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The Inca Of Perusalem: An Almost Historical Comedietta
by
ERMYNTRUDE.Give it to me [she snatches it]. I’ll pawn it and buy something nice with the money.
THE INCA.Impossible, madam. A design by the Inca must not be exhibited for sale in the shop window of a pawnbroker. [He flings himself into his chair, fuming.]
ERMYNTRUDE.So much the better. The Inca will have to redeem it to save himself from that disgrace; and the poor pawnbroker will get his money back. Nobody would buy it, you know.
THE INCA.May I ask why?
ERMYNTRUDE.Well, look at it! Just look at it! I ask you!
THE INCA[his moustache drooping ominously]. I am sorry to have to report to the Inca that you have no soul for fine art. [He rises sulkily.] The position of daughter-in-law to the Inca is not compatible with the tastes of a pig. [He attempts to take back the brooch.]
ERMYNTRUDE[rising and retreating behind her chair with the brooch]. Here! you let that brooch alone. You presented it to me on behalf of the Inca. It is mine. You said my appearance was satisfactory.
THE INCA.Your appearance is not satisfactory. The Inca would not allow his son to marry you if the boy were on a desert island and you were the only other human being on it [he strides up the room.]
ERMYNTRUDE[calmly sitting down and replacing the case on the table]. How could he? There would be no clergyman to marry us. It would have to be quite morganatic.
THE INCA[returning]. Such an expression is out of place in the mouth of a princess aspiring to the highest destiny on earth. You have the morals of a dragoon. [She receives this with a shriek of laughter. He struggles with his sense of humor.] At the same time [he sits down] there is a certain coarse fun in the idea which compels me to smile [he turns up his moustache and smiles.]
ERMYNTRUDE.When I marry the Inca’s son, Captain, I shall make the Inca order you to cut off that moustache. It is too irresistible. Doesn’t it fascinate everyone in Perusalem?
THE INCA[leaning forward to her energetically]. By all the thunders of Thor, madam, it fascinates the whole world.
ERMYNTRUDE.What I like about you, Captain Duval, is your modesty.
THE INCA[straightening up suddenly]. Woman, do not be a fool.
ERMYNTRUDE[indignant]. Well!
THE INCA.You must look facts in the face. This moustache is an exact copy of the Inca’s moustache. Well, does the world occupy itself with the Inca’s moustache or does it not? Does it ever occupy itself with anything else? If that is the truth, does its recognition constitute the Inca a coxcomb? Other potentates have moustaches: even beards and moustaches. Does the world occupy itself with those beards and moustaches? Do the hawkers in the streets of every capital on the civilized globe sell ingenious cardboard representations of their faces on which, at the pulling of a simple string, the moustaches turn up and down, so–[he makes his moustache turn, up and down several times]? No! I say No. The Inca’s moustache is so watched and studied that it has made his face the political barometer of the whole continent. When that moustache goes up, culture rises with it. Not what you call culture; but Kultur, a word so much more significant that I hardly understand it myself except when I am in specially good form. When it goes down, millions of men perish.
ERMYNTRUDE.You know, if I had a moustache like that, it would turn my head. I should go mad. Are you quite sure the Inca isn’t mad?
THE INCA.How can he be mad, madam? What is sanity? The condition of the Inca’s mind. What is madness? The condition of the people who disagree with the Inca.