FLAMBEAU.

Lord!

ANOTHER MASK.

Do it!

FLAMBEAU.

[_To the_ DUKE.]

Remember, you're not here at all!

GENTZ.

[_Arranging his hair, and striking the conventional att.i.tude._]

Curl--eye--hand--There!

FLAMBEAU.

Old fool!

THE DUKE.

He mocks him, yet Even the mockery's great, for it evokes him.

TIBURTIUS.

You know he used to tumble off his horse?

FLAMBEAU.

That's what the Ultras always said about him.

A MASK.

His talk was poor.

FLAMBEAU.

Go on!

THE DUKE.

Oh, that's the rule.

What could these worms and insects talk about If they had not the eagle to abuse?

TIBURTIUS.

His name was not Napoleon at all.

FLAMBEAU.

What!

TIBURTIUS.

That was manufactured. It's so simple!

You want to make a sounding name--

FLAMBEAU.

You idiot!

TIBURTIUS.

Which shall creep into history by and by: Take three bright, simple vowels: Na--po--le-- And add a nasal sound: On--

A MASK.

Wonderful!

TIBURTIUS.

Yes: Na--po--le, the lightning; On, the thunder.

FLAMBEAU.

That's all!

A MASK.

What was his name?

TIBURTIUS.

What? Don't you know?

A MASK.

Why, no.

TIBURTIUS.

His name was Nicholas.

FLAMBEAU.