Chapter 26

_The great hall of the imperial Divan. In the "background, covered by a curtain, an altar with a Chinese idol; two priests standing beside it._ ALTOUM _on his throne, the doctors on their cushions_, PANTALONE _and_ TARTAGLIA _on each side of the_ EMPEROR. ALTOUM, PANTALONE, TARTAGLIA, _the_ DOCTORS, _the_ GUARDS. _Later_ CALAF. (_Enter_ CALAF _excitedly from right_. _He looks round uneasily and suspiciously._ _When he arrives at the middle of the room he bows to_ ALTOUM.)

CALAF (_aside_).

How's this? No trace of ambushed murderers? Did the slave lie? Can Turandot have found The names out, and rescinded her commands? Then I lose all. Death had been better far.

ALTOUM.

My son, you seem excited and in fear, And I were fain had you a merry face. Now all is well. Your sorrows are at end. Glad tidings that concern you I will save A little while. As for my daughter, she Is yours. She sent to me thrice in the night Petitioning release from this encounter. Therefore I charge you, son, be of good cheer!

PANTALONE.

Heaven knows, my dearest Royal Highness, I myself had to trot off in the night to pay a call on her Royal Highness in the Seraglio and receive her most illustrious commands. I didn't even have the time to tumble into my slippers and get dressed properly. And it was so cold, Heaven knows (_coughs_), I'm shivering yet. Never mind! Never mind!

TARTAGLIA.

They fetched me out of bed at 5 a.m. It was just beginning to get light a bit. She made me stand in front of her half an hour while she went on whining something or other. For sheer cold and vexation I talked the most clotted nonsense to her. (_Aside._) It would have suited my humour better if I could have given her a downright good spanking.

ALTOUM.

You see yourself: she is so slow in coming. I have already sent explicit orders In case of need to bring her here by force. Here she shall stand and learn to blush, a pain She would not let me spare her. Therefore, son, Take good heart at the prospect of near joy.

CALAF.

I crave your pardon, sire, and give you thanks! I am tormented by most fearful doubts, And by the thought that for my sake she now Is suffering shame and force. Much rather... No Not that. If I _do_ lose her, what remains To me of life? With time and tenderness I will compel her to forget this rage. My will shall be her wish, my heart her heart. For her sake I will grant what either asks, And my love's banner be: Fidelity!

ALTOUM.

Let there be no more dallying! This Divan Be changed into a temple, so that she, Soon as she enters here, may recognize That I too have a will. Prepare the marriage. Unveil the altar.

(_The curtain in the background opens, and the altar with the priests is seen._)

PANTALONE.

She's coming, my dear Lord Chancellor, she's coming. I believe I can already hear her whining.

TARTAGLIA.

The accompaniment does at all events sound decidedly dismal. That's what I call a genuine wedding march, just the same as for a funeral.