THE DUKE.

Glad to be nephew of a pretty aunt.

THE ARCHd.u.c.h.eSS.

And I am glad to have so big a nephew.

THE DUKE.

Too pretty.

THE ARCHd.u.c.h.eSS.

And too big.

THE DUKE.

For such a game.

THE ARCHd.u.c.h.eSS.

What game?

THE DUKE.

The game of tender intimacy.

THE ARCHd.u.c.h.eSS.

I fear your eyes to-night--!

THE DUKE.

But I love yours!

THE ARCHd.u.c.h.eSS.

Ah, now I see! As all the court is masked, Even friendship wears the domino of love.

THE DUKE.

Oh friendship--auntie with a cousin's eyes-- Friendship and love are always much too near 'Twixt aunts and nephews, G.o.d-sons and G.o.d-mothers-- Oh! do but smell the fragrance of the lindens!-- 'Twixt pretty chocolate-girls and officers, And frontier incidents are bound to happen.

THE ARCHd.u.c.h.eSS.

Our friendship's lost its bloom.

THE DUKE.

I dearly love This sentiment one cannot understand, Where all's confused and mingled--

THE ARCHd.u.c.h.eSS.

No, let be.

[_She moves away._]

THE DUKE.

Oh, if you put on airs of an Archd.u.c.h.ess--!

THE ARCHd.u.c.h.eSS.

Farewell; you've pained me deeply, Franz.

[_She goes._]

THE DUKE.

Ah, bah!

Into our friendship I let fall a drop, And friendship turns to troubled love. I'll wait.

[_He sees_ THERESA.]

Why! What is this? How comes it you are here?

So you're not hastening toward the skies of Parma?

And all this gra.s.s? What are you?

THERESA.

"Little Brooklet."

THE DUKE.

Ah, yes, I know. An exile on his rock, My father had a brooklet for his friend To drown the gaoler's voice, and that is why At Schonbrunn, which is my Saint Helena, My soul must not be left deprived of comfort.

Having the gaoler I've the brooklet too.

THERESA.

But you will never stoop to look at me.

THE DUKE.

Because I dreamed of flying from my rock; But that's all over.

THERESA.

How?