MASTER OF CEREMONIES. Right? I am filling the saddening duty which forces one sinner to punish another. And soon you will have to fulfil the same cruel duty toward a woman who is vain to the verge of madness—a woman resembling you as closely as she possibly could.
PRINCE. I don't want to do it.
MASTER OF CEREMONIES. Try to do anything but what you must, and you'll experience an inner discord that you cannot explain.
PRINCE. What does it mean?
MASTER OF CEREMONIES. It means that you cannot all of a sudden cease to be what you are: and you are what you have wanted to become. [He claps his hands.
The OLD LADY enters, her figure looking as aged and clumsy as ever; but she has painted her face and her head is covered by a powdered wig; she wears a very low-necked, rose-coloured dress, red shoes, and a fan made out of peacock feathers.
OLD LADY. [A little uncertain] Where am I? Is this the right place?
MASTER OF CEREMONIES. Quite right, for you are in the place we call the "waiting-room." It is so called [he sighs], because here we have to spend our time waiting—waiting for something that will come some time——
OLD LADY. Well, it isn't bad at all—and there is the music—and there is a bust—of whom?
MASTER OF CEREMONIES. It's a pagan idol called Pan, because to the ancients he was all they had. And as we, in this place, are of the old order, more or less antiquated, he has been put here for us to look at.