THE GYPSY. It is a matter of interest to all your subjects, your
majesty.
THE KING. Well, well--go on. A public figure like myself must submit to
having his private affairs discussed. It is unfortunate, but--go on.
THE GYPSY. (_reciting_)--the approaching nuptials of the King and
the Princess of Basque. The details of the royal bride's trousseau are
already well known to the public, down to the last garter. The six
embroidered chemises from Astrakhan--
_The maid shows great interest. The King is embarrassed_.
THE KING. But, my dear fellow--really, you know--! This is--!
THE GYPSY. Items of this nature, your majesty, are recited in the
bazaar to audiences composed exclusively of women. Under the
circumstances there is surely no impropriety--
THE KING. Very well. I accept your explanation. But as your present
audience is not composed exclusively of women, I suggest that you omit
those details.
THE GYPSY. Your majesty, I omit them. The account continues....
(_Reciting_) The marriage has excellent reasons of state for being
made, inasmuch as it cements in friendship two kingdoms which have been
at war with each other off and on for a hundred years. But it has its
romantic side as well. It is, in fact, a love-match. The fact that the
royal lovers have never seen each other only emphasizes its romantic
quality. Their joy in beholding in actuality what they have for three
long months cherished so dearly in imagination, is a theme for the poet
laureate--who will, however, we fear, judging from his past
performances, hardly do it justice. It is, as we have said, a love-
match. The royal pair fell in love with what they had heard of each
other--the Princess of Basque with the image she had formed in her mind
from glowing reports of the King's valour, amounting to rashness, his
fluency of poetic speech, his manly bearing, and his irrepressible
wit.... (_The King nods gravely at each item_.) While the King
became madly enamoured of the reputation of the Princess of Basque for
sweetness, industry in good works, and the docility which befits a
wife, even of a King.... (_The King nods gravely at these items
also_.) She is, indeed, a pattern of all the domestic virtues--she
is quiet, obedient, dignified--
_There is a cry in a high feminine voice, outside. All look toward
the window. A girl appears, running past, with short loose hair tossing
about her face. She pauses, and flings herself over the window-ledge,
and is standing--panting, red-cheeked, smiling--in the room. The King
rises_.
THE KING. (_furious, yet coldly polite_) And who, in the name of
the sacred traditions of womanhood, are you?
THE FIGURE. I--I am the Princess of Basque!
_They stare at her_.
* * * * *
_Mid-day. Yellow curtains have been drawn across the broad window. On
the wide seat, the King, dressed in purple robes, sits with head bowed
in thought.... There is a noise of shouting outside. The King looks
up_.
THE KING. (_sadly_) There it is again.