Chapter 3

SCENE.--_Street in Peking._ (_Enter_ KALAF _and_ BARAK.)

KALAF.

None know my name in Peking's busy town, Your trusty tongue's as secret as my own; E'en to your wife I hope you've not revealed--

BARAK.

From her especially the truth's concealed.

KALAF.

For many years, as dead I've been, given o'er. No mortal here has seen my face before. Fear not.

BARAK.

Dear Prince, forgive me if I blame you, I can't help dreading lest the Sphinx may name you. You were not wise to give her this last chance; She's so astute! She'll lead you a fine dance. You had possession--nine points of the law, Why should you for her meagrims care one straw?

KALAF.

Oh, had you seen her grief.

BARAK.

I needs must smile To think the tears of this sly crocodile Should take you in!

KAL.

Perhaps my tender love Her heart to mutual tenderness may move.

BAR.

No gratitude you'll get from that proud snake.

KAL.

Revile her not!

BAR.

I for your safety quake. She's quite as cunning as she's fierce. Her eyes can even through a millstone pierce.

KAL.

Nay, hope the best. My lucky stars preside, They'll crown me victor of my lovely bride.

BAR.

You're just the same dear, sanguine, thoughtless boy As ever. I can't bear to spoil your joy.

(_Enter_ BRIGHELLA, _marching backwards, commanding a few Chinese guards_; PANT. _and_ TART.)

BRIG.

Halt! Pigtails, right! Attention! Royal Black Guards! (_aside_.) How I do hate this dangerous marching backwards!

PANT.

Oh, here he is! At last we've caught our bird. Prince, how d'ye do! Allow me just one word. But who's this man? (_points to_ BARAK.) Of what has he been talking?

BAR. (_aside_.)

I hope they don't suspect--(_aloud_.) As I was walking, This man accosted me (I do not know him), He asked if I his way would kindly show him.

PANT.

Great Prince, you're compassed round about with traps. If we don't keep you in our eye--perhaps The Sphinx may have you murdered. To prevent Unpleasant little accidents we're sent By his celestial Majesty, to take you In our safe custody. We'll not forsake you. (_to_ BARAK.) And you're her spy, I do believe; get out! And mind your own affairs, Sir Pry-about. (_to_ KALAF.) As Minister, I hope I may make bold To say "Sweet Prince, take care you are not sold." Pray whisper not your name to any one Except to me, your friend. I'll blab to none. On my discretion you may safe repose, Confide in me; your name I'll not disclose. No more than I would jump right o'er the moon.

KAL.

No doubt; but yet my name, good _Pantaloon_, Like yours, must be quite "inexpressible."

PANT.

My wish to please is irrepressible. Command me, pray. Henceforth I will be dumb. The watchword is,--I understand you,--"Mum!"

TART.

G-go-ood Pr-prince, d-don't m-mi-mind th-that st-stu-pid P-pa-pantaioon, H-he's n-nothing b-but a g-go-gossipping B-buff-ffoon. C-co-conf-fi-fide in m-me. Your s-se-secret I won't u-u-ut-ter, I-in f-f-fact I c-ca-_can't_, 'c-ca-cause of my d-de-deuced s-st-stutter.

PANT.

Your Highness! to the palace, if you please.

(_Signs to_ BRIGHELLA.)

BRIG.

Recover, Pigtails! Black Guards, stand at ease!

(_Exeunt_ KALAF, PANT., _and_ TART., _Guards and_ BRIGHELLA.)

BARAK, (_who has been watching in the background, comes forward_).

Ye Tartar deities, watch o'er his life! Good gracious, what can hither bring my wife?

(_Enter_ SKIRINA.)

Where art thou going, wife, in such a hurry?

SKIR.

Oh, dearest husband, I'm all in a flurry. Our handsome guest will be Chang's future Who'd have believed such an astounding thing? The Princess Turandot is in despair; She weeps, she wrings her hands, she tears her hair. She'll kill herself if she can't tell to-morrow The name of your young friend. To calm her sorrow, I bade her not torment herself, for you Knew all about him, and his father too.

BAR.

Unhappy woman, thou hast ruined us!

SKIR.

Why, what harm's done? Why make you such a fuss?

BAR.

My head will have to answer for thy tongue.

SKIR.

Oh, nonsense, dear; I'm sure I've done no wrong.

(_Enter_ TRUFFALDIN _and slaves_.)

BAR.

Behold what thou hast done, thou Chatterbox.

(TRUFFALDIN, _with pompous exaggerated ferocity, holds his sabre to BARAK's breast_.)

TRUF.

Make no resistance! Yield thee, sly old fox!

SKIR.

Have mercy, Truffaldin,--my husband spare!

TRUF.

Of his bald head I'll not disturb one hair. Good female, you're of the fem'nine gender, And therefore towards your weakness my heart's tender. Your husband shall not come to any harm, So pray don't needlessly yourself alarm. The highest honour is in store for him, Free entrance's offered to our Hareem.

BAR.

The gilded trap of the fair Serpent-Sphinx. She's found me out; she's eyes like any lynx. There's no escape.

TRUF. (_flourishing his sabre_).

Lead on, my free-born slaves, To where the flag of slavedom freely waves.

(_Exeunt_ BARAK, TRUF. _menacing him, and slaves_.)

SKIR.

Forgive me, husband dear. Adieu, adieu! Oh dear, oh dear, what ever shall I do? Adelma urged me to my boastful prating-- She always is so very aggravating; I'd like to drop a lump of deadly _pison_ In her next cup of "best strong-flavoured Hyson." I do declare my brain's all in a fuddle-- Fo-hi, do help me out of this sad muddle! I'll sacrifice another guinea-pig, For mortals, then, I needn't care one fig. (_Exit_.)