Miss P. Are they all mad or blind?
Cecil. We are not afraid—Princess—your Highness. (Crosses stage.)
Princess. You are brave to come, most honorable lady—come not nearer. I—am—accursed. (Hides face.)
Cecil. Accursed? (Advances impetuously.) Don’t look so sad, you poor little thing! (Miss P. expresses horror by many gesticulations.) I must talk plain English, not high-flown sentiment. Princess or not, I take both your hands and look into your pretty eyes.
Princess (shrinking). Nay, the curse will fall upon you—those I touch, even the flowers.
Mimosa (bowing). See honorable blossoms, august lady, as fresh and sweet——
Princess (advancing slowly). Is this venerated truth?
Cecil. Oh, don’t shrink like that. If you were in England I should give you a good hug—it is so comforting.
Miss P. (crosses excitedly). You will certainly be in prison before night. The German Emperor does not call himself Son of Heaven and you talk to this——
Princess (sadly). Is this most exalted lady with excellent hair as white as Fuzi afraid? Afraid of the curse?