HOHENZOLL. The equitable gods may guess at that!
GENTLEMAN-IN-WAITING.
It may be in the garden, where the gardener
Has nurtured other strange, outlandish plants.
ELECTOR. Most curious, by heaven! But what's the odds?
I know what stirs the heart of this young fool.
HOHENZOLL. Indeed! Tomorrow's clash of arms, my liege!
Astrologers, I'll wager, in his mind
Are weaving stars into a triumph wreath.
[The PRINCE regards the wreath.]
GENTLEMAN-IN-WAITING. Now it is done!
HOHENZOLLERN. A shame, a mortal shame,
That there's no mirror in the neighborhood!
He would draw close to it, vain as any girl,
And try his wreath on, thus, and then again
This other way—as if it were a bonnet!
ELECTOR. By faith! But I must see how far he'll go!
[The ELECTOR takes the wreath from the PRINCE'S hand while the latter regards him, flushing. The ELECTOR thereupon twines his neck-chain about the wreath and gives it to the PRINCESS. The PRINCE rises in excitement, but the ELECTOR draws back with the PRINCESS, still holding the wreath aloft. The PRINCE follows her with outstretched arms.]
THE PRINCE (whispering).
Natalie! Oh, my girl! Oh, my beloved!