Imperia. You say that his mother heard a cry? Do you believe that spirits can communicate at a distance, that they can speak with each other through the air? He must have been thinking of his mother—yes, he called out "Mother!" And his mother heard him call.
Prince Michael. Imperia, what are you talking about? Are you dreaming?
Imperia. Something must have happened to him. Yes, we must fear, we must expect the worst.
A Servant enters.
Servant. The Signor Prefect to see your Highness.
Prince Michael. Immediately! Now we shall know.
Prince Michael and the Servant go out.
Imperia follows them to the door and listens. Presently Harry Lucenti, pale and haggard, still in evening dress, and showing the effects of intoxication the night before, appears at one of the doors.
Imperia. Who is there? Ah! What do you want? Don't leave him.
Harry Lucenti. It won't hurt him to stay alone. He won't move. I heard voices. Do they suspect?
Imperia. No, they are looking. They will find out soon enough. Perhaps they know already. Go back! Don't let them see you. Don't leave him alone.
Harry Lucenti. He's covered up with a piece of brocade—fit winding-sheet for an Emperor. What a death! Insignificant as his life. Ludwig of Bavaria was the last King.
Imperia. Oh! Be still! Be still! I can't bear to hear you, to see you! You are as bad as he was. What difference does it make how he died? He deserved such a death. It does not matter who killed him.
Harry Lucenti. Don't tell me that Heaven has punished him. Nonsense, Imperia! Accident—chance. Many a rogue
