The Prince. No, Marshal, you mustn't, for if you do I shall not answer you fully. (Hums) Souvent femme varie; fol qui s'y fie—do you know what that means, you rogue?
Hindenburg. I know your Highness spoke in French, which is not what I should have expected from one who stands so near to the throne.
The Prince. Now, you mustn't be angry; only dull people ever get angry.
Hindenburg. Your Royal Highness means to say—?
The Prince. I mean to say that you're not dull—not really dull, you know, and that therefore you can't be allowed to get angry about a mere trifle. Besides, our predecessor, the GREAT FREDERICK, always spoke in French and wrote his poetry in French—very poor stuff it was too—and had a violent contempt for the German language, which he considered a barbarous jargon.
Hindenburg. I care not what the GREAT FREDERICK may have thought as to this matter—there are other points in which it might be well to imitate him first rather than to remember what he thought and said about our noble German language—but for me it is enough to know that the Emperor and King whom I serve holds no such ideas.
The Prince. Of course he doesn't; he holds no ideas at all of any kind.
Hindenburg. At least he would be angry to hear such—
The Prince. Of course he would; he's dull enough in all conscience for that or anything else.
Hindenburg (after a pause). Your Royal Highness will, perhaps, forgive me if I draw your gracious attention to the fact that I have much work to do and but little time to do it in.