under the table.

STRAMMFEST [thunderously]. Lieutenant Schneidekind.

SCHNEIDEKIND [in a stifled voice]. Yes, Sir. [The table vibrates
visibly.]

STRAMMFEST. Come out of it, you fool: you're upsetting the ink.

Schneidekind emerges, red in the face with suppressed mirth.

STRAMMFEST. Why don't you laugh? Don't you appreciate Her
Imperial Highness's joke?

SCHNEIDEKIND [suddenly becoming solemn]. I don't want to, sir.

STRAMMFEST. Laugh at once, sir. I order you to laugh.

SCHNEIDEKIND [with a touch of temper]. I really can't, sir. [He
sits down decisively.]

STRAMMFEST [growling at him]. Yah! [He turns impressively to the
Grand Duchess.] Your Imperial Highness desires me to address you
as comrade?

THE GRAND DUCHESS [rising and waving a red handkerchief]. Long
live the Revolution, comrade!

STRAMMFEST [rising and saluting]. Proletarians of all lands,
unite. Lieutenant Schneidekind, you will rise and sing the