QUEEN. Pick up that broken glass.
(The Attendant collects it on the hand-tray which he carries)
Bring it to me! … Leave it!
(The Attendant deposits the tray before her, and GOES. Gently the Queen handles the broken pieces. Then in a voice of tearful emotion she speaks.)
Such devotion! Most extraordinary! Oh! Albert! Albert!
(And in the sixteenth year of her widowhood and the fortieth of her reign the Royal Lady bends her head over the fragments of broken glass, and weeps happy tears.)
CURTAIN
His Favourite Flower
Dramatis Personae