"Could you," inquired his Majesty indignantly, "read such things aloud to your own family? Could you comfortably, if I called upon you to do so, read them aloud to me?"
"The drama," explained the Lord Functionary, "is so different from anything else; it has not to observe the same conventions. In light comedy, especially, these things really do not count. People never trouble to think about them--they mean nothing."
"In that case," said the King, "no one will mind your cutting them out."
The Lord Functionary seemed not so sure,--his assurance went, in fact, in quite an opposite direction. He pleaded hard for the trade interests which he stood to represent. The play was in an advanced state of rehearsal; many thousands had been spent upon it; and, seeing that it was but a revival, no doubt about the new version passing had existed anywhere.
But to all his entreaties the King remained adamant.
"In this matter," said he, "you have to consult my conscience."
"It is very unfortunate," said the Lord Functionary in acid tones.
"I must insist," said his Majesty, "that you see to these omissions being made." And the Lord Functionary bowed his pained body over the hand which the King graciously extended.
It was a phrase that the King very seldom heard; it gave him a taste of power.
"Max," said he to his son, upon their next meeting, "I have been doing as you advised. And I do believe you are right."
"What did I advise?" inquired Max, assuming forgetfulness.
"That I should 'do a bust' was, I think, your expression; something unexpected."
The sibilations of that whistle were prophetic of atmospheric disturbance to come. In a week the storm broke.
The King happened to be away, paying a visit of complimentary inspection to frontier fortresses and heard nothing about it. But on his return Max came to him charged with tidings.
He stood over his father and looked at him with a note of satirical approval in his eye, which did not inspire the King with any confidence.
His Majesty denied the impeachment. "I haven't done anything. Not yet."
"You have revolutionized the drama! Even now, at this very moment, the great heart of Jingalo is throbbing from plushed stalls to gallery stair-rail. Because of you _The Gaudy Girl_ is playing its third night to an accompaniment of hilarious riot and uproar such as have not been known in our dramatic world since the public was forced to give up its right to free sittings."