Anton.—­Very pretty, but looks as though she was made of mist.  As for me, I prefer women like my wife.  From such as your princess you cannot expect sturdy democrats.

Doctor.—­Enough of that.

Anton.—­Then I will weigh anchor and sail.  I will distribute the pamphlet with your address, and then I will write another article against Husarski.  If they put me in prison they shall at least have a reason for it.  Good-bye.

Doctor.—­If you meet a servant, tell him that I am waiting for Count
Drahomir.

SCENE V.

Jozwowicz—­then Drahomir.

Doctor (alone).—­Let that golden-haired page go, but he must see her before he goes.  This leave-taking shall be the red flag for the bull.  (Drahomir enters.) I am waiting for you, sir.  Is Mr. Pretwic in the chateau?

Drahomir.—­He is with the prince.

Doctor.—­Count, be seated, and let us talk.

Drahomir (uneasily).—­I am listening, sir.

Doctor.—­You are in love with the princess.

Drahomir.—­Mr. Jozwowicz!

Doctor.—­On your honor—­yes or no?

Drahomir.—­Only God has the right to ask me such a question.  I do not dare to ask myself.

Doctor.—­And your conscience?

Drahomir.—­And no one else.

Doctor.—­Then let us turn the question.  She loves you.

Drahomir.—­Be silent, sir.  Oh, God!

Doctor.—­Your pride is broken.  You knew of it?

Drahomir.—­I did not wish to know it.

Doctor.—­But now you are aware of it.

Drahomir.—­That is the reason why I am going away from here forever.

Doctor.—­It is too late, sir.  You have tangled her life and now you leave her.

Drahomir.—­For God’s sake, what shall I do, then?

Doctor.—­Go away, but not forever, and not without telling her good-bye.

Drahomir.—­Why should I add the last drop to an already overflowing cup?

Doctor.—­A beautiful phrase.  Can you not understand that it will hurt her good name if you should go away suddenly without taking leave of her?  And she—­she is ill and she may not be able to bear your departure.

Drahomir.—­I do not see any remedy—­

Doctor.—­There is only one.  Find some pretext, bid her good-bye quietly, and tell her that you will be back.  Otherwise it will be a heavy blow for her strength.  You must leave her hope.  She must not suspect anything.  Perhaps later she will become accustomed to your absence—­perhaps she will forget—­

Drahomir.—­It will be better for her to forget.

Doctor.—­I will do my best, but I shall first throw a handful of earth on your memory.

Drahomir.—­What shall I do, then?

Doctor.—­To find a pretext to bid her good-bye, tell every one that you are going.  Then come back—­and go away.  Mr. Pretwic also must not know anything.