CHANCELLOR (shortly). His Majesty means nothing of the sort.
POMPDEBILE. No, of course not—er—The mule—Is that—did you—?
CHANCELLOR (in a grieved tone). This is hardly necessary. Have I ever neglected or forgotten any of your commands, Your Majesty?
POMPDEBILE. You have, often. However, don't be insulted. It takes a great deal of our time and it is most uninteresting.
CHANCELLOR (indignantly). I resign, Your Majesty.
POMPDEBILE. Your thirty-seventh resignation will be accepted to-morrow. Just now it is our wish to begin at once. The anxiety that no doubt gathered in the breast of each of the seven successive Pompdebiles before us seems to have concentrated in ours. Already the people are clamoring at the gates of the palace to know the decision. Begin. Let the Pages be summoned.
KNAVE (bowing). Beg pardon, Your Majesty; before summoning the
Pages, should not the Lady Violetta be here?
POMPDEBILE. She should, and is, we presume, on the other side of that door—waiting breathlessly.
(THE KNAVE quietly opens the door and closes it.)
KNAVE (bowing). She is not, Your Majesty, on the other side of that door waiting breathlessly. In fact, to speak plainly, she is not on the other side of that door at all.