Wunderlich—Two.
Agi—It is a matter of individual habit. For instance, Napoleon[Stops suddenly. A painful silence. Each sips his bouillon. The cups are put down simultaneously.]
Beatrice—And so you can't speak properly because you've studied too much?
Agi—The many things one takes in from books must first dissolve themselves in the blood, your highness. They must ferment like wine. Then only will they release that beautiful bouquet, that fine fragrance called poetry. There is a bit of poetry in every man, but many things must happen before it becomes articulate.
Albert—A pretty woman . . . what?
Agi—Perhaps. . . .
Beatrice—But . . . Albert. . . .
Hyacinth—It depends on the woman. . . . I have met women who stifled the poetry in a man.
Beatrice—They are quite right. I don't like poets.
Agi—It depends on the man. . . . I have met men whom no woman can hurt. I envy them.
Alexandra—Why? [The bouillon cups are removed.]
Agi—Because I am so easily hurt myself.
Albert—By women?
Agi—By any intense emotion. I am supersensi-
