Chapter II: Act II

_The women have had their coffee in the dining-room, and
now--10:30 nearly--they are all coming back together, talking as
they come._

PRINCE. I assure you, Miss Battersby, that absence of ceremony is what most I like. I should have been desolated if you had deserted us.

AINSLIE. You get enough ceremonial, I expect.

PRINCE. Those wearisome Court dinners! (_He shudders._) So long as the women are there--charming!

JENNIFER. Whoever the women are?

(_They gradually find themselves seats, instinctively grouping
themselves round the_ PRINCE.)

PRINCE. Whoever the women are. But when they leave us----!

BATTERSBY. Stuffy political talk, eh?

PRINCE (_nodding_). So wearisome.

ANGELA. I can’t stand politics at any price.

PRINCE. Nor I. When the women are there, we talk of many things. But when the men are left alone with their wine and their cigars, and one of our great statesmen move his chair next to mine, and in a low voice begin to tell me of the little dancer he has discovered--(_he makes a gesture of boredom_)--no; I, too, cannot stand politics.

MRS. FAITHFULL (_hastily_). Yes, I suppose dancing is as much a national pastime with you as with the Russians.

PRINCE. As with all nations.

JENNIFER. I feel that I want to ask Prince Michael a great deal about his country. (_She looks meaningly at him._) And about himself.

PRINCE (_returning her look_). I am at your service, madame.

JENNIFER. Suppose we begin like the geography books. Chief industries. Exports and imports.

ETHEL (_brightly_). They always asked that, didn’t they?

PRINCE. Since the Peace Conference our chief industry has been fighting.

ROBERT (_nodding professionally_). Ah! Quite so, sir.

PRINCE. A European War is an impossibility just now. The big countries dislike each other so much that there are no Allies, and without Allies, how can you have a really good war? So we little countries--how do you say?--keep the pot boiling. Our season opens in March. If we declare war first, we export soldiers. If the enemy declares war first, we import them. At the close of the season, in October, we export journalists, and import Boundary Commissioners.

MRS. FAITHFULL. Most interesting. Your literature, of course, we are all getting to know.

PRINCE (_pleased_). Indeed? Our famous poet-dramatist, Tushkin--you read him?

MRS. FAITHFULL. Naturally.

(_There is a general murmur of assent._)

PRINCE (_looking at them admiringly_). So you all know him? Excellent.

BATTERSBY. Is he popular in your country?

PRINCE. He is considered highly immoral.

MRS. FAITHFULL (_unhappily_). Oh! I should hardly----

AINSLIE. In this country immoral plays are only allowed on Sundays.

PRINCE. Oh? In that case Tushkin would certainly be limited to Easter Sunday.

MRS. FAITHFULL (_hastily_). Really, really, really! (_To_ IMOGEN) What is it, dear? Yes.... Yes, I’m sure you could. My little girl wants to ask you, Prince Michael--is that a Neo-Slavonian order which you are wearing?

PRINCE. But certainly. Our Order of the Leopard. First Class.

MRS. FAITHFULL. Oh yes, of course.

ROBERT. A military order, sir?

PRINCE. A general order--according to the class, you understand. There are seven classes altogether.

ETHEL. Oh yes!

PRINCE. The First Class for members of the blood royal; however distinguished, or, as in my case, undistinguished. (_Murmurs of dissent._) I thank you! The Second Class for distinguished statesmen, diplomats and so forth. The Third Class for those eminent in war. Our famous Generals.

ROBERT. And Admirals. Quite so, sir.

PRINCE. It is, I assure you, not so much lack of gallantry as lack of a coast-line which prevents us from having equally famous Admirals.

ROBERT (_red_). Of course. I was forgetting.

PRINCE. The Fourth Class is for our Bankers, our Financial Geniuses, our great employers of Labour. Your Mr. Harrod would be a Leopard of the Fourth Class. Our Fifth Class for the professional men who have achieved eminence--lawyers, doctors and the like. And the Sixth Class for the men of science. _Voilà!_

MRS. FAITHFULL. But you said seven classes, Prince Michael.

PRINCE (_carelessly_). Oh, the Seventh Class is just for writers, painters and composers. I had forgotten them.

MRS. FAITHFULL. Oh, yes!

IMOGEN (_nervously_). Ma--may----

MRS. FAITHFULL. S’sh, dear!

PRINCE. You were saying, Miss Imogen?

MRS. FAITHFULL. How kind of you, Prince Michael! You wanted to ask the Prince, dear?

IMOGEN (_with a rush_). Wh--which is the top class?

MRS. FAITHFULL (_pained_). Really!

PRINCE. The artists last, as in England. We are great admirers of the English.

AINSLIE. You don’t follow us in having an Established Church, I hope?

PRINCE (_laughing_). Ah, that Established Church!

(_They all laugh._)

JENNIFER (_suddenly_). He shan’t be laughed at!... Well, Prince Michael?

PRINCE. In Neo-Slavonia we have what you would call a “good form” church, just as you have here, but it has no authority--except, no doubt, with Heaven.

AINSLIE. Good!

JENNIFER. So you are great admirers of the English, Prince Michael?

PRINCE. Who is not?

BATTERSBY. A good many, I’m afraid.

PRINCE. That air of--how shall I describe it?

ROBERT (_coughing_). I am an Englishman--take it or leave it.

PRINCE. Excellent, excellent!

ETHEL (_reproachfully_). Robert!

PRINCE. That is how England goes about the world. No wonder she is loved. And America, she says, “I am an American--gee! isn’t that great?” And France, the most insular country in the world, France says, “_Moi, je suis français--pardon!_”

JENNIFER. And the Neo-Slavonian?

PRINCE. He says, “I talk about myself too much.” (_He makes a movement as if to get up._)

ANGELA (_getting up_). Let’s go into the garden, shall we? (_To_ PRINCE) Or would you rather play Bridge?

PRINCE. I can play Bridge anywhere. (_Looking at_ JENNIFER) Only here can I talk to your friends. (_He looks at_ ANGELA, _who smiles and understands_.)

ANGELA (_to_ MRS. FAITHFULL). Come along, then.

(_They lead the way._)

ETHEL (_to_ IMOGEN). Are you coming, dear?

(_They go out together. The men wait for_ JENNIFER.)

JENNIFER. Don’t wait for me. I have a shawl upstairs. (_She moves slowly as if to get it._)

BATTERSBY. Right.

PRINCE. May I not wait, madame?

JENNIFER. But how kind of you, Prince Michael!

BATTERSBY. That’s right, Prince Michael. Bring her along. (_He shepherds the others out._)

(JENNIFER, _three stairs up, and the_ PRINCE, _in the middle of
the room, stand waiting until the others can no longer be heard_.)

PRINCE (_moving towards it_). Shall I close the door?

JENNIFER (_mockingly_). As Your Highness pleases.

(_He smiles, and comes back._)

(JENNIFER _comes down the stairs, and stands two or three yards
away, looking at him_.)

JENNIFER. Well, Michael?

PRINCE (_smiling_). Well, Jennifer? (_He has no foreign accent now._)

JENNIFER. So you’ve come back to me at last.

PRINCE. Yes.

JENNIFER. Four years, isn’t it?

PRINCE. About that.

JENNIFER. You’re getting on in the world.

PRINCE. Aren’t I?

JENNIFER. Fancy! A real Prince!

PRINCE. But of a very small country.

JENNIFER. When I last saw you, you were plain Michael Brown of Hammersmith.

PRINCE (_nodding_). Yes. And you were beautiful Mrs. Michael Brown of West Kensington.

JENNIFER (_laughing_). Oh, Michael, what am I going to do about you?... May I sit down, Your Highness?

PRINCE (_arranging a chair for her_). The wife always takes the husband’s rank and precedence. Your chair, Princess.

JENNIFER (_sitting down_). I thought perhaps ours was a morganatic marriage.

PRINCE. There are no morganatic marriages in Neo-Slavonia.

JENNIFER. Ah, now tell me. I’ve been longing to ask you all the evening--only it sounded so absurd. _Is_ there such a country as Neo-Slavonia?

PRINCE (_shocked_). Good heavens, no! You don’t suggest that I’m a common impostor, do you?

JENNIFER. I wondered. Aren’t you?

PRINCE (_with dignity_). Certainly not.

JENNIFER. I’m glad.

PRINCE. Besides, where would be the fun? I’m an inventor.

JENNIFER. I see.

PRINCE. I invented the small buffer-state of Neo-Slavonia. I invented all of it. Its name, its people, its customs, its orders and its literature. I then gave myself the title of Prince in that country. Who but I had the right to bestow that title? Whom more worthy of it than myself could I find?

JENNIFER (_nodding_). Prince Michael Robulski.

MICHAEL. Rob_o_lski. In Neo-Slavonia the termination “-ulski” is now obsolete.

JENNIFER. I must try to remember.

PRINCE. It’s a jolly little country. You must let me show it to you one day.

JENNIFER. Thank you. But would it be quite proper for us to go about together?

PRINCE. Proper?

JENNIFER. The late General James Bulger--C.B.--was very old-fashioned. I don’t think he would like his widow----How do they regard these things in your country?

PRINCE. Ah, now tell me. I have been longing to ask you all the evening--only it sounded so absurd. Was there ever a General James Bulger--C.B.?

JENNIFER (_shocked_). Good heavens, no! You don’t suggest that I’m a common bigamist, do you?

PRINCE. I wondered. Aren’t you?

JENNIFER (_with dignity_). Certainly not.

PRINCE. I’m glad.

JENNIFER. Besides, where would be the fun? I’m an inventor.

PRINCE. I see.

JENNIFER. I invented a big, red-faced soldier called Bulger. I invented all of him. I invented his rank and his orders, and his medals. I then married him. Who but I had any right to consider myself his wife?

PRINCE. True. You know, I had an uneasy feeling----

JENNIFER. That I had married _again_?

PRINCE. Well, you might have thought I was dead.

JENNIFER (_sweetly_). Even that mightn’t make me want a _second_ husband.

PRINCE (_acknowledging the hit_). I suppose not. Then why drag in Bulger?

JENNIFER (_after a little silence_). Michael!

PRINCE. Yes?

JENNIFER. Did you ever wonder what had happened to me after you left me so suddenly?

PRINCE. Often.

JENNIFER. You remembered that you _had_ got a wife somewhere?

PRINCE. Of course.... Did you ever wonder what had happened to _me_?

JENNIFER (_carelessly_). Sometimes.

PRINCE. You had your own money, so I knew you wouldn’t starve.

JENNIFER (_nodding_). And eating is the great thing in life, isn’t it?

PRINCE (_lightly_). I’ve thought so once or twice in the last four years.

JENNIFER (_thoughtfully_). I don’t know how it is, but if people ask after your husband, and you say, “Oh, he left me a year or two ago; I don’t know why; we were rather on edge after the war, and he couldn’t find a job, and I suppose he suddenly got sick of me,” it never sounds----I don’t know how it is, but it never----Well, you know, Michael, I thought I could think of something more respectable than that. So when I came down here, where nobody knew me, I announced that my husband had left me for the only reason which a loving, dutiful, high-minded husband, such as yourself, could have for leaving a loving, dutiful, delightful wife--such as me. He had died.

PRINCE (_nodding_). And by the terms of the will which he made on his death-bed, had changed his name to Bulger.

JENNIFER (_smiling_). Well--_that_----! You see, I wanted him to be a soldier.

PRINCE. Good Heavens, hadn’t you had enough of soldiers? Wasn’t I one for four years, if it comes to that?

JENNIFER. Oh, my dear, not one of those rough, amateur, _fighting_ soldiers! A real peace-time soldier! All clean, and in a nice red coat, and covered with medals! A professional soldier!

PRINCE. The sort to whom we give the Order of the Leopard, Third Class, in Neo-Slavonia?

JENNIFER. Exactly! A soldier. A General. A C.B. It’s very respectable to be a General’s widow.

PRINCE. But you can be a General without being called James Bulger. In Neo-Slavonia----I beg your pardon, I keep forgetting. But I’m sure that you can be a General without being called James Bulger.

JENNIFER (_eagerly_). Not as I saw him. Not this one. General James Bulger, C.B. Can’t _you_ see him?

PRINCE (_nodding_). I can hear him.

JENNIFER. You don’t know what a comfort the thought of him has been. In many a difficulty I have asked myself, “Now, what would the General have said?”--and then I’ve remembered, “Not in front of the Vicar.”

PRINCE. A fine soldier. One of the old breed. My only objection to him is that he had no business to go handing his name about like that.

JENNIFER. But the name has been a great comfort too. (_Shyly_) You may have noticed that I have become a little--a little----Or have I not?

PRINCE (_emphatically_). Not a day!

JENNIFER. I wasn’t referring to days so much.

PRINCE (_emphatically_). Not an inch!

JENNIFER (_excitedly_). Really? Michael! How Neo-Slavonia has improved you! But to English eyes there does seem to be a----a tendency----Well, the name has been a great help. Because when people are told, “I want you to come and meet my dear friend Mrs. Bulger,” they come expecting the worst, and when they see me, they say--(_imitating them_)--“Oh, but how--I didn’t--I had no idea!”--and any little--tendency--becomes an added charm, as though, in my kindly way, I were humouring the name.... Do you understand?

PRINCE. Perfectly.

JENNIFER. And another advantage of it is that it makes them all call me Jennifer so quickly. I like that. I’m a friendly soul.

PRINCE. The men too?

JENNIFER (_sweetly_). Why not?

PRINCE. I am thinking of the General. You remember how old-fashioned he was. I don’t think _he_ would have liked it.

JENNIFER. Why, his last words were, “Jennifer, Jennifer!”

PRINCE. One doesn’t want one’s last words broadcast. What did he die of, by the way?

JENNIFER. One of those Indian frontier skirmishes.

PRINCE. What was a real General doing, getting mixed up dangerously in one of those?

JENNIFER. It wasn’t in the danger-zone. At least, not officially. (_In a whisper, after a glance to see that they are alone_) A soda-water bottle burst just as he was opening it. (_In her natural voice_) I always call it “a stray bullet.”

PRINCE (_smiling_). You’ve been taking a risk, haven’t you? Who’s that heavy fellow who’s here to-night----

JENNIFER. Captain Holt?

PRINCE. He must have been in India. He might make inquiries--I daresay he reads back numbers of the Army List on Sunday afternoons.

JENNIFER. Well, but it was all settled before he came. Anyway, I don’t see why he should doubt me. He hasn’t got a suspicious nature like yours.

PRINCE. If you had consulted _me_, I should have recommended a nice quiet death near Woking.

JENNIFER (_shaking her head_). No. That wouldn’t have done. You see, at first--just at first--I didn’t want----You see, I thought my husband might come back to me. So I didn’t want to be too definite about his death. I wanted to leave a loophole of explanation. He had been left for dead, captured by the advancing enemy, escaped, lost his memory, perhaps.... So that if he _had_ turned up one day----(_She pauses._)

PRINCE. Yes?

JENNIFER (_gaily_). Then I shouldn’t have seemed quite such an impostor.

PRINCE. Inventor.

JENNIFER (_agreeing_). Inventor.

PRINCE (_after a pause_). And now, after four years, he _has_ come back?

JENNIFER (_surprised_). Who?

PRINCE. Your husband.

JENNIFER. Good gracious, no! Prince Michael Rob----No, don’t tell me. That’s the obsolete one--Prince Michael Robolski of Neo-Slavonia, wishing to renew his acquaintance and--(_smiling sweetly_)--shall I say “further his suit”?--with the charming Miss Angela Battersby, is paying a short, a _very_ short visit, to Wych Trentham.

PRINCE. I don’t see why _very_ short.

JENNIFER. Well, you see, my dear Prince, at any moment I may discover the exact position on the map of Neo-Slavonia.

PRINCE. Yes, but why this passion for accurate geography suddenly?

JENNIFER. Because I am fond of Angela Battersby. And I won’t let you make a fool of her.

PRINCE. Ah, now I do see your point. But I think that, however short my visit, I should feel it my duty--the Neo-Slavonians are notoriously a polite race--to say good-bye to--Captain Holt.

JENNIFER. (_thoughtfully_). Oh!

PRINCE. I have taken a sudden liking to the studious Captain. I can’t let you make a fool of him.

JENNIFER (_smiling_). Yes, I see your point too.... I’m afraid, Michael, we’re both impostors.

PRINCE. Not impostors: inventors, creators. I wish you would see the difference. We have given an idea to the world. At least I have. To the people I meet, Neo-Slavonia is now as much a real country as Jugo-Slavia or Lithuania. Well, that’s _my_ doing.

JENNIFER. I see. And when did the great idea come to you?

PRINCE (_smiling reflectively_). It was forced on me. Really it wasn’t my fault.... It was at Monte Carlo.

JENNIFER (_interested_). Where you were looking for work?

PRINCE. I’d given up looking for work. I’d had enough of that in England after the war. I was looking for money. Much more fun.

JENNIFER. I’ve been told that there’s quite a lot in Monte Carlo. Any luck?

PRINCE. Fairish.... Well, you know what the South of France is like. Stiff with potty Royalties from God knows where. (_With a sudden laugh_) I say, it is funny to be talking English again; I mean the real English that the English talk.... Well, I was lunching with some people I’d never met before, as you do out there, and rather a stupid girl, trying to make conversation, and feeling around for my name, asked me what I did. I said I didn’t do anything; and she said, “I suppose you’re a Prince.” And I said, “Yes, yes”--just as you’d say, “Yes, yes,” if anybody asked you in the Temple if you were a barrister, and you weren’t really listening.

JENNIFER. That wasn’t Angela?

PRINCE. Oh no, Miss Battersby was much later, when I was generally accepted as a Prince. It was surprising how quickly I was committed to it. (_Proudly_) Of course, as soon as I saw how things were going, I insisted on the Neo-Slavonia. I wasn’t going to be an ordinary impostor.

JENNIFER. And did nobody know that there wasn’t such a place?

PRINCE. Nobody. You see, I looked at it this way. At the Peace Conference there was nothing to prevent the Big Four creating a new buffer-state called Neo-Slavonia. Was there?

JENNIFER. No.

PRINCE. Well, now, if they _had_ created it, it was certain that one or two of them wouldn’t have known where it was.

JENNIFER. Absolutely.

PRINCE. So I thought, “If they wouldn’t know, I don’t see why anybody else should want to.” You see what I mean?

JENNIFER. Perfectly.

PRINCE. Of course, I worked up the local colour gradually. At one time it was a very near thing whether it had a sea-coast or not; but I felt it was rather dangerous. What do you think?

JENNIFER (_gravely_). Oh yes, I think a sea-coast would have been rather dangerous.

PRINCE. Of course, we have a certain amount of local water-borne traffic on the--the Danube. I fancy it’s the Danube.

JENNIFER. Oh, Michael, you ought to know that!

PRINCE. I find it easier to remember when I am using a slight Neo-Slavonian accent. Plain Michael Brown was never much good at geography.

JENNIFER. Nor so popular, I suppose.

PRINCE. Oh, no. You get a very good time as a Prince. There’s a lot of hospitality going about.

JENNIFER. And a lot of credulity, too.

PRINCE (_smiling_). Yes, fellow-inventor, there is.... If you say anything dogmatically enough, the other man is always a little doubtful of himself.... You’d be surprised how many literary authorities--critics and such like--have agreed with me in thinking that Tushkin should have been given the Nobel prize instead of his more popular fellow-countryman, Gregorovitch. I’ll lay a thousand to eight that there’s not one person in the world who could give you a complete list of the Nobel prize-winners. My own theory is that every other year they invent the name and stick to the money.

JENNIFER (_shaking her head at him_). Oh, Michael! And did none of that hospitality lodge in your throat?

PRINCE. My dear Jennifer, why should it? If I got fifteen shillings worth of food and drink, didn’t I give fifteen shillings worth of entertainment in return for it? Ask your friends which they prefer: a dinner where they’ll meet a fifteen-shilling Prince, or a dinner where they’ll have to listen to a hundred-guinea violinist. They’d vote for me every time. The professional Prince.

JENNIFER. And that’s how you’ve been living lately?

PRINCE. Well, I’ve had tips, you know.

JENNIFER (_interested_). Ten-franc notes under the napkin?

PRINCE. Not quite so crude as that. Tips about stocks and horses.

JENNIFER. Oh, I see.

PRINCE. If you are high enough up, and supposed not to want it, you can always get plenty of help in making money. I’ve done pretty well this last year. In fact, almost well enough to be able to afford to look for work again.

JENNIFER. Then, on the whole, we needn’t have been too anxious about each other?

PRINCE. We needn’t. You’ve had your income to yourself, and lived beautifully in the country; and I’ve had my freedom, and lived----

JENNIFER. Like a Prince----

PRINCE. Like a man, anyway, in the open world. And the bickerings of Hammersmith are gone for ever.

JENNIFER (_after a pause_). And now what?

PRINCE. Well, what?

JENNIFER. Is it Your Highness’s pleasure to come back to me?

PRINCE. Good heavens, no!

(JENNIFER _looks surprised_.)

JENNIFER. Oh!... I just wanted to know.

PRINCE (_smiling_). I can only come back if General Bulger’s widow invites me.

JENNIFER (_laughing_). My dear Michael! if I invite you! Oh, my dear Michael! (_She is laughing again._)

PRINCE (_undisturbed_). You laugh as adorably as ever.

JENNIFER. Bless the man, now he’s going to make love to me!

PRINCE. To a Neo-Slavonian what more delightful way of spending an evening?

JENNIFER. Well, I’d sooner you did it to me than to Angela. I won’t have any of that, I warn you, Michael.

PRINCE (_shaking a finger at her_). Oh, Mrs. Bulger, Mrs. Bulger, think of your flirtations at--Simla, was it?

JENNIFER. You come to England at the risk of being exposed as an impostor----

PRINCE. An inventor.

JENNIFER. ----just so as to get another glimpse of her. Was that necessary? I say again, I am fond of Angela.

PRINCE. And she is fond of Jennifer.

JENNIFER. In her non-committal way, I think so.

PRINCE (_becoming very foreign suddenly_). Ah, this angel, this Angela! She is not so non-committal away from your English fogs. She expand! She talk!... She speak to me of her friends. She speak much of her great friend, Jennifer. Jennifer? I say. Jennifer? What a beautiful name! Tell me of this lady with the so beautiful name! She tell me. It is Madame Boulager. Boulager--one of your great English families. I am intrigued. I am--how do you say it?--agog. Tell me of this Madame Boulager, I say. Your Angela tell me. But it is not until she say one thing that I know for certain who Madame Boulager is.

JENNIFER (_clapping her hands eagerly_). Go on, what did she say about me?

PRINCE. She said, “Jennifer goes about as if she is singing to herself, ‘Isn’t it fun being Jennifer?’” Then I knew. And I said suddenly, but in our Neo-Slavonian tongue, so that I didn’t give myself away (_he appears to be clearing his throat and sneezing simultaneously_)--which means, “By Jove! It’s my Jenny!”

JENNIFER (_carried away_). Oh, Michael! And was it? I mean--go on.

PRINCE. That’s all. I came, I saw, I was re-conquered. (_Holding out his hand_) How do you do, Mrs. Brown?

(_You could see that_ JENNIFER _was a little touched by this
recital, but the prodigal is not going to be welcomed home so
quickly as he thinks. He may have been a Prince in Monte Carlo,
but he is not going to have his own way so easily in England._)

JENNIFER (_drawing her hand away_). Michael, I don’t know what to think about you--but I think you had better go back to Neo-Slavonia ... or where you will.

PRINCE. Must I?

JENNIFER. Well, obviously you can’t stay here.

PRINCE. Why not?

JENNIFER. What as? Prince Michael? My first husband? My future husband? Ridiculous. It’s much too difficult.

PRINCE (_eagerly_). Never mind the difficulties. I can manage that all right. That’s where the fun comes in. If you want me to stay, I stay.

JENNIFER (_laughing at his assurance_). If I want you to! Why should I want you to?

(_No Prince could stand that laughter from a woman._)

PRINCE (_quickly_). If I decide to stay, I stay.

JENNIFER (_sparkling_). Is that a threat?

PRINCE. A statement.

JENNIFER (_dangerously_). Take care, Michael.

PRINCE (_equally dangerously_). Take care, Jennifer.

JENNIFER. If you challenge me, I take it up.

PRINCE. Shall I give you the same warning? (_With a sudden smile_) Or shall I just say, “What do you want me to do?”

JENNIFER. Whatever you please, except stay here, where you will do nobody any good.

PRINCE. And if I disobey?

JENNIFER. Then, very reluctantly, I shall explain to my friends the exact position on the map of Europe of Neo-Slavonia.

PRINCE. And the exact position on the map of Asia of General Bulger’s body?

JENNIFER. If necessary. (_She smiles sweetly at him._) My friends will not be hard on me when they hear that my husband was a scamp of whose name and identity I did not wish to be reminded.

PRINCE (_approvingly_). Yes, that’s a good card to play. Well done, Jennifer. (_Smiling_) But I also--I play cards.

JENNIFER. Play them in Monte Carlo. It’s safer.

PRINCE. You are afraid that I have too many hearts in my hand?

JENNIFER (_laughing, but a little nervously_). Not mine, my dear Michael.

PRINCE (_nodding_). Not the Queen. Well, we shall see. Your orders are that I go back to London to-morrow--and then, if I please, to the devil.

JENNIFER (_quickly_). No, no, Michael, I didn’t say that.

PRINCE. On my way to London to-morrow, is it permitted that I look in here just to say good-bye to my hostess?

JENNIFER. You can say good-bye to-night.

PRINCE. In Neo-Slavonia----(JENNIFER _laughs, and he waits for her to finish_.)

JENNIFER. I beg your pardon.

PRINCE (_unperturbed_). In Neo-Slavonia we have a custom that, on the morning after hospitality, one pays a formal visit to one’s hostess in order to render thanks. Is it permitted?

JENNIFER (_reluctantly_). Well, if you must. You can have till twelve to-morrow. After that, if you are still here----

PRINCE (_boyishly_). Say “_Noon_ to-morrow.” It sounds more thrilling, and it avoids misapprehension.

JENNIFER (_laughing_). Noon, then.... But I mean it.

PRINCE (_nodding_). I shall be ready for you. (_Carelessly_) I have till noon, then.... If I don’t see you again alone--good-bye, Jennifer.

JENNIFER (_half tender, half amused, wondering what he is up to_). Good-bye, Michael. (_She holds out her hand, but he is not looking._)

PRINCE. Just do something for me, will you?

JENNIFER (_eagerly_). Yes?

PRINCE (_casually_). Tell young Oliver--he’s outside somewhere--that I want him. He will have to see about the car--and I shall have other arrangements to make. Good-bye.

JENNIFER (_after waiting a moment for some sign from him_). Good-bye.

[_She goes out._

(_Left alone, the_ PRINCE _looks at his watch. Then he lights a
cigarette and walks up and down thinking._ OLIVER _comes in_.)

OLIVER. You wanted me, sir?

(_The_ PRINCE _nods, and looks at him for a little without
speaking_.)

PRINCE. The time has come for us to part, Oliver.

OLIVER (_anxiously_). Aren’t you satisfied with me, sir?

PRINCE. Entirely satisfied. You write my letters, you drive my car, you order my breakfast, and all the time you look--how do you say it?--as innocent as a baby. But it was a temporary engagement, was it not?

OLIVER. Yes, sir. I quite understood that. But there is another three weeks to go.

PRINCE. I engage you for the month, I give you the month’s salary. It is enough. Now I ask you to do one little thing more for me--and then my orders are that you go back to your Cornwall, is it, and have three weeks holiday. Is that understood?

OLIVER. Yes, sir. It’s very kind of you.

PRINCE. This is the last thing. I want you to go now, quietly--can you get your hat and coat without seeing anybody?--

OLIVER. I expect so, sir.

PRINCE. I will say your adieux for you. Go very quietly, take the car, drive back to--what is it?

OLIVER. Medenham.

PRINCE. To the hotel, yes. Stay the night there yourself--pay my bill in the morning--how much?--and then go off to Cornwall.

OLIVER (_reckoning it on his fingers_). Four pound ten, sir, would see it easily.

PRINCE (_giving him a note_). Give the change to anybody you like. That is all.... You understand?

OLIVER. Yes, sir. Are you staying here, sir?

PRINCE (_smiling_). That we shall see. (_Holding out his hand_) Good-bye.

OLIVER (_shaking it_). Good-bye, sir. (_Awkwardly_) I’m sorry that you----If ever another time you should want----I mean, I owe you three weeks----

PRINCE (_hurrying him out_). I will remember.

OLIVER. I’m afraid I feel rather a fraud, sir.

PRINCE (_with a last push_). I, too, Oliver.... Good luck to you.

(OLIVER _goes. And only just in time, for_ ANGELA _comes in from
the garden_.)

ANGELA. Well?

PRINCE. Miss Battersby, I could kiss your hand for the delightful evening I have had, were it not that----

ANGELA (_amused_). What?

PRINCE. That I would rather shake it in your English way.

ANGELA (_holding out her hand_). Just as you like.

PRINCE (_pressing it_). I thank you. She is adorable.

ANGELA. Jennifer? I knew you’d like her.

PRINCE (_romantically_). I love her.

ANGELA (_carelessly_). I did tell you she was a widow?

PRINCE. The widow of a gallant General in your army. She tell me herself.

ANGELA. She has a little money of her own.

PRINCE (_promptly_). Five hundred a year. She tell me her----(_Hastily_) I mean, I guess it.

ANGELA. About that, I suppose. I can’t do it into--marks, is it, in your country?

PRINCE (_smiling_). Mademoiselle, I perceive that you are a match-maker. But it would not be necessary to do it into marks. Did I marry, I should not go back to Neo-Slavonia.

ANGELA. If Jennifer married, she wouldn’t leave Wych Trentham. She’s much too fond of it.

PRINCE (_a little taken aback_). Oh!... And all your other friends, they are not likely to be leaving it?

ANGELA. Why should they?

PRINCE. There will be a match-maker one day for Mademoiselle, perhaps?

ANGELA (_shaking her head_). I’ve got somebody to look after. Anyway, I’m not the marrying sort.

PRINCE (_smiling_). Mademoiselle, that is a challenge to Cupid which in the whole history of the world has never yet been refused. I shall dance at your wedding within a year.... Do you dance at weddings in this country?

ANGELA. Oh, Lord, at everything.

PRINCE. Then I dance. And the next year at Miss Imogen’s.

ANGELA. Oh, Imogen, yes.

PRINCE (_thinking_). Miss Imogen. So dead when Madame her mother is there, so alive when she is alone.

ANGELA (_surprised_). I didn’t know you’d seen her alone?

PRINCE. I know the type. It would be amusing to see if I am right. Is it permitted?

ANGELA. Permitted? It has been waited for all evening. (_Going to the door_) I’ll send her.

[_She goes out._

PRINCE. Mademoiselle is too kind.

(_As soon as he is alone he feels in his pocket, and brings out a
bunch of letters, and a note-case. He selects a letter and some
notes, and goes to the desk, where he puts them into an envelope
which he addresses to himself._ IMOGEN _comes in, accompanied as
far as the door by her mother_.)

MRS. FAITHFULL (_giving her the last touches_). There!... Perhaps just a little----Yes. (_In a whisper_) “Your Highness” at first, and then “Prince Michael.” (_She vanishes._)

IMOGEN (_coming in_). Hallo!

PRINCE (_getting up hastily_). Miss Imogen! How kind of you!

IMOGEN. I say, do you know, I must tell you, before you came I said I didn’t believe you were a real Prince at all. Wasn’t it cheek?

PRINCE. It was very natural, Mademoiselle.

IMOGEN. I say, you’re not really going to-night, and never coming back again, are you?

PRINCE. It depends to some extent on yourself, Miss Imogen.

IMOGEN (_giggling_). I say! Oughtn’t you to kiss my hand when you say things like that?

PRINCE (_taking her hand_). Will you do something for me?

IMOGEN. Rather! Anything! (_He kisses her hand._) Oo! Could it be something really wicked, so that I can tell Mother afterwards that it was the Prince who asked me to do it? (_Giggling_) Oh, think of Mother’s face!

PRINCE. Alas, it is not really wicked.

IMOGEN (_dashed_). Oh!

PRINCE (_quickly_). But it is a secret. Between you and me. For evermore!

IMOGEN. Oo, that’s all right! What is it?

PRINCE. This is a very great secret. I cannot even explain to _you_ what it means. Not yet. You must take me on trust.

IMOGEN (_remembering that last novel_). To the death, Prince Michael.

PRINCE (_touched_). You dear! (_He holds up the letter._) I want this letter delivered here to-morrow morning. At five minutes to twelve. It is addressed to myself. Can you give it to one of your village boys to-morrow to bring up to the house?

IMOGEN. Rather!

PRINCE. If he is asked where it comes from, he is to say that a gentleman gave it to him.

IMOGEN (_eagerly_). Righto. I understand.

PRINCE. At five minutes to twelve exactly.... You will give him something? (_He takes out a handful of money and selects half-a-crown._)

IMOGEN (_laughing_). Oo, I say! Half-a-crown! He’d suspect something at once. Sixpence.

PRINCE. You are a better conspirator than I. Sixpence. (_He gives it and the letter to her._)

IMOGEN. ’Kyou. (_She puts the letter down her dress in the approved manner. See Chapter XIV._)

PRINCE. In return, I give you the highest reward your country has to offer. “Imogen, you’re a sportsman.” (_He holds out his hand._ IMOGEN _takes it, and is completely carried away_.)

IMOGEN. My Prince! (_All funny suddenly_) Oo, I say, I believe I’m going to cry. (_Winking to keep the tears back_) A hanky, quick! (_He gives his to her. She blows her nose loudly, and dabs at her eyes._)

PRINCE. Better?

IMOGEN (_nodding_). ’M. I say, I’ve ruined your hanky. I’ll have to send it on to you. You’ll tell me where, won’t you?

PRINCE. That’s all right.

IMOGEN. Honestly I didn’t do it just to----(_Reluctantly_) Well, I suppose I _could_ have used my own. But I really was crying. (_Instinctively feeling the Presence in the neighbourhood_) Look out, here’s Mother.

PRINCE (_in a whisper_). Five minutes to twelve!

IMOGEN (_in a whisper_). Right!

PRINCE (_aloud_). And you are fond of lawn tennis?

IMOGEN. Oh yes, Prince Michael!

MRS. FAITHFULL _comes in_.

PRINCE (_bowing_). Madame!

MRS. FAITHFULL. Ah, Prince Michael, how kind of you to be taking an interest in my little girl. I hope she has been behaving nicely.

PRINCE. I give her what you call the good-conduct prize. The testimonial and the lucky sixpence. (_He laughs._)

MRS. FAITHFULL (_extremely amused_). How delightful! We shall always remember, shan’t we, Imogen? (IMOGEN _nods shyly_) I do hope, Prince Michael, that what Mrs. Bulger has been telling me is not true?

PRINCE (_anxiously_). What she has been telling you?

MRS. FAITHFULL. That you are going back to your own country, almost at once.

PRINCE (_relieved_). Ah!... So she tells you that. Well, it is “Perhaps” and “Perhaps not.”

MRS. FAITHFULL. Well, that gives us a little hope, doesn’t it, Imogen?

(IMOGEN _smiles shyly_.)

PRINCE. My head (_touching it_) say “You’d better go.” My heart (_touching it_) say “Don’t go!” My soul (_feeling for it vaguely_)--where _is_ my soul?--My soul say “You ought to go.”... They are still arguing. I wait for the verdict.

MRS. FAITHFULL (_laughing_). How amusing! We must remember that, mustn’t we, Imogen?

PRINCE (_looking at his watch_). And my watch says, “You _must_ go.” But he means only “Back to your hotel.”

(ANGELA _and_ BATTERSBY, JENNIFER _and the_ HOLTS _are coming
in_.)

ANGELA. Who _must_ go?

JENNIFER. All of us, dear, I expect.

PRINCE. It is I, Miss Angela. I have a long way to go. You are all together here, at home.

BATTERSBY. Well, have a whisky first.

ROBERT (_looking at his watch_). By jove, yes.

PRINCE (_to_ BATTERSBY). Thank you. Now where is my good Oliver?

ETHEL. Mr. Oliver was out with all of us.

BATTERSBY (_looking round the room_). That’s funny. Where is Oliver?

ROBERT. He and Ainslie have gone off somewhere, I expect. (_He goes to the door._)

ANGELA. Dr. Ainslie has gone. (_To the_ PRINCE) He asked me to make his apologies. A message came for him.

BATTERSBY (_bringing whisky to the_ PRINCE). Thank God I’m not a doctor. Help yourself, Holt.

ROBERT. Thanks. (_He goes to the table_) Mrs. Faithfull?

MRS. FAITHFULL. A little lemonade, please.

PRINCE. Thank you. (_He takes his whisky from_ BATTERSBY.)

JENNIFER (_slowly and clearly_). I sent Mr. Oliver in to you about ten minutes ago, Prince Michael.

PRINCE (_amazed_). To me here? (_His glass stops in mid-air._)

JENNIFER. Yes. (_She looks at him, wondering._)

PRINCE. But what an extraordinary thing!

ANGELA. He’s probably gone to see about the car.

PRINCE. Ah, yes! No doubt. (_He drinks._)

BATTERSBY. I’ll tell him.

PRINCE. Pray don’t trouble. He will be here directly.

BATTERSBY. It’s all right.

[_He is gone._

ROBERT (_to the_ PRINCE). He can call to him from the end of the lawn, sir. You left the car in the road, sir, I suppose, sir?

PRINCE (_anxiously_). Yes. It would be safe there?

ANGELA. Oh, Lord, yes.

MRS. FAITHFULL. We are a very unsophisticated little colony here, Prince Michael.

JENNIFER. Well, we don’t steal, anyway.

PRINCE (_raising his glass to her_). Only hearts.

(_She turns away._)

ANGELA. I say, do help yourselves, all of you. Isn’t there any lemonade?

PRINCE. What can I get you?

ANGELA. No, thanks. Jennifer?

JENNIFER (_her eyes on the_ PRINCE). No, thank you, dear.

ROBERT (_to_ IMOGEN). What about you, Miss Faithfull?

MRS. FAITHFULL. Just a little lemonade, please.

ROBERT. Right. (_He goes for it._)

BATTERSBY (_coming in at the door_). I say, the car isn’t there!

ETHEL. Not there?

ANGELA. It must be.

BATTERSBY. Well, it isn’t.

(HOLT _clicks his heels in front of the_ PRINCE, _and goes out
briskly, with the determination to see this thing through_.)

JENNIFER (_looking at the_ PRINCE). What an extraordinary thing!

(_He catches her eye, there is a look of understanding between
them, and he turns away._)

PRINCE. Your lanes are narrow. He is turning round, perhaps.

ETHEL. Yes, that’s it, I expect.

BATTERSBY. He wouldn’t have to go as far as that. I should have heard the engine.

PRINCE. My good Oliver, I hope nothing has happened to him.

MRS. FAITHFULL. He has been very quiet all evening. I suppose--have you had him long?

PRINCE. You think he is--how do you call it?--a fraud?

JENNIFER. Fraud, humbug, impostor--we have various words for it. (_Again they exchange glances._)

PRINCE. But my Oliver! So innocent-looking!

IMOGEN (_suddenly_). Bolshevists!

(_They all turn quickly to her, and she subsides into her
lemonade._)

BATTERSBY. Well, it’s very odd.

HOLT _comes in_.

ROBERT. The car isn’t there, sir.

BATTERSBY (_a little ironically_). Thank you, Holt.

ANGELA. Well, that’s that. He has run away, your Oliver.

PRINCE (_smiling_). Then I walk away. Is it not so?

ANGELA. Nonsense, you can’t walk. We can put you up.

JENNIFER (_sweetly_). The Doctor could drive you to your hotel in his car.

PRINCE (_with pretended eagerness_). Ah!

ANGELA. He’s out in it.

PRINCE (_with pretended disappointment_). Oh! (_He winks at_ JENNIFER.)

ANGELA. Father can sleep in the studio. He often does, don’t you, Father? (_She rings._)

BATTERSBY. Yes, dear, yes. (_To the_ PRINCE) I should say, “Yes, dear, yes,” in any case, of course, but it does happen to be true in this case. I have a camp bed there.

PRINCE. You are too kind. But I have never slept in a studio. I should like the experience.

ANGELA. Father is much more----

EMILY _comes in_.

PRINCE (_holding up his hand_). Please! It will give less trouble.

ANGELA. Just as you like. (_To_ EMILY) Make up the bed in the studio for Prince Michael.

EMILY. Yes, miss.

[_She goes out._

MRS. FAITHFULL. We have a spare room, dear. I’m sure if Prince Michael----

ETHEL. So have we. We should be only----

JENNIFER (_sweetly_). Captain Holt also has a motor-bicycle.

PRINCE (_to_ HOLT). Ah!

ROBERT. Not running just now, unfortunately.

PRINCE. Oh! (_Again he catches_ JENNIFER’S _eye_.) Then I am afraid, dear Miss Battersby, that I must trespass----

ANGELA. Of course. That’s settled.

PRINCE (_to_ MRS. FAITHFULL _and_ ETHEL). And thank you, ladies, for your great kindness. I shall always remember it.

JENNIFER (_suddenly_). I must be going.

ANGELA. Oh, must you?

JENNIFER (_to the_ PRINCE). I shall not see you again, Prince Michael----

ANGELA. Oh, look in in the morning and say good-bye.

JENNIFER. I’m afraid the Prince will have gone before I can manage it. I shall be rather busy up till--noon. Good-bye, Prince Michael.

PRINCE (_taking her hand and bowing over it_). It is always allowed one to hope. I shall give myself what comfort I can by saying, “_Au revoir_, Mrs. Bulger.” (_He kisses her hand._)

JENNIFER (_kissing her hand to them_). Good-night, everybody. (_They all say “Good-night.”_) (_To_ ANGELA) Good-bye, darling. It’s been so delightful.

ANGELA. Good-bye.

(_She and her father withdraw a little from the others, and
discuss the question of pyjamas for the_ PRINCE.)

JENNIFER (_with a meaning eye on the_ PRINCE). I shall be round about--noon.

(_The_ PRINCE _bows in understanding. With a wave she is gone._)

(_The_ FAITHFULLS _and the_ HOLTS _immediately surround the_
PRINCE.)

MRS. FAITHFULL. We shall never let you go now, Prince.

ROBERT. No, look here, you must stop and play on Saturday. Do you bowl?

MRS. FAITHFULL. Our little party on Thursday--a few friends----

ETHEL (_to_ PRINCE). I don’t know if you’re fond of fishing----

(_They have their backs to_ JENNIFER, _who is looking through
the open window. The_ PRINCE _raises his glass to her mockingly,
triumphantly. She shakes her fist at him, as the curtain comes
down._)