THE GYPSY. Very true!
THE MAID. And there are spikes on the top. How did you get over?
THE GYPSY. That is my secret. Would I be the gypsy king if everybody
knew what I know?
THE MAID. Won't you tell _me_?
THE GYPSY. Women have asked me that many times. But I never tell. But,
though I won't tell you how I entered, I don't mind telling you _why_.
THE MAID. Oh, I know that already!
THE GYPSY. You think, perhaps, that I am a thief as well as a
housebreaker--that it is in the hope of royal treasure left unguarded
that I have come here. ...
THE MAID. You have come here because you took a fancy to see what was
on the other side of the wall. Isn't that it?
THE GYPSY. At last I have found some one in this stupid city who
understands me. Young woman--
THE MAID. Yes?
THE GYPSY. You do not belong here. There is no one here who does things
because they are foolish and interesting. Would you like to come away
with me?
THE MAID. Oh, no. You must not think, because I understand you, that I
approve of you. You see--
THE GYPSY. You don't approve of me?
THE MAID. No--but I like you. I can't help it. I always did like
Gypsies. You see, I was brought up among them.
THE GYPSY. You a Gypsy child!
THE MAID. I suppose I was. Though I always preferred to imagine that I
was some Princess that had been changed in the cradle and stolen away.
When I was hardly more than a baby, I remember that I disapproved of
their rough ways. I can still faintly remember the jolting of the
wagons that kept me awake, and the smell of the soup in the big kettle
over the fire.
THE GYPSY. It is a good smell.
THE MAID. But I did not think so! It smelled of garlic. And when I was
six years old, I ran away. The tribe had encamped just outside the city
here, and I wandered away from the tents, and entered the city-gate,
and hid myself, and at night I came straight to the palace. The
soldiers found me, and took me to the old king. He said that I should
be the child of the palace. So they gave me white bread with butter on
it, and put me to sleep between smooth white sheets.
THE GYPSY. Gypsy children cannot thrive when they are taken into
cities. They turn away from white bread with butter on it, and
remembering the good smell of the soup in the big kettle over the fire,
they fall sick with hunger. As for you--
THE MAID. I thrived on the white bread with butter on it.
THE GYPSY. You were a little renegade. But I forgive you! And now to my
business, I have come to see the King, and talk with him. We kings
should become better acquainted, don't you think? I will ask him what
he considers the proper price for telling fortunes, and find out what
his ideas are on the subject of horse-trading. And no doubt he will ask
me what I think about his coming marriage with the Princess of Basque.
She is to arrive to-night, I believe, and be married tomorrow, to this
King whom she has never seen!
THE MAID. Be careful, or you will awaken him. That is his bed-chamber,
there.
THE GYPSY. Ah! Is he a light sleeper?
THE MAID. The King sleeps soundly, and awakens punctually every morning
at six.
THE GYPSY. (_with a glance at the sky_) It is not quite six. Every
morning, you say? And what then?
THE MAID. He goes for a walk at seven, and breakfasts at eight. Every
morning.
THE GYPSY. Regularly?
THE MAID. The King is always on time to the moment.
THE GYPSY. Ah, one of those clockwork kings!
THE MAID. You must not make fun of him. He is a good king.
THE GYPSY. I have no doubt of it. And his regularity will be a great
comfort to his queen. She will always know that she will get her kiss
regularly, punctually, on the stroke of the clock. But--you say the
King rises at six, and goes for a walk at seven. What does he do in the
meantime?
THE MAID. First he comes here and has his morning drink. Then he is
dressed for his walk.
THE GYPSY. And what is your part in these solemn proceedings?
THE MAID. I tie his slippers for him, and pour his drink.
THE GYPSY. It is a great honour! So great an honour that you come here
before the sun is up to be ready for your duties. Do you entertain the
King with conversation while he takes his morning drink?
THE MAID. No--the Gazetteer does that.
THE GYPSY. The Gazetteer--what is the Gazetteer?
THE MAID. The Gazetteer is a man whose duty it is to find out all that
happens in the city each day, and recite it to the King the next
morning.
THE GYPSY. Has the King as much curiosity as that? I would never have
thought it.
THE MAID. It isn't curiosity. It's just a custom that has sprung up.
All the merchants and well-to-do people hire a Gazetteer. It may be
useful to them--but I think the King regards it more as a duty than a
pleasure.
THE GYPSY. I remember now. They have something like it in the taverns.
I foresee a great future for it....
THE MAID. And it seems to go with that new drink.
THE GYPSY. What new drink?
THE MAID. Why, the new drink from Arabia. It has a queer name. Ka-Fe.
THE GYPSY. Ka-Fe--and what is it like?
THE MAID. It is dark, and served hot with sugar and cream.
THE GYPSY. It sounds interesting. I would like to taste it. What is it
most like--mead, perhaps, or wine, or that strong liquor distilled from
juniper berries?
THE MAID. Like none of these. It does not make men talk and sing and
tell their secrets and reveal their love and their hate, and knock
their heads against the stars and tangle their feet one with the
other....
THE GYPSY. Then what is the good of it?
THE MAID. It makes the head clearer, and sobers the judgment. It makes
men think more and talk less. And it gives them strength to rule their
inward feelings.
THE GYPSY. What a pity! People are too much like that as it is.
THE MAID. The King says that some time the whole world will learn to
drink it!
THE GYPSY. A world of Ka-Fe drinkers! A world where people rule their
inward feelings and hide their secret thoughts! I shall be dead before
then, thank heaven!
THE MAID. But you keep your secrets--even from women--so you say.
THE GYPSY. It was a vain boast. Sometime, with my head in a woman's
lap, I shall blab away the secrets that give me power. I know it.
Somewhere in the world is a woman whose look will intoxicate me more
than wine. And for her sake I shall invent some new folly.
THE MAID. What a pity!
THE GYPSY. No--the thought cheers me. So long as there are women, men
will be fools. Their Ka-Fe will not help them.
THE MAID. Do you approve of folly, then?
THE GYPSY. It is the thing that makes life worth living. I have
committed every kind of folly I know, and the world would be dull and
empty if I did not think that some new and greater folly lay ahead.
THE MAID. You think, then, that one should surrender oneself to folly?
THE GYPSY. I think so truly. What have you on the tip of your tongue?
What folly have you given yourself to, my child?
THE MAID. I am afraid you will laugh at me. ...
THE GYPSY. Not I. Tell me, my dear, are you in love?
THE MAID. Yes....
THE GYPSY. With some one who will never give you love in return?
THE MAID. Yes. ...
THE GYPSY. And is it--?
THE MAID. The King--yes. Oh, I am a fool to tell you!
_She hides her face in her hands_.
THE GYPSY. Listen, my child. You are not more a fool than I. The other
day I rode out on a swift horse to be by myself under the sky, and
think my thoughts. And there, a two days' journey from this city, I saw
the slow-moving caravan of the Princess of Basque, on her way to wed
this King whom she has never seen. Curiosity drew me near, for I wanted
to see the face of the Princess. I tied my horse to a tree, and hid
among the bushes by the road-side as they passed. I saw her among the
cushions of the royal wagon. She had a strange, wild beauty. I saw her,
and loved her, and grew sick with loneliness. I rode back to the city,
and tried to wash out the memory of that face with wine. But it was no
use, so I left the tavern and climbed the wall and entered the palace,
that I might look also at the man whom she is to wed. When I have seen
him, then I shall--I don't know what. But--we are two foolish ones, you
and I!
THE MAID. Thank you for telling me that. But you must go now. It is
almost time for the King to come.
THE GYPSY. What if he found me here--what would he do? Have me
beheaded, or merely thrown into prison?
THE MAID. No--he is a kind king. He would only tell you how wrong it is
to break into people's houses and show disrespect for the law.
THE GYPSY. I had almost rather be put in prison than lectured at. Well,
I must invent something to explain my presence. (_There is a knock_.)
Who is that?
THE MAID. Hide yourself. I will see.
THE GYSPY. (_from behind the curtains of the window_) I am hidden.
_The maid goes to the door, and comes back with a paper in her hand_.
THE GYPSY. Well?
THE MAID. (_looking at the paper_) The Gazetteer is ill, and cannot
come.
THE GYPSY. (_emerging from the curtains_) The Gazetteer is ill....
THE MAID. The King will be annoyed.
THE GYPSY. We will spare his majesty that annoyance. I shall be the
King's Gazetteer this morning!
THE MAID. But how can you?
THE GYPSY. Leave that to me. (_He takes his position behind the
curtains_.) Such news as he has never heard, I shall recite to the
King!
THE MAID. Ssh! Here he comes now!
_The King enters, in his dressing gown, yawning, with his hand over
his mouth. In the midst of his yawn, he speaks_.
THE KING. Goo' mo'ing!
THE MAID. (_bowing_) Good morning, your majesty!
THE KING. (_glancing out at the morning sky_) Looks like a nice day
today. (_He sits down_.)
THE GYPSY. (_from slightly behind the King's seat_) Not a cloud in
your majesty's sky!
THE KING. (_twisting about to look at him_) And who the devil are you?
THE GYPSY. (_coming around in front and bowing_) I am the Gazetteer.
THE KING. (_sputtering_) What are you trying to palm off on me? You are
not my Gazetteer! My Gazetteer is decently dressed in black and white.
You come here in red and yellow. What does it mean?
THE MAID. Your majesty, your own Gazetteer is ill and cannot come, so
he has sent his cousin, who is in the same business.
THE KING. (_disgustedly_) Bring me my Ka-Fe. (_The maid goes out_.) Now
tell me, sirrah, you don't mean to say that you are used by respectable
people as a source of information? I cannot believe it!
THE GYPSY. Your majesty, it would ill become me to deprecate the
character of my clientele. They may not be rich, they may not be
influential, but they are the foundation of your kingdom's prosperity.
And I must say for myself that for the one person that your Gazetteer
serves, I serve many. You may sneer at my quality if you like, but I
point to my circulation. I am the official Gazetteer of the Red-Horse
Tavern, and scores of petty tradesmen, as well as clerks, bricklayers
and truck drivers, depend upon me for their knowledge of the world's
events.
THE KING. Well, well! So you are in your humble way an agency of
civilization!
THE GYPSY. Your majesty may well say so!
_The maid has returned with the Ka-Fe. She puts the tray on the floor
beside the seat, and kneels by it. The King's cup she places on the
stool at his hand_.
THE KING. (_sipping his Ka-Fe_) Very well. Proceed.
THE GYPSY. (_reciting_) This is the story of a crime! The shop of
the widow Solomon stands in the middle of the great street which takes
its name from our King--may he live long and prosper! In that shop are
displayed for sale diamonds, rubies, emeralds, pearls, and all manner
of precious stones, set in rings and chains curiously wrought of silver
and gold. And there yesterday came a band of robbers--not in the night,
when all men are asleep, and even the watch-dog dozes beside the door--
but in the glare of day, intent on wickedness. They entered the shop,
and with the threat of death stopped up the mouths of the servitors.
Then they filled a large sack with their precious booty, and escaped.
They have not been apprehended. This is the sixth in the series of
daring daylight robberies that has occurred within the month. The
failure of the police to deal with this situation has provoked
widespread comment on the incompetency of the King's Chief of Police,
and there are some who assert that the police are in league with the
robbers. The magnificent new house which the Chief of Police has been
erecting, ostensibly with the money left him by a rich aunt of whom
nobody ever heard, seems to lend colour to these--
THE KING. What! What! What's this? Why, I never heard such impudence!
Fellow, do you mean to tell me--
_He becomes speechless, and sets down his Ka-Fe_.
THE GYPSY. Your majesty, I have especially softened the wording of this
piece of news in order not to offend your majesty's ears. But in
substance that is the story which was told last night at every
tavern in the city.
THE KING. But, sirrah, I cannot permit--I simply cannot permit--why--
why--!
THE GYPSY. Suppose, your majesty, we skip the police news, and go on to
gentler themes.
THE KING. That would be better--much better.
THE GYPSY. Shall we take up--politics?
THE KING. (_wearily_) Oh, yes.
THE GYPSY. (_reciting_) A debate between the rival factions who
seek to influence the governing of our kingdom through the so-called
Council of Peers was held last night outdoors in the public market. The
rival orators exceeded one another in dullness and hoarseness. The
attendance was very slight. The general public takes little interest in
these proceedings, knowing as it does that they are merely a diversion
for the scions of old families whose energies are unemployed except in
time of war. It is the general feeling, moreover, that the King may be
depended upon to govern the kingdom properly without the interference
of these aristocratic meddlers.
THE KING. Ah, splendid, splendid! Let us hear that again!