not pleased to come.
Count: Ask him from us. (Enter the young Count and nurses.)
Nurse: Come here, Count dear.
Second Nurse: Please come here, your highness!
Third Nurse: Your hand, please, your highness!
Young Count (running up to her and giving his hand): There, kiss it.
Countess: Count Basil, friend, embrace me.
Young Count (holding out his hand to her): There, mother. (Holding out his hand to Wisely.) There.
Wisely: I, friend, do not intend to kiss your paw; give it to the Count, your father.
Count: And I don’t want to.
Young Count: Why? You kissed it yesterday, father.
Count: Shame before a strange person.
Countess: Shame to love one’s son?
Wisely: Shame to spoil one’s son.
Countess: You see, sir, that we are educating our son as seems proper.
Wisely: I see only that you are driving everlastingly “Your Highness” into his head.
Countess: And it is proper to call him what he is.
Wisely: He is a child.
Countess: And of what line?
Wisely: A Weakhead.
Countess: I hope that he has much of his father’s blood in him.
Wisely: That is, the Weakheads’.
Countess: And of his mother’s? (The young Count turns away.)
Wisely: There, that is your line, the Whirligigs.
Countess: Count Basil is very lovable, is he not?
Wisely: I do not know if he is lovable, but I see that he is much loved by you.
Count: I am curious to be acquainted with Mr. Flatternot. When could that be?
Wisely: Now, if you wish.
Countess: You would much oblige us.
Wisely (going out): I will drive to him at once.
Count: I think the marshal will soon bring us Mr. Flatternot.
Countess: I can imagine no good from it, and, to be sure, I should be furious with regret to hand over Count Basil to the hands of a Russian lout, like Flatternot.
Count: It will be in our will to take Flatternot or reject him.
Countess: Count, friend, let us go to our apartments, that our expected guests should await us half an hour and see that they have come to your highness.
Count: For Heaven’s sake, don’t advise me that, if you do not wish to be a widow quickly.
Countess: But why?
Count: Mr. Flatternot, as I see it, is a man of merit, and certainly, being a major, does not wish to wait in a captain’s anteroom; he will get furious and cut me up.
Countess: He dares not do this before the marshal.
Count: Well, you see, madame, that to-day rank alone is not much respected, and people who value it highly are thought fools; and is Flatternot likely to contain himself for the marshal when Mr. Wisely said to me himself, “There’s no praying for fools?”
Countess: I cherish the hope that we shall get through without Flatternot. I received a letter to-day from Countess Folliest. She recommends me a French tutor, a Mr. Pelican, and we shall engage him.
Count: But first we’ll have a look at Flatternot.
Countess: Maybe; I consent.
Servant (entering): Your highness, the marshal has come with a strange gentleman.
Count: I’ll go to meet him; but you, Countess, receive them here.
Scene II
Count: Countess, this is Mr. Flatternot. Mr. Flatternot, my wife.
Flatternot (kissing Countess’s hand): I recommend myself to your highnesses’ favour as a neighbour and nobleman of these parts.
Count: I beg you to be seated. Our respected marshal, no doubt, has already told you of our desire, just as we heard from him of your proposal to take charge of a young nobleman?
Flatternot: He has informed me of everything; but beforehand I ought to hear from you yourselves what education you intend to give your son: what you wish to teach him, and to prepare him for which service?
Count: I wished to hear of this from you.
Flatternot: I should think to educate his mind as is fitting for a nobleman.
Countess: Of the rank of count!
Flatternot: I do not understand; what difference do you find between the rank of nobleman and count?
Countess: I find, sir, this difference, that a count should be more careful than a nobleman that no one is lacking in respect of him.
Count: A count should be more delicate than a nobleman on the point of his honour. . . . (A page is missing here in the original manuscript.)
Countess: But I thought that nature and rank were the same thing.
Wisely: You hear, madame, that a natural count may be also a natural fool.
Countess: And so Mr. Flatternot is not pleased that our son should know he is a count, and does not wish to give him the title of “Highness.”
Flatternot: I would not take upon myself the sin — do not be angry with me — to turn a little boy’s head, like your son’s, with fancies about his countship, highness, and similar folly; but I shall strive hard to set into his head and heart that he, being of noble birth, should possess, also, a noble mind.
Countess: And that is not a bad thing. But what are you thinking about, Count?
Count: I am thinking of what I hear, and can think about nothing; I know it’s dinner-time, and I beg you, marshal, and you, sir, to dine with me.
Flatternot: At your service.
Servant: Dinner is served.
Count: Come.
Scene III
Countess (alone): Thank Heaven
