NATALIE. Look on the mantel.
[_The lady-in-waiting goes out.-]
THE PRINCE (aside).
Lord of my life? Could I have heard aright?
[He draws the glove from his collar.]
MARSHAL (looking down at the paper which he holds in
his hand).
Well out of range of the artillery fire.
[Continuing.]
The Prince's Highness—
THE PRINCE (regarding now the glove, now the PRINCESS).
It's this glove she's seeking—
MARSHAL. At our lord sovereign's express command—
GOLZ (writing). At our lord sovereign's express command—