Part 5

From the rise of the curtain, From the rise of the curtain, Thus throw themselves into their Thus throw themselves into their parts, parts, Success is most certain! Success is most certain! If the role you're prepared to endow The role I'm prepared to endow With such delicate touches, With most delicate touch- es, By the heaven above us, I vow By the heaven above us, I vow You shall be my Grand Duchess! I will be your Grand Duchess! (Dance.)

Enter all the Chorus with LUDWIG, NOTARY, and LISA—all greatly agitated.

EXCITED CHORUS.

My goodness me! What shall we do? Why, what a dreadful situation! (To LUD.) It's all your fault, you booby you—you lump of indiscrimination! I'm sure I don't know where to go—it's put me into such a tetter— But this at all events I know—the sooner we are off, the better!

ERN. What means this agitato? What d'ye seek? As your Grand Duke elect I bid you speak!

SONG—LUDWIG.

Ten minutes since I met a chap Who bowed an easy salutation— Thinks I, "This gentleman, mayhap, Belongs to our Association." But, on the whole, Uncertain yet, A sausage-roll I took and eat— That chap replied (I don't embellish) By eating three with obvious relish.

CHORUS (angrily). Why, gracious powers, No chum of ours Could eat three sausage-rolls with relish!

LUD. Quite reassured, I let him know Our plot—each incident explaining; That stranger chuckled much, as though He thought me highly entertaining. I told him all, Both bad and good; I bade him call— He said he would: I added much—the more I muckled, The more that chuckling chummy chuckled!

ALL (angrily). A bat could see He couldn't be A chum of ours if he chuckled!

LUD. Well, as I bowed to his applause, Down dropped he with hysteric bellow— And that seemed right enough, because I am a devilish funny fellow. Then suddenly, As still he squealed, It flashed on me That I'd revealed Our plot, with all details effective, To Grand Duke Rudolph's own detective!

ALL. What folly fell, To go and tell Our plot to any one's detective!

CHORUS.

(Attacking LUDWIG.) You booby dense— You oaf immense, With no pretence To common sense! A stupid muff Who's made of stuff Not worth a puff Of candle-snuff!

Pack up at once and off we go, unless we're anxious to exhibit Our fairy forms all in a row, strung up upon the Castle gibbet!

[Exeunt Chorus. Manent LUDWIG, LISA, ERNEST, JULIA, and NOTARY. JULIA. Well, a nice mess you've got us into! There's an end of our precious plot! All up—pop—fizzle—bang—done for! LUD. Yes, but—ha! ha!—fancy my choosing the Grand Duke's private detective, of all men, to make a confidant of! When you come to think of it, it's really devilish funny! ERN. (angrily). When you come to think of it, it's extremely injudicious to admit into a conspiracy every pudding-headed baboon who presents himself! LUD. Yes—I should never do that. If I were chairman of this gang, I should hesitate to enrol any baboon who couldn't produce satisfactory credentials from his last Zoological Gardens. LISA. Ludwig is far from being a baboon. Poor boy, he could not help giving us away—it's his trusting nature—he was deceived. JULIA (furiously). His trusting nature! (To LUDWIG.) Oh, I should like to talk to you in my own language for five minutes—only five minutes! I know some good, strong, energetic English remarks that would shrivel your trusting nature into raisins—only you wouldn't understand them! LUD. Here we perceive one of the disadvantages of a neglected education! ERN. (to JULIA). And I suppose you'll never be my Grand Duchess now! JULIA. Grand Duchess? My good friend, if you don't produce the piece how can I play the part? ERN. True. (To LUDWIG.) You see what you've done. LUD. But, my dear sir, you don't seem to understand that the man ate three sausage-rolls. Keep that fact steadily before you. Three large sausage-rolls. JULIA. Bah!—Lots of people eat sausage-rolls who are not conspirators. LUD. Then they shouldn't. It's bad form. It's not the game. When one of the Human Family proposes to eat a sausage-roll, it is his duty to ask himself, "Am I a conspirator?" And if, on examination, he finds that he is not a conspirator, he is bound in honour to select some other form of refreshment. LISA. Of course he is. One should always play the game. (To NOTARY, who has been smiling placidly through this.) What are you grinning at, you greedy old man? NOT. Nothing—don't mind me. It is always amusing to the legal mind to see a parcel of laymen bothering themselves about a matter which to a trained lawyer presents no difficulty whatever. ALL. No difficulty! NOT. None whatever! The way out of it is quite simple. ALL. Simple? NOT. Certainly! Now attend. In the first place, you two men fight a Statutory Duel. ERN. A Statutory Duel? JULIA. A Stat-tat-tatutory Duel! Ach! what a crack-jaw language this German is! LUD. Never heard of such a thing. NOT. It is true that the practice has fallen into abeyance through disuse. But all the laws of Pfennig Halbpfennig run for a hundred years, when they die a natural death, unless, in the meantime, they have been revived for another century. The Act that institutes the Statutory Duel was passed a hundred years ago, and as it has never been revived, it expires to-morrow. So you're just in time. JULIA. But what is the use of talking to us about Statutory Duels when we none of us know what a Statutory Duel is? NOT. Don't you? Then I'll explain.

SONG—NOTARY.

About a century since, The code of the duello To sudden death For want of breath Sent many a strapping fellow. The then presiding Prince (Who useless bloodshed hated), He passed an Act, Short and compact, Which may be briefly stated. Unlike the complicated laws A Parliamentary draftsman draws, It may be briefly stated.

ALL. We know that complicated laws, Such as a legal draftsman draws, Cannot be briefly stated.

NOT. By this ingenious law, If any two shall quarrel, They may not fight With falchions bright (Which seemed to him immoral); But each a card shall draw, And he who draws the lowest Shall (so 'twas said) Be thenceforth dead— In fact, a legal "ghoest" (When exigence of rhyme compels, Orthography forgoes her spells, And "ghost" is written "ghoest").

ALL (aside) With what an emphasis he dwells Upon "orthography" and "spells"! That kind of fun's the lowest.

NOT. When off the loser's popped (By pleasing legal fiction), And friend and foe Have wept their woe In counterfeit affliction, The winner must adopt The loser's poor relations— Discharge his debts, Pay all his bets, And take his obligations.

In short, to briefly sum the case, The winner takes the loser's place, With all its obligations.

ALL. How neatly lawyers state a case! The winner takes the loser's place, With all its obligations!

LUD. I see. The man who draws the lowest card— NOT. Dies, ipso facto, a social death. He loses all his civil rights—his identity disappears—the Revising Barrister expunges his name from the list of voters, and the winner takes his place, whatever it may be, discharges all his functions, and adopts all his responsibilities. ERN. This is all very well, as far as it goes, but it only protects one of us. What's to become of the survivor? LUD. Yes, that's an interesting point, because I might be the survivor. NOT. The survivor goes at once to the Grand Duke, and, in a burst of remorse, denounces the dead man as the moving spirit of the plot. He is accepted as King's evidence, and, as a matter of course, receives a free pardon. To-morrow, when the law expires, the dead man will, ipso facto, come to life again—the Revising Barrister will restore his name to the list of voters, and he will resume all his obligations as though nothing unusual had happened. JULIA. When he will be at once arrested, tried, and executed on the evidence of the informer! Candidly, my friend, I don't think much of your plot! NOT. Dear, dear, dear, the ignorance of the laity! My good young lady, it is a beautiful maxim of our glorious Constitution that a man can only die once. Death expunges crime, and when he comes to life again, it will be with a clean slate. ERN. It's really very ingenious. LUD. (to NOTARY). My dear sir, we owe you our lives! LISA (aside to LUDWIG). May I kiss him? LUD. Certainly not: you're a big girl now. (To ERNEST.) Well, miscreant, are you prepared to meet me on the field of honour? ERN. At once. By Jove, what a couple of fire-eaters we are! LISA. Ludwig doesn't know what fear is. LUD. Oh, I don't mind this sort of duel! ERN. It's not like a duel with swords. I hate a duel with swords. It's not the blade I mind—it's the blood. LUD. And I hate a duel with pistols. It's not the ball I mind—it's the bang. NOT. Altogether it is a great improvement on the old method of giving satisfaction.

QUINTET. LUDWIG, LISA, NOTARY, ERNEST, JULIA.

Strange the views some people hold! Two young fellows quarrel— Then they fight, for both are bold— Rage of both is uncontrolled— Both are stretched out, stark and cold! Prithee, where's the moral? Ding dong! Ding dong! There's an end to further action, And this barbarous transaction Is described as "satisfaction"! Ha! ha! ha! ha! satisfaction! Ding dong! Ding dong! Each is laid in churchyard mould— Strange the views some people hold!

Better than the method old, Which was coarse and cruel, Is the plan that we've extolled. Sing thy virtues manifold (Better than refined gold), Statutory Duel! Sing song! Sing song!

Sword or pistol neither uses— Playing card he lightly chooses, And the loser simply loses! Ha! ha! ha! ha! simply loses. Sing song! Sing song! Some prefer the churchyard mould! Strange the views some people hold!

NOT. (offering a card to ERNEST). Now take a card and gaily sing How little you care for Fortune's rubs—

ERN. (drawing a card). Hurrah, hurrah!—I've drawn a King:

ALL. He's drawn a King! He's drawn a King! Sing Hearts and Diamonds, Spades and Clubs!

ALL (dancing). He's drawn a King! How strange a thing! An excellent card—his chance it aids— Sing Hearts and Diamonds, Spades and Clubs— Sing Diamonds, Hearts and Clubs and Spades!

NOT. (to LUDWIG). Now take a card with heart of grace— (Whatever our fate, let's play our parts).

LUD. (drawing card). Hurrah, hurrah!—I've drawn an Ace!

ALL. He's drawn an Ace! He's drawn an Ace! Sing Clubs and Diamonds, Spades and Hearts!

ALL (dancing). He's drawn an Ace! Observe his face— Such very good fortune falls to few— Sing Clubs and Diamonds, Spades and Hearts— Sing Clubs, Spades, Hearts and Diamonds too!

NOT. That both these maids may keep their troth, And never misfortune them befall, I'll hold 'em as trustee for both—

ALL. He'll hold 'em both! He'll hold 'em both! Sing Hearts, Clubs, Diamonds, Spades and all!

ALL (dancing). By joint decree As {our/your} trustee This Notary {we/you} will now instal— In custody let him keep {their/our} hearts, Sing Hearts, Clubs, Diamonds, Spades and all!

[Dance and exeunt LUDWIG, ERNEST, and NOTARY with the two Girls.

March. Enter the seven Chamberlains of the GRAND DUKE RUDOLPH.

CHORUS OF CHAMBERLAINS.

The good Grand Duke of Pfennig Halbpfennig, Though, in his own opinion, very very big, In point of fact he's nothing but a miserable prig Is the good Grand Duke of Pfennig Halbpfennig!

Though quite contemptible, as every one agrees, We must dissemble if we want our bread and cheese, So hail him in a chorus, with enthusiasm big, The good Grand Duke of Pfennig Halbpfennig!

Enter the GRAND DUKE RUDOLPH. He is meanly and miserably dressed in old and patched clothes, but blazes with a profusion of orders and decorations. He is very weak and ill, from low living.

SONG—RUDOLPH.

A pattern to professors of monarchical autonomy, I don't indulge in levity or compromising bonhomie, But dignified formality, consistent with economy, Above all other virtues I particularly prize. I never join in merriment—I don't see joke or jape any— I never tolerate familiarity in shape any— This, joined with an extravagant respect for tuppence-ha'penny, A keynote to my character sufficiently supplies.

(Speaking.) Observe. (To Chamberlains.) My snuff-box!

(The snuff-box is passed with much ceremony from the Junior Chamberlain, through all the others, until it is presented by the Senior Chamberlain to RUDOLPH, who uses it.)

That incident a keynote to my character supplies.

RUD. I weigh out tea and sugar with precision mathematical— Instead of beer, a penny each—my orders are emphatical— (Extravagance unpardonable, any more than that I call), But, on the other hand, my Ducal dignity to keep— All Courtly ceremonial—to put it comprehensively— I rigidly insist upon (but not, I hope, offensively) Whenever ceremonial can be practised inexpensively— And, when you come to think of it, it's really very cheap!

(Speaking.) Observe. (To Chamberlains.) My handkerchief!

(Handkerchief is handed by Junior Chamberlain to the next in order, and so on until it reaches RUDOLPH, who is much inconvenienced by the delay.)

It's sometimes inconvenient, but it's always very cheap!

RUD. My Lord Chamberlain, as you are aware, my marriage with the wealthy Baroness von Krakenfeldt will take place to-morrow, and you will be good enough to see that the rejoicings are on a scale of unusual liberality. Pass that on. (Chamberlain whispers to Vice-Chamberlain, who whispers to the next, and so on.) The sports will begin with a Wedding Breakfast Bee. The leading pastry-cooks of the town will be invited to compete, and the winner will not only enjoy the satisfaction of seeing his breakfast devoured by the Grand Ducal pair, but he will also be entitled to have the Arms of Pfennig Halbpfennig tattoo'd between his shoulder-blades. The Vice-Chamberlain will see to this. All the public fountains of Speisesaal will run with Gingerbierheim and Currantweinmilch at the public expense. The Assistant Vice-Chamberlain will see to this. At night, everybody will illuminate; and as I have no desire to tax the public funds unduly, this will be done at the inhabitants' private expense. The Deputy Assistant Vice-Chamberlain will see to this. All my Grand Ducal subjects will wear new clothes, and the Sub-Deputy Assistant Vice-Chamberlain will collect the usual commission on all sales. Wedding presents (which, on this occasion, should be on a scale of extraordinary magnificence) will be received at the Palace at any hour of the twenty-four, and the Temporary Sub-Deputy Assistant Vice-Chamberlain will sit up all night for this purpose. The entire population will be commanded to enjoy themselves, and with this view the Acting Temporary Sub-Deputy Assistant Vice-Chamberlain will sing comic songs in the Market-place from noon to nightfall. Finally, we have composed a Wedding Anthem, with which the entire population are required to provide themselves. It can be obtained from our Grand Ducal publishers at the usual discount price, and all the Chamberlains will be expected to push the sale. (Chamberlains bow and exeunt). I don't feel at all comfortable. I hope I'm not doing a foolish thing in getting married. After all, it's a poor heart that never rejoices, and this wedding of mine is the first little treat I've allowed myself since my christening. Besides, Caroline's income is very considerable, and as her ideas of economy are quite on a par with mine, it ought to turn out well. Bless her tough old heart, she's a mean little darling! Oh, here she is, punctual to her appointment!

Enter BARONESS VON KRAKENFELDT.

BAR. Rudolph! Why, what's the matter? RUD. Why, I'm not quite myself, my pet. I'm a little worried and upset. I want a tonic. It's the low diet, I think. I am afraid, after all, I shall have to take the bull by the horns and have an egg with my breakfast. BAR. I shouldn't do anything rash, dear. Begin with a jujube. (Gives him one.) RUD. (about to eat it, but changes his mind). I'll keep it for supper. (He sits by her and tries to put his arm round her waist.) BAR. Rudolph, don't! What in the world are you thinking of? RUD. I was thinking of embracing you, my sugarplum. Just as a little cheap treat. BAR. What, here? In public? Really, you appear to have no sense of delicacy. RUD. No sense of delicacy, Bon-bon! BAR. No. I can't make you out. When you courted me, all your courting was done publicly in the Marketplace. When you proposed to me, you proposed in the Market-place. And now that we're engaged you seem to desire that our first tte- occur in the Marketplace! Surely you've a room in your Palace—with blinds—that would do? RUD. But, my own, I can't help myself. I'm bound by my own decree. BAR. Your own decree? RUD. Yes. You see, all the houses that give on the Market-place belong to me, but the drains (which date back to the reign of Charlemagne) want attending to, and the houses wouldn't let—so, with a view to increasing the value of the property, I decreed that all love-episodes between affectionate couples should take place, in public, on this spot, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, when the band doesn't play. BAR. Bless me, what a happy idea! So moral too! And have you found it answer? RUD. Answer? The rents have gone up fifty per cent, and the sale of opera-glasses (which is a Grand Ducal monopoly) has received an extraordinary stimulus! So, under the circumstances, would you allow me to put my arm round your waist? As a source of income. Just once! BAR. But it's so very embarrassing. Think of the opera-glasses! RUD. My good girl, that's just what I am thinking of. Hang it all, we must give them something for their money! What's that? BAR. (unfolding paper, which contains a large letter, which she hands to him). It's a letter which your detective asked me to hand to you. I wrapped it up in yesterday's paper to keep it clean. RUD. Oh, it's only his report! That'll keep. But, I say, you've never been and bought a newspaper? BAR. My dear Rudolph, do you think I'm mad? It came wrapped round my breakfast. RUD. (relieved). I thought you were not the sort of girl to go and buy a newspaper! Well, as we've got it, we may as well read it. What does it say? BAR. Why—dear me—here's your biography! "Our Detested Despot!" RUD. Yes—I fancy that refers to me. BAR. And it says—Oh, it can't be! RUD. What can't be? BAR. Why, it says that although you're going to marry me to-morrow, you were betrothed in infancy to the Princess of Monte Carlo! RUD. Oh yes—that's quite right. Didn't I mention it? BAR. Mention it! You never said a word about it! RUD. Well, it doesn't matter, because, you see, it's practically off. BAR. Practically off? RUD. Yes. By the terms of the contract the betrothal is void unless the Princess marries before she is of age. Now, her father, the Prince, is stony-broke, and hasn't left his house for years for fear of arrest. Over and over again he has implored me to come to him to be married-but in vain. Over and over again he has implored me to advance him the money to enable the Princess to come to me—but in vain. I am very young, but not as young as that; and as the Princess comes of age at two tomorrow, why at two to-morrow I'm a free man, so I appointed that hour for our wedding, as I shall like to have as much marriage as I can get for my money. BAR. I see. Of course, if the married state is a happy state, it's a pity to waste any of it. RUD. Why, every hour we delayed I should lose a lot of you and you'd lose a lot of me! BAR. My thoughtful darling! Oh, Rudolph, we ought to be very happy! RUD. If I'm not, it'll be my first bad investment. Still, there is such a thing as a slump even in Matrimonials. BAR. I often picture us in the long, cold, dark December evenings, sitting close to each other and singing impassioned duets to keep us warm, and thinking of all the lovely things we could afford to buy if we chose, and, at the same time, planning out our lives in a spirit of the most rigid and exacting economy! RUD. It's a most beautiful and touching picture of connubial bliss in its highest and most rarefied development!

DUET—BARONESS and RUDOLPH.

BAR. As o'er our penny roll we sing, It is not reprehensive To think what joys our wealth would bring Were we disposed to do the thing Upon a scale extensive. There's rich mock-turtle—thick and clear—

RUD. (confidentially). Perhaps we'll have it once a year!

BAR. (delighted). You are an open-handed dear!

RUD. Though, mind you, it's expensive.

BAR. No doubt it is expensive.

BOTH. How fleeting are the glutton's joys! With fish and fowl he lightly toys,

RUD. And pays for such expensive tricks Sometimes as much as two-and-six!

BAR. As two-and-six?

RUD. As two-and-six—

BOTH. Sometimes as much as two-and-six!

BAR. It gives him no advantage, mind— For you and he have only dined, And you remain when once it's down A better man by half-a-crown.

RUD. By half-a-crown?

BAR. By half-a-crown.

BOTH. Yes, two-and-six is half-a-crown. Then let us be modestly merry, And rejoice with a derry down derry. For to laugh and to sing No extravagance bring— It's a joy economical, very!

BAR. Although as you're of course aware (I never tried to hide it) I moisten my insipid fare With water—which I can't abear—

RUD. Nor I—I can't abide it.

BAR. This pleasing fact our souls will cheer, With fifty thousand pounds a year We could indulge in table beer!

RUD. Get out!

BAR. We could—I've tried it!

RUD. Yes, yes, of course you've tried it!

BOTH. Oh, he who has an income clear Of fifty thousand pounds a year—

BAR. Can purchase all his fancy loves Conspicuous hats—

RUD. Two shilling gloves—

BAR. (doubtfully). Two-shilling gloves?

RUD. (positively). Two-shilling gloves—

BOTH. Yes, think of that, two-shilling gloves!

BAR. Cheap shoes and ties of gaudy hue, And Waterbury watches, too— And think that he could buy the lot Were he a donkey—

RUD. Which he's not!

BAR. Oh no, he's not!

RUD. Oh no, he's not!

BOTH (dancing). That kind of donkey he is not! Then let us be modestly merry, And rejoice with a derry down derry. For to laugh and to sing Is a rational thing- It's a joy economical, very! [Exit BARONESS.

RUD. Oh, now for my detective's report. (Opens letter.) What's this! Another conspiracy! A conspiracy to depose me! And my private detective was so convulsed with laughter at the notion of a conspirator selecting him for a confidant that he was physically unable to arrest the malefactor! Why, it'll come off! This comes of engaging a detective with a keen sense of the ridiculous! For the future I'll employ none but Scotchmen. And the plot is to explode to-morrow! My wedding day! Oh, Caroline, Caroline! (Weeps.) This is perfectly frightful! What's to be done? I don't know! I ought to keep cool and think, but you can't think when your veins are full of hot soda-water, and your brain's fizzing like a firework, and all your faculties are jumbled in a perfect whirlpool of tumblication! And I'm going to be ill! I know I am! I've been living too low, and I'm going to be very ill indeed!

SONG—RUDOLPH.