Czar. When can you have the proclamations ready, Prince Paul?
Prince Paul. They have been printed for the last six months, Sire. I knew you would need them.
Czar. That's good! That's very good! Let us begin at once. Ah, Prince, if every king in Europe had a minister like you—
Czare. There would be less kings in Europe than there are.
Czar (in frightened whisper, to Prince Paul). What does he mean? Do you trust him? His prison hasn't cured him yet. Shall I banish him? Shall I (whispers)...? The Emperor Paul did it. The Empress Catherine there[17] (points to picture on the wall) did it. Why shouldn't I?
Prince Paul. Your Majesty, there is no need for alarm. The Prince is a very ingenuous young man. He pretends to be devoted to the people, and lives in a palace; preaches socialism, and draws a salary that would support a province. He'll find out one day that the best cure for Republicanism is the Imperial crown, and will cut up the "bonnet rogue" of Democracy to make decorations for his Prime Minister.
Czar. You are right. If he really loved the people, he could not be my son.
Prince Paul. If he lived with the people for a fortnight, their bad dinners would soon cure him of his democracy. Shall we begin, Sire?
Czar. At once. Read the proclamation. Gentlemen, be seated. Alexis, Alexis, I say, come and hear it! It will be good practice for you; you will be doing it yourself some day.
Czare. I have heard too much of it already. (Takes his seat at the table. Count Rouvaloff whispers to him.)