Flambeau monologue — L'Aiglon

One Thursday in the garden of Saint Cloud Marshal Duroc stood with a maid-in-waiting, Watching your Highness at his nurse's breast-- Its whiteness, I remember, startled me. Marshal Duroc exclaimed, "Come here!" I came. But there were lots of things to make me nervous: The Imperial child, the gorgeous rosy sleeves The Maid of honor wore, Duroc, the breast-- In short, the tuft was shivering on my bearskin; So much so that your Highness noticed it. You gazed upon it pensively: what was it? And while you hailed it with a milky laugh You seemed uncertain which to admire the more About this moving scarlet miracle: Its motion, or the fact that it was scarlet. Suddenly, while I stooped, your little hands Began lo pull the precious tuft about. Seeing my plight, the Marshal cried severely, "Don't interfere"--I didn't interfere; But having sunk upon my knees I heard The nurse, the marshal, and the lady laughing. And when I rose the grass was strewn with red: As for my tuft, that was a beardless wire. "I'll sign an order," said Duroc, "for two." Back to my quarters then I strutted radiant; "You there! hulloa!" exclaimed the Adjutant, "Who's plucked you?" And I cried: "The King of Rome!" And that is how one Thursday morn I met Your Majesty. Your Highness has developed.