PRINCE: And do they tell you what they want?
WARDEN: First they give orders. Especially Duke Friedrich. No living being could be so confident. Every night for thirty years he has been expecting me to give in.
PRINCE: If he has been coming for thirty years it can't be Duke Friedrich, for he has been dead only fifteen years. On the other hand, he is the only one of that name in the tomb.
WARDEN (too carried away by his story}: That I don't know, your Highness, I never went to school. I only know how he begins. "Old dog," he begins at the window, "the gentlemen are knocking and you just stay in your filthy bed." They have a particular grudge against beds, by the way. And now every night we have the same conversation, he outside, I opposite him, my back to the door. I say: "I'm only on day duty." The Duke turns and shouts into the park: "He's only on day duty." Whereupon all the assembled aristocracy burst out laughing. Then the Duke says to me again: "But it is day." I say curtly: "You're wrong." The Duke: "Night or day, open the door." I: "That's against my orders." And with my pipe I point at a notice on the door. The Duke: "But you're our Warden." I: "Your Warden, but employed by the reigning Prince." He: "Our Warden, that's the main thing. So open up, and be quick about it." I: "No." He: "Idiot, you'll lose your job. Prince Leo has invited us for today."
PRINCE (quickly): I?
WARDEN: You.
Pause.
WARDEN: When I hear your name I lose my firmness. That's why I have always taken care to lean against the door which is almost the only thing that holds me up. Outside, everyone's singing your name. "Where's the invitation?" I ask weakly. "Bedbug!" he shouts, "you doubt my ducal word?" I say: "I have no orders, so I won't open, I won't open, I won't open!" — "He won't open!" shouts the Duke outside. "So come on, all of you, the whole dynasty! At the door! We'll open it ourselves." And a moment later there's nothing under my window.
Pause.
PRINCE: Is that all?
WARDEN: All? My real service begins only now. I rush out of the door, around the house, and promptly run into the Duke and there we are, locked in combat. He so big, I so small, he so broad, I so thin, I can fight only with his feet, but now and again he lifts me up in the air and then I fight up there, too. All his comrades stand around in a circle and make fun of me. One, for instance, cuts open my trousers behind and they all play with the tail of my shirt while I'm fighting. Can't understand why they laugh, as until now I've always won.
PRINCE: How is it possible for you to win? Have you any weapons?
WARDEN: I carried weapons only during the first years. What good could they be against him? They only hampered me. We just fight with our fists, or rather with the strength of our breath. And you're in my thoughts all the time.
Pause.
WARDEN: But I never doubt my victory. Only sometimes I'm afraid the Duke will let me slip through his fingers and forget that he's fighting.
PRINCE: And when do you win?
WARDEN: At dawn. Then he throws me down and spits at me. That's his confession of defeat. But I have to go on lying there for an hour before I can get my breath back properly.
Pause.
PRINCE (standing up): But tell me, don't you know what they really want?
WARDEN: To get out of the park.
PRINCE: But why?
WARDEN: That I don't know.
PRINCE: Haven't you asked?
WARDEN: No.
PRINCE: Why not?
WARDEN: It would embarrass me. But if you wish, I'll ask them today.
PRINCE (shocked, loud): Today!
WARDEN (knowingly): Yes, today.
PRINCE: And you can't even guess what they want?
WARDEN (thoughtfully): No.
Pause.
WARDEN: Perhaps I ought to add that sometimes in the early mornings while I'm lying there trying to get my breath and even too weak to open my eyes, there comes a delicate, moist creature, rather hairy to the touch, a latecomer, the Countess Isabella. She runs her hand all over me, catches hold of my beard, her whole body glides along my neck, under my chin, and she's in the habit of saying: "Not the others, but me — let me out." I shake my head as much as I can. "I want to go to Prince Leo, to offer him my hand." I keep on shaking my head. "But me, me!" I can still hear her crying, then she's gone. And my granddaughter appears with blankets, wraps me up in them, and waits with me till I can walk on my own. An exceptionally good girl.
PRINCE: Isabella? The name's unknown to me.
Pause.
PRINCE: To offer me her hand! (Goes to window, looks out.)
Enter servant through center door.
SERVANT: Her Highness, m'lady the Princess, awaits you.
PRINCE (looks absent-mindedly at servant. Turns to Warden): Wait till I come back. (Exit left.)
Chamberlain enters at once through center door, then the Lord High Steward (youngish man in officer's uniform) through door on right.
WARDEN (ducks behind divan and flourishes his hands as though seeing ghosts).
STEWARD: The Prince has gone?
CHAMBERLAIN: Following your advice, the Princess sent for him.
STEWARD: Good. (Turns suddenly, bends over behind divan.) And you, miserable ghost, you actually dare to appear here in the princely castle! Aren't you afraid of the great boot that'll kick you through the door?
WARDEN: I'm — I'm —
STEWARD: Quiet, first of all keep quiet, don't utter — and sit down here in this corner! (To Chamberlain) I thank you for informing me about the latest princely whim.
CHAMBERLAIN: You inquired about it.
STEWARD: Even so. And now a confidential word. Purposely in front of that creature there. You, Count, are flirting with the opposition.
CHAMBERLAIN: Is that an accusation?
STEWARD: An apprehension, so far.
CHAMBERLAIN: In that case I can answer. I'm not flirting with the opposition, for I don't know it. I can feel the currents, but I steer clear of them. I still represent the open policy that prevailed under Duke Friedrich. At that time the only policy at Court was to serve the Prince. This was made easier by his being a bachelor, but it should never be difficult.
STEWARD: Very sensible — except that one's own nose, however reliable, never points the right way all the time. This can only be achieved by reason. But reason must make decisions. Let's assume the Prince is on the wrong track: does one serve him better by following him down or, with all due respect, by chasing him back? Undoubtedly by chasing him back.
CHAMBERLAIN: You came here with the Princess from a foreign Court, have spent a mere six months here, and you already think you can tell the difference between good and evil in the complicated conditions of this Court?
STEWARD: He who blinks sees only complications. He who keeps his eyes open sees the eternal truth in the first hours as clearly as after a hundred years. Admittedly, in this case, a sad truth which in the next few days, however, may take a decisive turn for the better.
CHAMBERLAIN: I cannot believe that the decision which you wish to bring about and which I know only from your announcement will be a good one. I'm afraid you misunderstand our Prince, the Court, and everything here.