L'Aiglon - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Brother, good-bye!
TIBURTIUS.
Good-by.
[_He goes out with_ BOMBELLES.]
MARIA LOUISA.
[_To the Maids of Honor, indicating_ THERESA.]
Show her her rooms.
[THERESA _goes out accompanied by the Maids of Honor._ MARIA LOUISA _calls the Duke, who was going toward the garden._]
MARIA LOUISA.
Franz!
[_He turns._]
Now I'm going to amuse you.
THE DUKE.
Really?
[SCARAMPI _carefully closes all the doors._]
MARIA LOUISA.
Hus.h.!.+--I've conspired!
THE DUKE.
Mother! You!--Conspired!
MARIA LOUISA.
Hus.h.!.+ They've forbidden whatever comes from France-- But I have ordered secretly from Paris, From the best houses--Oh! my fop shall smile!-- For you, a tailor,
[_Pointing to_ SCARAMPI.]
and for us, a fitter.
I really think the notion--
THE DUKE.
Exquisite!
SCARAMPI.
[_Opening the door of_ MARIA LOUISA'S _apartment._]
Come in!
[_Enter a young lady, dressed with the elegance of a milliner's dummy, and carrying two great card-board dress-boxes, and a young man dressed like a fas.h.i.+on plate, who also carries two big boxes._]
THE TAILOR.
[_Coming down to the_ DUKE, _while the young lady unpacks the dresses on a sofa at the back._]
If you will favor me, my Lord-- I've here some charming novelties. My clients Are good enough to trust my taste: I guide them.
The neck-cloths first. A languid violet; A serious brown. Bandannas are much worn.
I note with pleasure that your Highness knows The delicate art of building up a stock.
Here's a check pattern makes an elegant knot.
How does this waistcoat strike your Lords.h.i.+p's fancy, Down which meander wreaths of blossoms?
THE DUKE.
Hideous!
THE TAILOR.
Will these, I wonder, leave your Highness cold?
Here's doeskin. Here a genuine Scottish tweed.
Bottle-green riding-coat with narrow cuffs; Extremely gentlemanly. Here's a waistcoat: Six-b.u.t.toned. Three left open. Very tasty.
Now, what about this blue frock-coat? We've rubbed The newness off artistically. Worn With salt and pepper trousers, what a picture!
We'll throw aside this heavy yellow stuff-- Can Hamlet wear the clumsy clouts of Falstaff?-- We'll pa.s.s to mantles, Prince. A splendid plaid, Demi-collar with simili-sleeves behind.
Eccentric? Granted.--This, called the _Rouliere_: Sober, a large, Hidalgo-like effect; The very thing to woo a Dona Sol in.
Excellent workmans.h.i.+p; a silver chain; the collar Of finest sable; made in our own workshops; Simple, but what a cut! The cut is everything.
MARIA LOUISA.
The Duke is weary of your chatter.
THE DUKE.
No.
He sets me dreaming. I'm not used to it.
For when my tailor from Vienna comes I never hear these bright, descriptive words; And so this wealth of curious adjectives And all that seems to you mere vulgar chatter, Has moved me--stirred me. Let him be, dear mother.
MARIA LOUISA.
[_Going to the fitter._]
We'll look at ours. Shoulder of mutton sleeves?
