And now another word with thee about thy scandalous flight from the palace, in time of quiet, too! To the point! Did my brother of Austria invite thee? Did he, or did he not?
Alexis. May I answer without doing an injury or disservice to his Imperial Majesty?
Peter. Thou mayest. What injury canst thou or any one do, by the tongue, to such as he is?
Alexis. At the moment, no; he did not. Nor indeed can I assert that he at any time invited me; but he said he pitied me.
Peter. About what? hold thy tongue; let that pass. Princes never pity but when they would make traitors: then their hearts grow tenderer than tripe. He pitied thee, kind soul, when he would throw thee at thy father’s head; but finding thy father too strong for him, he now commiserates the parent, laments the son’s rashness and disobedience, and would not make God angry for the world. At first, however, there must have been some overture on his part; otherwise thou are too shamefaced for intrusion. Come—thou hast never had wit enough to lie—tell me the truth, the whole truth.
Alexis. He said that if ever I wanted an asylum, his court was open to me.
Peter. Open! so is the tavern; but folks pay for what they get there. Open, truly! and didst thou find it so?
Alexis. He received me kindly.
Peter. I see he did.
Alexis. Derision, O my father! is not the fate I merit.