Beatrice—Cæsar! You will go downstairs and ask Dr. Agi if he will be good enough to come up at once and wait in this room. Her highness, the Princess Dominica wishes to speak to him.
Cæsar—Very good, your highness.
Beatrice—What are you serving her highness for breakfast?
Cæsar—Tea, cold salmon, cold beef, cold chicken . . . cold. . . .
Beatrice—Cæsar! Why, that is last night's supper. . . .
Cæsar—I beg pardon, your highness. It is this morning's breakfast. I had it put on the table at one this morning, and no one has eaten a bite of it yet.
Beatrice—Have you lost your senses, Cæsar?
Cæsar—Quite likely, your highness. . . . Another breakfast will be served.
Beatrice—Why are you so pale?
Cæsar—I didn't sleep well, your highness. I suffered agonies. Mostly on account of the tea.
Beatrice—On account of what tea?
Cæsar—On account of the terrible mistake. Father Hyacinth was served the hot tea and your highness got the cold consommé.
Beatrice—I am glad I did. I would have fainted away in that horrible moment if I hadn't had that sip of ice-cold soup. It revived me.
