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 reign.

THE DUKE.

My brain's not ripe.

THE COUNTESS.

The crown's enough to ripen any brain.

THE DUKE.

The crown of light, shed by the midnight lamp.

THE YOUNG MAN.

It's such a chance!

THE DUKE.

I beg your pardon? "Chance"?

Is this the tailor reappearing?

THE COUNTESS.

Yet--

THE DUKE.

I will be honest in default of genius.

I only ask three hundred wakeful nights.

THE YOUNG MAN.

But this refusal will confirm the rumors.

THE COUNTESS.

They say you've never really been of us.

THE YOUNG MAN.

You are Young France: you're called Old Austria.

THE COUNTESS.

They say your mind is being weakened.

THE YOUNG MAN.

Yes!

They say you're cheated, even in your studies.

THE COUNTESS.

They say you do not know your father's history.

THE DUKE.

Do they say that?

THE YOUNG MAN.

What shall we answer them?

THE DUKE.

Answer them thus--

[_Enter_ DIETRICHSTEIN.]

Dear Count!

DIETRICHSTEIN.

'Tis Obenaus.

THE DUKE.

Ah! for my history lesson! Let him come.

[DIETRICHSTEIN _goes out. The_ DUKE _points to the clothes scattered about._]

Spend as much time as possible in packing, And try to get forgotten in your corner.

[_Seeing_ DIETRICHSTEIN _come in with_ BARON VON OBENAUS.]