Chapter II: Part 2

QUARTILLA.

[_Opening the door of the cage as she goes out._] Farewell, my dove!... Drop a feather from the wing of your happiness, and send a note from your song of joy back to Quartilla!... Kindly fare you well!

ASTERIUS.

[_Rising, addresses VALENTINUS._] You think me in the wrong, but Tulla herself is averse to the idea! [_VALENTINUS makes no reply._] I will send her here that you yourself may question her!

TERTULLA.

[_Entering._] How wonderful to learn the world all over again! Valentinus! I would speak with Valentinus!

QUARTILLA.

[_Enters with her empty cage._] It has flown away! [_She sighs._] I’m glad someone is happy at last! Poor Pertinax is pacing up and down the lane with a face three cubits long!

ASTERIUS.

[_With contempt._] Pertinax, forsooth! Come with me, Quartilla! [_QUARTILLA goes with him._]

TERTULLA.

[_Also with contempt._] Pertinax, indeed! My father informed me of his presumptuous proposal! Shall one who has been honoured by a god put on the saffron-coloured wedding veil and slippers for a gardener? [_PERTINAX appears at the door._]

VALENTINUS.

But such a gardener! [_Indicating the flowers._]

TERTULLA.

[_In surprise._] Oh! How came these here? Flowers that by the grace of Faunus, blossom for Tertulla while the gardens of others are still a barren waste!

VALENTINUS.

Brought by the human deputy of the divinity ... good Pertinax!

TERTULLA.

[_Thoughtfully._] Pertinax! [_She fondles the flowers._] My friends! Do you know that at last I see you with the eyes of my body as of my spirit? [_Kisses the flowers._]

[_PERTINAX sighs. TERTULLA hearing, starts up._]

Who sighed then? Surely not Faunus! Surely Faunus is no longer angry with his handmaiden? Valentinus, you always counsel wisely! How can I propitiate the god, assuring him of my continued loyal service?

VALENTINUS.

True service implies many things, Tertulla, among which not the least is gratitude! Under the favour of Heaven human hands were needed to protect the tender roots from the cruelties of winter, to water them in days of drought, and foster their growth! The miracle of the god could be wrought only by the devotion of a man!

TERTULLA.

[_After a slight pause._] If Pertinax is within hearing let him advance to receive my thanks!

[_At a sign from VALENTINUS, PERTINAX obeys, on which TERTULLA addresses him with much dignity._]

Although not condoning the presumption of your suit, Pertinax, yet.... [_She breaks off with a slight cry._] Why ... yours was the last face I saw before my vision went to sleep, when you, a boy, drew me from the reach of the all-devouring flames! [_She turns aside with emotion._] An act but for which I should still be.... How unmindful have I been all these years! But now ... you shall find me not ungrateful!

PERTINAX.

I ask nothing, Asteria Tertia, but pardon for the offence of having lifted my own eyes toward you!... With the freedom your Jove-like father has this day bestowed on me I withdraw from his service, never to cross the threshold of your life again!... Kindly fare-you-well! [_He turns to go._]

TERTULLA.

[_With a little cry._] Oh! But my garden!... Valentinus, what, think you, would Faunus have me do with my affairs in such case? [_In a whisper to VALENTINUS._]

VALENTINUS.

What does your own heart counsel you, Tertulla? [_He places in her hand a blossoming spray._] Close your eyes again and dwell for a space in the chambers of your spirit! [_TERTULLA does as he bids._] What see you now?

TERTULLA.

Of course the image of the god Faunus is lodged in the sacred penetralia, never to be displaced by other object of veneration. [_PERTINAX sighs heavily. She continues hesitatingly._] And yet....

VALENTINUS.

Ah? And how appears the god; in what image, Tulla?

TERTULLA.

Strange! A circumstance beyond my power to explain, but.... [_She speaks confidentially so that PERTINAX shall not overhear._] Think me not sacrilegious, Valentinus, when I say he resembles Pertinax!

PERTINAX.

[_Having crept close to listen._] O felicitous omen! Accept it, Asteria Tertia, and that you shall not repent yourself of it will I dedicate my life!

TERTULLA.

[_Opening eyes._] Would you? [_To VALENTINUS._]

VALENTINUS.

[_Nodding assent._] I would indeed, were I Tertulla!

TERTULLA.

Then, Pertinax, since what even now seemed presumption on your part is presented to me as an act commended by the immortal gods and goddesses...!

[_Holds out a hand to him._]

PERTINAX.

O joyful day! Words fail me! Even Anacreon disowns me! I can only express myself in terms of horticulture! Already the myrtle beloved of Venus puts forth shoots, and blossoming with the rose, twines itself in a nuptial wreath about Tertulla’s brow!

TERTULLA.

How beautiful! Speak more to me in such fashion! [_Draws him aside._]

ASTERIUS.

[_In the inner room._] Bring in the banquet. Set the tables. Place the couches! Let nothing be wanting to the feast! [_He enters, followed by NERVA and slaves bearing lamps, dishes, and all the material for a royal feast._] This spot, which witnessed the prodigy of my child’s restoration to sight, shall witness equally our gratitude!... Well, Valentinus! Has Tulla convinced you of her loathing for that insect Pertinax? If so we will amuse ourselves while feasting in devising means to torture him, after which we will all be baptised! I understand your god insists on mercy to one’s enemies, wherefore I delay allegiance to him till Pertinax shall have been torn limb from limb!

NERVA.

[_Smacking his lips._] Limb from limb! M-m! [_Suddenly catches sight of the two lovers, and exclaims, nearly dropping the dish he holds._] Now, by Hercules...!

ASTERIUS.

[_Making for NERVA with stick._] Thumb-fingered one!

QUARTILLA.

O see my sister who clasps hands with Pertinax!

ASTERIUS.

[_Also seeing the two._] What! Does my vision play me tricks? Worker of prodigies, is this your deed?

QUARTILLA.

[_Dancing about._] A miracle! A miracle!

VALENTINUS.

Only the miracle of youth!

TERTULLA.

[_Imploring._] Father!

PERTINAX.

[_Also imploring._] Father-in-law!

ASTERIUS.

[_Almost speechless._] Father and father-in-law! Now, by— [_NERVA splutters with laughter, on which he raises his stick to him, then drops it._] O ye gods! In vain do I remind myself that I am a Roman father! Vainly do I call to mind the portico of one son-in-law, the estate at the seventh milestone of the other! Even the bath fails me, the bath equipped with hot and cold water and hot air! I am not enraged as I should be! Even the brazen-tongued Nerva causes me mirth rather than fury!

QUARTILLA.

[_Dancing about._] A miracle! A miracle!

VALENTINUS.

Only the miracle of kindness working in your own good heart, Asterius!

ASTERIUS.

Then without more words let us to the banquet lest the meats grow cold while miracles are multiplied!

[_ALL take places at table._]

TERTULLA.

[_Whispers to VALENTINUS._] Think you will Pertinax forgive me for my adoration for the god Faunus?

VALENTINUS.

Surely, by the aid of the miracle of love!

PERTINAX.

[_Also goes to VALENTINUS, speaking to him apart._] Think you that my wife will expect impossible deeds of me, mistaking me for a god?

VALENTINUS.

Fear not! That danger will be prevented by the miracle of marriage!

[_ALL take places at the tables, reclining on the couches that servants have brought. Musicians begin a prelude on flute, lyre, and harp. Suddenly QUARTILLA starts up, lifting a hand for silence._]

QUARTILLA.

Oh, listen! [_There is a general hush._] My dove ... my dove has found its mate!

THE SEVEN SLEEPERS OF EPHESOS

_Easter_

THE SEVEN SLEEPERS OF EPHESOS

CHARACTERS

_THE SEVEN SLEEPERS. Lads, of the time of Decius who reigned
over the Roman Empire from A. D. 249 to 251, named CONSTANTINE,
DION, MAXIMUS, IOANNES, MARTINUS, MALCHUS, and SERAPÍON._
_A YOUNG SLAVE named CONSTANTINE and six Schoolboys, of the
time of Theodosius II, who reigned from A. D. 408 to 450, named
DION, MAXIMUS, IOANNES, MARTINUS, MALCHUS and SERAPÍON._
_Other persons of the same day, including_
_THE EMPEROR and his suite_,
_THE SCHOOLMASTER, called by the boys Didaskalos_,
_A PRIEST, a CONTRACTOR, an OVERSEER, a CENTURION and SOLDIERS,
the MAGISTRATE, the TOWNCLERK, other OFFICIALS, SLAVES working
in the quarry, AN OLD SLAVE WOMAN, grandmother of CONSTANTINE_,
_HOLIDAY-MAKERS with their attendant SLAVES, and_
_A FRIEND who belongs to all ages and countries_.

FOREWORD

Let us take a flight backward over fifteen centuries to a date somewhere about A. D. 410. The Roman Empire is the centre of the civilised world, with Constantinople for its capital and Theodosius II upon the throne. Let us imagine ourselves in Asia Minor, visiting a city of Lydia which we are accustomed to call in Roman fashion Ephesus, but which we will to-day spell Ephesos to remind us of a fact of which it was too proud ever to forget ... its Greek origin. Indeed Ephesos at all times seems to have held its head high. It prided itself for one thing on its commercial importance, its situation rendering it an admirable starting-place for Roman legions on their eastward march of conquest no less than an admirable port from which the spoils of the orient, brought across the desert routes by caravan, could be shipped to western markets. From this it gained the name of Key, or Gateway, to the eastern Empire. In the earlier days of its history Ephesos had also proudly styled itself the Temple-Keeper City on account of its devotion to the great nature-goddess Artemis in whose honour a magnificent sanctuary had been erected there some thousand years before this day we are to relive in the reign of Theodosius II. Little gold and silver shrines of Artemis were fabricated and sold in Ephesos while Christianity was still under a ban, and, as you will recall, it was the fear of the guild of smith-craftsmen that the new religion would deprive them of this industry that caused an uprising against the Apostle Paul during his missionary labours there. Then when Constantine the Great declared in favour of Christianity, causing it to be the officially established religion of Imperial Rome, we find Ephesos priding itself on the zeal with which it renounces its ancient deities, and either razing the temples of these or converting them into churches with forms of worship adapted to the new creed.

It is a holiday in spring, and holidays here seem much the same as elsewhere. Schoolboys freed from the rule of didaskalos go to the shores of the River Kaÿstros to skip oyster shells, or they play hide-and-seek in the fields of wheat and millet that grow high as a man’s head. Perhaps when the back of the Centurion with his vine-branch rod is turned they will form a group in the pleasant shade of some portico to match coins. “Heads or ships?” we shall hear them say, if by chance a Roman piece has found its way among the locally minted currency. Picnic parties attended by slaves bearing huge baskets of provisions will be seeking the quarried sides of Prion and Kóressos, the beautiful mountains that overlook Ephesos. Stories will be told by the old to the young: legends of the days when the Temple of Artemis ... now but a picturesque ruin ... was sanctuary during a Persian invasion; later fables of the persecutions instituted by the Emperor Decius against the professors of the new religion who were fain to meet by stealth in upper chambers to worship, or be scourged, thrown, perchance, to beasts in the arena. Perhaps some antiquarian will have discovered a papyrus on which he has deciphered a hymn in praise of Artemis, coupled with an ode to the City, to be sung by the Epheboi, the youths of the place, and the girls destined to be Temple priestesses, at the great festival of springtide when nature’s self celebrates the glory of resurrection after its winter sleep, and decks the world with flowers. In those days the month of festival was called Artemision, but now it is known as Easter! Listen to the chants from the churches dedicated to St. Paul, St. John! But even as you hear the “Glory to the Father” the winds that acknowledge no religion, old or new, and the echoes that witness them all, bring back to life the strains of the ancient processional, sung to flute, harp and lyre, in praise of the banished goddess Artemis by boys and girls over whose graves the flowers of nigh two centuries have grown!

HYMN TO ARTEMIS

O Artemis,
Great goddess-mother, born
When from primeval night’s abyss
Primeval rose the morn!

To well-strung lyre
Thy choric praise we sing,
Libations pour, tend sacred fire,
Bear garland-offering.

As Prion’s peak
Strains toward sky-swung star
So conquerors thy favour seek,
O goddess tutelar!

Unbought, unsold,
Abides thine altar-stone,
Nor subjugate by Crœsus’ gold,
Nor pride of Macedon!

Thy columned fane
From quarries hewn of time,
Oft razed, but rears itself again
In grandeur more sublime!

In war or peace
Then grant, as aye before,
Arms’ victory and earth’s increase,
In peace, goddess, or war!

HYMN IN PRAISE OF THE CITY EPHESOS

O City Temple-Keeper, praise be thine
For fruitful olive, corn, and clustered vine,
Sweet-watered plain,
And prospered orchard, flocks on sunny sides
Of hills where silver-tracked Kaÿstros glides
To trackless main!

O wide thy roads that height and desert span
For mustered troop and laden caravan,
An Empire’s key
From morning star to star at eve that dips
Into yon harbour whence our gallied ships
Go down to sea!

O fair thine iris-mead and cypress grove
Where Egypt’s queen and Roman soldier wove
Love’s dream of joy!
Mighty thy pride of old Ionic race,
Altar and hearth no power can abase
Nor time destroy!

The winds fold their wings among the hills and the echoes slip back into the valleys with their memories of boys and girls with their flowering garlands, incense bearers, priests and priestesses of long ago who used to march through the city and climb the hill to the Temple in the month of Artemision; and the cross over the gateway that we see in the distance, and the peal of the Gloria from the churches remind us that this is a modern and Christian Ephesos through which we are wandering at Eastertide in the year 410. From the market-place we have passed to the stadion where the young athletes of the place are practising for the games that will be held later on, and now our steps have brought us beyond city bounds in the direction of Kóressos. Here we find that, although it is a holiday, gangs of slaves directed by an overseer are busily quarrying the grey marble for which this mountain is famed. Mingling with the bystanders we pause to watch them as they tear down a pile of loose, large stones that seem at some time to have been stacked up against what looks like a solid wall of masonry. As the sun is high and we are wearied with our climb we join a group sitting in the shadow of a plane tree, enjoying the view, listening to the distant chimes and the anthems of praise from the churches. Meanwhile our attention is arrested by the talk that goes on about us.

THE OVERSEER.

[_As a huge block rolls down._]

Good! Still a few such blocks, and lo! fulfilled
My contract!

A PRIEST.

[_Passing, pauses._]

Working! Through what greed of gain
Profane you thus the holy festival
Of Eastertide?

THE OVERSEER.

A holy work, in truth,
Good presbyter! Aye; albeit delayed
Through curious reluctance of these slaves ...
Dogs, Would you slacken when my back is turned!

[_He menaces the SLAVES who seem to work most
unwillingly; then continues_]

... to quarry the grey ribs of Kóressos
For marble for the final resting-place
Of an Apostle!

THE PRIEST.

[_Enlightened._]

What! To line the tomb
Of blessed Paulos destined, then, these stones?

THE OVERSEER.

The contract so attests!

A DANDY.

[_Passing by with an OFFICIAL pauses._]

Increased the land
In value, neighbouring the tomb, since all
Of ardent faith interred will seek to lie
Near bones canonical and sanctified!
Let us go bargain for it secretly!

THE OFFICIAL.

Forget you, marts are closed and business waits
On Eastertide?

THE DANDY.

’Tis true, worse luck to it!

A YOUNG SLAVE.

This is the last stone that I roll away!

[_The other SLAVES mutter assent._]

THE OVERSEER.

[_Angrily._]

Silence! Or taste the lash!

THE PRIEST.

[_Apostrophising the mountain._]

O Kóressos,
How many pagan fanes in bygone days
Your sides have yielded! Now your very heart
The mortal part of immortality
Shall shrine! Hallow’d such toil on hallow’d day,
How must ye love it! [_To the SLAVES._]

THE SLAVES.

[_In contemptuous derision._]

We!

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

[_Offering his tools to the PRIEST._]

An like it you
So greatly, come, then; take my place at it!

[_This daring act causes a sensation._]

THE PRIEST.

[_Unable to credit his ears._]

What, I? A father of the church!

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

Why not,
If hallowed task you deem it fits it not
Your calling?

THE PRIEST.

[_Unable to credit his senses._]

Eyes, deceive ye me? O ears,
Be ye discredited! Slave this? Ye gods!

[_No sooner has he made this slip of the tongue
than he becomes uncomfortably conscious of it
from the shocked amusement of the bystanders._]

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

[_With sardonic mirth._]

Upon the gods he calls! This man of God
On ancient gods, on banished gods and banned
Is fain to call for witness! Hear him, gods!

[_This daring speech causes a great sensation._]

THE PRIEST.

O blasphemous! For trifling tongue-slip thus
To be construed as utterance profane!
Heaven, avenge Thy servant! Lightning-shaft
And bolted thunder strike this slave! [_With arms upraised._]

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

[_With a sneer._]

Too clear
The face of morning! Did fulfilment wait
Such miracle though, easier its death
Than the life-haunting frenzy that predooms
Who delve into this mountain’s mystery!

AN OLD SLAVE.

Truth speaks he!

[_The other SLAVES murmur assent._]

THE OVERSEER.

[_Angrily._]

Truth or falsehood, his next word
Will earn a whipping!... Are the oxen yoked?

[_He looks toward a point beyond our vision._]

Then load with these the drays!

[_He indicates the stones already quarried,
accordingly the SLAVES slip a noosed rope
about the largest of these and drag it away._]

THE PRIEST.

[_In a temper._]

Lash-threat I deem
Too light a penance for his saucy tongue!
Centurion! [_He calls and beckons to someone._] What, ho! Centurion!
This city’s wretchedly policed!

THE CENTURION.

[_Majestically stalks on._]

Who calls,
And wherefore?

THE PRIEST.

Yon’s a slave whose tongue offends.

CENTURION.

In course of nature! Slaves should all be born
Untongued, were I consulted!... Slaves, and boys
Of schooling years!

[_He shakes his rod threateningly at a group of
SCHOOLBOYS who are imitating his stride, then
continues, addressing the OVERSEER._]

The wretch your chattel is.
Why not yourself chastise him?

THE OVERSEER.

[_Shaking his head._]

Sinewed brawn
I can’t afford to quarrel with. His lead
The others follow. Mutiny ’twould cause.

THE PRIEST.

[_Appealing, angrily._]

Unscathed such blasphemy? Centurion....

THE OVERSEER.

[_Appealing, anxiously._]

Undone the work! Centurion....

THE CENTURION.

The noon
Is sunful, steep the climbing hill, and I
No longer in my sapling years. Where shade
Invites I’ll weigh the matter duly, which
Hath greater claim on Rome’s authority:
A partly holy man, wholly alive, [_Indicating the PRIEST_]
Or an Apostle, wholly holy, dead!

[_He sits under the tree and falls into a doze._]

IOANNES [_a Schoolboy_].

Let’s to the river and skip oyster-shells,
Or sail our galleys!

MAXIMUS.

In the stadion
I’m all for diskos-throwing, sprinting. Come,
A trial race! [_To DION._]

DION.

[_Agreeing._]

I’m with you!

[_The two athletes, DION and MAXIMUS strip off
their outer garments, throw these down, under
the tree._]

SERAPÍON.

[_A small boy, with a slight limp._]

O Dion, brother! Let me come with you!

DION.

Too small is Serapíon, and too lame!...
Ready, Maximus?

MAXIMUS.

Ready!

[_They stand ready to start. The OTHERS give
the signal, “One, Two, Three, Off!” and they
run off._]

SERAPÍON.

Always too little, and too lame! Ah, well:
My Æsop’s fables must I learn by heart!

[_He walks apart, trying to recall his lesson._]

“A nightingale did sing ... did sing ... sing ... sing....
When hungry hawk ... when hungry hawk....”

MALCHUS.

Here, let’s play knucklebones!

[_The OTHERS assent, crying, “Knucklebones!”_]

Or, better: flipcoin!

IOANNES.

But that’s forbidden!

MALCHUS.

What of that? No one
Is looking! Sleeps authority.

[_Pointing to the CENTURION who is snoring
slightly. They laugh, tickle his ear with a
spear of grass. He brushes this aside, saying,
“Shoo, fly!” The BOYS, feeling safe, sit on
the ground, and prepare to play flipcoin._]

MAXIMUS.

See, here’s a Roman piece. Who matches me?
Ioannes, you? [_IOANNES shakes his head._] What now? Afraid to lose?

IOANNES.

[_With some heat._]

You know it is not so, Malchus. My word
I passed I would not!

MALCHUS.

You’re too good
To live! Martinus, then?

MARTINUS.

[_Shakes head, refusing._]

No money!

MALCHUS.

Eh?
What’s that? A tetradrachm!

[_Pointing to a coin MARTINUS has been clutching,
and now tosses up and catches nimbly._]

MARTINUS.

[_Explains._]

’Tis for a loaf
Of bread. My mother bade me careful be
To count the change!... Ah, well; no harm to stake
A little sum against a large one!

MALCHUS.

Good!
Then.... Heads or ships!

MARTINUS.

Ships!

MALCHUS.

Heads it is! You lose!

MARTINUS.

[_Suddenly realising what he has done._]

I’ve lost! Oh, oh!

MALCHUS.

[_With some heat._]

Well, stood you not to lose or win?

MARTINUS.

True! Oh, fair play was it! ’Twas fairly won!
Not fairly lost, though. Since not mine was it
To play with! [_To himself, bitterly._]

IOANNES.

Look! Here come the racers! Mark
How Dion leads!

[_ALL run to watch the two runners as they
approach, crying, “Well run! Good Dion! Good
old Maximus!” etc._]

MAXIMUS.

Again! Again ’tis Dion’s victory!

DION.

To-morrow better luck for Maximus!

[_They dress themselves assisted by the OTHERS.
Voices are heard approaching._]

IOANNES.

Here comes Didaskalos! A stranger-friend
He shows the sights! Now hearken to him prate
As owned he city, mountain, view, and all!

[_Enter the SCHOOLMASTER with THE FRIEND. The
BOYS hide._]

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

Here panoramic spreads itself a view
Of Ephesos, our city fair of fame....

THE BOYS.

[_Put their heads forth reciting._]

By Greek-Ionians founded. Subjugate
By Persian satrap, Great Aléxandros
Of Macedon, in turn; and finally
By Romans!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

Eh? Who speaks?

THE BOYS.

[_Showing themselves._]

We echo you,
Didaskalos!

[_They laugh, and hide again as he threatens
them._]

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

[_Angrily._]

The rascals!

THE FRIEND.

[_Smiling._]

Well they know
Their history!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

[_Propitiated, continues to point out the
sights._]

Mount Prion, yonder, twin
To Kóressos here, limestone famed. Mark well
The valley-sweep between!... The city-gates
Within you see the agora, buildings
Municipal; and at Kaÿstros’ mouth
Our sally-port!... Odeîon! Library!
Theatre which seats about three thousand!
And churches of Saints Peter, Paul and John!

THE FRIEND.

And yon, those ruins of a grandeur passed,
Still splendid, awe-inspiring ... aye, sublime...?

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

[_Shocked._]

Good friend ... a pagan temple, justly razed....

THE PRIEST.

[_Who has been sitting, making notes on
his tablets, starts up and joins in
the discussion._]

Not razed yet low enough! Not stone on stone
Should still be standing, were the city keen
On matters sacred as on secular!

[_The FRIEND looks from one to the other for
explanation._]

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

Yon ruins mark the one-time templed site
Of Artemis....

THE PRIEST.

[_Taking the words from him._]

In days of error, now
Thank Heaven, passed! the city’s tutelar!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

[_Trying to continue his lecture._]

No kin to Græco-Roman Artemis,
But Asian, autochthonic, to be classed
With nature-worship idols!

THE BOYS.

Ahem! Hear, hear!
More information, pray, Didaskalos!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

[_Threatening them._]

Rascals! Wait till I get you in the classroom!

THE FRIEND.

How beautiful! There never was a time
When heart of man aloof from worship stood;
No age so dark but best of hand and brain
To temple-rearing has been consecrate!
Receive, O ruined fane, my homage!

[_He bows toward the TEMPLE._]

THE TWO OTHERS.

[_Shocked._]

What!
Some heretic is this?

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

You called yourself,
Methought, a student of divinity!

THE FRIEND.

[_Bowing assent._]

Therefore see spark divine wherever burns
An altar-flame in any human breast!

THE PRIEST.

[_Returning to his work._]

Such laxity ... I doubt he’s orthodox!

SCHOOLMASTER.

[_To the FRIEND._]

Shall we be going?... Ouch! My toe I stubbed!

[_He kicks a small object, lying among the
rubble, and suddenly arrested by some
peculiarity in its appearance, stoops
and picks it up._]

What’s this? Upon my word, a silver shrine ...

[_He dusts off the object._]

An Artemis ... and dated, A. U. C.... [_Reckons, mentally._]
A century and half a century
Would take us back to, let me see ... whose reign?

THE BOYS.

[_Appearing, deride him._]

Ha, ha, Didaskalos! Oh, dunce, forget you thus your tables?
I’ll birch you, when I get you in the classroom! Wait and see!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

Rascals!... The reign of Decius! That’s it!

[_He brushes off more dust to examine the
shrine._]

Made by Demetrios....

THE PRIEST.

[_Who has come to look._]

Not the Demetrios of Paulos’ time!
Not by two centuries!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

Generic name,
In Ephesos, for silversmiths! A find
Indeed! [_Holds up the shrine._] My name as antiquarian
’Twill render known!

THE PRIEST.

It should be exorcised
As heathen trash, and cast into the fire!

THE FRIEND.

[_Protesting mildly._]

Someone once held it sacred! Still a form
Of beauty is it!

THE BOYS.

[_Capering about._]

“Great is Artemis! Great is Ephesian Artemis!
O great is Artemis of the Ephesians!”

THE PRIEST.

What sinful words are these?

THE BOYS.

’Tis history
We quote! You ask Didaskalos!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

Rascals!
I’ll birch you well to-morrow! Just you see!

THE PRIEST.

My birching will not keep! Till orthodox
And proper Christians do they show themselves
I’ll thrash them black and blue!

[_He and the SCHOOLMASTER chase the BOYS._]

THE CENTURION.

[_Waking._]

How now! How now!
What’s this disturbance! Who is chasing whom
And wherefore? Or is ’t some game you play?

[_To the PRIEST and the SCHOOLMASTER, who are
highly disgusted at the question._]

THE PRIEST.

Some game, forsooth!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

Instead of swelling out
Your chest to show your medals, why not use
Your vine-rod on those boys!

THE CENTURION.

Boys! Show me boys
To use my vine-rod on and I will use
My vine-rod on those boys!

[_They look about for the BOYS who, needless to
say, have profited by this dispute to vanish._]

THE BOYS.

[_Appear on a height, and shout._]

Sanctuary! Sanctuary! Come, catch us, an you dare!

[_Again they disappear as the three make a feint
of pursuing them._]

THE CENTURION.

Too tender of them are you!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

[_Unable to believe his ears._]

I?

THE PRIEST.

[_Equally amazed._]

I?

THE CENTURION.

Aye!

THE FRIEND.

[_With great kindliness._]

Young, growing creatures, full of living’s joy,
O be not hard on them!

THE CENTURION.

Said Solomon,
The vine-rod spare, the birch-twig spare, and spoil
The schoolboy and the Christian! Mark you, so
Said Solomon! [_He stalks off with great majesty._]

[_THE OVERSEER and THE SLAVES now return. The
former, by gesture, indicates that the work of
quarrying is to be resumed. THE YOUNG SLAVE
gives one blow to the side of the rock, then
throws down his tools._]

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

So far I work. No farther. Not one stroke!

THE OTHER SLAVES.

So I!—I follow his example!—I
Also! The word we stand by! All! Aye, all!

THE OVERSEER.

[_Furious._]

Accurséd dogs! But one more stone we need!
But one! [_Changing to a placative tone._] One!

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

Quarry it yourself, then!... Here!

[_Offers the OVERSEER his pick._]

THE OVERSEER.

An extra dole of corn, measure of wine
Compliance shall reward!

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

Bribes tempt us not,
Nor threats affright!

[_The OTHER SLAVES assent._]

THE OVERSEER.

[_Calls._]

Centurion! What ho!

THE CENTURION.

[_Enters._]

Who calls, and wherefore?... What; these slaves refuse
The pick and axe?... Well, are you wool-weavers,
Or bakers, even, that a guild you form?
Or fishmongers who would run up the cost
Of living? Now, by Hercules ... I mean,
By Heaven, freedmen do you think yourselves
Daring to hold opinions of your own! [_With scathing sarcasm._]

THE CONTRACTOR.

[_Hastens on._]

Why this delay? What’s happening? The slaves
Leagued in rebellion!... Cut them into strips!

[_Voices are heard of people approaching. A
crowd gathers. There is great general
excitement._]

BYSTANDERS.

[_Cry._]

Soldiers! Here come the townclerk, magistrate!

[_Enter SOLDIERS, TOWNCLERK, MAGISTRATE and
others._]

THE TOWNCLERK.

[_Arriving first, and stuttering with
excitement._]

Wh-what’s the matter? [_He grasps the situation._]
What, a gang of slaves
Their will asserting? Know you not no will
You have, hence how may ye assert it? [_To the SLAVES._] Eh? Answer
me that!

THE MAGISTRATE.

[_Arriving, pompously._]

Am I to understand...?

THE CENTURION.

[_Interrupting._]

Precisely, Magistrate! You are to understand....
That is to say, if understand you can! My understanding,
I confess, it passes, that dogs who are not citizens
should so defy the might of Rome! [_Indicating himself._]

THE MAGISTRATE.

Breath’s wasted! Seize them; bind them. Send a score
To take their place! [_THE SOLDIERS prepare to obey._]

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

Bind, torture us! In vain!
Aye, crucify us! All in vain! You’ll find
No one in Ephesos our place to take!

[_This produces a sensation. The SOLDIERS shrink
from obeying orders to seize the SLAVES._]

THE MAGISTRATE.

[_Hands upraised in consternation._]

With Cæsar here in town ... Great Cæsar’s self ...
Blest Theodosius here the feast to bless!

THE PRIEST.

The resting place to bless of Paulos ... he who came
To preach ... to preach ... [_Referring to tablets_] ... to preach ...

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

My speech his life rehearses. “He who came
To preach ... to preach ... [_Referring to tablets_] to preach....”

THE MAGISTRATE.

[_To the CENTURION._]

We waste the day! Example make of these!
We’ll test if others will not take their place!

THE PRIEST.

And be accurséd! Let the Church’s curse
Fall on who shame our city, Christian heart
Of Christian-empired Rome.

AN OLD SLAVE WOMAN.

[_Wailing._]

Oh, my little one! My daughter’s child ... Son to mine old age ...
Oh, take him not away! [_She tries to make her way to the YOUNG
SLAVE._] So good a lad and dutiful ... my Constantine! See, now,
masters ... named for that great emperor who set the cross above
our city gates ... and now you take him from me! Constantine ...
would I might suffer in your stead!

THE MAGISTRATE.

Remove the woman!

[_SOLDIERS force her back._]

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

There, good mother, hush! [_Soothingly._]
This deed the mountain’s self will yet avenge!

[_The other SLAVES assent._]

THE FRIEND.

[_Steps forward._]

Pardon. A word I’d venture, by your leave! [_To the MAGISTRATE._]

THE TOWNCLERK.

Your name, young man?

THE CENTURION.

[_Glad of something to do._]

The townclerk asks your name!

THE FRIEND.

Unknown, a stranger, matters not. A friend!
These faithful souls, all trembling, ill with fear—
What bodes it?

[_The SLAVES all turn to him intuitively, with
hope and trust._]

THE MAGISTRATE.

[_Impatiently._]

That, who knows or cares to know!

THE FRIEND.

Ah, pardon me! A Christian land methought
You called this!

ALL.

[_Indignant._]

As it is!

THE PRIEST.

Have you not marked
The cross above each city gate? And hear you not
The chanted Glorias! [_The chants are heard in the distance._]

Prepare we not
A tomb for sacred Apostolic bones!
What infidel denies our faith?

[_This creates a reaction against the FRIEND._]

THE FRIEND.

In name
Of Christos, too, my country far away
Is signed. Strange customs, though, with us obtain.
A slave, the meaner is his task and hard,
The lowlier his spirit, so his rank
We hold exalted!

[_This causes amusement to some, but interests
all. The SLAVES reach their hands toward the
FRIEND who continues._]

By oppression crushed
His heart? With love we seek to heal it, arm
Anew with hope! His wealth who gives away
To feed God’s poor our richest citizen
We count! To dry the tears of sorrow kings
Contend! Our rod of empire is the rule—
The golden rule—Judge none, while loving all!

[_This produces a great effect on all, and for
a moment there is silence, broken by_]

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

Where lies this country, pray? Geography,
As I have learned it, teach it, knows it not!

THE PRIEST.

[_Slightly dazed._]

Strange! As in dreams ... Where have I heard
A land
Where kindness rules and service is but love!

SEVERAL.

[_With hands to head, seeking to recall._]

I too have heard ... Where is that country, now
Where kindness rules and service is but love?

THE MAGISTRATE.

[_With irony._]

Since order in your land, it seems, prevails,
Without so much as clash and show of arms,
How bring you sullen dogs like these to time?
With kindness?

THE FRIEND.

Give you leave that I may try?

[_The CROWD favour this, but the OFFICIALS demur,
conferring apart. Finally they decide to try
the experiment._]

THE MAGISTRATE.

[_With a wave of the hand._]

’Tis Eastertide. Such pleasantry will feed
The holidaying humour of the crowd!

[_ALL watch with deepest interest, some hoping
the FRIEND will fail, others in sympathy with
him._]

THE FRIEND.

[_To the SLAVES._]

Friends, brothers, weary are ye? Sit, then!

[_This provokes a murmur of incredulity from
the SLAVES._]

Come,
Your welcome gather from the kindly looks
Of these, the city fathers! Hungry, ye?
Athirst?... Here’s bread ... and fruit, and wine ...
And gentle hands to minister!

[_The SLAVES sit, and the FRIEND signs to the
HOLIDAY-MAKERS who, obeying, hasten to open
their baskets, and bring forth their stores,
waiting with kindest solicitude on their
wants._]

’Tis well!
Feast not as almoners, but guests who share
The blessedness of hospitality!

THE MAGISTRATE.

[_Working himself up._]

If Babylonian sorcerer he prove
Alive shall he be flayed, his skin nailed up
On the Cathedral door!

THE CONTRACTOR.

Oh, stay your hand
Till by his arts the work is finished!

THE MAGISTRATE.

[_With growing uneasiness._]

But
Who is the man?... ’Twas you who brought him! [_To the SCHOOLMASTER._]

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

[_Disclaiming responsibility._]

Oh,
Not I his bondsman! Student, said he; once
A carpenter’s apprentice, from some spot
Beyond the Lake of Galilee!

[_The MAGISTRATE shakes his head doubtfully.
The PRIEST puzzles more than ever, seeking
to place the Stranger. Meanwhile, the banquet,
which has been progressing in a spirit of true
democracy, has come to an end._]

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

[_Addressing the FRIEND._]

With love love to requite, our lives are yours!
Ask what you will! [_The other SLAVES assent to this._]

THE OFFICIALS.

[_Prompt the FRIEND._]

Bid them the work complete!

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

Even to that last bitterness his voice,
Tender as heaven’s mercy that you preach [_To the PRIEST_]
Shall nerve our flagging courage. Where he leads
Blindly we follow, knowing him our friend!

[_The other SLAVES assent, while all marvel at
this change._]

THE FRIEND.

[_To the SLAVES._]

First voice your trouble. Give it words. Wherefore
Ye fear this grey old mountain? See where wait
In kindness all your friends ... the Magistrate,
And all who love ye, judging not!

THE MAGISTRATE.

[_Smiles._]

How well
My thought unspoken reads he!

THE OTHERS IN AUTHORITY.

Mine as well!

THE YOUNG SLAVE.

Then let my mother’s mother tell the tale
As she has told it me!

[_The OLD SLAVE WOMAN is thrust forward._]

THE MAGISTRATE.

[_Handing her to a seat._]

Good dame, your years
Entitle you to ease!... So, now; your tale!

THE OLD SLAVE WOMAN.

Long years gone by ... Oh, years agone, when Decius was Cæsar, monster
bloodthirsty....

MARTINUS.

Horns, tail, had he, cleft foot, and spat he flames?
And munched and crunched the bones of little boys?

THE OLD SLAVE WOMAN.

My mother’s mother told me not. She had it from her mother’s mother.
She from her mother’s mother. She....

THE MAGISTRATE.

[_Kindly._]

Pray you, skip antecedent mothers!

THE OLD SLAVE WOMAN.

Hard was the heart of Decius, hard, hard,
Stone-hard!... Who loved the Christos whom we love
He hated, had them beaten, burned alive,
Or thrown to hungry lions!

[_Enthralled, the CHILDREN exclaim._]

Even so,
Children as you are, too!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

In terms precise
The edict reads....

ALL.

Oh, hush!

THE OLD SLAVE WOMAN.

Seven there were ...
Of names and years like yours! [_To the SCHOOLBOYS._]
One, Constantine,
A slave-boy, noble though by birth and soul.
Then Dion, splendid, athlete; Maximus
His dearest rival; then a widow’s son
Martinus; next Ioannes, orphan he.
And Malchus with a fowl. Thrice he denied
His Lord, repented of it, though. And last
Wee Serapíon with a halting foot!
All Christians!

MALCHUS.

[_In all good faith._]

Was the fowl a Christian too?

THE OLD SLAVE WOMAN.

[_In equally good faith._]

That surely!... Fled these seven boys by night,
Beyond the city gates, sought refuge here,
Right on this spot. Within a cave they hid!
Then came the soldiers and the furied mob,
And walled them in alive with heaped-up stones,
And here alive they bide till Judgment-Day!

[_This produces a great sensation, though many
seem to pooh-pooh the tale._]

And still their chanting voices may you hear,
Give Glory to the Father, to the Son,
And to the Holy Spirit.... Three in One!

[_She pauses, impressively, and indeed at this
moment may be heard a sweet, faint sound, as
of boys’ voices, seeming to issue from the
mountain._]

THE PRIEST.

’Tis the Cathedral choir that practises!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

Thus fact of fantasy disposes, mocks
An old wife’s tale!

THE OLD SLAVE WOMAN.

I give you what I heard!
If it displease you, punish me ... but not
My boy, my Constantine!... If proof you lack
Another stone rolled down, rough-hewn will show
A cross to mock their sleeping-place!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

[_Seizing a tool._]

Deathblow
To fiction, first am I to strike!

THE PRIEST.

[_Also seizing a tool._]

So I
To superstition!

THE MAGISTRATE.

[_Doing the same._]

I to mutiny!

[_Assisted by willing hands the three roll down
the stone indicated by the old SLAVE WOMAN.
As the cloud of dust it raises subsides a
cry arises from all, for on the side of the
mountain thus exposed is seen rough-hewn a
cross. All now hasten to clear away the rubble
beneath this, and soon the entrance to a cave
is visible. A ray of light, as from a sunbeam,
falls athwart this opening, whereupon there is
a faint cock-crow within the cave. So great a
panic does this cause that most of the people
run away, the MAGISTRATE, the PRIEST, and the
SCHOOLMASTER in the lead. Only the SCHOOLBOYS
remain with the FRIEND. Then, one by one the
people creep back, the OLD SLAVE WOMAN and
her grandson first, and the officials last
and most cautiously of all._]

THE SEVEN SLEEPERS.

[_Within the cave call one to another._]

What, ho! ’Tis morning! See the sun hath risen!

[_One by one yawning and stretching they come
from the cave._]

CONSTANTINE [_the Sleeper_].

After night’s tempest, ah, how sweet the morn!
But ... what a change! All hushed the frenzied din
That rent the skies of yesterday! No more
The market-place runs blood, with fire and sword
As man hunts down his fellow-creatures! Calm
The city rests, and rises like a song
The hum of gently avocationed lives
And happy people! And ... surely I dream!
Above the city gate a cross ... the cross
Of Christos ... Him for love of whom we fled,
Were prisoned here last night!

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

[_Explaining._]

That night, how long!
A century and half a century!

[_All hush him, though the young SLEEPER seems
not to have heard him, nor indeed to be aware
that others are present._]

IOANNES [_the Sleeper_].

[_Coming forth._]

Let’s to the river and skip oyster-shells,
Or sail our galleys! ’Tis a holiday.
’Tis Artemision!

THE PRIEST.

[_Kindly correcting._]

Come, come, my child;
Forbear such terms and call it Easter!

[_The other watchers silence him, though still
the SLEEPERS fail to notice them._]

DION [_the Sleeper_].

[_Coming forth._]

Fine weather for the games! Ho, Maximus!
I’ll race you to the city gate and back!

MAXIMUS [_the Sleeper_].

[_Coming forth._]

Wait, Dion, till I get my breath! [_Yawns._] How stiff
My muscles! [_Stretching._]

DION AND MAXIMUS [_the Schoolboys_].

[_Advancing with outstretched hands._]

Dion and Maximus,
Even as we, come to the stadion!

[_But the others fail to see them or to heed
the invitation._]

MARTINUS [_the Sleeper_].

[_Coming forth._]

That loaf of bread my mother sent me for
I was forgetting it! That tetradrachm
She bade me change, where is it?... I forgot!
At flipcoin lost I it to Malchus!

MARTINUS [_the Schoolboy_].

Just
As I did!

MALCHUS [_the Sleeper_].

[_Coming forth, carrying a basket._]

Here, Martinus! Take your coin!
We slept on it, Aléxandros and I!
Your mother’s is it, so not yours to lose,
Nor mine to win!

MARTINUS [_the Sleeper_].

[_Accepting the coin the other holds out to him._]

I thank you, Malchus!

MALCHUS [_the Schoolboy_].

I,
Too, thank you, namesake mine! Martinus, here!
Take back your mother’s tetradrachm!

MARTINUS [_the Schoolboy_].

[_Accepting the coin his friend holds out to
him._]

Malchus,
I say, that’s fine!

SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].

My Æsop’s fables must I get by heart! “A nightingale
did sing ... did sing ... did sing....”

SERAPÍON [_the Schoolboy_].

[_Prompting._]

“When hungry hawk espied her!” My name is Serapíon,
too!

SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].

[_Seeing him._]

Oh, what a funny looking little boy!

SERAPÍON [_the Schoolboy_].

Funny looking yourself! I knew more of the fable than
you did, anyway!

SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].

[_To his fellows._]

Look! A little boy!... And, oh, crowds and crowds
of people!

THE OTHER SLEEPERS.

No, dear child! There’s no one but ourselves!

SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].

But I see them clearly!... Come and play with me!

[_To the other SERAPÍON._]

SERAPÍON [_the Schoolboy_].

[_Timidly advancing._]

I’d like to, but ... somehow ... you seem ... not real.... No, I don’t mean that! But just as if you came out of a dream!

SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].

Dream yourself! Why, as I look at you you fade and fade away ... and now I don’t see you at all!... Constantine, is it true we shall be put to death for loving Christos?

THE OTHER SLEEPERS.

[_Suddenly recalling their plight._]

Aye; truth is it, or dream?

CONSTANTINE [_the Sleeper_].

Dream of a night
Forever vanished!... Listen to the song
Praising the God of Love!

[_Clear and sweet rises the sound of the Gloria.
The SLEEPERS, rejoicing, seek to join in it,
but their voices fail them._]

SERAPÍON [_the Sleeper_].

Home ... then may we go home?

THE OTHER SLEEPERS.

Home! That’s the word!
May we go home?

[_The FRIEND stands forth, and a radiance comes
from him. CONSTANTINE the Sleeper sees him,
and exclaims, joyfully._]

CONSTANTINE [_the Sleeper_].

Home, home! Here is a friend
Will guide us!

[_THE FRIEND passes quietly from the scene, a
light streaming from the direction he has
taken. THE SLEEPERS stretch their hands toward
him, with a joyful cry._]

THE SEVEN SLEEPERS.

Lead, Master! We follow ... follow ... home!

[_Even while speaking they sink down on the
ground near the cave, and close their eyes as
if in sleep. The EMPEROR and his suite approach,
as if they had been looking on, near by, and
fall reverently on their knees, their example
being followed by the multitude, while the
chant rises ever more clear and sweet. The
Seven SCHOOLBOYS pluck brightly flowering
branches and lay these beside the SLEEPERS
and shower blossoms over them. And so the
scene fades from our sight._]

PRINCESS MOSS-ROSE

_For Every Child’s Birthday_

GREETING TO THE AUDIENCE

Spoken in front of the curtain

by

THE CHILD WHOSE BIRTHDAY IT IS

To-day it is my birthday. Yes! Now who this group among
Can guess, I wonder, just how old I am, or just how young:
One, two, three, four, five, six, or seven; eight, nine, ten,
or ... stay!
I’m one year older than I was this same hour yesterday!
Wait till you see my birthday cake in which a candle burns
For every year I’ve lived, plus one for luck and glad returns!

I’ve read that children carefully their birthdays ought to keep,
And yet how can we, when they come, and go, when we’re asleep?
Still, if you’ll kindly help me keep this one I’ll do my best
That no one ... no, not even Time, shall rob me of the rest!
Then when I’m very, very old I’ll tell you what I’ll do:
I’ll give those birthdays all away. And some I’ll give to you!

PRINCESS MOSS-ROSE

_We shall now witness THREE EVENTS in the Life of the PRINCESS MOSS-ROSE. These take place in the hall of her father’s castle. Besides the PRINCESS herself her parents, the KING and QUEEN, will assist at the EVENTS, also the COURT: the LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR, the ROYAL NURSE, GOVERNESS, BUTLER, COOK, GARDENER, and LORDS and LADIES OF QUALITY. HUNTSMEN, PAGES and LACKEYS, too, will come and go as they are needed. Then there is a FROG of high degree in Frogdom, who will receive the knightly accolade, thereafter being known as SIR AMPHIBIOUS BATRACHIAN, with the right also to call himself BARON FRESHWATER. TWO TADPOLES who grow up into rather grouchy, rheumatic elderly FROGS are of his retinue. The THREE FATES and DESTINY have inconspicuous, but important parts in the EVENTS. Then we shall also see several FRAGMENTS of KINGS’ SONS who have perished in their quest for the fabled MOSS-ROSE, and, accompanied by his tutor, MENTOR, the victorous King’s Son, PRINCE CHARMING. Sixteen years divide the SECOND EVENT from the first, and one hundred years the THIRD from the SECOND. These passages of time, however, touch our royal friends but lightly, and do not cause their royal clothes to wear out, or their royal furniture to become shabby in the least. The scene is laid in the hall of the KING’S castle, an apartment of suitable magnificence. Entrances lead to banqueting-hall, servants’ offices, and other parts of the establishment. Windows overlook the attractive grounds with a glimpse of the forest beyond._

_THE FIRST EVENT_

_shows a pleasant morning in summer. THE KING and his HUNTSMEN are assembled in the hall, singing a jovial hunting-chorus, while without the DOGS bay, and the HORSES champ with proper impatience for the start._

HUNTING CHORUS

Ho, Yoicks! ho!
Hey, tally-ho!
A-hunting, hunting, hunting; a-hunting will we go!
We’ll hunt by day, and we’ll hunt by dark;
We’ll hunt the slipper, we’ll hunt the snark;
The lion, tiger and buffalo,
We’ll hunt them all, Ho, Yoicks, ho!
We’ll hunt the bulrush and bull-moose,
We’ll hunt mongander and mongoose!
We’ll hunt the pole-cat, polar bear,
The hairy musk-ox and the hare,
We’ll hunt the dodo, dinosaur,
The wild-boar and tame, talking bore!
Aye, all the beasts in Noah’s Ark
We’ll hunt by day and hunt by dark!
And every one of them, you’ll see,
Will love the sport as much as we,
Because to kill is not our aim,
Or hurt, since that would spoil the game!
So, Yoicks, so,
Hey, tally-ho!
A-hunting, hunting, hunting; a-hunting will we go!

[_At the close of the HUNTING SONG the KING and his suite are about to go when the LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR enters with as much haste as his girth and dignity allow._]

THE CHANCELLOR.

The King, the King, where is the King!... Oh, Sire, I feared I should be too late! Her Majesty the Queen begs you to forego your day’s hunting, as she has a piece of news of the utmost importance to communicate to you!

THE KING.

My dear Lord High Chancellor, I am always most anxious to please the Queen, as well you know, but as you can see and hear for yourself, the nettlesome steeds are saddled, and are champing and pawing the ground, the hounds are baying, and all the wild animals in the royal forest are gnashing their teeth and growling fearsomely, impatient for the day’s sport to begin!

THE CHANCELLOR.

Nevertheless, Sire, under the circumstances ... the extraordinary circumstances....

THE KING.

Does the Queen’s news concern itself with house-cleaning the castle? Or is Her Majesty desirous of purchasing a new crown? If so, can’t you suggest to her to get the old one turned and made over? The jewels in it are not in the least shabby; they are as good as new, in fact!

THE CHANCELLOR.

Sire, this is more important even than a crown! Here comes the Queen herself to tell you all about it!

[_THE QUEEN enters to a flourish of trumpets, attended by her LADIES. Following these comes the ROYAL NURSE bearing a tiny infant, wrapped in a magnificent silken coverlet. THE NURSE stands in the background, with the LADIES, while the QUEEN converses with the KING._]

THE QUEEN.

Oh, my dear, what luck to have caught you!

THE KING.

How can I serve my gracious consort?

THE QUEEN.

[_About to tell him the news._] Listen, then, and I’ll begin at the beginning.

THE KING.

As you please! Hark! What noise is that!

[_He listens, while a slight wail issues from the bundle the NURSE carries._]

THE QUEEN.

Guess!

THE KING.

If it is the throne-room door that is screaking it had better be oiled!

[_Protesting exclamations rise from all the LADIES and the NURSE at this prosaic idea._]

THE QUEEN.

[_Amused, as if it were a game._] Oh, cold, cold!

THE KING.

If any of the Dukes have on new boots that creak they must be banished from Court for a while. Boots should be seen but not heard!

THE QUEEN AND THE LADIES.

Boots, indeed! Cold, cold!

THE KING.

There it goes again. Sounds like a kitten, or a little squealing pig!

[_The QUEEN, NURSE and LADIES protest violently._]

THE CHANCELLOR.

Warm—in the temperate zone!

THE KING.

I have it. It’s a mechanical toy. One of those dolls from Paris that say “Papa, Mama,” when you pinch them!

[_ALL laugh at this._]

THE QUEEN.

Hot! Getting hot! My dear, suppose it were a doll, what should we wish for?

THE KING.

I don’t know, I’m sure! Is it a doll?

THE QUEEN.

It most certainly is not!

THE KING.

Then what is the use of wishing anything, or of guessing what we should wish for, if it were a doll!... Mayn’t I go hunting now?

THE QUEEN.

No! You darling stupid, I shall have to tell you! But let me begin at the beginning.

THE KING.

[_With resignation._] As you please! Only that Bengalese tiger does so hate to be kept waiting.! [_ALL sit._]

THE QUEEN.

This morning I went into the garden to watch the gardener set out the rose bed, and while sitting there beside the fountain a great big frog jumped out of the basin, and spoke to me. It is true that he splashed me a wee bit, but he apologised so prettily I didn’t really mind! “Good morning, fair Queen,” said he. “I know wherefore you are sad!”

THE KING.

Oh! But were you sad?

THE QUEEN.

No! But that’s what he said! “Cease weeping and dry your lovely eyes,” he then went on!

THE KING.

But were you weeping, and did you dry your lovely eyes?

THE QUEEN.

No, I can’t say I was or did! However that’s what he said!

THE CHANCELLOR.

[_Explains._] Queens and princesses generally weep beside a fountain, Sire! You’ll find it here in the “Book of Royal Etiquette”! [_He turns over the leaves of a huge volume._] It is customary for them accidentally to drop a precious ring into its green depths, and then to shed tears over it!

THE KING.

I see! Go on, my love!

THE QUEEN.

The frog continued, “It is your birthday!” “Oh,” I replied, “I know that! And I’m sure the dear King is going to surprise me with a beautiful present!”

THE KING.

Of course! I was just on my way to inquire why it has not been sent!

THE QUEEN.

But it has been sent! It is here! That is the great news! That is what the frog told me! “Go home,” said he, “and look in your work-basket, and see what you will find all rolled up in the red and yellow comforter you are knitting for a surprise for the King on his birthday!” And there indeed I found it! And, oh, nothing else in all the world could have given me one millionth part of the pleasure!

THE KING.

I thought you’d like it. Is it becoming? Does it fit?

THE QUEEN.

Eh?

THE KING.

I told them to send the very latest style, but you can have it changed if it isn’t the right size!

THE QUEEN.

It is perfect in every respect, absolutely perfect! Eh, my Ladies?

THE LADIES.

[_Enthusiastically._] Yes, indeed, Your Majesty!

THE KING.

Good!... Whatever is that queer noise?

THE QUEEN.

Why, didn’t you know it could do that?

THE KING.

It sounded very different in the shop! But we can get the piano-tuner to attend to it!

THE CHANCELLOR.

His Majesty is so full of humour!

THE QUEEN.

Come and have a peep at it!

[_THE NURSE approaches with her precious bundle, but the KING draws back._]

THE KING.

Those little kinds are so snappish! Did they send the collar and the chain?

THE QUEEN.

Now, my love, I know you are very absent-minded! Last year when I wanted a diamond bracelet you got me a silver thimble, but when it comes to a little daughter ... a sweet little baby daughter...!

THE KING.

Bless my soul ... a daughter! To be sure! I hope they packed her carefully!

THE LADIES.

Her Royal Highness is perfect! Absolutely the loveliest baby that ever was!

THE KING.