THE DUKE. No, for the Victories, my sisters--Lo! I see them! see them! in a headlong flight Draw nigh to lave their glory in my tears! MARIA LOUISA. What are you saying? THE DUKE. Nothing. Did I speak? Hush! Father, that's our secret: yours and mine!-- My funeral will be ugly. Mumbling women; Lackeys with torches; droning Capuchins; And then they'll lock me in their crypt--and then-- MARIA LOUISA. Tell me your sufferings, child! THE DUKE. Oh! Superhuman!-- And then, official mourning for six weeks. THE COUNTESS. He snatches at the cradle's lace, as if To make a winding sheet-- THE DUKE. It will be ugly-- I must remember how they christen better In Paris than they bury in Vienna. General Hartmann! HARTMANN. Prince! THE DUKE. Yes--while I wait For death, I'll rock my childhood-- [_He hands_ GENERAL HARTMANN _a book from under his pillow._] Here-- [GENERAL HARTMANN _takes the book. The_ DUKE _falls to rocking the cradle._] I rock My past--I rock my past--As though The Duke of Reichstadt rocked the King of Rome. General--I marked a place-- HARTMANN. I see it. THE DUKE. Good. While I'm dying, read aloud-- MARIA LOUISA. No, no! You shall not die! THE DUKE. You may begin to read. HARTMANN. [_Standing at the foot of the bed and reading._] "Toward seven o'clock the Calvary appear, Forming the head of the procession--" MARIA LOUISA. [_Falling on her knees in a paroxysm of sobs._] Franz! HARTMANN. "The people, shaken with great sobs of joy, Utter a shout:--'Long live the King of Rome!'--" MARIA LOUISA. Franz! HARTMANN. "And the guns salute; the Cardinal Receives their Majesties, and so the pageant Moves up the aisle as ancient rules prescribe. The Ushers, Kings-at-Arms, their chief, the pages, The various officers of the staff, the--" [_Noticing that the_ DUKE _has closed his eyes, he stops._] THE DUKE. [_Opening his eyes._] Yes? HARTMANN. "The Chamberlains, the Prefects of the palace, Ministers, Masters of the Horse--" THE DUKE. [_With failing voice._] Go on. HARTMANN. "Marshals of France, Grand Eagles; and Princess Aldobrandini holds the chrisom-cloth; The Countesses Vilain and de Beauvau Bring in the ewer and the salt-cellar--" THE DUKE. [_Still paler and growing rigid._] Read on, sir. Mother--mother--lift me up. [MARIA LOUISA, _assisted by the_ PRELATE _and_ DOCTOR MALFATTI, _raises him on his pillows._] HARTMANN.