I would not, sire, one second ponder it. It was an obvious first crude cast-about In the important reckoning of means For his great end, a strong monarchic line. The more advanced the more it profits us; For sharper, then, the quashing of such views, And wreck of that conjunction in the aims Of France and Russia, marked so much of late As jeopardizing quiet neighbours' thrones. FRANCIS If that be so, on the domestic side There seems no bar. Speaking as father solely, I see secured to her the proudest fate That woman can daydream. And I could hope That private bliss would not be wanting her! METTERNICH A hope well seated, sire. The Emperor, Imperious and determined in his rule, Is easy-natured in domestic life, As my long time in Paris amply proved. Moreover, the accessories of his glory Have been, and will be, admirably designed To fire the fancy of a young princess. FRANCIS Thus far you satisfy me.... So, to close, Or not to close with him, is now the thing. METTERNICH Your Majesty commands the issue quite: The father of his people can alone In such a case give answer--yes or no. Vagueness and doubt have ruined Russia's chance; Let not, then, such be ours. FRANCIS You mean, if I, You'd answer straight. What would that answer be? METTERNICH In state affairs, sire, as in private life, Times will arise when even the faithfullest squire Finds him unfit to jog his chieftain's choice, On whom responsibility must lastly rest. And such times are pre-eminently, sire, Those wherein thought alone is not enough To serve the head as guide. As Emperor, As father, both, to you, to you in sole Must appertain the privilege to pronounce Which track stern duty bids you tread herein. FRANCIS Affection is my duty, heart my guide.-- Without constraint or prompting I shall leave The big decision in my daughter's hands. Before my obligations to my people Must stand her wish. Go, find her, Metternich, Take her the tidings. She is free with you, And will speak out. [Looking forth from the terrace.] She's here at hand, I see: I'll call her in. Then tell me what's her mind. [He beckons from the window, and goes out in another direction.] METTERNICH So much for form's sake! Can the river-flower The current drags, direct its face up-stream? What she must do she will; nought else at all. [Enter through one of the windows MARIA LOUISA in garden-costume, fresh-coloured, girlish, and smiling. METTERNICH bends.] MARIA LOUISA O how, dear Chancellor, you startled me! Please pardon my so brusquely bursting in. I saw you not.--Those five poor little birds That haunt out there beneath the pediment, Snugly defended from the north-east wind, Have lately disappeared. I sought a trace Of scattered feathers, which I dread to find! METTERNICH