VIZIER. Your Highness wished first to sign the marriage contract.
PEHR. I'm forever writing! No, this time I don't have to read. [Signs.] Now, Royal Historian, you can put down at least one action in my life that was not crime! [Vizier and Historian go.]
[Bride, veiled in Oriental fashion, is ushered in; attendants withdraw immediately; from behind is heard soft music.]
PEHR. [Runs toward bride.] Lisa, Lisa! You always come like a sunbeam when the clouds thicken—always like a friend in the dark hour!
BRIDE. [Raises veil.] My name is not Lisa.
PEHR. Not Lisa—What does this mean? Treachery! Who are you then?
BRIDE. Your consort.
PEHR. My consort!
BRIDE. [Indifferently.] The Administration had three candidates for you: The Vizier's choice fell upon me because my father threatened you with a tariff treaty.
PEHR. The administration's candidate—tariff treaties—what does that signify?