In the Palace of Sham, the Infantlonian residence of the Ardrigh.
Sanctimonious and Conception sit together in the study of His
Graciousness.
_Conception._ “Your Graciousness, I’ve thought of everything. None but
the Prince of Bernia and that jade Whom they call Verita, possess the
fact That Isola is Fortunatus, too. Charged with conspiracy, both are
in gaol; There they shall stop till Isola is dead. His Majesty has no
suspicion, has he?”
_Sanctimonious._ “No, none, Conception. We’ll take care of that, I and
Sirocco, the Prime Minister. Now that Vulnar and his accomplices—
Scrutus and Fortunatus—are condemned, The danger of detection is
quite nil. I trust to you, of course, to keep the truth Barred in the
prison till they are no more. ’Tis fortunate they led their own
defence, And that Isola scorned to plead her sex And so secure a
respite for herself. Yes, Fortunatus, you shall hang, indeed, And I’m
revenged on Lady Isola!”
_Conception_ (starting): “Your Graciousness, the Prince of Scota’s
there Staring at you with all his might and main, Where did he spring
from? Is’t a shadow wraith? God! how his features mirror Isola’s.”
_Sanctimonious_ (testily): “’Tis but a child. He often stays with me,
Comes for instruction. Plays in the Garden. Nothing to fear from him.
A mere, mere child. How now, my son, what stops you in your play?”
_Prince Bernis._ “A voice called me. I thought it was Mamma’s.
‘Bernis,’ it said, ‘Come, darling, come here quick!’ I ran so fast. I
thought it was Mamma.”
[_Enter Prince Bernis’s nurse by same window as he had entered._
_Nurse._ “Fie, Bernis! Fie! I’ve called you sev’ral times.”
_Prince Bernis._ “I thought it was Mamma and ran in here.”
_Nurse._ “Hush! Do not speak of Lady Isola. Make salutation to His
Graciousness, Then come with me, we must be going home.”
_Sanctimonious._ “My blessing on you, Prince. Be a good boy. Come again
soon and have a game of play.” [_Exit Prince Bernis and Nurse._ (To
Conception) “’Tis fortunate he is a little child And would not
understand what I was saying.”
_Conception_ (uneasily): “I hope he did not, but his eyes were wide,
They seemed to me to be Isola’s eyes.”
_Sanctimonious._ “Tut! tut! you are a fool, Conception. The Prince of
Scota is a baby still.”
_Conception._ “Some babies are too sharp, your Graciousness. However,
you know best. _I am a fool._”
_Sanctimonious._ “To-morrow they will die, I wish ’twas o’er. I shall
not freely breathe till their breath’s gone.”
_Conception_ (rising): “Sharp on the stroke of eight they’ll die
to-morrow. Your Graciousness may eat in peace at nine.”
_Sanctimonious._ “Well spoken, man. Unparalleled Conception.”
[_Exit Conception._