eless, morn is dawning, birds
are twittering, and the young lover, kneeling before his mistress on a
divan, is bemoaning the fact that day is come and that he cannot
publish his happiness to the world. The tete-a-tete is interrupted by a
rude boor of a nobleman, who come to consult his cousin (the princess)
about a messenger to send with the conventional offering of a silver
rose to the daughter of a vulgar plebeian just elevated to the nobility
because of his wealth. The conversation between the two touches on
little more than old amours, and after the lady has held her levee
designed to introduce a variety of comedy effects in music as well as
action, the princess recommends her lover for the office of rosebearer.
Meanwhile the lover has donned the garments of a waiting maid and been
overwhelmed with the wicked attentions of the roue, Lerchenau. When the
lovers are again alone there is a confession of renunciation on the
part of the princess, based on the philosophical reflection that, after
all, her Octavian being so young would bring about the inevitable
parting sooner or later.

In the second act what the princess in her prescient abnegation had
foreseen takes place. Her lover carries the rose to the young woman
whom the roue had picked out for his bride and promptly falls in love
with her. She with equal promptness, following the example of Wagner's
heroines, bowls herself at his head. The noble vulgarian complicates
matters by insisting that he receive a dowry instead of paying one. The
young hot-blood adds to the difficulties by pinking him in the arm with
his sword, but restores order at the last by sending him a letter of
assignation in his first act guise of a maid servant of the princess.

This assignation is the background of the third act, which is farce of
the wildest and most vulgar order. Much of it is too silly for
description. Always, however, there is allusion to the purpose of the
meeting on the part of Lerchenau, whose plans are spoiled by
apparitions in all parts of the room, the entrance of the police, his
presumptive bride and her father, a woman who claims him as her
husband, four children who raise bedlam (and memories of the
contentious Jews in "Salome"); by shouting "Papa! papa!" until his mind
is in a whirl and he rushes out in despair. The princess leaves the
new-found lovers alone.

They hymn their happiness in Mozartian strains (the melody copied from
the second part of the music with