THE INCA [bitterly, throwing himself into his chair]. And you supposed that I, who have been condemned to the society of princesses all my wretched life, believed for a moment that any princess that ever walked could have your intelligence! ERMYNTRUDE. How clever of you, Sir! But you cannot afford to marry me. THE INCA [springing up]. Why not? ERMYNTRUDE. You are too poor. You have to eat war bread. Kings nowadays belong to the poorer classes. The King of England does not even allow himself wine at dinner. THE INCA [delighted]. Haw! Ha ha! Haw! haw! [He is convulsed with laughter, and, finally has to relieve his feelings by waltzing half round the room.] ERMYNTRUDE. You may laugh, Sir; but I really could not live in that style. I am the widow of a millionaire, ruined by your little war. THE INCA. A millionaire! What are millionaires now, with the world crumbling? ERMYNTRUDE. Excuse me: mine was a hyphenated millionaire. THE INCA. A highfalutin millionaire, you mean. [Chuckling]. Haw! ha ha! really very nearly a pun, that. [He sits down in her chair.] ERMYNTRUDE [revolted, sinking into his chair]. I think it quite the worst pun I ever heard. THE INCA. The best puns have all been made years ago: nothing remained but to achieve the worst. However, madam [he rises majestically; and she is about to rise also]. No: I prefer a seated audience [she falls back into her seat at the imperious wave of his hand]. So [he clicks his heels]. Madam, I recognize my presumption in having sought the honor of your hand. As you say, I cannot afford it. Victorious as I am, I am hopelessly bankrupt; and the worst of it is, I am intelligent enough to know it. And I shall be beaten in consequence, because my most implacable enemy, though only a few months further away from bankruptcy than myself, has not a ray of intelligence, and will go on fighting until civilization is destroyed, unless I, out of sheer pity for the world, condescend to capitulate. ERMYNTRUDE. The sooner the better, Sir. Many fine young men are dying while you wait. THE INCA [flinching painfully]. Why? Why do they do it? ERMYNTRUDE. Because you make them.