[_At the piano._] The flats! THERESA. It's thanks to you. BOMBELLES. My dear Theresa! Nothing! You are my relative, and you are French. THERESA. [_Presenting the officer._] Tiburtius-- BOMBELLES. Ah, your brother! [_He gives him his hand and pushes forward a chair for_ THERESA.] Take a seat. THERESA. I'm very nervous. BOMBELLES. [_With a smile._] Heavens! What about? THERESA. To venture near the persons of the two The Emperor left! BOMBELLES. Oh, is that all, my child? TIBURTIUS. Our people hated Bonaparte of old-- THERESA. Yes--but to see-- BOMBELLES. His widow? THERESA. And perhaps His son? BOMBELLES. Assuredly. THERESA. Why, it would mean I'd never thought or read, and was not French, Nor born in recent years, if I could stand Unmoved so near them. Is she lovely? BOMBELLES. Who? THERESA. Her Majesty of Parma? BOMBELLES. Why-- THERESA. She's sad And that itself is beauty. BOMBELLES. But I'm puzzled. Surely you've seen her? THERESA. No. TIBURTIUS. We've just come in. BOMBELLES. Yes, but-- TIBURTIUS. We feared we might disturb these ladies Whose laughter sings new gamuts to the piano. THERESA. Here in my corner I await her notice. BOMBELLES. What? Why, it's she who's playing bass this moment! THERESA. The Emp--? BOMBELLES. I'll go and tell her. [_He goes to the piano and whispers to one of the ladies who are playing._] MARIA LOUISA. [_Turning._] Ah! this child-- Quite a pathetic story--yes--you told me: A brother-- BOMBELLES. Father exiled. Son an exile. TIBURTIUS. The Austrian uniform is to my taste; And then there's fox-hunting, which I adore. MARIA LOUISA. [_To_ THERESA.] So that's the rascal whose extravagance Eats up your little fortune? THERESA. Oh!--my brother-- MARIA LOUISA. The wretch has ruined you, but you forgive him! Theresa de Loget, I think you're charming! [_She takes_ THERESA _by both hands and makes her sit beside her on the couch._] [BOMBELLES and TIBURTIUS _retire to the back._] Now you're among my ladies. I may boast I'm not unpleasant; rather sad at times Since-- THERESA. I am grieved beyond the power of words. MARIA LOUISA. Yes, to be sure. It was a grievous loss. That lovely soul was little known! THERESA. Oh, surely! MARIA LOUISA. [_Turning to_ BOMBELLES.] I've just been writing; they're to keep his horse-- [_To_ THERESA.] Since the dear General's death-- THERESA.