THE MANAGER. Your Highness, an officer asks to see you on behalf of the Inca of Perusalem.
THE PRINCESS [rising distractedly]. Oh, I can't, really. Oh, what shall I do?
THE MANAGER. On important business, he says, Your Highness. Captain Duval.
ERMYNTRUDE. Duval! Nonsense! The usual thing. It is the Inca himself, incognito.
THE PRINCESS. Oh, send him away. Oh, I'm so afraid of the Inca. I'm not properly dressed to receive him; and he is so particular: he would order me to stay in my room for a week. Tell him to call tomorrow: say I'm ill in bed. I can't: I won't: I daren't: you must get rid of him somehow.
ERMYNTRUDE. Leave him to me, Your Highness.
THE PRINCESS. You'd never dare!
ERMYNTRUDE. I am an Englishwoman, Your Highness, and perfectly capable of tackling ten Incas if necessary. I will arrange the matter. [To the Manager.] Show Her Highness to her bedroom; and then show Captain Duval in here.
THE PRINCESS. Oh, thank you so much. [She goes to the door. Ermyntrude, noticing that she has left her hat and gloves on the table, runs after her with them.] Oh, THANK you. And oh, please, if I must have one of his sons, I should like a fair one that doesn't shave, with soft hair and a beard. I couldn't bear being kissed by a bristly person. [She runs out, the Manager bowing as she passes. He follows her.]
Ermyntrude whips off her waterproof; hides it; and gets herself swiftly into perfect trim at the mirror, before the Manager, with a large jewel case in his hand, returns, ushering in the Inca.