Scene One.
THE WORKSHOP OF A LADIES' TAILOR.
(The King, in journeyman's clothes, sits cross-legged on a table,
working on a woman's gown of rich material.
Master Pandolfo bustles into the room.)
MASTER PANDOLFO.
Early to work, Gigi! Early to work! Bravo, Gigi!
THE KING.
The cock has crowed, Master!
MASTER PANDOLFO.
Now shake me the other fellows awake. One can work better in company than alone, Gigi! (Takes the dress out of his hands.) See here, Gigi! (He tears the dress.) Rip! What's the use of early to bed and early to rise if the stitches don't hold? And the button-holes, Gigi! Did the rats help you with them? I worked for Her Majesty Queen Amelia when her husband was still making mortadella and salmi. Am I to lose her custom now because of your botching? Hey, Gigi?
THE KING.
If my work shames you, turn me out!
MASTER PANDOLFO.
How rude, Gigi! Do you think you are still tending pigs at Baschi? Forty years on your back and nothing learned! Go packing out of my house and see where you will find your food, then, you vagabond!
THE KING.
(Rises and collects the scraps.) I'll take you at your word, Master!
MASTER PANDOLFO.
What the devil, madcap; can't you take a joke? Can I show more love toward my 'prentice than I do when I give him the work which usually the master does? Since you have been with me haven't I allowed you to cut all the garments? The devil take me that I cannot catch the knack of your cutting! But the ladies of Perugia say, "Master Pandolfo, since the old apprentice has been working for you, your work has a genteel cut." But what's the use of a genteel cut if the young ladies tear the stitches out as they dance? You'll never be a journeyman, Gigi, unless you learn to sew. My dear, sweet Gigi, don't you see that I only want what's best for you?
THE KING.
Good, Master Pandolfo, I'll stay with you if from now on, in addition to my keep, you will pay me thirty soldi more a week.
MASTER PANDOLFO.
I'll promise you that, Gigi! As true as I stand here, I'll promise you that!——Thirty soldi you want?——Yes, yes! The gown for her Majesty, the Queen, must be ready sewed by noon. Therefore, be industrious, Gigi! Always industrious! (Exit.)
(The King dimes a long breath after Master Pandolfo leaves the room, and then sits down to his work again. After a while, Princess Alma puts her head in through the window.)
ALMA.
Are you alone, Father?
THE KING.
(Springing up joyfully.) My treasure!
(Alma vanishes and immediately after comes in through the door. She is dressed as a boy in a dark, neat suit of clothes.)
THE KING.
The master is upstairs with his morning dram, and the journeymen are still asleep. The moments I have with you, my child, indemnify my soul for the days of dull routine. What affectionate conversations I hold with you, and how lovingly and understandingly you answer me! Do not forsake me! It is a new crime I commit in asking this of you; but see, I am a weak man!
ALMA.
Things will soon be better with us now, Father. The old notary, whose errand-boy I became two months ago, already lets me copy all his documents. Next week he is going to take me to court with him, in order that I may take down the case instead of him.——O my father, if only the death sentence which, now that we are in Perugia again, places you in greater danger than ever before, could be lifted from your head!——My feminine ignorance of politics prevents me conjecturing whether they will raise you to the throne again. But they should honor you as more than a king. There must be something godlike about you when, in spite of your degradation, you are able to fill one with happiness as you do me! What a wealth of happiness you would have to give if your fetters were removed. Thousands then would contend for you, and you would no longer envy any king the weight of his crown!
THE KING.
Do not talk further about me. I must wait in obscurity until my hour is come.——But you, my child, do you not feel deadly unhappy under the burden of your work?——Isn't your master disagreeable when he needs someone upon whom to vent his bad temper?
ALMA.
But don't you see what good spirits I am in, Father? The people I serve know how to value education and culture. You, on the contrary, must live with a brood of men whose daily habits must torment your soul, even without their knowledge or desire. I see you grind your teeth at this or that retort. I see how your throat contracts with disgust at mealtimes. Oh, forgive my words! They are unmindful of your smarting wounds.
THE KING.
(Whimsically.) Only think, my child, the result of these unusual circumstances is that I am cherished by Master Pandolfo as his most industrious worker. At Baschi, where I tended cattle, I made a shed behind the stables my sleeping place. I used to lie there every morning on my back, following my dreams until the sun stood over me in the zenith. That's the reason the farmer discharged me. Here I sleep with three common fellows, and, therefore, am the first to rise and the last to go to bed. Personally, I do not sleep as well in the company of men as I do in the company of beasts. I never dreamed such an industrious worker was concealed within me! Work serves me as a kind of refuge. And then the beautiful lines of the heavy velvet, the sheen of the gold brocade! They refresh my soul and I long for them as for a vivifying drink. And then Master Pandolfo's insight discovered in me at once a gift which astonishes me highly, and which, to be can-did, I could not give up lightly. He found I was better able than any of his workmen, better able than himself even, to cut the stuff for the ladies' dresses so as to bring out the figure to the best advantage. For example, that doublet you wear I should have cut quite differently than did that miserable botcher whose shears were not worthy to touch such splendid cloth.
ALMA.
Oh, silence, Father! How can you jest so callously at your unhappy fate!
THE KING.
(Passionately.) Do not mock me with flattery, my child! Fate jests at me and not I at it!
ALMA.
(Soothingly.) Beloved father, you remain a king, no matter what you must do in this world.
THE KING.
In your loving heart, yes! And, therefore, your father, with loving despotism, opposes your life's happiness by crowding out of your heart that longing for a man which must be awakening in you at your age. Your father's egotistical folly has lost you rank and property, now it deprives you of the highest rights of life—those which the creatures of the wilderness share with mankind and which may make existence in a hut, as well as on a throne, a gift of the gods! What madness made me test my strength against the flood of the San Margherita brook, instead of invading Umbria by war, setting the city on fire at its four corners and snatching the crown with my own hands from the glowing ruins!——But that was only the continuation of past folly!
ALMA.
(Weeping.) Heaven have mercy on my foolish soul! How was it possible for me so to grieve you!
THE KING.
In misfortune people hurt each other without knowledge or desire, just as truly as in happiness each one brings joy to the other unwittingly. Do not make him who is judged suffer for it. You must go, my child; I hear the workmen shouting and tramping about upstairs.
ALMA.
(Kissing him.) Tomorrow morning early! (Exit.)
(The King takes up his work. Then the three journeymen come in, and, sitting down on separate tables on the other side of the room, prepare for work.)
MICHELE.
Gigi, if you get up before cockcrow again I'll break your nose the next night while you sleep. Then go to the women and see if you can succeed with them!
THE KING.
It would please you well to attack a sleeping man. But take care of your own bones at it, or perhaps you might not rise at all the next day!
NOE.
Well said, Gigi! Tell us quickly more of your war-like deeds, that we may be afraid of you.
THE KING.
I haven't time. If your ears itch for tales of heroic deeds, tell how you stole the parson's geese at Bavagna.
BATTISTA.
Our patron saint defend us! Usually, you are as tame and sneaking as if your nail had never crushed a louse, and today you would like to spit all three of us at once on your needle.
THE KING.
Let me be in peace, then! A hollow tooth is hurting me. That's the reason I left the sleeping room so early.
NOE.
Tell the truth, Gigi! Wasn't the page here just now who brings you the glowing love letters from the lady for whom you cut the yellow silk dress?
THE KING.
Do I concern myself with your love letters?
MICHELE.
You concern yourself with entirely different things! You get up right after midnight to practice being a lickspittle and a trimmer! You get the master to give you the journeymen's work and divide the apprentice's work among us! You are a pest in the house!
BATTISTA.
Apprentice, bring us the morning soup!
(The King leaves the workroom.)
NOE.
He's lacking in the upper story; I am sorry for him. He must have been some sort of bootcleaner for a gentleman of quality. That moved his brain out of place in his skull.
BATTISTA.
Did you ever see a soldier who would let himself be kicked about so by journeymen tailors?
NOE.
My mother was a country girl; I tell that to anybody who asks me; I don't act as if I had been bed servant to the Holy Father!
MICHELE.
I'll tell you why the lad is so stupid. Each of us has knocked about the world, often with not enough to eat. But if he opens his mouth out comes a stream of curses profane enough to turn one's stomach. Earth is ashamed at having brought forth such a monster; then Heaven is ashamed to have let its light fall upon him; then Hell is ashamed that it has not yet swallowed him! You will see!
(The King returns with four wooden, spoons and a pot of soup, which he sets before the journeymen.)
MICHELE.
Get out, you beast! You can lick our spoons when we have had enough!
THE KING.
(Strives with himself, seeking to master his anger, then strikes his brow.) Oh, a curse upon this king who hinders me from allowing myself to be thrashed by this rascal! Oh, a curse upon the king who hinders me crushing this rascal, whom I understand better than he understands me! Oh, a curse upon the king who hinders me from being a man like other men! Oh a triple curse upon the king!
(The journeymen spring up in horror.)
MICHELE.
Did you hear? He cursed the king! He cursed the king!
BATTISTA AND NOE.
(Together.) He has cursed the king!
MICHELE.
Seize him! Hold him fast!——Master Pandolfo!——Master Pandolfo!——Knock in his teeth!
MASTER PANDOLFO.
(Rushing in.) Get to work, lads! Why are you fighting so early in the morning? Are you mad?
THE JOURNEYMEN.
(Holding the King by the arms.) He has cursed the king!——"Curse the king!" he cried! "A triple curse upon the king!"
THE KING.
(Submitting indifferently to force.) A triple curse upon the king! Then let the king's head fall under the headsman's axe.
THE JOURNEYMEN.
Listen to him, Master Pandolfo!
THE KING.
(To himself.) My poor child!
MASTER PANDOLFO.
Bind his hands behind his back! Cursing our dear, good King Pietro! "Let King Pietro's head fall under the headsman's axe!" Bring ropes! Take the dog to court! This vagabond will lose me by best customers! The head of King Pietro, who pays his bills more promptly than any king before him!