Essling! Yonder's Aspern.

Throw out a paper bridge across the steel.

Pa.s.s me a mounted Grenadier or two.

PROKESCH.

We want a little hillock.

THE DUKE.

[_Handing him a book._]

The "Memorials."

Here stands Saint Cyr, here Molitor of Bellegarde And on the bridge--

METTERNICH.

[_Who has come in unperceived and is standing behind him._]

And on the bridge?

THE DUKE.

The Guards.

METTERNICH.

So all the army's French to-day, it seems!

Where are the Austrians?

THE DUKE.

They've run away.

METTERNICH.

Tut, tut--who daubed them over for you?

THE DUKE.

No one.

METTERNICH.

'Twas you. That's how you spoil the toys we give you.

THE DUKE.

Sir--!

[METTERNICH _rings_--_a_ LACKEY _appears._]

METTERNICH.

[_To the_ LACKEY.]

Take these soldiers; throw them all away.

[_To the_ DUKE.]

I'll send you new ones.

THE DUKE.

I'll not have your new ones!

If I'm a child, my toys shall be a giant's!

METTERNICH.

What gadfly--what Imperial bee has stung you?

THE DUKE.

As irony is little to my liking--

THE LACKEY.

[_Aside to the_ DUKE.]

Silence, my Lord! I'll paint 'em over again.

METTERNICH.

Well, Highness?

THE DUKE.

Nothing. Just a fit of temper.

Forgive me.

[_Aside._]

I've a friend; I can be patient.

METTERNICH.

I came to bring your friend--

THE DUKE.