Jödi. I cannot lend you an umbrella, because I have lent mine to the gardener's wife. Owls are roosting on the chimney-pots, and a stickleback has jumped out of the pond. Hush, my Lord the Prince approaches!
[Prince PONSCH enters, bearing a stout staff, which he nurses gloomily, like an infant; a hurricane is heard in the middle distance; the waterpipe sobs strangely and then expires; a blackbeetle comes out of a cupboard and runs uneasily about, until a flash of lightning enters down the chimney and kills it. PONSCH stands glaring at DJOË and the Princess.
Djoë (hastily). There is going to be a storm. Do not forget what I have uttered. Good evening!
[He goes; the wind whistles a popular air through the keyhole.
Jödi (nervously). What an appalling evening! I have never seen the like of such a sky.
Ponsch. There is something about you this evening—how beautiful you are looking! Bring BEBBI-PONSCH.
Jödi (fetching the Infant Prince). Here he is. Why do you look so strangely at him?
Bebbi-Ponsch (a small, but important part). Is Pa-a-par poo-oorly? Won't he p'ay wiz me no mo-ore?
Ponsch. The soul of a little stage-child looms from under his green eyes! OLENIKKE was right, and I— No matter. I will open the window.
[Opens it, and throws BEBBI-P. out. Sound of water-splash audible.