# Princess Bebé/Act 3

Foyer in the villa of the Comte de Tournerelles.
Princess Helena and the Comte de Tournerelles in conversation.
Comte. To be perfectly frank, my dear—I beg your pardon, Your Highness…
Princess Helena. I prefer the status of a friend.
Comte. The familiarity will not surprise you. You are one of the women whom a man feels he has known all his life, when he speaks to her for the first time. I am neither innocent nor confiding, as you may judge, yet I feel that I have not a secret in the world which I could keep from you. You are a benevolent fairy, enlivening what you touch; it is a gift. I have never known until this moment what it is to be alive.
Princess Helena. Until this moment? Then I fear that at this moment you are about to become a sadly disappointed man.
Comte. How so?
Princess Helena. Because you will find that ignorance is a prerequisite to enjoyment. However, that was probably not what you were going to say.
Comte. No, I forget… Ah, yes! I remember. It was a roundabout way of telling you something else.
Princess Helena. Let us begin with the roundabout way.
Comte. Before we became so intimate, when as yet I admired you at a distance, I imagined Herr Rosmer to be—how shall I express it so as not to give offense?
​Princess Helena. An ideal creature, a Knight of the Swan, a legendary hero. Now you feel that he is a very ordinary person, like everybody else. Naturally, you have no means of comparison; you did not know my husband.
Comte. You are adorable!
Princess Helena. But speaking of the gentleman was only a roundabout way.
Comte. Of telling you that I love you!
Princess Helena. Doubtless you may be justified in fancying yourself a Lohengrin, since you have rescued me from an embarrassing predicament. However, if I were in your place, I think I should delay my declaration of love just a little.
Comte. Why delay?
Princess Helena. Because there is no probability of your being pleased with the answer. If favorable, you will consider it gratitude; if unfavorable, the reverse.
Comte. All I ask is that it be sincere.
Princess Helena. Sincere? When your entire conversation is a tissue of stock gallantries, which apparently you consider obligatory, although in my case they are somewhat bold.
Comte. Bold? Is that intended as a rebuke?
Princess Helena. On the contrary, it is intended as friendly advice. One accepts anything from a friend.
Comte. Why not accept it from a lover? Love is stronger than friendship. However, your theory interests me.
Princess Helena. No, not from a lover whose love cannot be returned. It is so easy to satisfy a friend.
Comte. Unless only love can satisfy a friend.
Princess Helena. If you flatter yourself that my love is to become the guarantor of my friendship, you may as well understand at once that my heart is insolvent, and you are at ​liberty to accept my insolvency in every sense of the word, my dear friend.
The Baroness enters.
Baroness. Highness!…
Princess Helena. Is the concert over? Is the audience asleep, or is it still yawning in ecstasy?
Baroness. Your disappearance has occasioned most unfavorable comment.
Princess Helena. Wilf's music is depressing; it recalls so much. In leaving, I fancied that I was paying a sincere tribute to its value.
Baroness. The Comte was obliged to follow in your footsteps.
Princess Helena. Far from it. The Comte had already made good his retreat.
Baroness. The entire audience noticed your disappearance, as it were, in concert. You should have heard what they said!
Princess Helena. How foolish of them to say it before you! They might have known that you would have been sure to repeat it.
Baroness. Your Highness, they supposed I was asleep.
Princess Helena. Probably you were, and you dreamed it. Certainly the music was propitious.
Baroness. It is useless to argue. After this, silence is golden in my sight. No matter what I may hear, I shall remain silent—silent as the moral sense of Your Highness.
Princess Helena. Comte, the Baroness has promised us. Return to the concert and set these idle rumors at rest.
Comte. Shall we return together? It is nearly over. We shall be in time for the applause.
Princess Helena. The coincidence would be too striking. ​No, leave me here; I must recuperate, gazing up into the heavens on this beautiful night, which is all tenderness.
Comte. Under no circumstances expose yourself upon the balcony. The night is cold…
Princess Helena. Perhaps, for these lands where the orange-flower blooms, as Mignon sings, but to me it seems a beautiful midsummer evening, after the icy drafts of the Kingdom of Suavia.—Why! I hear music… It cannot be the concert; it floats in from outside, from a distance. It is a waltz, a delicious waltz!
Comte. One of those gypsy orchestras which infest the neighborhood. There is an all-night restaurant near by, just at the rear of the villa, a resort of the most villainous character. Carnival is coming on, so masked balls are in season. I assure you that they are interesting, in fact unique. One meets the entire Almanac de Gotha of crime at them.
Baroness. Is it possible? You alarm me.
Princess Helena. Do you think that perhaps we might arrange to be present?
Baroness. Highness! I am shocked… The idea occurred to you upon the spur of the moment, as the Comte spoke.
Comte. I advise against it. If one goes alone, it is dangerous; if the police are along, the thing loses its attraction. The dance does not seem the same.
Princess Helena. Silence!
Comte. Do you hear anything?
Princess Helena. Don't you see?
Comte. Yes, in the garden… My secretary, Chantel.
Princess Helena. But who is she? Who is she? One of the guests?
Comte. I think not. No… I cannot make out from here.
​Princess Helena. Baroness, your lorgnettes… One of the maids. Amusing, is it not? Ha, ha! Did you hear that?
Comte. Yes, a kiss. There can be no doubt of it.
Baroness. A kiss? Your Highness, retire!
Princess Helena. Enough… Your secretary is the only person who is enjoying himself this evening. It is the same everywhere, in society as in life. The official entertainment is staged in the drawing-room, where the boredom is polite; the real entertainment goes on behind the scenes.
Comte. Why exchange it for the public view? Permit me to remain at your side; my happiness is complete. I shall not speak to you, but together we shall gaze into the sky, we shall listen to the mingling of music and kisses, while our souls blend in the dark silences and become mute as the tears well up in our eyes in a transport of love so tremendous that it unites in its tremor the fulness of life and the fleeting premonition of death.
Princess Helena. Poetic, is it not? Why, there are tears in your eyes! Are you much affected?
Comte. Do you doubt it?
Princess Helena. No, no. Let us withdraw from the balcony and return to the concert. You alarm me.
Comte. I do? In what way?
Princess Helena. I feel that I am becoming affected myself, without knowing why. I could easily cry, yet I could not tell you the reason. I am unwilling that my life should be influenced by this night of faultless blue and the thrum of music afar off, or determined by a few idle words, which, if I had heard them in broad daylight, in the midst of company, I should have laughed at—as I laugh at them now.
Comte. Your Highness! Helena! [He kisses her hand.
Baroness. Sir!
Princess Helena. Don't be alarmed. Baroness. The ​Comte is a gentleman; he kisses my hand—as Princess of Suavia. The Comte is one of my very warm friends.
M. de Chantel enters.
Princess Helena. Ah, M. de Chantel! Is the concert over? Have you come from the hall?
Chantel. Yes, from the hall—from that direction. Although I believe there is more to come…
Princess Helena. Your enthusiasm carries you away. What divine music! I am impatient to hear your opinion, M. de Chantel.
Chantel. My opinion? I should prefer to hear that of Your Highness first. Upon finding you here, my impression was that you were as thoroughly bored as the Comte.
Princess Helena. Bored? Never! I was highly enthusiastic; in fact, I was nervous. What wonderful music!
Chantel. Sublime! It is really.
Princess Helena. And so ineffably suggestive. One experiences the most extraordinary sensations as one listens. For a moment I was transported into the moonlight, into the bosom of a beautiful garden, heavy with the scent of violets; the music sank to a rippling murmur of lovers' kisses who, as it seemed, were strolling in pairs through the garden, in embraces so tight that their bodies cast but a single shadow upon the ground, symbolic at that instant of the fusion of their souls.
Chantel. Yes, indeed! The music is extraordinarily suggestive.
Comte. [Aside to Chantel] The Princess is enjoying herself at your expense. Be careful! She knows all.
Chantel. All?
Comte. All that we could see from here.
Chantel. Oh! Your Highness…
Princess Helena. I congratulate you, M. de Chantel. A ​dark garden is infinitely preferable to a lighted salon, and a pretty chambermaid to a respectable lady, who is more cautious. As for myself, I prefer kisses to all the music in the world, although I restrain my impulses so not to shock the Baroness. Only vulgar persons take their art at second hand, manufactured for them by professionals, whose heart is not in it. Superior spirits live their art—they wish it free. Yours is a superior spirit, M. de Chantel, and you deserve credit; I congratulate you with all my heart. Comte, shall we return to the concert?—although classic music will seem rather cold after this natural music, which has drifted in at the window.
Comte. I shall not be cold while I am with you in any case. Life with you is all art and all loveliness.
Princess Helena. Life with me is all happiness. Come, let us return to the concert. [Princess Helena and the Comte go out.
Baroness. M. de Chantel, I appeal to your sympathy. Was ever woman in a more humiliating position?
Chantel. Oh, my dear Baroness! I am not a courtier; I was not brought up among princes and noblemen. I am low-born; I have seen everything, I have endured everything. I have been hungry, not only myself, but my mother has been hungry, my sisters and brothers, all those who were near and dear to me. You do not know what that means, my dear Baroness, and I hope you may never know. Of humiliations, of the times I have been obliged to be false to my conscience, to my innermost beliefs, I say nothing. And apart from what I have suffered, I have seen a great deal. Misery and degradation have no secrets from me. I have seen factories and workshops and mines where human beings are herded together like beasts to earn their deaths, for it would be irony to pretend that they were earning a liv​ing; I have seen jails constructed to imprison those who are so wanting in resignation that they rise, rather than submit to the blind injustice and cruelty of their fate; I have seen asylums and hospitals which gather up those who fall by the wayside, who do resign themselves, and believe me there is small charity in them, and no mercy. I have seen—well, a great many other things, the very existence of which you cannot even imagine at the Court of Suavia. I have seen these things, I know these things, by experience, as a man. So you will not be surprised if I reserve all my sympathy for persons whose situations are somewhat more distressing than yours, which you might very well alleviate if you cared to do so, having everything that you wish in this world, besides looking forward, no doubt, to a glorious reward in the next. Excuse me, my dear Baroness.
Baroness. Are you laughing at me? The world is out of joint. I scent dissolution in the air!
Chantel. A little more dissolution, my dear Baroness, and we may be able to breathe. The atmosphere is surcharged already.
Diana de Lys and the Duchessa d'Arcole enter.
Diana. I left the room so as to avoid a scene; the exhibition has become a public scandal.
Duchessa. He has not allowed her one moment to herself during the entire evening.
Diana. The unpleasant part of it is that everybody is sorry for me. If the Comte were my husband, I should not mind; then I could afford to be independent. But now all my friends think that the Princess is forestalling my wedding. I am not easy about it myself. You know how vain men are; a princess is not to be had every day. I understand that she has accepted money from the Comte.
Duchessa. Plenty of it, you may be certain.
​Diana. That is what I intend to find out. Call Chantel; get rid of the Baroness in any way you can.
Duchessa. Chantel, the Comtesse wishes to see you. Pardon, Baroness…
Baroness. I beg your pardon.
Duchessa. You did not remain to the concert?
Baroness. No, Her Highness was taken ill, and I was obliged to leave the room with her.
Duchessa. With her and the Comte. We saw you go.
Baroness. The Comte has been most sympathetic.
Duchessa. The Comtesse has been most displeased.
Baroness. Ah! The Comtesse? I was not aware that the Comte was married.
Duchessa. He expects to marry shortly. The Princess has been flirting scandalously with the Comte all evening, and the Comtesse——
Baroness. Is she the Comtesse who was a ballet-dancer? In fact, I am not sure what she was; I am not familiar with the details. In a place like this one is continually treading upon thin ice. I hear persons addressed as Duchess, Countess—when I am positive that there never were any such titles, and I have the entire almanac of European nobility by heart. There is a Duchessa d'Arcole here, for example, not to pursue the matter further——
Duchessa. A title dating from the First Empire, one of the most illustrious of France,
Baroness. It is not in my books. When it comes to that, in questions of nobility, the First Empire does not exist. It was a blot on the page of Europe.
Duchessa. Why, Baroness! The first Duc d'Arcole was my great-grandfather. I would not exchange my title for a library of yours.
Baroness. I regret my indiscretion, and even more that ​I am so placed that it is impossible not to commit one at every step. Good evening, Madame. [Goes out.
Duchessa. Yes, hold your head high! You may be nobler than I am, but, after all, we both fill about the same void in the world.
Diana. What is the matter?
Duchessa. Nothing. That old Baroness! I wish I could have had the last word. What does Chantel say?
Diana. He confirms it. The Princess has obtained a loan from the Comte, absolutely without security.
Chantel. Beyond what there is in her name.
Diana. And her reputation. We might as well face it. In spite of all this pretense of boredom and superiority, the Comte is snob enough and sufficiently vain to ruin himself on account of this Princess, a thing which I can never consent to, after having sacrificed myself all these years to his whims and a life of flat monotony.
Duchessa. It would be irritating to say the least, especially if he does not marry you. You gave up your artistic career to please him, and you had a brilliant future. You abandoned your poor father, too, who took to drink when you left.
Diana. No, no, that is not true. He took to drink before I left.
Duchessa. But he drank more heavily afterward, because you sent him more money.
Diana. Chantel, we have always been friends. Advise me. For the first time I am confronted with a serious danger.
Chantel. Do you prefer the offensive or the defensive? The defensive is more dignified, as it permits you to ignore the situation. The secret of defense is delay. In the first place, the Comte's attachment to you, which is something more than passion by this time, or than momentary caprice, ​is a point in our favor. In the second place, the Princess does not love the Comte. This adventure is nothing to her but a convenient escape from a temporary embarrassment.
Diana. Yes, I believe you are right. The defensive has advantages.
Chantel. I see only one danger.
Diana. What is it?
Chantel. The delay which it involves, we do not know for how long. The Comte may ruin himself in the meantime. There the danger lies.
Diana. We had better take the offensive.
Chantel. It seems wiser to me.
Diana. Do you think we might make use of the Princess's lover? He must already be jealous.
Chantel. I place no faith in his jealousy; Herr Rosmer is surely acquainted with the financial operations of the Princess. Besides, a man who loves a woman who is above him socially, or who permits her to love him, is not in a position to be jealous. He offers nothing and accepts everything, either because he loves her so much that he is willing to forget his dignity and his self-respect, as well as the proprieties, or otherwise he does not love her at all, and is merely thinking of what he can get out of her. Whichever it is, whether it is love or self-interest, whatever he sees, he will notice nothing. Love is blind while self-interest shuts its eyes. The result is the same.
Diana. But then?
Chantel. The alternative is a scene; let all the world know. Become jealous yourself, attack the Comte and the Princess, drive her out of the house—compel her to avoid appearing where you are. Then Herr Rosmer will be obliged to notice it, as he expects to marry the Princess as soon as she obtains her divorce.
​Diana. Suppose it leads to a duel? An open scandal might drive them together.
Chantel. Who? The Comte and Herr Rosmer? Impossible! What has he to do with it? He is only the Princess's lover. If worst comes to worst, before he fought him, they would have to pay back what they owe—which would be clear gain to us, whatever happens.
Diana. There is something in that.
Chantel. Five hundred thousand francs, Comtesse, not to speak of small bills. Then——
Diana. The scene will be a big one. Fancy trusting a princess with five hundred thousand francs!
Chantel. Apparently…
Diana. The offensive! My mind is made up. All for all! Silence! The concert is over and the audience is coming out. Float in the background.
Princess Helena, Elsa, Madame Wilf, the Baroness, Prince Stephen, Herr Rosmer, the Comte, Wulf, and Gottfried Wilf enter.
Comte. Superb! Superb! It is an evening I shall never forget.
Various Guests. Superb! Superb! [Complete silence.
Comte. How quiet it seems! Everybody is depressed.
Mme. Wilf. The caress of sublimity has descended upon our souls.
Wulf. The audience is annihilated. It is the customary effect.
Wilf. Did you observe the transfiguration of the conductor before his orchestra?
Wulf. I am no longer myself upon such occasions. I am he—it, his spirit. Lay your hand upon my heart; be so kind… Place your ear there.
Elsa. Oh, indeed!… How remarkable!
​Wulf. I beg your pardon. Madame…
Chantel. Baroness, you are next.
Baroness. I? With my ear on a man's chest?
Chantel. Upon his bosom.
Wulf. Physicians have observed curious phenomena in me immediately after the termination of a concert. Ladies and gentlemen, if a magnetic needle were to be approached to my brain…
Comte. Oh, oh! This is too much. A concert and lecture in one!
Wilf. This is the first time I recall that the trumpets have not been off the key.
Wulf. I took the precaution of suppressing them.
Wilf. Evidently a wise measure. I hope they have not overlooked supper.
Wulf. I saw an immense salmon carried by on a platter as I was conducting the orchestra, entirely surrounded by little shrimps.
Wilf. Mere details.
Wulf. As we hope, and many of them. The Comte's reputation is magnificent.
Diana. [To the Duchessa] What did I tell you? He does not leave her… I never saw the Comte so excited; he is in earnest. This is the occasion to make a scene.
Duchessa. I advise against it. The Comte cannot allow the Princess to be insulted in his house; you may find yourself in a most disagreeable position.
Mme. Wilf. [To Elsa] It was a horrible disappointment when Your Highness declined to sing, as you had promised. The episode of the "Wild Cats" would have been marvellous in your hands. Few artists are capable of interpreting the passage sympathetically.
Elsa. I should not have hesitated, of course, if there had ​been no strangers present, but Princess Helena has destroyed the charm of the evening, with its informality.
Mme. Wilf. She walked out of the concert after hearing the first note.
Elsa. Her attitude has been sufficiently incorrect.
Mme. Wilf. It might appear presumptuous in me to say so.
Baroness. [To Prince Stephen] Your Highness is the only representative of the family who is present. Exert your influence with the Princess, as she regards you with favor. Explain to her how her conduct only aggravates the situation. Everybody is gossiping. You must have noticed it this evening. Look around… While the guests are all worried, Her Highness spends her time laughing.
Prince Stephen. If the guests are so easily shocked in the house of the Comte de Tournerelles, probably my cousin would reply that it was hardly worth her while to come here to waste the evening.
Baroness. Do you approve of the conduct of Her Highness?
Prince Stephen. No, it is foolish, very foolish indeed. But I see nobody here who is in a position to take exception to it.
Baroness. The Comtesse is jealous. I fear that she will make a scene.
Prince Stephen. No, never. The Comtesse is a woman of the world. The Comte could never permit a scene in his house. As far as Herr Rosmer is concerned, he takes it quite coolly. I am sorry for poor Helena.
Baroness. Now you are sympathizing with her!
Prince Stephen. With all my heart. She has made a mistake. The opportunity of living a new life was what attracted her to Herr Rosmer, while he merely saw in her the ​Princess of Suavia. Neither has found love to be what they thought. Now, how rectify this new mistake? One mistake may be forgiven, one rectification in life. A woman does not look nearly so foolish when she leaves her husband for a lover, as she does afterward when she leaves her lover, even if she goes back to her husband. The only justification for certain mistakes is persevering in them.
Baroness. Not another lover! Do you mean it? Oh, that would be horrible!
Prince Stephen. But how natural! Why should Helena resign herself to a second mistake, when she refused to resign herself to the first?
Baroness. It is not a contingency that I care to contemplate. What will they think in Suavia? Hush! Her Highness may hear…
Prince Stephen. I do not believe that our ideas are very different, although the subject has not been discussed between us. Our sentimental history has been very much the same.
Baroness. Have you also made a mistake?
Prince Stephen. I don't know. My attitude is similar to yours, Baroness, when you close your eyes to what strikes you in the face:—I don't want to know. I am unwilling to believe it, so I do not think of it; I am unwilling to believe it.
Mme. Wilf. My… my nerves have been on edge for the past half-hour! I cannot control myself any longer… I must let go somehow. Oh, oh!
All. What is the matter? What has happened to Mme. Wilf? What is the trouble?
Wulf. Nothing, nothing! Don't touch her! The effect of the music.
Wilf. Mother, mother!… Of course! She is always taken like this after hearing father's music.
​Comte. Ah, insupportable! The imposition has reached the limit.
Mme. Wilf. Oh! Oh!
Wilf. Run for a violin! The first bars of the "Hymn of Life" bring her to with a start.
Comte. By all means, as long as she makes it in another room, by yourselves. You can play the violin and she can yell there as much as she wants to.
Wulf. M. le Comte, it is the only possible relief. Madame, make a great effort——
Mme. Wilf. It is he; it—his spirit! I see it, and he calls to me!
Comte. Chantel, do what you can for these people… Feed them, and get them out in short order. Under no circumstances are we to hear from them again. It is too much pose to ask us to listen to this music.
Mme. Wilf, Wulf, Gottfried Wilf, and Chantel go out.
Comte. In any event this will be our last concert.
Princess Helena. I must confess it was terrible. My only regret is that I did not hear my new cousin sing.
Elsa. I? I did not sing.
Princess Helena. But now that we are en famille perhaps you will oblige us.
Diana. En famille?
Princess Helena. Yes, this seems like a family affair to me. The atmosphere is delightfully familiar. We do not mind what we say, and we are not ashamed to sit here and listen to it either. It would not be easy to shock this company. Elsa, my dear, I should like to ask a favor of you, now that the occasion is propitious.
Elsa. Of me?
Princess Helena. I do so want to hear you sing—I mean ​your real songs, the repertoire that you used to sing in the theatre. I have heard so much about you that I am terribly anxious to hear you, although at Court, of course, this sort of thing was impossible.
Elsa. Stephen! Is anything wrong with Her Highness?
Prince Stephen. Elsa!
Elsa. Tell her to respect me. She has no right, you must not allow her to insult me like this.
Princess Helena. What is the matter? What is she crying about?
Prince Stephen. Be quiet! Say nothing.—She thinks you are trying to insult her.
Princess Helena. I? I insult her? Why should I? She is crazy.
Elsa. Let me alone; don't you talk to me. She has no right to treat me like this. It is all your fault.
Prince Stephen. Oh, come, come! What is the use of being silly?
Princess Helena. But, Stephen——
Prince Stephen. I told you so. They are the ones who cannot forget. [Goes out with Elsa.
Princess Helena. Does she think that I tried deliberately to insult her? How could she? I ask you, was I wrong? I will be the first to apologize. She promised to sing at the concert this evening. Then why should she be offended because I ask her to sing for us afterward? Everybody knows that she was a comic-opera singer—that is her reputation, her personality, to which she owes her position; but now she attempts to deny it, and is offended because I mention it. She blames it on me—me, who have always admired anybody, man or woman, who has had the courage to make his own way in the world, whatever his social position, and who owes all that he is to his own efforts. [To Diana] ​Why, you might just as well question my admiration for you! I envy you for that very reason. The Comte has told me this evening the story of your life, how he met you, how you struggled up, how through sheer force of genius, yes, of genius and determination, you compelled at last the admiration of all Paris. Its authors and artists flung themselves at your feet——
Diana. And I suppose you would like me to repeat for your benefit some of the pantomimes that made me famous? Well, I am not ashamed of my past like la Königsberg. You cannot offend me by your impertinence.
Comte. Why, Diana!
Princess Helena. What is this woman talking about?
Diana. If either of us had been presented at the Court of Suavia, and had exhibited the same utter lack of taste which Your Highness does here, we should have found ourselves upon the street again at the double-quick.
Comte. Diana!
Princess Helena. She insults me!
Baroness. A scandal! I felt it coming! It will be telegraphed to Suavia!
Duchessa. You have said enough for the present. You have shown them who you are.
Diana and the Duchessa move toward the door to pass out.
Princess Helena. Oh! So you are jealous, are you? Of your Comte? What did you think? Because I have condescended to listen to him, to tolerate his imbecilities——
Comte. Highness!
Princess Helena. Because I have done him the honor to permit him to be my creditor——
Albert. Helena!
Baroness. Great God!
​Comte. Your Highness has forgotten herself. An attack of nerves. Besides, you are a woman. As no gentleman of your family is present——
Albert. M. le Comte!… You understand… Overlook this exhibition. An attack of nerves, as you say. [The Comte retires.
Princess Helena. Jealous, is she? Of me? Does she flatter herself that a Princess of Suavia can be bought at such a price? All the money of this blithering upstart would not repay me for the annoyance of once visiting his house. I came to enjoy myself, because I chose; it was a caprice; but, frankly, was it worth taking all this trouble only to find myself surrounded by more hypocrisy, more stupid dignity, and a world less of liberty than in my royal palaces? My heart overflowed with happiness, I was sincere, because I supposed that I was among real people at last, who were not afraid to face the facts of life, but here everything is taken in ill part, it gives offense. I was proud to have renounced my rank and station, because I did it for love—it was for love that I stepped down; but these people are not only ashamed of their past, but of the very love which has raised them where they never had any right to be. Miserable creatures, evil-minded, soulless, all of them! Now I see! Now I understand! How can equality ever be possible in this world, when these puny spirits with their vulgarities remind us in spite of ourselves that we are royal?
Baroness. You ought never to have forgotten it. Pride of race was bound to reassert itself at last.
Princess Helena. Pride of race? Not at all! Self-respect, common instinct.
Albert. Perhaps you appreciate now why I objected to your visiting this house and mingling with these people. ​This humiliation should surely be sufficient. You have been insulted by the Comte's mistress, and I was unable to protect you or to receive an explanation. Before I could have done so, I should have been obliged to pay him what we owe. The woman was justified in being jealous, for that matter; your behavior to-night has been susceptible of the worst interpretation.
Princess Helena. That will do! Enough! No more recriminations from you, nor from anybody. My next step will be to recover my liberty, and to give you yours in return. Baroness, telegraph to Suavia for that money tonight in my name, at whatever cost. I yield, I submit to the terms of the Emperor.
Albert. Helena! You will never do that. Impossible!
Princess Helena. You complain of the humiliations of this life. These are the thanks I receive for accepting them, voluntarily, for the sake of your love! As for demanding satisfaction of the Comte, if it had come to that, you would not have been the one who would have exacted it—it would have been my cousin Stephen. He has not yet stooped so low, nor have I, as to forget the obligation which we owe to our name. [Discovering Stephen, who has entered a moment previously] Am I right, Stephen?
Prince Stephen. My dear cousin, it is too late for us now to remember who we are. My situation is as impossible as yours, but your words have decided me. I am myself heavily in debt to the Comte de Tournerelles. Before I could exact satisfaction, like you I should be obliged to throw myself upon the mercy of the Emperor—and the Emperor has no mercy.
Baroness. He would impose but one condition.
Albert. That you return to your husband.
Prince Stephen. That I divorce my wife.
​Baroness. Certainly. Those are the only terms.
Princess Helena. The only terms? We must think them over.
Albert. What?
Princess Helena. We must think them over. Must we not, Stephen?… No, I can never return to Suavia; that would be to retreat, and I have sworn already that I shall never retreat. Now leave me! When I walk out of this house, it will be upon the arm of the Prince, as I ought, as Princess of Suavia.
Prince Stephen. Command me.
Princess Helena. Baroness, Herr Rosmer will see you home. I wish to talk with the Prince. Upon the result of this interview, perhaps, depends the future of our lives.
Albert. Baroness, I trust that you will be able to prevent any further outbreaks on the part of Her Highness.
Baroness. Alas, there was more hope of preventing the first!
The Baroness and Herr Rosmer go out.
Princess Helena. What did Elsa say?
Prince Stephen. It is offensive, absurd. She blames me for the exhibition because I do not treat her with proper respect.
Princess Helena. Did she dwell upon her humiliations? Suppose we were to remind them of ours?
Prince Stephen. Which they do not appreciate in the least.
Princess Helena. I have been through it; I have had the experience. We have made a mistake. Well? What shall we do now?
Prince Stephen. Admit our mistake?
Princess Helena. Yes.
Prince Stephen. And resign ourselves to our fate?
​Princess Helena. No.
Prince Stephen. Then what shall we do?
Princess Helena. Resume living.
Prince Stephen. How?
Princess Helena. By accepting what life has to offer as we pass, sorrow when it is sorrow, joy when it is joy. At this moment, it offers us—friendship, the mutual sympathy of our hearts, it offers us… this music, which haunts our ears and draws us toward itself. It is only a popular song, from a midnight garden not far off, with a halo of legendary, mysterious wickedness. A short while ago, I suggested that we should all visit it together, but, naturally, everybody was shocked. I wonder if you would be shocked, really?
Prince Stephen. It might amuse me. Let us go. I have had my fill of propriety for the evening.
Princess Helena. Especially when it descends upon us from quarters in which it is so utterly unexpected… Why, I feel already like a different woman. I am happy now; the past is forgotten. This adventure will repay me for the horrible evening I have spent. And I had expected to be so happy! How beautiful it is to run away, to escape, to fly, always to fly—from somebody, from something!
Prince Stephen. If only one believes that one is flying toward happiness.
Princess Helena. No, not toward happiness, because happiness does not exist. There are only happy moments.
Prince Stephen. There are… happy moments.
Princess Helena. Why not make this one of them?
Curtain