+The Queen.+
We’ll put that by. Not for myself, I plead
For Prussia.
+Napoleon.+
Well, with Prussia what’s amiss?
+The Queen.+
A fatal malady. Surfeit of France!
+Napoleon.+
A general infection, so it seems,
Through Europe. To return to petticoats,
What fabric this?
[_Touching a fold of the_ +Queen’s+ _dress._]
+The Queen.+
[_Bitterly._]
Chiffons? At such time, Sire,
Shall we discuss chiffons!
+Napoleon.+
’Twould interest
The Empress.
+The Queen.+
Josephine--her heart, ’tis said,
Is kind. Her husband she adores, as I
Mine. O, to my entreaties might she add
Her gentle voice!
+Napoleon.+
[_Aside, bitterly._]
Children this woman bears,
Sons, lusty, beautiful! In fine, Madame,
What will you?
+The Queen.+
Germany for Germans; that,
No more, no less!
+Napoleon.+
[_Sneering._]
Too modest the request!
+The Queen.+
We ask but for our own!
+Napoleon.+
What, with my troops
In Berlin, Danzig, Magdeburg?
+The Queen.+
What’s that
But hostile occupancy, while the toll
You claim as war’s indemnity, sad price
Of brave young blood that had been better spent,
Is highway robbery?
+Napoleon.+
By any name
Shall I exact it.
+The Queen.+
[_Advancing a step._]
Ah, Napoleon!
You love your kin. A thousand proofs declare
How close the tie. So dear, dearer, to me
My children!
+Napoleon.+
[_Aside._]
Sons, princes of royal blood
Bears she her mate!--So close, indeed, kin’s tie
That brothers, sisters, and in-laws I crown
Sov’reigns!
+The Queen.+
[_With sarcastic laughter._]
Kings, queens, made overnight,
Turned out by wholesale from a factory,
And dealt out broadcast, like a pack of cards,
Over the map! Like poets, kings are born,
Not made. It takes an ancestor or so,
Some generations, to produce a lawn,
A monarch, and a gentleman!
+Napoleon.+
[_Bows._]
Some hold
That genius is sufficing ancestry!
You think, Madame, the skies will fall unless
On Prussia’s throne a Hohenzollern sits?
+The Queen.+
[_Bows assent._]
While Hohenzollern draws the breath of life,
Born, bred to lofty service, in the name
Of country, home and God, with heart that beats
Within a mighty people’s heart! Napoleon,
Leave not the Fatherland a cripple, maimed,
Broken of spirit. Take your victor’s slice,
But one small portion, independent, free,
Leave to our ancient right and privilege!
+Napoleon.+
A healthy, growing little enemy
Outside my gates?
+The Queen.+
Not so. Your neighbor, friend!
+Napoleon.+
My friends I buy--and sell my neighbors!
+The Queen.+
Then
God help you!
+Napoleon.+
As He does. God always fights
Upon the side with big Battalions!
+The Queen.+
God help you in the day when Germany
Returns your call in France!
+Napoleon.+
Not mine that day!
+The Queen.+
Not yours; a Hohenzollern’s. We shall live,
Despite Napoleon!
+The Princes.+
[_Without._]
Mother! Where’s our mother!
+Napoleon.+
Sons!...
Your Majesty, deign to accept....
[_Plucks a rose and offers it to the_ +Queen+.]
+The Queen.+
Dear God!
I ask a kingdom and he offers me....
+Napoleon.+
A rose, no less, no more!
+The Queen.+
Alas! We fail.
’Tis Heaven’s will we fail! My comfort this;
The worse our failure, speedier our day
Of vindication. Triumphs bought with blood,
Empires founded on hate, by hatred fall.
Undompted England has a word to say.
And, lo! the first weak point your armor shows,
Your admirable poise the least disturbed,
Without a neighbor, friend, God pity you!
We Germans fail to-day, our treasure drained,
Our lands partitioned, e’en ourselves enslaved.
And yet to the last gasp our hearts beat high
For Germany, our souls belong to God!
[_She makes a low obeisance and retires upstairs._]
+Napoleon.+
A plague upon the woman with her sons!
[_Throwing down the rose and trampling on it._]
+Talleyrand.+
[_Entering from the left._]
You called me, Sire?
+Napoleon.+
[_Sardonically._]
You eavesdropper!
+Talleyrand.+
Ah, say,
You diplomat!
[_Both laugh._]
And how found you the Queen?
+Napoleon.+
A handsome woman with a fluent tongue.
Ye gods, how she ran on!
[_Affects to yawn._]
+Talleyrand.+
[_Aside._]
How he is moved,
All white and trembling! And the Tilsit Peace?
+Napoleon.+
Remains as drafted.
+Talleyrand.+
Not one single point
Conceded to the lady?
+Napoleon.+
Did I know
Terms harsher than we’ve made--!
+Talleyrand.+
[_Picking up the rose._]
Your Majesty
Has dropped this peace-token?
+Napoleon.+
[_Snatching the rose, throws it back into the face of the
Minister._]
You devil, you!
[_He strides off to the left._ +Talleyrand+ _laughs silently. The
lights are lowered._]
+Talleyrand.+
[_Looks toward an unseen window._]
A storm? A passing cloud!
+The Princes.+
[_Outside, call._]
Oh, Mother, dear!
+Talleyrand.+
[_Musingly._]
To-day, Napoleon’s! But in the end....
+The King.+
[_Outside, calling._]
Louisa!
+The Princes.+
Mother!
[+Talleyrand+ _takes a pinch of snuff and follows_ +Napoleon+.]
+The Queen.+
[_Answering, calls._]
Coming, dears!
[_The lights, now bright, show her, in a narrowed frame,
descending the stair, as in Richter’s picture. She pauses,
reflecting._]
+The Queen.+
[_To herself._]
Failure!
As advocate for Germany, I’ve failed!
And yet--
+The King.+
[_Heard, nearer._]
Louisa!
+The Princes.+
[_Nearer._]
Mother!
+The Queen.+
Coming, dears!
[_The curtains close on her, as she pauses, holding a thought of
hope, in spite of present failure, for the future of Germany._]