MARIA LOUISA [frightened]
My husband—he?
What, an old man like him!
METTERNICH [cautiously]
He’s scarcely old,
Dear lady. True, deeds densely crowd in him;
Turn months to years calendaring his span;
Yet by Time’s common clockwork he’s but young.
MARIA LOUISA
So wicked, too!
METTERNICH [nettled]
Well-that’s a point of view.
MARIA LOUISA
But, Chancellor, think what things I have said to him!
Can women marry where they have taunted so?
METTERNICH
Things? Nothing inexpungeable, I deem,
By time and true good humour.
MARIA LOUISA
O I have!
Horrible things. Why—ay, a hundred times—
I have said I wished him dead! At that strained hour
When the first voicings of the late war came,
Thrilling out how the French were smitten sore
And Bonaparte retreating, I clapped hands
And answered that I hoped he’d lose his head
As well as lose the battle!
METTERNICH
Words. But words!
Born like the bubbles of a spring that come
Of zest for springing—aimless in their shape.
MARIA LOUISA
It seems indecent, mean, to wed a man
Whom one has held such fierce opinions of!
METTERNICH
My much beloved Archduchess, and revered,
Such things have been! In Spain and Portugal
Like enmities have led to intermarriage.
In England, after warring thirty years
The Red and White Rose wedded.