(He goes out with the tarts. VIOLETTA listens anxiously for a minute; then she takes her skirt between the tips of her fingers and practises in pantomime her anticipated ride on the palfrey. She bows, smiles, kisses her hand, until suddenly she remembers the mule standing outside the gates of the palace. That thought saddens her, so she curls up in POMPDEBILE'S throne and cries softly, wiping away her tears with a lace handkerchief. There is a knock. She flies to the door and holds it shut.)
VIOLETTA (breathlessly). Who is there?
CHANCELLOR. It is I, Lady Violetta. The King wishes to return.
VIOLETTA (alarmed). Return! Does he? But the tarts are not done.
They are not done at all!
CHANCELLOR. You said they would be ready in twenty minutes. His
Majesty is impatient.
VIOLETTA. Did you play a game of checkers with him, Chancellor?
CHANCELLOR. Yes.
VIOLETTA. And did you beat him?
CHANCELLOR (shortly). I did not.
VIOLETTA (laughing). How sweet of you! Would you mind doing it again just for me? Or would it be too great a strain on you to keep from beating him twice in succession?