to have two principals over me, and what is worse than two principals, than rain and thunderbolts, is to have two principals’ wives, each more harsh-tempered than the other. The one would have me do nothing but continually chop wood and bring water; the other wants me to take care of the children all the time. And to sleep in an attic and eat at the big table with the peasants. That, my dear Hanička, is purgatory—purgatory, if not hell. However, I have written everything down, composed it, put it into rhyme.

Hanička.—But why—for whom?

Zajíček.—For the lady, the new lady, for the Princess who has inherited the domain. I have come to tell you that she will soon arrive. She comes for the first time and the head minister of the province with her.

Hanička.—Who is he?

Zajíček.—Her chief courtier; they say he has great influence with her. The magistrate is preparing a royal welcome and I (more quietly, mysteriously) the music, a concert in the palace. As soon as the princess arrives, we will strike up a fine tune, you know; I, Sejtko, Zima, Klásek. Klásek has already been to see me, but please don’t mention it, I beg of you!

Hanička.—And that composition—that petition—

Zajíček.—That I shall present nicely after the concert. In it I explain everything, that I am but a young teacher’s assistant, and a first class clarinet-player, a piper, a bugler, and violincellist, besides being an organist and even a composer in some small things. (Suddenly he puts down the fiddle, searches around in his coat, and pulls out the petition.) But that you may see it, here it is; listen to what I have written to My Lady Princess. (Reads.)