FLAMBEAU.

Yes; And won a warm reception for myself.

MARMONT.

Very imprudent.

FLAMBEAU.

True, but then my failing Is ever overdoing things a little.

I always add a trifle to my orders And wear a rose-bud when I go to battle: My little joke.

MARMONT.

So if the Camerata Cares to employ me--

THE DUKE.

No! not Marmont!

FLAMBEAU.

Pooh!

Let him redeem himself!

THE DUKE.

No!

MARMONT.

I have lists Carefully made, of all the malcontents; Maison, the French Amba.s.sador, is my friend.

FLAMBEAU.

Oh, he can serve us.

THE DUKE.

Compromises! No!

I'll not let Marmont consecrate himself!

MARMONT.

When you are crowned, my Lord, I will obey you.

Meanwhile I'll go at once to General Maison.

[MARMONT _goes out._]

FLAMBEAU.

That venerable rascal's in the right.

THE DUKE.

So be it, then! I'll come. But where's the proof That France still feels herself my Father's widow?

Oh, Flambeau, time has pa.s.sed; the ancient love These worthy people bore us must have died.

FLAMBEAU.

Their love of you, my Lord? Why that's immortal!

[_He takes from about his person the various articles mentioned in the following scene._]

THE DUKE.

Why, Flambeau, what is that?

FLAMBEAU.

A pair of braces.

THE DUKE.

Have you gone mad?

FLAMBEAU.

Just look and see what's on 'em!

THE DUKE.

My portrait!

FLAMBEAU.

Worn by quite a decent cla.s.s.

THE DUKE.

But Flambeau--

FLAMBEAU.

Will you take a pinch of snuff?

THE DUKE.