L'Aiglon - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Good-day, dear Baron.
[_Carelessly to the_ YOUNG MAN _and the_ COUNTESS, _pointing to the screen._]
Finish over there.
[_To_ OBENAUS.]
My tailor.
OBENAUS.
Ah?
THE DUKE.
My mother's fitter.
OBENAUS.
Yes?
THE DUKE.
Will they disturb you?
OBENAUS.
[_Who has seated himself behind the table with_ DIETRICHSTEIN.]
Not at all, my Lord.
THE DUKE.
[_Who sits facing them, sharpening a pencil._]
I'm all attention. Let me sharpen this To note a date, or jot down an idea.
OBENAUS.
We'll take our work up where we last left off.
Eighteen hundred and five, I think?
THE DUKE.
[_Busy with his pencil._] Exactly.
OBENAUS.
In eighteen hundred and six--
THE DUKE.
Did no event Make that year memorable?
OBENAUS.
Which, my Lord?
THE DUKE.
[_Blowing the dust off the pencil._]
Why, eighteen hundred and five.
OBENAUS.
I beg your pardon, I thought you meant--h'm--Destiny Was cruel to the righteous cause. We'll cast Only a fleeting glance at hapless hours.
When the philosopher with pensive gaze--
THE DUKE.
And so in eighteen five, sir, nothing happened?
OBENAUS.
A great event, my Lord! I had forgotten.
The restoration of the Calendar.
A little later, having challenged England, Spain--
THE DUKE.
[_Demurely._]
And the Emperor?
OBENAUS.
Which Emp--?
THE DUKE.
My father.
OBENAUS.
He--he--
THE DUKE.
