clinging close to her father, led off by men-at-arms. He is about to follow them, when his arm is seized by Benedetto Nardi, who rushes in breathless with rage.)
BENEDETTO NARDI.
Have I caught you, scoundrel! (To King Pietro.) This son of yours, Pietro Folchi, in company with his drunken comrades, chased my helpless child through the streets of the city yesterday evening, and was about to lay hands on her when two of my journeymen, attracted by her cries, put the scoundrels to flight with their clubs. The wretch still carries the bloody mark above his eyes!
KING PIETRO.
(In anger.) Defend yourself, my son!
FILIPO FOLCHI.
He speaks the truth.
KING PIETRO.
Back to the shop with you! Must I see my rule disgraced on its first day by my own son in most impious fashion! The law shall work its greatest hardship upon you! Afterward you shall stay in the butcher shop until the citizens of Perugia kneel before me and beg me to have pity on you! Put him in chains!
(The mercenaries who led out the King return with Alma. Their leader throws himself on his knees before the throne.)
THE MERCENARY.
O Sire, do not punish your servants for this frightful misfortune! As we were leading the King just here before the portal across the bridge of San Margherita, a company of our comrades marched past and pressed us against the coping. The prisoner seized that opportunity to leap into the flood swollen by the rain. We needed all our strength to prevent this maiden from doing likewise, and when I was about to leap after the prisoner, the raging waves had long engulfed him.
KING PIETRO.
His life is not the most regrettable sacrifice of these bloody days! Hundreds of better men have fallen for him. (To the Councillors.) Let the child be taken to the Urseline nuns and kept under most careful guard. (Rising.) The sitting of the counsel is closed.
ALL PRESENT.
Long live King Pietro!
Scene Two
THE KING.
How long have I been dragging you from place to place while you begged for me?
ALMA.
Rest yourself, Father; you will be in better spirits afterward.
THE KING.
(Sits down by the wayside.) Why did not the raging waves swallow me that evening! Then everything would have been over long ago!
ALMA.
Did you leap over the side of the bridge to put an end to your life? I thought what strength resided in your arms and that the rushing waters would help you to liberty. Without this faith how should I have had the courage to escape from the convent and from the city?
THE KING.
Below us here lies the rich hunting grounds where I have often ridden hawking with my court. You were too young to accompany us.
ALMA.
Why will you not leave this little land of Umbria, my father! The world is so large! In Siena, in Modena, your friends dwell. They would welcome you with joy, and at last your dear head would be safe.
THE KING.
You offer me much, my child! Still, I beg of you not to keep repeating this question. Just in this lies my fate: If I were able to leave this land, I should not have lost my crown. But my soul is ruled by desires which I cannot relinquish, even to save my life. As king, I believed myself safe enough from the world to live my dreams without danger. I forgot that the king, the peasant and every other man, must live only to preserve his station and to defend his estate, unless he would lose both.
ALMA.
Now you are scoffing at yourself, my father!
THE KING.
That is the way of the world!–You think I am scoffing at myself?–That, at least, might be something for which men would contribute to our support. As I offer myself to them now I am of no use. Either I offend them by my arrogance and pride, which are in ridiculous contrast to my beggar's rags, or my courteous demeanor makes them mistrustful, as none of them succeeds by simple modesty. How my spirit has debased itself during these six months, in order to fit itself to their ways and methods! But everything I learned as hereditary prince of Umbria is valueless in their world, and everything which is of worth in their world I did not learn as a prince. But if I succeed in jesting at my past, my child, who knows but what we may find again a place at a richly decked table! When the pork butcher is raised to the throne there remains no calling for the king save that of court fool.
ALMA.
Do not enrage yourself so in your fatigue, my father. See, you must take a little nap! I will look for fresh water to quench your thirst and cool your fevered brow.
THE KING.
(Laying down his head.) Thank you, my child.
ALMA.
(Kissing him.) My dear father! (Exit.)
THE KING.
(Rises.) How I have grown to love this beautiful land since I have slunk about it at the risk of my life! –Even the worst disaster always brings good with it. Had I not cared so little for my brave people of Perugia and Umbria, had I not shown myself to them only at carnivals and in fancy dress, God knows, but I might have been recognized long ago! Here comes one of them now!
(A landed proprietor comes up the road.)
THE KING.
God greet you, sir! Can you not give me work on your estate?
THE LANDED PROPRIETOR.
You might find much to recompense your work on my estate, but, thank God, my house is guarded by fierce wolf hounds. And here, you see, I carry a hunting knife, which I can use so well that I should not advise you to come a step nearer me!
THE KING.
Sir, you have no guarantee from Heaven that you may not be compelled at some time to beg for work in order not to go hungry.
THE LANDED PROPRIETOR.
Ha, ha, ha! He who works in order not to go hungry, he is the right kind of worker for me! First comes work and then the hunger. Let him who can live without work starve rather today than tomorrow!
THE KING.
Sir, you must have had wiser teachers than I!
THE LANDED PROPRIETOR.
I
