Beatrice—And that is what makes me so anxious, Karl. The Czar wants him for Olga—Constantine's daughter. Edward would have liked to get him for England—for Patricia. Frederic has been telegraphing me every day from Vienna, and Amelie from St. Petersburg.
Hyacinth—So Albert must make up his mind quickly.
Beatrice—Rome is out of the question for him. And so it is imperative for him to choose a wife immediately.
Hyacinth—Then he'll go to Montenegro.
Beatrice—That is just what I am afraid of. He is a very obedient son. Dominica, his mother, dominates him utterly. And she has sent him everywhere. First to Dresden for Leopoldine Charlotte, but he didn't like her. She tends to corpulence. From there he went to Portugal. The Infantin Silvina Gonzaga. A most admirable girl, but incredibly ugly. So on he went to Belgium, to Maria Hermine, who is two heads taller than he is—And he rightly decided that such an alliance would make him look ridiculous in his people's eyes. And now he is here. And if we let him get away from us his next stop will undoubtedly be Montenegro. [Dries her eyes. Symphorosa enters from the garden.]
Beatrice—Well?
