They are gone, I ween, the way of tender flesh At the assaults of winter, want, and foes. MARIA LOUISA It is too melancholy thinking, that! Don't say it.--But I saw the Emperor here? Surely he beckoned me? METTERNICH Sure, he did, Your gracious Highness; and he has left me here To break vast news that will make good his call. MARIA LOUISA Then do. I'll listen. News from near or far? [She seats herself.] METTERNICH From far--though of such distance-dwarfing might That far may read as near eventually. But, dear Archduchess, with your kindly leave I'll speak straight out. The Emperor of the French Has sent to-day to make, through Schwarzenberg, A formal offer of his heart and hand, His honours, dignities, imperial throne, To you, whom he admires above all those The world can show elsewhere. MARIA LOUISA [frightened] My husband--he? What, an old man like him! METTERNICH [cautiously] He's scarcely old, Dear lady. True, deeds densely crowd in him; Turn months to years calendaring his span; Yet by Time's common clockwork he's but young. MARIA LOUISA So wicked, too! METTERNICH [nettled] Well-that's a point of view. MARIA LOUISA But, Chancellor, think what things I have said to him! Can women marry where they have taunted so? METTERNICH Things? Nothing inexpungeable, I deem, By time and true good humour. MARIA LOUISA O I have! Horrible things. Why--ay, a hundred times-- I have said I wished him dead! At that strained hour When the first voicings of the late war came, Thrilling out how the French were smitten sore And Bonaparte retreating, I clapped hands And answered that I hoped he'd lose his head As well as lose the battle! METTERNICH Words. But words! Born like the bubbles of a spring that come Of zest for springing--aimless in their shape. MARIA LOUISA It seems indecent, mean, to wed a man Whom one has held such fierce opinions of! METTERNICH My much beloved Archduchess, and revered, Such things have been! In Spain and Portugal Like enmities have led to intermarriage. In England, after warring thirty years The Red and White Rose wedded. MARIA LOUISA [after a silence] Tell me, now, What does my father wish? METTERNICH His wish is yours. Whatever your Imperial Highness feels On this grave verdict of your destiny, Home, title, future sphere, he bids you think Not of himself, but of your own desire. MARIA LOUISA [reflecting] My wish is what my duty bids me wish. Where a wide Empire's welfare is in poise, That welfare must be pondered, not my will. I ask of you, then, Chancellor Metternich, Straightway to beg the Emperor my father That he fulfil his duty to the realm, And quite subordinate thereto all thought Of how it personally impinge on me.