Quick!

Thalberg, my Tarantelle!

[THALBERG _sits at the piano and plays._]

[_To_ METTERNICH.] Where is her Majesty,

My lovely sister?

A LADY.

We looked in to fetch her.

ANOTHER LADY.

We're rushing through the valley on a coach.

Sandor is driving.

A MAN'S VOICE.

We must thrust the lava Back in its crater!

THE ARCHd.u.c.h.eSS.

Oh! do hold your tongues They will insist on talking of volcanoes.

BOMBELLES.

What's this volcano?

A LADY.

[_To another._]

Astrachan this winter.

SANDOR.

[_To_ BOMBELLES.]

Why, liberal opinions.

BOMBELLES.

Ah!

LORD COWLEY.

Or, rather, France!

METTERNICH.

[_To the_ ATTACHe.]

You hear him?

A LADY.

[_To a young man._]

Montenegro, sing to me Under your breath, for me alone.

MONTENEGRO.

[_Whom_ THALBERG _accompanies, sings very softly._]

Corazon--

[_He continues, pianissimo._]

ANOTHER LADY.

[_To_ GENTZ.]

Ah, Gentz!

[_She dips into her reticule._]

Some bon-bons, Gentz?

[_She gives him some._]

GENTZ.

You are an angel.

ANOTHER LADY.

[_Similar business._]

Perfume from Paris?

[_She takes out a little bottle of scent and gives it to him._]

METTERNICH.

[_Hurriedly to_ GENTZ.]

Tear the label off!