STRAMMFEST. You do not know what you are saying. This is pure
Bolshevism. Are you, the daughter of a Panjandrum, a Bolshevist?

THE GRAND DUCHESS. I am anything that will make the world less
like a prison and more like a circus.

STRAMMFEST. Ah! You still want to be a circus star.

THE GRAND DUCHESS. Yes, and be billed as the Bolshevik Empress.
Nothing shall stop me. You have your orders, General Strammfest:
save the Revolution.

STRAMMFEST. What Revolution? Which Revolution? No two of your
rabble of revolutionists mean the same thing by the Revolution
What can save a mob in which every man is rushing in a different
direction?

THE GRAND DUCHESS. I will tell you. The war can save it.

STRAMMFEST. The war?

THE GRAND DUCHESS. Yes, the war. Only a great common danger and a
great common duty can unite us and weld these wrangling factions
into a solid commonwealth.

STRAMMFEST. Bravo! War sets everything right: I have always said
so. But what is a united people without a united army? And what
can I do? I am only a soldier. I cannot make speeches: I have won
no victories: they will not rally to my call [again he sinks into
his chair with his former gesture of discouragement].