: " : "
Prince: How’s that? What sort of strange remains are these,
What do you mean by "downhill?"
Arpad?
Count: We're getting old, Egon.
Prince: Yes. But one grows accustomed to it.
Count: But why should you talk? You're five years younger
than I.
Prince: Six. But fifty-five isn’t the spring-time of
life either. But what can you do about it?
Count: You have always been a psychologist, old friend.
Prince:
Resides, I really don’t see what you want. You look first
rate. (Sits down. Looks again up to the attic, as before. Pause.)
Count: (with decision) Do you know the intest? She's get-
ting married.
Prince: Who's getting married?
Count: Do you have to ask?... can’t you imagine?
Prince: Oh....I thought perhaps....Mizzi. Hm,yes, it
would be...So Lolo is getting married.
Count: Yes, —Lolo.
Prince: But that isn't "the latest.
Count: How's that?
Prince: She has been promising yee, or threatening
or how shall I say it, to do that for at least three
years.
You can easily say for ten. Or for
Count: For three?
vighteen. Yes, really. In fact ever since the affair between us
two began. It was always an "idée fixe" with her. "If a respect¬
able man comes to ask for my hand, I'm going to leave the stage at
once." That was the second word she said to me. You've heard her
say it a couple of times yourself. And now at last the long awaited
one has come... And she is getting married.
Prince: Well, if he’s at least a respective man....
Count: And so you joke about it! That's all the part you
take in such a serious affair.
PrinceWell, well. (Lays his hand on Count’s arm.)
Count: Yes, I assure this is a serious affair. It's no
small matter when one has lived so to speak for almost twenty years
with a person, has spent his best years with her, has really charged
happiness and sorrow with her. Then one begins to think it can never
end...and then she comes one fine dag and says: "God bless us, my