Chapter V: Act I

_Salon in the villa, furnished and decorated so as to look
exactly like the throne room of Henry IV. in the royal
residence at Goslar. Among the antique decorations there are
two modern life-size portraits in oil painting. They are
placed against the back wall, and mounted in a wooden stand
that runs the whole length of the wall. (It is wide and
protrudes, so that it is like a large bench). One of the
paintings is on the right; the other on the left of the
throne, which is in the middle of the wall and divides the
stand._

_The Imperial chair and Baldachin._

_The two portraits represent a lady and a gentleman, both
young, dressed up in carnival costumes: one as "Henry IV."
the other as the "Marchioness Matilda of Tuscany." Exits to
Right and Left._

(_When the curtain goes up, the two valets jump down, as if
surprised, from the stand on which they have been lying, and
go and take their positions, as rigid as statues, on either
side below the throne with their halberds in their hands.
Soon after, from the second exit, right, enter Harold,
Landolph, Ordulph and Berthold, young men employed by the
Marquis Charles Di Nolli to play the part of "Secret
Counsellors" at the court of "Henry IV." They are,
therefore, dressed like German knights of the XIth century.
Berthold, nicknamed Fino, is just entering on his duties for
the first time. His companions are telling him what he has
to do and amusing themselves at his expense. The scene is to
be played rapidly and vivaciously_).

LANDOLPH (_to Berthold as if explaining_). And this is the
throne room.

HAROLD. At Goslar.

ORDULPH. Or at the castle in the Hartz, if you prefer.

HAROLD. Or at Wurms.

LANDOLPH. According as to what's doing, it jumps about with
us, now here, now there.

ORDULPH. In Saxony.

HAROLD. In Lombardy.

LANDOLPH. On the Rhine.

ONE OF THE VALETS (_without moving, just opening his lips_).
I say....

HAROLD (_turning round_). What is it?

FIRST VALET (_like a statue_). Is he coming in or not? (_He
alludes to Henry IV._)

ORDULPH. No, no, he's asleep. You needn't worry.

SECOND VALET (_releasing his pose, taking a long breath and
going to lie down again on the stand_). You might have told
us at once.

FIRST VALET (_going over to Harold_). Have you got a match,
please?

LANDOLPH. What? You can't smoke a pipe here, you know.

FIRST VALET (_while Harold offers him a light_). No; a
cigarette. (_Lights his cigarette and lies down again on the
stand_).

BERTHOLD (_who has been looking on in amazement, walking
round the room, regarding the costumes of the others_). I
say ... this room ... these costumes.... Which Henry IV. is
it? I don't quite get it. Is he Henry IV. of France or not?
(_At this Landolph, Harold, and Ordulph, burst out
laughing_).

LANDOLPH (_still laughing; and pointing to Berthold as if
inviting the others to make fun of him_). Henry of France he
says: ha! ha!

ORDULPH. He thought it was the king of France!

HAROLD. Henry IV. of Germany, my boy: the Salian dynasty!

ORDULPH. The great and tragic Emperor!

LANDOLPH. He of Canossa. Every day we carry on here the
terrible war between Church and State, by Jove.

ORDULPH. The Empire against the Papacy!

HAROLD. Antipopes against the Pope!

LANDOLPH. Kings against antikings!

ORDULPH. War on the Saxons!

HAROLD. And all the rebels Princes!

LANDOLPH. Against the Emperor's own sons!

BERTHOLD (_covering his head with his hands to protect
himself against this avalanche of information_). I
understand! I understand! Naturally, I didn't get the idea
at first. I'm right then: these aren't costumes of the XVIth
century?

HAROLD. XVIth century be hanged!

ORDULPH. We're somewhere between a thousand and eleven
hundred.

LANDOLPH. Work it out for yourself: if we are before Canossa
on the 25th of January, 1071....

BERTHOLD (_more confused than ever_). Oh my God! What a mess
I've made of it!

ORDULPH. Well, just slightly, if you supposed you were at
the French court.

BERTHOLD. All that historical stuff I've swatted up!

LANDOLPH. My dear boy, it's four hundred years earlier.

BERTHOLD (_getting angry_). Good Heavens! You ought to have
told me it was Germany and not France. I can't tell you how
many books I've read in the last fifteen days.

HAROLD. But I say, surely you knew that poor Tito was
Adalbert of Bremen, here?

BERTHOLD. Not a damned bit!

LANDOLPH. Well, don't you see how it is? When Tito died, the
Marquis Di Nolli....

BERTHOLD. Oh, it was he, was it? He might have told me.

HAROLD. Perhaps he thought you knew.

LANDOLPH. He didn't want to engage anyone else in
substitution. He thought the remaining three of us would do.
But _he_ began to cry out: "With Adalbert driven away....":
because, you see, he didn't imagine poor Tito was dead; but
that, as Bishop Adalbert, the rival bishops of Cologne and
Mayence had driven him off....

BERTHOLD (_taking his head in his hand_). But I don't know a
word of what you're talking about.

ORDULPH. So much the worse for you, my boy!

HAROLD. But the trouble is that not even we know who you
are.

BERTHOLD. What? Not even you? You don't know who I'm
supposed to be?

ORDULPH. Hum! "Berthold."

BERTHOLD. But which Berthold? And why Berthold?

LANDOLPH (_solemnly imitating Henry IV._). "They've driven
Adalbert away from me. Well then, I want Berthold! I want
Berthold!" That's what he said.

HAROLD. We three looked one another in the eyes: who's got
to be Berthold?

ORDULPH. And so here you are, "Berthold," my dear fellow!

LANDOLPH. I'm afraid you will make a bit of a mess of it.

BERTHOLD (_indignant, getting ready to go_). Ah, no! Thanks
very much, but I'm off! I'm out of this!

HAROLD (_restraining him with the other two, amid
laughter_). Steady now! Don't get excited!

LANDOLPH. Cheer up, my dear fellow! We don't any of us know
who we are really. He's Harold; he's Ordulph; I'm Landolph!
That's the way he calls us. We've got used to it. But who
are we? Names of the period! Yours, too, is a name of the
period: Berthold! Only one of us, poor Tito, had got a
really decent part, as you can read in history: that of the
Bishop of Bremen. He was just like a real bishop. Tito did
it awfully well, poor chap!

HAROLD. Look at the study he put into it!

LANDOLPH. Why, he even ordered his Majesty about, opposed
his views, guided and counselled him. We're "secret
counsellors"--in a manner of speaking only; because it is
written in history that Henry IV. was hated by the upper
aristocracy for surrounding himself at court with young men
of the bourgeoise.

ORDULPH. Us, that is.

LANDOLPH. Yes, small devoted vassals, a bit dissolute and
very gay....

BERTHOLD. So I've got to be gay as well?

HAROLD. I should say so! Same as we are!

ORDULPH. And it isn't too easy, you know.

LANDOLPH. It's a pity; because the way we're got up, we
could do a fine historical reconstruction. There's any
amount of material in the story of Henry IV. But, as a
matter of fact, we do nothing. We have the form without the
content. We're worse than the real secret counsellors of
Henry IV.; because certainly no one had given them a part to
play--at any rate, they didn't feel they had a part to play.
It was their life. They looked after their own interests at
the expense of others, sold investitures and--what not! We
stop here in this magnificent court--for what?--Just doing
nothing. We're like so many puppets hung on the wall,
waiting for some one to come and move us or make us talk.

HAROLD. Ah no, old sport, not quite that! We've got to give
the proper answer, you know. There's trouble if he asks you
something and you don't chip in with the cue.

LANDOLPH. Yes, that's true.

BERTHOLD. Don't rub it in too hard! How the devil am I to
give him the proper answer, if I've swatted up Henry IV. of
France, and now he turns out to be Henry IV. of Germany?
(_The other three laugh_).

HAROLD. You'd better start and prepare yourself at once.

ORDULPH. We'll help you out.

HAROLD. We've got any amount of books on the subject. A
brief run through the main points will do to begin with.

ORDULPH. At any rate, you must have got some sort of general
idea.

HAROLD. Look here! (_Turns him around and shows him the
portrait of the Marchioness Matilda on the wall_). Who's
that?

BERTHOLD (_looking at it_). That? Well, the thing seems to
me somewhat out of place, anyway: two modern paintings in
the midst of all this respectable antiquity!

HAROLD. You're right! They weren't there in the beginning.
There are two niches there behind the pictures. They were
going to put up two statues in the style of the period. Then
the places were covered with those canvasses there.

LANDOLPH (_interrupting and continuing_). They would
certainly be out of place if they really were paintings!

BERTHOLD. What are they, if they aren't paintings?

LANDOLPH. Go and touch them! Pictures all right ... but for
him! (_Makes a mysterious gesture to the right, alluding to
Henry IV._.) ... who never touches them!...

BERTHOLD. No? What are they for him?

LANDOLPH. Well, I'm only supposing, you know; but I imagine
I'm about right. They're images such as ... well--such as a
mirror might throw back. Do you understand? That one there
represents himself, as he is in this throne room, which is
all in the style of the period. What's there to marvel at?
If we put you before a mirror, won't you see yourself,
alive, but dressed up in ancient costume? Well, it's as if
there were two mirrors there, which cast back living images
in the midst of a world which, as you will see, when you
have lived with us, comes to life too.

BERTHOLD. I say, look here ... I've no particular desire to
go mad here.

HAROLD. Go mad, be hanged! You'll have a fine time!

BERTHOLD. Tell me this: how have you all managed to become
so learned?

LANDOLPH. My dear fellow, you can't go back over 800 years
of history without picking up a bit of experience.

HAROLD. Come on! Come on! You'll see how quickly you get
into it!

ORDULPH. You'll learn wisdom, too, at this school.

BERTHOLD. Well, for Heaven's sake, help me a bit! Give me
the main lines, anyway.

HAROLD. Leave it to us. We'll do it all between us.

LANDOLPH. We'll put your wires on you and fix you up like a
first class marionette. Come along! (_They take him by the
arm to lead him away_).

BERTHOLD (_stopping and looking at the portrait on the
wall_). Wait a minute! You haven't told me who that is. The
Emperor's wife?

HAROLD. No! The Emperor's wife is Bertha of Susa, the sister
of Amadeus II. of Savoy.

ORDULPH. And the Emperor, who wants to be young with us,
can't stand her, and wants to put her away.

LANDOLPH. That is his most ferocious enemy: Matilda,
Marchioness of Tuscany.

BERTHOLD. Ah, I've got it: the one who gave hospitality to
the Pope!

LANDOLPH. Exactly: at Canossa!

ORDULPH. Pope Gregory VII.!

HAROLD. Our _bête noir_! Come on! come oh! (_All four move
toward the right to go out, when, from the left, the old
servant John enters in evening dress_).

JOHN (_quickly, anxiously_). Hss! Hss! Frank! Lolo!

HAROLD (_turning round_). What is it?

BERTHOLD (_marvelling at seeing a man in modern clothes
enter the throne room_). Oh! I say, this is a bit too much,
this chap here!

LANDOLPH. A man of the XXth century, here! Oh, go away!
(_They run over to him, pretending to menace him and throw
him out_).

ORDULPH (_heroically_). Messenger of Gregory VII., away!

HAROLD. Away! Away!

JOHN (_annoyed, defending himself_). Oh, stop it! Stop it, I
tell you!

ORDULPH. No, you can't set foot here!

HAROLD. Out with him!

LANDOLPH (_to Berthold_). Magic, you know! He's a demon
conjured up by the Wizard of Rome! Out with your swords!
(_Makes as if to draw a sword_).

JOHN (_shouting_). Stop it, will you? Don't play the fool
with me! The Marquis has arrived with some friends....

LANDOLPH. Good! Good! Are there ladies too?

ORDULPH. Old or young?

JOHN. There are two gentlemen.

HAROLD. But the ladies, the ladies, who are they?

JOHN. The Marchioness and her daughter.

LANDOLPH (_surprised_). What do you say?

ORDULPH. The Marchioness?

JOHN. The Marchioness! The Marchioness!

HAROLD. Who are the gentlemen?

JOHN. I don't know.

HAROLD (_to Berthold_). They're coming to bring us a message
from the Pope, do you see?

ORDULPH. All messengers of Gregory VII.! What fun!

JOHN. Will you let me speak, or not?

HAROLD. Go on, then!

JOHN. One of the two gentlemen is a doctor, I fancy.

LANDOLPH. Oh, I see, one of the usual doctors.

HAROLD. Bravo Berthold, you'll bring us luck!

LANDOLPH. You wait and see how we'll manage this doctor!

BERTHOLD. It looks as if I were going to get into a nice
mess right away.

JOHN. If the gentlemen would allow me to speak ... they want
to come here into the throne room.

LANDOLPH (_surprised_). What? She? The Marchioness here?

HAROLD. Then this is something quite different! No
play-acting this time!

LANDOLPH. We'll have a real tragedy: that's what!

BERTHOLD (_curious_). Why? Why?

ORDULPH (_pointing to the portrait_). She is that person
there, don't you understand?

LANDOLPH. The daughter is the fiancée of the Marquis. But
what have they come for, I should like to know?

ORDULPH. If he sees her, there'll be trouble.

LANDOLPH. Perhaps he won't recognize her any more.

JOHN. You must keep him there, if he should wake up....

ORDULPH. Easier said than done, by Jove!

HAROLD. You know what he's like!

JOHN. --even by force, if necessary! Those are my orders. Go
on! Go on!

HAROLD. Yes, because who knows if he hasn't already wakened
up?

ORDULPH. Come on then!

LANDOLPH (_going towards John with the others_). You'll tell
us later what it all means.

JOHN (_shouting after them_). Close the door there, and hide
the key! That other door too. (_Pointing to the other door
on right_).

JOHN (_to the two valets_). Be off, you two! There
(_pointing to exit right_)! Close the door after you, and
hide the key!

(_The two valets go out by the first door on right. John
moves over to the left to show in: Donna Matilda Spina, the
young Marchioness Frida, Dr. Dionysius Genoni, the Baron
Tito Belcredi and the young Marquis Charles Di Nolli, who,
as master of the house, enters last._)

DONNA MATILDA SPINA _is about_ 45, _still handsome, although
there are too patent signs of her attempts to remedy the
ravages of time with make-up. Her head is thus rather like a
Walkyrie. This facial make-up contrasts with her beautiful
sad mouth. A widow for many years, she now has as her friend
the Baron Tito Belcredi, whom neither she nor anyone else
takes seriously--at least so it would appear._

_What_ TITO BELCREDI _really is for her at bottom, he alone
knows; and he is, therefore, entitled to laugh, if his
friend feels the need of pretending not to know. He can
always laugh at the jests which the beautiful Marchioness
makes with the others at his expense. He is slim,
prematurely gray, and younger than she is. His head is
bird-like in shape. He would be a very vivacious person, if
his ductile agility (which among other things makes him a
redoubtable swordsman) were not enclosed in a sheath of
Arab-like laziness, which is revealed in his strange, nasal
drawn-out voice._

FRIDA, _the daughter of the Marchioness is_ 19. _She is sad;
because her imperious and too beautiful mother puts her in
the shade, and provokes facile gossip against her daughter
as well as against herself. Fortunately for her, she is
engaged to the Marquis Charles Di Nolli._

CHARLES DI NOLLI _is a stiff young man, very indulgent
towards others, but sure of himself for what he amounts to
in the world. He is worried about all the responsibilities
which he believes weigh on him. He is dressed in deep
mourning for the recent death of his mother._

DR. DIONYSIUS GENONI _has a bold rubicund Satyr-like face,
prominent eyes, a pointed beard (which is silvery and shiny)
and elegant manners. He is nearly bald. All enter in a state
of perturbation, almost as if afraid, and all (except Di
Nolli) looking curiously about the room. At first, they
speak sotto voce._

DI NOLLI (_to John_). Have you given the orders properly?

JOHN. Yes, my Lord; don't be anxious about that.

BELCREDI. Ah, magnificent! magnificent!

DOCTOR. How extremely interesting! Even in the surroundings
his raving madness--is perfectly taken into account!

DONNA MATILDA (_glancing round for her portrait, discovers
it, and goes up close to it_). Ah! Here it is! (_Going back
to admire it, while mixed emotions stir within her_). Yes
... yes ... (_Calls her daughter Frida_).

FRIDA. Ah, your portrait!

DONNA MATILDA. No, no ... look again; it's you, not I,
there!

DI NOLLI. Yes, it's quite true. I told you so, I....

DONNA MATILDA. But I would never have believed it! (_Shaking
as if with a chili_). What a strange feeling it gives one!
(_Then looking at her daughter_). Frida, what's the matter?
(_She pulls her to her side, and slips an arm round her
waist_). Come: don't you see yourself in me there?

FRIDA. Well, I really....

DONNA MATILDA. Don't you think so? Don't you, really?
(_Turning to Belcredi_). Look at it, Tito! Speak up, man!

BELCREDI (_without looking_). Ah, no! I shan't look at it.
For me, _a priori_, certainly not!

DONNA MATILDA. Stupid! You think you are paying me a
compliment! (_Turing to Doctor Genoni_). What do you say,
Doctor? Do say something, please!

DOCTOR (_makes a movement to go near to the picture_).

BELCREDI (_with his back turned, pretending to attract his
attention secretly_).--Hss! No, doctor! For the love of
Heaven, have nothing to do with it!

DOCTOR (_getting bewildered and smiling_). And why shouldn't
I?

DONNA MATILDA. Don't listen to him! Come here! He's
insufferable!

FRIDA. He acts the fool by profession, didn't you know that?

BELCREDI (_to the Doctor, seeing him go over_). Look at your
feet, doctor! Mind where you're going!

DOCTOR. Why?

BELCREDI. Be careful you don't put your foot in it!

DOCTOR (_laughing feebly_). No, no. After all, it seems to
me there's no reason to be astonished at the fact that a
daughter should resemble her mother!

BELCREDI. Hullo! Hullo! He's done it now; he's said it.

DONNA MATILDA (_with exaggerated anger, advancing towards
Belcredi_). What's the matter? What has he said? What has he
done?

DOCTOR (_candidly_). Well, isn't it so?

BELCREDI (_answering the Marchioness_). I said there was
nothing to be astounded at--and you are astounded! And why
so, then, if the thing is so simple and natural for you now?

DONNA MATILDA (_still more angry_). Fool! fool! It's just
because it is so natural! Just because it isn't my daughter
who is there. (_Pointing to the canvass_). That is my
portrait; and to find my daughter there instead of me fills
me with astonishment, an astonishment which, I beg you to
believe, is sincere. I forbid you to cast doubts on it.

FRIDA (_slowly and wearily_). My God! It's always like this
... rows over nothing....

BELCREDI (_also slowly, looking dejected, in accents of
apology_). I cast no doubt on anything! I noticed from the
beginning that you haven't shared your mother's
astonishment; or, if something did astonish you, it was
because the likeness between you and the portrait seemed so
strong.

DONNA MATILDA. Naturally! She cannot recognize herself in me
as I was at her age; while I, there, can very well recognize
myself in her as she is now!

DOCTOR. Quite right! Because a portrait is always there
fixed in the twinkling of an eye: for the young lady
something far away and without memories, while, for the
Marchioness, it can bring back everything: movements,
gestures, looks, smiles, a whole heap of things....

DONNA MATILDA. Exactly!

DOCTOR (_continuing, turning towards her_). Naturally
enough, you can live all these old sensations again in your
daughter.

DONNA MATILDA. He always spoils every innocent pleasure for
me, every touch I have of spontaneous sentiment! He does it
merely to annoy me.

DOCTOR (_frightened at the disturbance he has caused, adopts
a professorial tone_). Likeness, dear Baron, is often the
result of imponderable things. So one explains that....

BELCREDI (_interrupting the discourse_). Somebody will soon
be finding a likeness between you and me, my dear professor!

DI NOLLI. Oh! let's finish with this, please! (_Points to
the two doors on the Right, as a warning that there is
someone there who may be listening_). We've wasted too much
time as it is!

FRIDA. As one might expect when _he's_ present (_alludes to
Belcredi_).

DI NOLLI. Enough! The doctor is here; and we have come for a
very serious purpose which you all know is important for me.

DOCTOR. Yes, that is so! But now, first of all, let's try to
get some points down exactly. Excuse me, Marchioness, will
you tell me why your portrait is here? Did you present it to
him then?

DONNA MATILDA. No, not at all. How could I have given it to
him? I was just like Frida then--and not even engaged. I
gave it to him three or four years after the accident. I
gave it to him because his mother wished it so much (_points
to Di Nolli_)....

DOCTOR. She was his sister (_alludes to Henry IV._)?

DI NOLLI. Yes, doctor; and our coming here is a debt we pay
to my mother who has been dead for more than a month.
Instead of being here, she and I (_indicating Frida_) ought
to be traveling together....

DOCTOR. ... taking a cure of quite a different kind!

DI NOLLI. --Hum! Mother died in the firm conviction that her
adored brother was just about to be cured.

DOCTOR. And can't you tell me, if you please, how she
inferred this?

DI NOLLI. The conviction would appear to have derived from
certain strange remarks which he made, a little before
mother died.

DOCTOR. Oh, remarks!... Ah!... It would be extremely useful
for me to have those remarks, word for word, if possible.

DI NOLLI. I can't remember them. I know that mother returned
awfully upset from her last visit with him. On her
death-bed, she made me promise that I would never neglect
him, that I would have doctors see him, and examine him.

DOCTOR. Um! Um! Let me see! let me see! Sometimes very small
reasons determine ... and this portrait here then?...

DONNA MATILDA. For Heaven's sake, doctor, don't attach
excessive importance to this. It made an impression on me
because I had not seen it for so many years!

DOCTOR. If you please, quietly, quietly....

DI NOLLI. --Well, yes, it must be about fifteen years ago.

DONNA MATILDA. More, more: eighteen!

DOCTOR. Forgive me, but you don't quite know what I'm trying
to get at. I attach a very great importance to these two
portraits.... They were painted, naturally, prior to the
famous--and most regretable pageant, weren't they?

DONNA MATILDA. Of course!

DOCTOR. That is ... when he was quite in his right
mind--that's what I've been trying to say. Was it his
suggestion that they should be painted?

DONNA MATILDA. Lots of the people who took part in the
pageant had theirs done as a souvenir....

BELCREDI. I had mine done--as "Charles of Anjou!"

DONNA MATILDA. ...as soon as the costumes were ready.

BELCREDI. As a matter of fact, it was proposed that the
whole lot of us should be hung together in a gallery of the
villa where the pageant took place. But in the end,
everybody wanted to keep his own portrait.

DONNA MATILDA. And I gave him this portrait of me without
very much regret ... since his mother.... (_indicates Di
Nolli_).

DOCTOR. You don't remember if it was he who asked for it?

DONNA MATILDA. Ah, that I don't remember ... Maybe it was
his sister, wanting to help out....

DOCTOR. One other thing: was it his idea, this pageant?

BELCREDI (_at once_). No, no, it was mine!

DOCTOR. If you please....

DONNA MATILDA. Don't listen to him! It was poor Belassi's
idea.

BELCREDI. Belassi! What had he got to do with it?

DONNA MATILDA. Count Belassi, who died, poor fellow, two or
three months after....

BELCREDI. But if Belassi wasn't there when....

DI NOLLI. Excuse me, doctor; but is it really necessary to
establish whose the original idea was?

DOCTOR. It would help me, certainly!

BELCREDI. I tell you the idea was mine! There's nothing to
be proud of in it, seeing what the result's been. Look here,
doctor, it was like this. One evening, in the first days of
November, I was looking at an illustrated German review in
the club. I was merely glancing at the pictures, because I
can't read German. There was a picture of the Kaiser, at
some University town where he had been a student ... I don't
remember which.

DOCTOR. Bonn, Bonn!

BELCREDI. --You are right: Bonn! He was on horseback,
dressed up in one of those ancient German student
guild-costumes, followed by a procession of noble students,
also in costume. The picture gave me the idea. Already some
one at the club had spoken of a pageant for the forthcoming
carnival. So I had the notion that each of us should choose
for this Tower of Babel pageant to represent some character:
a king, an emperor, a prince, with his queen, empress, or
lady, alongside of him--and all on horseback. The suggestion
was at once accepted.

DONNA MATILDA. I had my invitation from Belassi.

BELCREDI. Well, he wasn't speaking the truth! That's all I
can say, if he told you the idea was his. He wasn't even at
the club the evening I made the suggestion, just as he
(_meaning Henry IV._) wasn't there either.

DOCTOR. So he chose the character of Henry IV.?

DONNA MATILDA. Because I ... thinking of my name, and not
giving the choice any importance, said I would be the
Marchioness Matilda of Tuscany.

DOCTOR. I ... don't understand the relation between the two.

DONNA MATILDA. --Neither did I, to begin with, when he said
that in that case he would be at my feet like Henry IV. at
Canossa. I had heard of Canossa of course; but to tell the
truth, I'd forgotten most of the story; and I remember I
received a curious impression when I had to get up my part,
and found that I was the faithful and zealous friend of Pope
Gregory VII. in deadly enmity with the Emperor of Germany.
Then I understood why, since I had chosen to represent his
implacable enemy, he wanted to be near me in the pageant as
Henry IV.

DOCTOR. Ah, perhaps because....

BELCREDI. --Good Heavens, doctor, because he was then paying
furious court to her (_indicates the Marchioness_)! And she,
naturally....

DONNA MATILDA. Naturally? Not naturally at all....

BELCREDI (_pointing to her_). She couldn't stand him....

DONNA MATILDA. --No, that isn't true! I didn't dislike him.
Not at all! But for me, when a man begins to want to be
taken seriously, well....

BELCREDI (_continuing for her_). He gives you the clearest
proof of his stupidity.

DONNA MATILDA. No dear; not in this case; because he was
never a fool like you.

BELCREDI. Anyway, I've never asked you to take me seriously.

DONNA MATILDA. Yes, I know. But with him one couldn't joke
(_changing her tone and speaking to the Doctor_). One of the
many misfortunes which happen to us women, Doctor, is to see
before us every now and again a pair of eyes glaring at us
with a contained intense promise of eternal devotion.
(_Bursts out laughing_). There is nothing quite so funny. If
men could only see themselves with that eternal fidelity
look in their faces! I've always thought it comic; then more
even than now. But I want to make a confession--I can do so
after twenty years or more. When I laughed at him then, it
was partly out of fear. One might have almost believed a
promise from those eyes of his. But it would have been very
dangerous.

DOCTOR (_with lively interest_). Ah! ah! This is most
interesting! Very dangerous, you say?

DONNA MATILDA. Yes, because he was very different from the
others. And then, I am ... well ... what shall I say?... a
little impatient of all that is pondered, or tedious. But I
was too young then, and a woman. I had the bit between my
teeth. It would have required more courage than I felt I
possessed. So I laughed at him too--with remorse, to spite
myself, indeed; since I saw that my own laugh mingled with
those of all the others--the other fools--who made fun of
him.

BELCREDI. My own case, more or less!

DONNA MATILDA. You make people laugh at you, my dear, with
your trick of always humiliating yourself. It was quite a
different affair with him. There's a vast difference. And
you--you know--people laugh in your face!

BELCREDI. Well, that's better than behind one's back!

DOCTOR. Let's get to the facts. He was then already somewhat
exalted, if I understand rightly.

BELCREDI. Yes, but in a curious fashion, doctor.

DOCTOR. How?

BELCREDI. Well, cold-bloodedly so to speak.

DONNA MATILDA. Not at all! It was like this, doctor! He was
a bit strange, certainly; but only because he was fond of
life: eccentric, there!

BELCREDI. I don't say he simulated exaltation. On the
contrary, he was often genuinely exalted. But I could swear,
doctor, that he saw himself at once in his own exaltation.
Moreover, I'm certain it made him suffer. Sometimes he had
the most comical fits of rage against himself.

DOCTOR. Yes?

DONNA MATILDA. That is true.

BELCREDI (_to Donna Matilda_). And why? (_To the doctor_).
Evidently, because that immediate lucidity that comes from
acting, assuming a part, at once put him out of key with his
own feelings, which seemed to him not exactly false, but
like something he was obliged to valorize there and then
as--what shall I say--as an act of intelligence, to make, up
for that sincere cordial warmth he felt lacking. So he
improvised, exaggerated, let himself go, so as to distract
and forget himself. He appeared inconstant, fatuous,
and--yes--even ridiculous, sometimes.

DOCTOR. And may we say unsociable?

BELCREDI. No, not at all. He was famous for getting up
things: _tableaux vivants_, dances, theatrical performances
for charity: all for the fun of the thing, of course. He was
a jolly good actor, you know!

DI NOLLI. Madness has made a superb actor of him.

BELCREDI.--Why, so he was even in the old days. When the
accident happened, after the horse fell....

DOCTOR. Hit the back of his head, didn't he?

DONNA MATILDA. Oh, it was horrible! He was beside me! I saw
him between the horse's hoofs! It was rearing!

BELCREDI. None of us thought it was anything serious at
first. There was a stop in the pageant, a bit of disorder.
People wanted to know what had happened. But they'd already
taken him off to the villa.

DONNA MATILDA. There wasn't the least sign of a wound, not a
drop of blood.

BELCREDI. We thought he had merely fainted.

DONNA MATILDA. But two hours afterwards....

BELCREDI. He reappeared in the drawing-room of the villa ...
that is what I wanted to say....

DONNA MATILDA. My God! What a face he had. I saw the whole
thing at once!

BELCREDI. No, no! that isn't true. Nobody saw it, doctor,
believe me!

DONNA MATILDA. Doubtless, because you were all like mad
folk.

BELCREDI. Everybody was pretending to act his part for a
joke. It was a regular Babel.

DONNA MATILDA. And you can imagine, doctor, what terror
struck into us when we understood that he, on the contrary,
was playing his part in deadly earnest....

DOCTOR. Oh, he was there too, was he?

BELCREDI. Of course! He came straight into the midst of us.
We thought he'd quite recovered, and was pretending,
fooling, like all the rest of us ... only doing it rather
better; because, as I say, he knew how to act.

DONNA MATILDA. Some of them began to hit him with their
whips and fans and sticks.

BELCREDI. And then--as a king, he was armed, of course--he
drew out his sword and menaced two or three of us.... It was
a terrible moment, I can assure you!

DONNA MATILDA. I shall never forget that scene--all our
masked faces hideous and terrified gazing at him, at that
terrible mask of his face, which was no longer a mask, but
madness, madness personified.

BELCREDI. He was Henry IV., Henry IV. in person, in a moment
of fury.

DONNA MATILDA. He'd got into it all the detail and minute
preparation of a month's careful study. And it all burned
and blazed there in the terrible obsession which lit his
face.

DOCTOR. Yes, that is quite natural, of course. The momentary
obsession of a dilettante became fixed, owing to the fall
and the damage to the brain.

BELCREDI (_to Frida and Di Nolli_). You see the kind of
jokes life can play on us. (_To Di Nolli_): You were four or
five years old. (_To Frida_): Your mother imagines you've
taken her place there in that portrait; when, at the time,
she had not the remotest idea that she would bring you into
the world. My hair is already grey; and he--look at
him--(_points to portrait_)--ha! A smack on the head, and he
never moves again: Henry IV. for ever!

DOCTOR (_seeking to draw the attention of the others,
looking learned and imposing_).--Well, well, then it comes,
we may say, to this....

(_Suddenly the first exit to right, the one nearest
footlights, opens, and Berthold enters all excited_).

BERTHOLD (_rushing in_). I say! I say! (_Stops for a moment,
arrested by the astonishment which his appearance has caused
in the others_).

FRIDA (_running away terrified_). Oh dear! oh dear! it's he,
it's....

DONNA MATILDA (_covering her face with her hands so as not
to see_). Is it, is it he?

DI NOLLI. No, no, what are you talking about? Be calm!

DOCTOR. Who is it then?

BELCREDI. One of our masqueraders.

DI NOLLI. He is one of the four youths we keep here to help
him out in his madness....

BERTHOLD. I beg your pardon, Marquis....

DI NOLLI. Pardon be damned! I gave orders that the doors
were to be closed, and that nobody should be allowed to
enter.

BERTHOLD. Yes, sir, but I can't stand it any longer, and I
ask you to let me go away this very minute.

DI NOLLI. Oh, you're the new valet, are you? You were
supposed to begin this morning, weren't you?

BERTHOLD. Yes, sir, and I can't stand it, I can't bear it.

DONNA MATILDA (_to Di Nolli excitedly_). What? Then he's not
so calm as you said?

BERTHOLD (_quickly_).--No, no, my lady, it isn't he; it's my
companions. You say "help him out with his madness,"
Marquis; but they don't do anything of the kind. They're the
real madmen. I come here for the first time, and instead of
helping me....

(_Landolph and Harold come in from the same door, but
hesitate on the threshold_).

LANDOLPH. Excuse me?

HAROLD. May I come in, my Lord?

DI NOLLI. Come in! What's the matter? What are you all
doing?

FRIDA. Oh God! I'm frightened! I'm going to run away.
(_Makes towards exit at Left_).

DI NOLLI (_restraining her at once_). No, no, Frida!

LANDOLPH. My Lord, this fool here ... (_indicates
Berthold_).

BERTHOLD (_protesting_). Ah, no thanks, my friends, no
thanks! I'm not stopping here! I'm off!

LANDOLPH. What do you mean--you're not stopping here?

HAROLD. He's ruined everything, my Lord, running away in
here!

LANDOLPH. He's made him quite mad. We can't keep him in
there any longer. He's given orders that he's to be
arrested; and he wants to "judge" him at once from the
throne: What is to be done?

DI NOLLI. Shut the door, man! Shut the door! Go and close
that door! (_Landolph goes over to close it_).

HAROLD. Ordulph, alone, won't be able to keep him there.

LANDOLPH. --My Lord, perhaps if we could announce the
visitors at once, it would turn his thoughts. Have the
gentlemen thought under what pretext they will present
themselves to him?

DI NOLLI. --It's all been arranged! (_To the Doctor_): If
you, doctor, think it well to see him at once....

FRIDA. I'm not coming! I'm not coming! I'll keep out of
this. You too, mother, for Heaven's sake, come away with me!

DOCTOR. --I say ... I suppose he's not armed, is he?

DI NOLLI. --Nonsense! Of course not. (_To Frida_): Frida,
you know this is childish of you. You wanted to come!

FRIDA. I didn't at all. It was mother's idea.

DONNA MATILDA. And I'm quite ready to see him. What are we
going to do?

BELCREDI. Must we absolutely dress up in some fashion or
other?

LANDOLPH. --Absolutely essential, indispensable, sir. Alas!
as you see ... (_shows his costume_), there'd be awful
trouble if he saw you gentlemen in modern dress.

HAROLD. He would think it was some diabolical masquerade.

DI NOLLI. As these men seem to be in costume to you, so we
appear to be in costume to him, in these modern clothes of
ours.

LANDOLPH. It wouldn't matter so much if he wouldn't suppose
it to be the work of his mortal enemy.

BELCREDI. Pope Gregory VII.?

LANDOLPH. Precisely. He calls him "a pagan."

BELCREDI. The Pope a pagan? Not bad that!

LANDOLPH. --Yes, sir,--and a man who calls up the dead! He
accuses him of all the diabolical arts. He's terribly afraid
of him.

DOCTOR. Persecution mania!

HAROLD. He'd be simply furious.

DI NOLLI (_to Belcredi_). But there's no need for you to be
there, you know. It's sufficient for the doctor to see him.

DOCTOR. --What do you mean?... I? Alone?

DI NOLLI.--But they are there (_indicates the three young
men_).

DOCTOR. I don't mean that ... I mean if the Marchioness....

DONNA MATILDA. Of course. I mean to see him too, naturally.
I want to see him again.

FRIDA. Oh, why, mother, why? Do come away with me, I implore
you!

DONNA MATILDA (_imperiously_). Let me do as I wish! I came
here for this purpose! (_To Landolph_): I shall be
"Adelaide," the mother.

LANDOLPH. Excellent! The mother of the Empress Bertha. Good!
It will be enough if her Ladyship wears the ducal crown and
puts on a mantle that will hide her other clothes entirely.
(_To Harold_): Off you go, Harold!

HAROLD. Wait a moment! And this gentleman here (_alludes to
the Doctor_)?...

DOCTOR. --Ah yes ... we decided I was to be ... the Bishop
of Cluny, Hugh of Cluny!

HAROLD. The gentleman means the Abbot. Very good! Hugh of
Cluny.

LANDOLPH. --He's often been here before!

DOCTOR (_amazed_). --What? Been here before?

LANDOLPH. --Don't be alarmed! I mean that it's an easily
prepared disguise....

HAROLD. We've made use of it on other occasions, you see!

DOCTOR. But....

LANDOLPH. Oh no, there's no risk of his remembering. He pays
more attention to the dress than to the person.

DONNA MATILDA. That's fortunate for me too then.

DI NOLLI. Frida, you and I'll get along. Come on Tito!

BELCREDI. Ah no. If she (_indicates the Marchioness_) stops
here, so do I!

DONNA MATILDA. But I don't need you at all.

BELCREDI. You may not need me, but I should like to see him
again myself. Mayn't I?

LANDOLPH. Well, perhaps it would be better if there were
three.

HAROLD. How is the gentleman to be dressed then?

BELCREDI. Oh, try and find some easy costume for me.

LANDOLPH (_to Harold_). Hum! Yes ... he'd better be from
Cluny too.

BELCREDI. What do you mean--from Cluny?

LANDOLPH. A Benedictine's habit of the Abbey of Cluny. He
can be in attendance on Monsignor. (_To Harold_): Off you
go! (_To Berthold_). And you too get away and keep out of
sight all today. No, wait a bit! (_To Berthold_): You bring
here the costumes he will give you. (_To Harold_): You go at
once and announce the visit of the "Duchess Adelaide" and
"Monsignor Hugh of Cluny." Do you understand? (_Harold and
Berthold go off by the first door on the Right_).

DI NOLLI. We'll retire now. (_Goes off with Frida, left_).

DOCTOR. Shall I be a _persona grata_ to him, as Hugh of
Cluny?

LANDOLPH. Oh, rather! Don't worry about that! Monsignor has
always been received here with great respect. You too, my
Lady, he will be glad to see. He never forgets that it was
owing to the intercession of you two that he was admitted to
the Castle of Canossa and the presence of Gregory VII., who
didn't want to receive him.

BELCREDI. And what do I do?

LANDOLPH. You stand a little apart, respectfully: that's
all.

DONNA MATILDA (_irritated, nervous_). You would do well to
go away, you know.

BELCREDI (_slowly, spitefully_). How upset you seem!...

DONNA MATILDA (_proudly_). I am as I am. Leave me alone!

(_Berthold comes in with the costumes_).

LANDOLPH (_seeing him enter_). Ah, the costumes: here they
are. This mantle is for the Marchioness....

DONNA MATILDA. Wait a minute! I'll take off my hat. (_Does
so and gives it to Berthold_).

LANDOLPH. Put it down there! (_Then to the Marchioness,
while he offers to put the ducal crown on her head_). Allow
me!

DONNA MATILDA. Dear, dear! Isn't there a mirror here?

LANDOLPH. Yes, there's one there (_points to the door on the
Left_). If the Marchioness would rather put it on
herself....

DONNA MATILDA. Yes, yes, that will be better. Give it to me!
(_Takes up her hat and goes off with Berthold, who carries
the cloak and the crown_).

BELCREDI. Well, I must say, I never thought I should be a
Benedictine monk! By the way, this business must cost an
awful lot of money.

THE DOCTOR. Like any other fantasy, naturally!

BELCREDI. Well, there's a fortune to go upon.

LANDOLPH. We have got there a whole wardrobe of costumes of
the period, copied to perfection from old models. This is my
special job. I get them from the best theatrical costumers.
They cost lots of money. (_Donna Matilda re-enters, wearing
mantle and crown_).

BELCREDI (_at once, in admiration_). Oh magnificent! Oh,
truly regal!

DONNA MATILDA (_looking at Belcredi and bursting out into
laughter_). Oh no, no! Take it off! You're impossible. You
look like an ostrich dressed up as a monk.

BELCREDI. Well, how about the doctor?

THE DOCTOR. I don't think I look so bad, do I?

DONNA MATILDA. No; the doctor's all right ... but you are
too funny for words.

THE DOCTOR. Do you have many receptions here then?

LANDOLPH. It depends. He often gives orders that such and
such a person appear before him. Then we have to find
someone who will take the part. Women too....

DONNA MATILDA (_hurt, but trying to hide the fact_). Ah,
women too?

LANDOLPH. Oh, yes; many at first.

BELCREDI (_laughing_). Oh, that's great! In costume, like
the Marchioness?

LANDOLPH. Oh well, you know, women of the kind that lend
themselves to....

BELCREDI. Ah, I see! (_Perfidiously to the Marchioness_)
Look out, you know he's becoming dangerous for you.

(_The second door on the right opens, and Harold appears,
making first of all a discreet sign that all conversation
should cease_).

HAROLD. His Majesty, the Emperor!

(_The two valets enter first, and go and stand on either
side of the throne. Then Henry IV. comes in between Ordulph
and Harold, who keep a little in the rear respectfully._

HENRY IV. _is about_ 50 _and very pale. The hair on the back
of his head is already grey; over the temples and forehead
it appears blond, owing to its having been tinted in an
evident and puerile fashion. On his cheek bones he has two
small, doll-like dabs of colour, that stand out prominently
against the rest of his tragic pallor. He is wearing a
penitent's sack over his regal habit, as at Canossa. His
eyes have a fixed look which is dreadful to see, and this
expression is in strained contrast with the sackcloth.
Ordulph carries the Imperial crown; Harold, the sceptre with
the eagle, and the globe with the cross_).

HENRY IV. (_bowing first to Donna Matilda and afterwards to
the doctor_). My lady ... Monsignor....

(_Then he looks at Belcredi and seems about to greet him
too; when, suddenly, he turns to Landolph, who has
approached him, and asks him sotto voce and with
diffidence_): Is that Peter Damiani?

LANDOLPH. No, Sire. He is a monk from Cluny who is
accompanying the Abbot.

HENRY IV. (_looks again at Belcredi with increasing
mistrust, and then noticing that he appears embarrassed and
keeps glancing at Donna Matilda and the doctor, stands
upright and cries out_). No, it's Peter Damiani! It's no
use, father, your looking at the Duchess. (_Then turning
quickly to Donna Matilda and the doctor as though to ward
off a danger_): I swear it! I swear that my heart is changed
towards your daughter. I confess that if he (_indicates
Belcredi_) hadn't come to forbid it in the name of Pope
Alexander, I'd have repudiated her. Yes, yes, there were
people ready to favour the repudiation: the Bishop of
Mayence would have done it for a matter of one hundred and
twenty farms. (_Looks at Landolph a little perplexed and
adds_): But I mustn't speak ill of the bishops at this
moment! (_More humbly to Belcredi_): I am grateful to you,
believe me, I am grateful to you for the hindrance you put
in my way!--God knows, my life's been all made of
humiliations: my mother, Adalbert, Tribur, Goslar! And now
this sackcloth you see me wearing! (_Changes tone suddenly
and speaks like one who goes over his part in a parenthesis
of astuteness_). It doesn't matter: clarity of ideas,
perspicacity, firmness and patience under adversity that's
the thing. (_Then turning to all and speaking solemnly_). I
know how to make amend for the mistakes I have made; and I
can humiliate myself even before you, Peter Damiani. (_Bows
profoundly to him and remains curved. Then a suspicion is
born in him which he is obliged to utter in menacing tones,
almost against his will_). Was it not perhaps you who
started that obscene rumour that my holy mother had illicit
relations with the Bishop of Augusta?

BELCREDI (_since Henry IV. has his finger pointed at him_).
No, no, it wasn't I....

HENRY IV. (_straightening up_). Not true, not true? Infamy!
(_Looks at him and then adds_): I didn't think you capable
of it! (_Goes to the doctor and plucks his sleeve, while
winking at him knowingly_): Always the same, Monsignor,
those bishops, always the same!

HAROLD (_softly, whispering as if to help out the doctor_).
Yes, yes, the rapacious bishops!

THE DOCTOR (_to Harold, trying to keep it up_). Ah, yes,
those fellows ... ah yes....

HENRY IV. Nothing satisfies them! I was a little boy,
Monsignor.... One passes the time, playing even, when,
without knowing it, one is a king.--I was six years old; and
they tore me away from my mother, and made use of me against
her without my knowing anything about it ... always
profaning, always stealing, stealing!... One greedier than
the other ... Hanno worse than Stephen! Stephen worse than
Hanno!

LANDOLPH (_sotto voce, persuasively, to call his
attention_). Majesty!

HENRY IV. (_turning round quickly_). Ah yes ... this isn't
the moment to speak ill of the bishops. But this infamy
against my mother, Monsignor, is too much. (_Looks at the
Marchioness and grows tender_). And I can't even weep for
her, Lady ... I appeal to you who have a mother's heart! She
came here to see me from her convent a month ago.... They
had told me she was dead! (_Sustained pause full of feeling.
Then smiling sadly_): I can't weep for her; because if you
are here now, and I am like this (_shows the sackcloth he is
wearing_), it means I am twenty-six years old!

HAROLD. And that she is therefore alive, Majesty!...

ORDULPH. Still in her convent!

HENRY IV. (_looking at them_). Ah yes! And I can postpone my
grief to another time. (_Shows the Marchioness almost with
coquetery the tint he has given to his hair_). Look! I am
still fair.... (_Then slowly as if in confidence_). For you
... there's no need! But little exterior details do help! A
matter of time, Monsignor, do you understand me? (_Turns to
the Marchioness and notices her hair_). Ah, but I see that
you too, Duchess ... Italian, eh (_as much as to say
"false"; but without any indignation, indeed rather with
malicious admiration_)? Heaven forbid that I should show
disgust or surprise! Nobody cares to recognize that obscure
and fatal power which sets limits to pure will. But I say,
if one is born and one dies.... Did you want to be born,
Monsignor? I didn't! And in both cases, independently of our
wills, so many things happen we would wish didn't happen,
and to which we resign ourselves as best we can!...

DOCTOR (_merely to make a remark, while studying Henry IV.
carefully_). Alas! Yes, alas!

HENRY IV. It's like this: When we are not resigned, out come
our desires. A woman wants to be a man ... an old man would
be young again. Desires, ridiculous fixed ideas of
course--But reflect! Monsignor, those other desires are not
less ridiculous: I mean, those desires where the will is
kept within the limits of the possible. Not one of us can
lie or pretend. We're all fixed in good faith in a certain
concept of ourselves. However, Monsignor, while you keep
yourself in order, holding on with both your hands to your
holy habit, there slips down from your sleeves, there peels
off from you like ... like a serpent ... something you don't
notice: life, Monsignor! (_Turns to the Marchioness_): Has
it never happened to you, my Lady, to find a different self
in yourself? Have you always been the same? My God! One day
... how was it, how was it you were able to commit this or
that action? (_Fixes her so intently in the eyes as almost
to make her blanch_): Yes, that particular action, that very
one: we understand each other! But don't be afraid: I shall
reveal it to none. And you, Peter Damiani, how could you be
a friend of that man?...

LANDOLPH. Majesty!

HENRY IV. (_at once_). No, I won't name him! (_Turning to
Belcredi_): What did you think of him? But we all of us
cling tight to our conceptions of ourselves, just as he who
is growing old dyes his hair. What does it matter that this
dyed hair of mine isn't a reality for you, if it _is_, to
some extent, for me?--you, you, my Lady, certainly don't dye
your hair to deceive the others, nor even yourself; but only
to cheat your own image a little before the looking-glass. I
do it for a joke! You do it seriously! But I assure you that
you too, Madam, are in masquerade, though it be in all
seriousness; and I am not speaking of the venerable crown on
your brows or the ducal mantle. I am speaking only of the
memory you wish to fix in yourself of your fair complexion
one day when it pleased you--or of your dark complexion, if
you were dark: the fading image of your youth! For you,
Peter Damiani, on the contrary, the memory of what you have
been, of what you have done, seems to you a recognition of
past realities that remain within you like a dream. I'm in
the same case too: with so many inexplicable memories--like
dreams! Ah!... There's nothing to marvel at in it, Peter
Damiani! Tomorrow it will be the same thing with our life of
today! (_Suddenly getting excited and taking hold of his
sackcloth_). This sackcloth here.... (_Beginning to take it
off with a gesture of almost ferocious joy while the three
valets run over to him, frightened, as if to prevent his
doing so_)! Ah, my God! (_Draws back and throws off
sackcloth_). Tomorrow, at Bressanone, twenty-seven German
and Lombard bishops will sign with me the act of deposition
of Gregory VII.! No Pope at all! Just a false monk!

ORDULPH (_with the other three_). Majesty! Majesty! In God's
name!...

HAROLD (_inviting him to put on the sackcloth again_).
Listen to what he says, Majesty!

LANDOLPH. Monsignor is here with the Duchess to intercede in
your favor. (_Makes secret signs to the Doctor to say
something at once_).

DOCTOR (_foolishly_). Ah yes ... yes ... we are here to
intercede....

HENRY IV. (_repeating at once, almost terrified, allowing
the three to put on the sackcloth again, and pulling it down
over him with his own hands_). Pardon ... yes ... yes ...
pardon, Monsignor: forgive me, my Lady ... I swear to you I
feel the whole weight of the anathema. (_Bends himself,
takes his face between his hands, as though waiting for
something to crush him. Then changing tone, but without
moving, says softly to Landolph, Harold and Ordulph_): But I
don't know why I cannot be humble before that man there!
(_indicates Belcredi_).

LANDOLPH (_sottovoce_). But why, Majesty, do you insist on
believing he is Peter Damiani, when he isn't, at all?

HENRY IV. (_looking at him timorously_). He isn't Peter
Damiani?

HAROLD. No, no, he is a poor monk, Majesty.

HENRY IV. (_sadly with a touch of exasperation_). Ah! None
of us can estimate what we do when we do it from
instinct.... You perhaps, Madam, can understand me better
than the others, since you are a woman and a Duchess. This
is a solemn and decisive moment. I could, you know, accept
the assistance of the Lombard bishops, arrest the Pope, lock
him up here in the castle, run to Rome and elect an
anti-Pope; offer alliance to Robert Guiscard--and Gregory
VII. would be lost! I resist the temptation; and, believe
me, I am wise in doing so. I feel the atmosphere of our
times and the majesty of one who knows how to be what he
ought to be! a Pope! Do you feel inclined to laugh at me,
seeing me like this? You would be foolish to do so; for you
don't understand the political wisdom which makes this
penitent's sack advisable. The parts may be changed
tomorrow. What would you do then? Would you laugh to see the
Pope a prisoner? No! It would come to the same thing: I
dressed as a penitent, today; he, as prisoner tomorrow! But
woe to him who doesn't know how to wear his mask, be he king
or Pope!--Perhaps he is a bit too cruel! No! Yes, yes,
maybe!--You remember, my Lady, how your daughter Bertha, for
whom, I repeat, my feelings have changed (_turns to Belcredi
and shouts to his face as if he were being contradicted by
him_)--yes, changed on account of the affection and devotion
she showed me in that terrible moment ... (_then once again
to the Marchioness_) ... you remember how she came with me,
my Lady, followed me like a beggar and passed two nights out
in the open, in the snow? You are her mother! Doesn't this
touch your mother's heart? Doesn't this urge you to pity, so
that you will beg His Holiness for pardon, beg him to
receive us?

DONNA MATILDA (_trembling, with feeble voice_). Yes, yes, at
once....

DOCTOR. It shall be done!

HENRY IV. And one thing more! (_Draws them in to listen to
him_). It isn't enough that he should receive me! You know
he can do _everything_--_everything_ I tell you! He can even
call up the dead. (_Touches his chest_): Behold me! Do you
see me? There is no magic art unknown to him. Well,
Monsignor, my Lady, my torment is really this: that whether
here or there (_pointing to his portrait almost in fear_) I
can't free myself from this magic. I am a penitent now, you
see; and I swear to you I shall remain so until he receives
me. But you two, when the excommunication is taken off, must
ask the Pope to do this thing he can so easily do: to take
me away from that (_indicating the portrait again_); and let
me live wholly and freely my miserable life. A man can't
always be twenty-six, my Lady. I ask this of you for your
daughter's sake too; that I may love her as she deserves to
be loved, well disposed as I am now, all tender towards her
for her pity. There: it's all there! I am in your hands!
(_Bows_). My Lady! Monsignor!

(_He goes off, bowing grandly, through the door by which he
entered, leaving everyone stupefied, and the Marchioness so
profoundly touched, that no sooner has he gone than she
breaks out into sobs and sits down almost fainting_).