Jan.—­No, madam, but sometimes I speak quite enough.

Countess.—­For my part, I declare that if Jan is not elected, we will leave the country.

Podczaski.—­They will be guilty of it.

Countess.—­It will be the fault of the prince.

Prince.—­Mine?

Countess.—­How can you permit such as Jozwowicz to compete with society people?  Why do you retain him?

Prince.—­Frankly speaking, it is not I who keep him—­it is he who keeps me.  If it were not for him, I should long since be (he makes a gesture).

Countess (angrily).—­By keeping him, you serve the democracy.

Prince.—­I—­I serve the democracy?  Stella, do you hear? (He raps with his stick.)

Countess.—­Every one will say so.  Mr. Jozwowicz is the democratic candidate.

Prince.—­But I am not, and if it is so I will not allow him to be.  I have enough of Mr. Jozwowicz’s democracy.  They shall not say that I am the tool of democracy. (He rings the bell.  A servant enters.) Ask the doctor to come here.

Countess.—­Now the prince is a true prince.

Prince.—­I serve democracy, indeed!

Stella.—­Papa, dear.

Countess.—­We must bid the prince good-bye.  Jan, get ready.  Good-bye, dear Stella.  Good-bye, my child. (To her son.) Kiss the princess’s hand.

SCENE III.

The same.

Jozwowicz.—­Your Highness must excuse me if I am too late, but I was obliged to receive the delegates.

Countess.—­What delegates are here?  Jan, go ahead.

Doctor (saluting).—­Count, you must hasten, they are leaving.

Podczaski.—­I am Your Highness’s servant. (Countess, Jan, Podczaski go out.  Stella and Mrs. Czeska follow them.)

SCENE IV.

Jozwowicz.  Prince. (A moment of silence.)

Prince (rapping with his stick).—­I forbid you to become a member of parliament.

Doctor.—­I shall not obey.

Prince.—­You make me angry.

Doctor.—­Your Highness closes to me the future.

Prince (angrily).—­I have brought you up.

Doctor.—­I preserve Your Highness’s life.

Prince.—­I have been a second father to you.

Doctor.—­Your Highness, let us speak calmly.  If you have been to me a father, I have until now been to you a son.  But the father must not bar to his son the road to distinction.

Prince.—­Public distinction is not for such people as you, sir.

Doctor (laughing).—­A moment ago Your Highness called me a son.

Prince.—­What son?

Doctor.—­Your Highness, were I your son I would be rich and have a title—­in a word everything Your Highness possesses.  But being a poor man, I must make my way, and no one has the right to bar it to me, especially if my road is straight and honest. (Laughing.) Unless Your Highness would like to adopt me in order to preserve the family.