May the French Embassy from this day forward Display the tricolor cockade? METTERNICH. [_With a sigh._] Of course, Since we're agreed-- [_Seeing the_ ATTACHÉ _silently throw away the white cockade which was on his hat and replace it with a tricolor which he takes out of his pocket._] Come, come! You lose no time! [_Noise of harness-bells without._] METTERNICH. What is it now? GENTZ. [_Who is on the terrace._] The guests of the Archduke. The Meyendorffs, Lord Cowley, Thalberg-- BOMBELLES. [_Who has quickly come in R. at the sound of the bells, followed by_ TIBURTIUS.] Meet them! THE ARCHDUCHESS. [_Appearing on the threshold surrounded by a crowd of lords and ladies in elegant summer costumes. (Light dresses and parasols; large hats.) Two little boys and a little girl dressed in the latest fashion._] 'Tis but a villa; not a palace. [_The room is crowded. She turns to a young man._] Quick! Thalberg, my Tarantelle! [THALBERG _sits at the piano and plays._] [_To_ METTERNICH.] Where is her Majesty, My lovely sister? A LADY. We looked in to fetch her. ANOTHER LADY. We're rushing through the valley on a coach. Sandor is driving. A MAN'S VOICE. We must thrust the lava Back in its crater! THE ARCHDUCHESS. Oh! do hold your tongues They will insist on talking of volcanoes. BOMBELLES. What's this volcano? A LADY. [_To another._] Astrachan this winter. SANDOR. [_To_ BOMBELLES.] Why, liberal opinions. BOMBELLES. Ah! LORD COWLEY. Or, rather, France! METTERNICH. [_To the_ ATTACHÉ.] You hear him? A LADY. [_To a young man._] Montenegro, sing to me Under your breath, for me alone. MONTENEGRO. [_Whom_ THALBERG _accompanies, sings very softly._] Corazon-- [_He continues, pianissimo._] ANOTHER LADY. [_To_ GENTZ.] Ah, Gentz! [_She dips into her reticule._] Some bon-bons, Gentz? [_She gives him some._] GENTZ. You are an angel. ANOTHER LADY. [_Similar business._] Perfume from Paris? [_She takes out a little bottle of scent and gives it to him._] METTERNICH. [_Hurriedly to_ GENTZ.] Tear the label off! "The Reichstadt scent"! GENTZ. [_Smelling perfume._] It smells of violets. METTERNICH. [_Snatches the bottle out of his hand and scrapes the label off with a pair of scissors he takes from the table._] If the Duke came he'd see that still at Paris-- A VOICE. [_Among the group at the back of the stage._] The Hydra lifts its head-- A LADY. Our husbands talk Of Hydras! LORD COWLEY.