Bernard Shaw

The Inca of Perusalem Bernard Shaw

A hotel sitting room. A table in the centre. On it a telephone. Two chairs at it, opposite one another. Behind it, the door. The fireplace has a mirror in the mantelpiece. A spinster Princess, hatted and gloved, is ushered in by the hotel manager, spruce and artifically bland by professional habit, but treating his customer with a condescending affability which sails very close to the east wind of insolence. THE MANAGER. I am sorry I am unable to accommodate Your Highness on the first floor. THE PRINCESS [very shy and nervous.] Oh, please don't mention it. This is quite nice. Very nice. Thank you very much. THE MANAGER. We could prepare a room in the annexe- THE PRINCESS. Oh no. This will do very well. She takes of her gloves and hat: puts them on the table; and sits down. THE MANAGER. The rooms are quite as good up here. There is less noise; and there is the lift. If Your Highness desires anything, there is the telephone- THE PRINCESS. Oh, thank you, I don't want anything. The telephone is so difficult: I am not accustomed to it. THE MANAGER. Can I take any order? Some tea? THE PRINCESS. Oh, thank you. Yes: I should like some tea, if I might-if it would not be too much trouble. He goes out. The telephone rings. The Princess starts out of her chair, terrified, and recoils as far as possible from the instrument.