ns of the nobility and not of
a doctor.

Doctor.--We begin to quarrel already. You are all proud of the fact
that your ancestors, the knights, killed so many people. But if the
prince knew how many people I have killed with my prescriptions! I can
guarantee you that none of Your Highness's ancestors can be proud of
such great number.

Drahomir.--Bravo. Very good!

Prince.--And he is my doctor!

Stella.--Papa! The doctor is joking.

Prince.--Thanks for such jokes. But it is sure that the world is now
upside-down.

Doctor.--Your Highness, we will live a hundred years more. (To
George.) Come, tell me, what became of you? (They go out.)

Prince.--You would not believe how unhappy I am because I cannot get
along with that man. He is the son of a blacksmith from Stanislawow.
I sent him to school because I wished to make an overseer of him. But
afterwards he went to study at the University.

Drahomir.--He is twice a doctor--he is an intelligent man. One can see
that by merely looking at him.

Stella.--Very much so.

Czeska.--So intelligent that I am afraid of him.

Drahomir.--But the prince must be satisfied.

Prince.--Satisfied, satisfied! He has lost his common sense. He became
a democrat--a _sans culotte_. But he is a good doctor, and I am sick.
I have some stomach trouble. (To Drahomir.) Have you heard of it?

Drahomir.--The prince complained already some time ago.

Czeska.--For twenty years.

Prince.--Sorrow and public service have ruined my health.

Czeska.--But Your Highness is healthy.

Prince (angrily).--I tell you that I am sick. Stella, I am sick--am I
not?

Stella.--But now you will feel better.

Prince.--Because he alone keeps me alive. Stella would have died also
with heart trouble if it had not been for him.

Drahomir.--If that is so, he is a very precious man.

Stella.--We owe him eternal gratitude.

Prince (looking at George).--He will also be necessary to Pretwic.
What, Stella, will he not?

Stella (laughing).--Papa, how can I know that?

Drahomir.--Truly, I sometimes envy those stalwart men. During the
battle they strengthen in themselves the force which lessens and
disappears in us, because nothing nourishes it. Perhaps we are also
made of noble metal, but we are eaten up with rust while they are
hardened in the battle of life. It is a sad necessity.

Czeska.--How about Mr. Pretwic?

Drahomir.--George endured much, it is true, and one feels this
although it is difficult t