ALBERT—Well, Aunt Beatrice, are you studying astronomy, too? Do you want
to starve us to death?
BEATRICE—[_Hurries to the table._] God forbid, dear Albert.
SYMPHOROSA—[_As she, too, goes to the table._] We are lost!
ALBERT—I have always observed that my appetite is keenest at night.
HYACINTH—There you are like Louis XIV.
BEATRICE—Shall we sit down? [_ALBERT and ALEXANDRA sit._] Sit here,
Professor. [_Indicates the place between SYMPHOROSA and her. But AGI sits
next to ALEXANDRA._]
AGI—Thank you.
BEATRICE—Not there, Professor ... here!
AGI—[_Does not stir._] This will do very well, thank you. [_Painful
silence. Shaking his head, HYACINTH sits._]
SYMPHOROSA—[_Whispers to BEATRICE._] We are lost! I know there’s going to
be a scandal.
ALBERT—The Bourbons had healthy appetites by day as well. Louis XVIII.
once consumed fifteen lamb chops at a public dinner. Imagine how much he
must have eaten when no one was looking. That disgusts you, doesn’t it,
Beatrice? You are not listening.
BEATRICE—[_Nervously._] Indeed I am. Louis XV. consumed eighteen lamb
chops.
ALBERT—No, it was the eighteenth Louis and the fifteenth lamb chop.
[_The lackeys, at the serving table, are preparing to serve the soup._]
BEATRICE—[_Sweetly._] I hope you like cold bouillon, Albert.
ALBERT—My favorite summer beverage.
BEATRICE—I am so glad.
SYMPHOROSA—[_Sweetly._] What a fortunate coincidence!
HYACINTH—How long they are taking to serve it.
BEATRICE—Here it comes now, dear. [_CÆSAR, the two HUSSARS and ALFRED
serve the soup._] You can’t keep it on the table, for it gets warm.
[_Each is served, and tastes the soup. Ceremonial silence._]
AGI—[_Unexpectedly, though not loudly, breaks the silence._] And the head
of the eagle—I really must finish that sentence—is a star called Altair
or Alpha Aquilæ, the star whose brilliant green radiance illuminates the
sky to-night. That is what I wanted to say.
ALEXANDRA—You had quite a difficult time reaching the end of that
sentence.
ALBERT—Doubtless the professor speaks so beautifully because Xara likes
to listen to him.
BEATRICE—It was beautiful, but I didn’t understand a word of it.
AGI—I don’t know how to speak beautifully. Her highness reproached me
with it just a while ago.
ALBERT—[_To ALEXANDRA._] Did you?
ALEXANDRA—Yes.
BEATRICE—[_To change the subject._] Is the soup cold enough, Albert?
[_Music begins._]
ALBERT—Just right.
WUNDERLICH—His highness likes his soup at eight degrees Celsius.
HYACINTH—Beautiful speech is not the most important thing. What counts is
the fact that he has studied a great deal, and knows a great deal.
AGI—Perhaps the reason I can’t speak well is that I have never done
anything but study.
HYACINTH—That never hurt you, my boy.
ALBERT—How many hours a day did you study?
AGI—Usually—ten.... And as many every night.