What's this I trod on? Why, a white c.o.c.kade!

METTERNICH.

H'm!

THE DUKE.

[_To the_ ATTACHe.]

Yours, no doubt, sir. Favor me: your hat.

[_The_ ATTACHe _gives him his hat unwillingly._ _The_ DUKE _sees the tricolor c.o.c.kade._]

Ah!

[_To_ METTERNICH.]

I was not aware--but then--the flag?

METTERNICH.

Highness--

THE DUKE.

Is that changed, too?

METTERNICH.

A trivial detail.

THE DUKE.

Nothing.

METTERNICH.

Question of color--

THE DUKE.

Of a shade.

See for yourself. Looked at in certain lights, I really think this is the more effective. [_He moves a few steps._]

[_His mother takes him by the arm and leads him to the b.u.t.terfly-cases, which the_ DOCTOR, _who has come back, has spread out._]

THE DUKE.

b.u.t.terflies?

MARIA LOUISA.

You admire the black one?

THE DUKE.

Charming.

THE DOCTOR.

The plants it loves are umbelliferous.

THE DUKE.

It seems to see me with its wings.

THE DOCTOR.

Those eyes?

We call them lunulae.

THE DUKE.

Indeed? I'm glad.

THE DOCTOR.

Are you examining the spotted grey?

THE DUKE.

No, sir.

THE DOCTOR.

What then, my lord?

THE DUKE.

The pin that killed it.

THE DOCTOR.

[_To_ MARIA LOUISA.]

No use.

MARIA LOUISA.