POTENTATE. Good. Bring me fresh news as soon as it arrives. Good-night, General, good-night.
(Exit GENERAL.)
(The POTENTATE sits musing for a considerable time. A slight cough is heard, and he raises his head.)
POTENTATE (slowly). Enter!
(Enter a tall figure in a long black academic gown and black clothes.)
POTENTATE (with an attempt at gaiety). Come in, my dear Sage, come in. You are welcome. (A little anxiously) You have the crystal? Good. How is the Master? Still busy devising new means of victory?
THE SAGE. My master's poor skill is always at your service, Sire. You have only to command.
POTENTATE. I know it. Now let me have the crystal. I would see if possible the scene of to-day's victory in Flanders.
(The SAGE hands him the crystal with a low bow. The POTENTATE seizes it eagerly, and gazes into it. A pause.)
POTENTATE (raising his head suddenly). Horrible, horrible!
SAGE. Sire?