself, quite nicely domestic. [_She knits._]

SONNSFELD.

What would the Prince of Baireuth say if he could see you now?

WILHELMINE.

The Prince? What made you think of the Prince?

SONNSFELD.

You cannot deny that his attentions to you might be called
almost--tender--

WILHELMINE.

Almost--

SONNSFELD.

Such eyes! Such burning glances! I am very much mistaken or it was Your
Royal brother's intention, in sending this young Prince to you, to send
you at the same time the most ardent lover under the sun.

WILHELMINE.

Lovers hold more with the moon.

SONNSFELD.

And he shows so great an admiration for you that I am again mistaken if
our sentry outside the door there has not already in his pocket a
billet-doux addressed to Your Highness--a billet-doux written by the
Prince.

WILHELMINE.

Sonnsfeld! What power of combination!

SONNSFELD.

Almost worthy of a Seckendorf, isn't it? I'll question the man, in any
case.

WILHELMINE.

Are you crazy?

SONNSFELD (_at the door_).

Hey, there, grenadier!

ECKHOF (_comes in_).

At your service, madam. SONNSFELD. Have you a letter for us?

ECKHOF.

Please Your Honor, yes.

SONNSFELD (_to the_ PRINCESS).

There you are! [_To_ ECKHOF.] From the Prince of Baireuth?

ECKHOF.

Please Your Honor, yes.

WILHELMINE.

Where is it? Did you take it?

ECKHOF.

Please Your Honor, no. [_Wheels and goes out_.]

SONNSFELD.

What a dreadful country! The general heartlessness penetrates even to
the uneducated classes.

WILHELMINE.

But how dare the Prince imagine that our sentry could forget all--all
sense of propriety in this way?

SONNSFELD.

Would you not have accepted it?

WILHELMINE.

Never!

[_A letter, attached to a little stone, is thrown in at the window_.]

SONNSFELD.

A letter? Through the window! Oh, how it frightened me!

WILHELMINE.

Pick it up.

SONNSFELD (_doing so_).

But you won't accept it, you say. It can only be from the Prince--and it
is addressed to Your Highness.