Oh, as for that, No man is ever loved because he's great. Let's talk of him no more: let's talk of us. Will you like Parma? BOMBELLES. Tell me, was he jealous? MARIA LOUISA. So much so that he drove away Leroy, Because the poor man-milliner cried out With admiration when he saw my shoulders, While trying on a peplum. BOMBELLES. Then Napoleon-- MARIA LOUISA. Oh, hush! BOMBELLES. Would not have liked to hear me say How fair they are? Would not have liked-- MARIA LOUISA. Bombelles! BOMBELLES. To hear me whisper to your Majesty-- THE DUKE. Father, forgive me for the things I hear! BOMBELLES. That you are like our own Arlesian maids But, ah! how much more beautiful!-- MARIA LOUISA. Oh, Charles! BOMBELLES. Would not have liked to see me bend and press--- THE DUKE. [_Breaking in upon them._] Not that! I will not have it! I forbid you!-- Thank God, I'm saved! MARIA LOUISA. Franz! THE DUKE. For this cry, this movement Were not my own. Within me still remains A reverence for my mother and her freedom! 'Twas he--'Twas he by whom my soul's possessed, Who sprang upon you with this tragic force! Thank God! I'm saved! The Corsican leapt out! BOMBELLES. Sir--! THE DUKE. Nothing, sir! [_To_ MARIA LOUISA.] My humble duty, Madam! Return to Sala, spend your days in peace. The castle has two wings, as I am told: One is a theatre and one a chapel. Thus dwelling in the middle, you shall feel Evenly balanced 'twixt the world and God. My humble duty! MARIA LOUISA. Franz! THE DUKE. Why, truly, Madam, It's your prerogative to be mere woman. Go, be a woman in the Sala palace; But tell yourself, Ah! tell yourself--and this Shall be your sad atonement for his glory, Widow who cast aside her widow's weeds!-- Tell yourself this: Men only gaze upon you For the immortal fame he robed you in, And only whisper praises of your beauty Because of old he conquered all the world! MARIA LOUISA. I'll hear no more! Bombelles, let us begone! THE DUKE. Return to Sala. I am saved. Thank God! MARIA LOUISA. Farewell! THE DUKE. O hands, cold hands within the tomb, Sad hands because the Imperial ring slipped from you, Hands that have held her brow who years ago Shed bitter tears that I was not her son, Hands laid in blessing on my orphaned soul, Weeping I kiss you, hands of Josephine! MARIA LOUISA. The Creole! Do you think at Malmaison--? THE DUKE. Silence! If it be true, all the more reason! All the more reason why I should be faithful! [MARIA LOUISA _and_ BOMBELLES _go out_.] [_Enter_ METTERNICH _and_ SEDLINZKY.] METTERNICH. [_To_ SEDLINZKY.] Yes, yes; I humbled that rebellious child! [_He sees the_ DUKE.]