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your report; you might compromise yourself by remaining too long alone with the reigning Duke.

Count, (going out.) This agent is a demon, and deals in the black art.

Duke, (rings. To the servant who enters) My hat, my sword!-I must take a turn in the park; my heart is too full; I want fresh air. Intrigues without end! So to manoeuvre behind my back, to settle the most important affairs without saying a word of them to me! (At the door he meets the Princess, and returns with her into the apartment.) Ah, Eugenie, I am rejoiced to see you for a moment alone! In two words, our plan perfectly succeeds. My Secret Agent is already one of the most dreaded personages at the court. All think themselves observed by him, no man trusts another -bardly trusts himself-and our most dangerous foes hasten to confide to us their secrets.

Some amusing scenes follow this one. All the principal personages of the piece, namely, the Duke, the Duchess, Eugenie, Count Steinhausen, his nephew, and the Grand Chamberlain, are assembled in the saloon in which the whole action of the comedy passes (the scene is not once changed), when the Duke is observed to be looking attentively out of the window into the park. The obsequious courtiers make remarks to him on the beauty of the scenery, on the advantageous point of view, on the good effect of a new ornamental summer-house, on the splendour of a gigantic flowering aloe. The Duke allows them to see that it is none of these things that fix his attention, and their curiosity becomes excited. "I think," he at last carelessly remarks, "that, if I was not mistaken, I saw my Secret Agent pass yonder, through the great alley, leading to the basin." He then leaves the apartment, and forthwith Count Steinhausen sends his nephew to seek the Duke's mysterious counsellor, whilst the Chamberlain hurries away, also bent upon making his acquaintance. Whilst the two courtiers are thus employed, a scene takes place between the Duke and his mother. The former intimates to the Duchess that he is disposed to concern himself more than has been his wont in state affairs, which are often closely connected with his own private affairs.

He refers to the question of his marriage with the Princess of Brunswick, as one concerning him alone, and on which he alone will decide; takes his mother to task for disposing of Eugenie's hand without consulting him, the chief of the house; and finally comes to the treaty with Bavaria, the particulars of which he had so cleverly extracted from Count Steinhausen, and with reference to which, he says, he has thought it his duty to send private instructions to his ambassador at that court. The Duchess is astounded at the extent of his information, forgets her nerves, gets angry, and inveighs in good round terms against the wretched spy, the Secret Agent, from whom her son invariably assures her that he has learned the things which she had thought to keep from him. After an interview with Count Steinhausen, she makes up her mind to leave the capital for a country villa of her own. The palace she finds unbearable since the arrival of the intriguing stranger whom none can discover, but who discovers everybody's secrets. The Count is alarmed at the idea of being left to bear the brunt of the Duke's displeasure, which he feels he has deserved. He is mistaken, the Duchess informs him. She is going to pass a part of the summer at her villa of Caserta, in order to escape from a residence where the ground is mined under her feet by an inscrutable opponent. Her son may remain with his Secret Agent; the ministers are invited to accompany her. She desires the Grand Chamberlain to have her carriages immediately prepared; the Princess will go with her; her ladies can follow the next morning. In half an hour, the prompt and imperative dame requires her carriages to be ready at the garden gate. The Chamberlain is confounded by the suddenness and rapidity of the move. The Duke, he observes, does not appear to intend quitting the capital, for he is out shooting. So much the better, says the Duchess to herself, and goes into her apartments to give directions concerning the journey. Count Steinhausen, left alone, paces the stage in much perturbation.

Count. This goes too far, and, on duly weighing the matter, it is not in accordance with my duty to his High

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ness. But what shall I do? The Duchess is roused, I know the strength of her will; there will be no turning her from this decision. If the Duke were only here! So fine an opportunity to display myself as his most faithful servant will hardly again occur; but then it is impossible to refuse obedience to the Duchess. Hitherto all orders have emanated from her, it were rebellion against the highest authority. (He walks up and down.) Stop!-that may do! That way it is possible. Yes, yes, I preserve the Duchess from a rash step, and the Duke will thank me for it.

(The Grand Chamberlain enters.)

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Chamberlain. The carriages are ready but I entreat your Excellency to give me something in writing, to justify me in case of need. My head swims. Castle, corridors, staircase, carriages, everything seems turning round with me.

Count, (gravely.) My dear Lord Chamberlain, we are in a very important crisis. You must not accompany the Duchess, I fear.

Chamberlain. My disgrace-my inattention yesterday at table.

Count. Possibly. It is not long since I told you that events would here come to pass, whose force we should be able to resist only by sticking firmly together.

Chamberlain, (grasps his arm.) You see how I cling to you.

Count. Good! Stand by me steadily. I know your presence of mind. Chamberlain. My God! What must I do?

Count. Not much; merely announce to the Duchess that the carriages are ready, and then, looking at me with an air of embarrassment, you will add:

But!

Chamberlain, (looking very much embarrassed.) But! Count. But! Your face is really

capital !—

(Enter the Duchess and the Princess.) Duchess. We are ready. Now, gentlemen, what is the matter? Count Steinhausen, how thoughtful you look!—and you, my Lord Chamberlain, what has occurred so to discompose you?

Chamberlain, (looking dreadfully confused.) But!

Count, (aside to him.) Not yet! Duchess. Now, my Lord Chamberlain, have you attended to my commands?

Chamberlain. Your Highness's orders have been exactly fulfilled, the carriages are ready, but-(he looks at the Count.) But

Duchess. But what, my Lord? Count. Speak out, inform her Highness of what you have heard! (Chamberlain, in the utmost embarrassment, shrugs his shoulders.)

Duchess. Am I at last to know what this means?

Count. My Lord Chamberlain is quite beside himself-it is indeed a very strange circumstance-word has been brought from the guardhouse that the strictest orders have been given to allow no carriage whatsoever to leave the palace this evening.

Duchess. No carriage to leave the palace?

Count. That was the order, was it not so, my Lord?

Chamberlain, (who looks with profound astonishment at the Count, in a lamentable tone.) Yes, that was the order.

Duchess. And from whom did that order proceed?

Count. From his Highness the Duke.

Duchess, (to the Chamberlain.) From the Duke?

Chamberlain. From his Highness the Duke.

Duchess. And who brought the order?

Count. The Secret Agent.

Duchess. What is this I hear, my Lord Chamberlain, who brought the order?

Chamberlain, (drawing a deep breath.) The Secret Agent.

Duchess, (with an air of resignation.) 'Tis well, my Lords; my journey is postponed until to-morrow

morning!

The Duke is somewhat astonished to find that his Secret Agent has been acting independently; but on learning from George-who since the arrival of the mysterious counsellor has found his importance increase, and is noticed by the Duchess's ladies-his mother's proposed escapade, he presently guesses that it is Count Steinhausen, whose carriage just then drives into the court,

who has invented an order to prevent her departure. He gives instructions to his valet, and withdraws into his cabinet in time to avoid the Count. One of the first things Steinhausen learns from George, who skilfully seconds his master's schemes, is, that at breakfast that morning the Secret Agent has made a complaint of him, for having given an order in his name. The Count, who is perfectly terrified at this prompt discovery of an act he had taken every precaution to conceal, endeavours to induce George to obtain him an interview with the mysterious stranger, makes great promises, and at last obtains from the valet the assurance that he will do his best. Left alone, the puzzled Steinhausen reverts to the discovery of his having given the order that detained the Duchess, and asks himself how it can have been made. His suspicions at last rest upon the Grand Chamberlain, the only person, he thinks, who can possibly have betrayed him. The chief officer of the court believes himself in disfavour with the Duchess, in consequence of a recent slight piece of negligence on his part, and doubtless he is trying to gain favour with the Duke by betraying the ally whom he had recently promised to stand by to the last. The Duke's plan is succeeding even beyond his expectations; mistrust and discord already spring up amongst his opponents. When Count Oscar went out into the park to look for the Secret Agent, he fell in with an elegant-looking young man, who he doubted not was the person he sought. He made his acquaintance, talked with him about the park and the weather, dogs and horses, and endeavoured, but in vain, to lead him to topics of stronger interest. He was not even able to inquire his residence, owing to the sudden manner in which the stranger took his leave, and disappeared amongst the shrubberies. He has just given his uncle these particulars, and has learned from him the projected most advantageous alliance with the Princess Eugenie, when the Grand Chamberlain enters. He too has seen the Secret Agent. He found him feeding the ducks in the great basin, made his acquaintance, and had the waterworks played for his gratification. He describes him as a short

elderly man, and is unmercifully quizzed by the Count, who informs him that he has taken all his trouble for the wrong person, for some harmless saunterer in the park, that the real agent is young, tall, slender, and a former college companion of Oscar's, who had met him the day before. Presently the Chamberlain begins to suspect the Count of secretly courting the Duke, and of playing him false. In his turn he tries to prevail upon George to present him to the Secret Agent, whom he is still convinced he has talked with in the park; being confirmed in that belief by the valet's admission that the description he gives of his appearance corresponds with the reality. George promises to acquaint the Secret Agent with his wishes.

As may be supposed, the Duchess's nerves were at the very worst, in consequence of the prohibition of her departure. She made bitter complaints to her son, and then returned to the subject of the double marriage she had set her mind upon, entreating the Duke for God's sake to leave her quiet, which meant, in her mouth, to let her have her own way in everything. In despair at her obstinacy, the Duke was on the point of confessing all to her, the device of the Secret Agent and his love for Eugenie, and of entreating, as the reward of his frankness, her consent to his union with his cousin. But this weakness was but momentary, and he fortunately abstained from a step which would have deprived him, in an instant, of the vantage-ground he had won. He saw Eugenie, put her on her guard, and entreated her to be firm. His mother, he knew, was about to propose to her the hand of Count Oscar, and the good lady's proposals of that kind strongly resembled commands. He was not mistaken. In a long scene the Duchess informs her niece that the Duke is to marry the Princess of Brunswick, and that she has found a husband for her in the person of the younger Count Steinhausen, to whom she has promised her hand. Eugenie objects that she has not been consulted; the Duchess appears to think that would have been unnecessary previous to the arrangement of the affair, but consults her now that the thing is done. The imperious lady

has no notion of any one but herself having a will. Driven into a corner, Eugenie intimates that she has already given away her heart. The Duchess is indignant. At that moment the Duke appears at the door of his cabi

net.

Duchess. What do I hear, unhappy girl? How must I understand your words? You love?

Duke, (aside.) 'Tis the first time that I play the eavesdropper, and assuredly it shall be the last; but who would now quit this place?

Princess. Yes, I love.

Duchess. Unheard - of boldness! When did this inclination arise?-who is its object? Must I dread your answer?

Princess. Unfortunately, Duchess, my answer can hardly be satisfactory to you. I do not love him whom you have fixed upon for my husband, and whom I yesterday for the first time saw; but the man whom I do love, I love with the whole strength of my heart; should I otherwise have dared, should I have had the courage, to make you this confession, opposed to your wishes, to your commands?

Duchess. And the person? Princess. I scarcely dare to name him.

Duchess. What am I to hear? Princess. Oh! your Highness, I am grieved at this scene, grieved to be compelled to name to you him on whom my affections are fixed. I well know that I shall hardly or never obtain your consent; but do not on that account suppose, Duchess, that the object of my love is unworthy of me. Not so, indeed, for he is one of the best and noblest men at this court.

(Duchess makes a gesture of astonishment.) Princess. Yes, at this court; but the position he occupies is so peculiar that I scarcely dare to explain myself more fully.

(Further signs of astonishment on the

part of the Duchess.)

I well know that the whole weight of your Highness's displeasure will fall upon me, and yet is the moment come in which I can neither deny, nor recede, nor yet keep silence. Oh! Duchess, I am grieved, inconsolable. I feel how much you will blame my

truly unhappy attachment. I loveI love-the Duke's Secret Agent! (During the last sentences the Duchess has slowly risen; the Princess falls at her feet.)

Duchess. Horror! You shall learn to know me, Princess !

(Hurries out in great anger. The Duke steps forward, gently raises the Prin cess, and kisses her hand.)

Princess. Oh, heavens! Your Highness has overheard me!

Duke. Yes, Eugenie, it was_the happiest moment of my life. How heartily do I thank you, in my own name, (smiling) and in that of my Secret Agent.

Early in the fourth act occurs a long and not unimportant scene between the Grand Chamberlain and Oscar. The young Count is greatly amused to see the whole court electrified by the proceedings of the Secret Agent, and its chief personages dancing just as the Duke pleases to pull the strings. He ventures a shrewd suspicion that the Secret Agent is an imaginary being, and that the Duke is amusing himself at the expense of all around him. The Chamberlain is down upon him like lightning. Oscar had asserted that he had conversed with the Secret Agent, and that he was an old college friend of his. He now admits that he was previously unacquainted with the young man he met in the park, and that his uncle had jested when he said that they had been at college together. The Chamberlain is more than ever convinced that Count Steinhausen is not acting openly with him, and that the elderly gentleman for whom he set the whole waterworks of the park plashing and springing, is the right man, the real Simon Pure. To cure Oscar of his scepticism on the subject of the mysterious agent, he informs him, in strict confidence, that the Princess Eugenie is in love with the Duke's enigmatical adviser. The Chamberlain is not aware of the projected marriage of the young Count and the Princess. It is now Oscar's turn to start and be convinced; and he vows to himself to find out the Agent and challenge him to mortal combat. This scene is followed by one between the Duchess and her son. She denounces the Secret Agent

as a spy and a traitor, declares her detestation of him, and hopes that she never may see him but once, at the moment of his departure, to express to him her abhorrence. Before his arrival her son was dutiful and pliant, and to his evil suggestions she attributes all the unpleasantness, and the conflict for power, that has since occurred between them. The Duke coaxes her, and proposes a treaty of peace, on conditions acceptable to both parties. The Duchess is willing to conclude it, but on one sole condition, that the Secret Agent shall quit the court. This the Duke refuses, but presently offers to compound the matter. On condition that his mother shall arrange the breaking off of his projected marriage with the Princess Amelia of Brunswick, he promises that she shall see the Secret Agent, and that then, if she still insists upon it, he shall quit the court. After some reflection she agrees to this compact, and asks when she is to see him. The same evening, is the reply-when she and the court are assembled in that saloon, the Secret Agent shall come out of the Duke's private apartments and present to her an unimportant paper. Thus we have everybody hoping or expecting to see the Secret Agent. Oscar is everywhere seeking him, to call him to an account for Eugenie's attachment. Count Steinhausen and the Grand Chamberlain have each separately been promised by George (who is instructed by the Duke), an interview with the Secret Agent immediately after nightfall. One condition is imposed upon them, namely, that they are to meet him in the dark. It is the only way in which he can be prevailed upon to make their acquaintance. The scenes that follow are rich in complications, and dramatic situations.

Count, (enters softly, coughs.) Hem!-hem!-hem! There seems to be no one here as yet. I am the first, and I only hope the Secret Agent will not keep me long waiting; I fear lest some officious lackey should come in with lights. It is dark enough here, at any rate. What door will he come out of, I wonder? Hardly out of the Duke's cabinet; that were too dangerous! Ha, I am right! the centre door opens !

Chamberlain, (steals slowly forward

aside.) I wonder if the Secret Agent has come. It has struck seven. (Coughs.) Hem! hem!

Count. Hem! hem! 'Tis he! Chamberlain. He is already there! Count. Shall I wait till he speaks to me? I think I had better. Chamberlain. I think I will wait till he says a friendly word to me.

(A short pause.)

Count. His silence is strange! He consented to meet me!

Chamberlain. He knew very well that I was to come!

Count. Hem! hem! (coughs loud.) Chamberlain. Perhaps this extraordinary coughing means that he expects me to speak first.

Count. This is losing time! I will address him. (Aloud) I beg you to be assured, sir, how rejoiced I am, yes, how honoured I feel myself, to be allowed to make your very interesting acquaintance.

Chamberlain, (aside.) Good heavens! that voice! Can I believe my ears? Well, him I certainly did not suspect! Shall I answer him? Oh, the traitor! Ha! he shall know that he is detected! (Aloud) I also, sir, feel it an extraordinary honour to be allowed to renew your acquaintance.

Count. Am I bewitched, or is that the voice of the Grand Chamberlain ? Chamberlain, (aside.) It is truly incredible! Such falseness, such duplicity!

Count, (aside.) Is it to be believed that after all the Grand Chamberlain was the Secret Agent, and that it is he who has taken us in so completely?

Duke, (opening the door of his private apartments.) Bring lights, it is quite dark in the saloon!

Count. That alone was wanting! The Duke!

Chamberlain. My God, he will detect me with his Secret Agent!

(Both seek the centre door, but, instead of finding it, they run up against each other.)

Chamberlain. For God's sake, let me

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