MARSHAL. But consider, my dear count, a married man! And my reputation at court!
PRESIDENT. Oh! that's quite another thing! I beg a thousand pardons, marshal; I was not aware that a man of unblemished morals held a higher place in your estimation than a man of power! Let us break up our conference.
MARSHAL. Be not so hasty, count. I did not mean to say that.
PRESIDENT (coldly.) No—no! You are perfectly right. I, too, am weary of office. I shall throw up the game, tender my resignation to the duke, and congratulate von Bock on his accession to the premiership. This duchy is not all the world.
MARSHAL. And what am I to do? It is very fine for you to talk thus! You are a man of learning! But I—mon Dieu! What shall I be if his highness dismisses me?
PRESIDENT. A stale jest!—a thing out of fashion!
MARSHAL. I implore you, my dearest, my most valued friend. Abandon those thoughts. I will consent to everything!
PRESIDENT. Will you lend your name to an assignation to which this Louisa Miller shall invite you in writing?
MARSHAL. Well, in God's name let it be so!
PRESIDENT. And drop the letter where the major cannot fail to find it.