The Queen.
Consider nothing.... Give me only a consoling word, which in the
sultriness of this perverted nature may penetrate my soul like a breath
from the forest. You are a man!
The Painter (_laughing to himself_).
Who has lost his head!
The Queen.
So I saw him in my dreams. I feel, too, that you could quite overflow,
and I am a little afraid of it.
The Painter.
(_Controlling himself with difficulty_.) Oh, fear nothing. I know very
well the barrier between me and the height of your throne. Not a
desire, not a thought, rises to you.
The Queen.
And yet you think that I am beautiful?
The Painter (_impulsively_).
Yes, you are beautiful! You--(_restraining himself_). Your Majesty, I
beg you to turn a little more to the left.
The Queen.
(_Turns her head quite to the left_.) So?
The Painter.
Yes.
The Queen.
What are you painting now?
The Painter.
Your hand.
The Queen (_pointing to her face_).
And it is for that, that I am to turn to the left?
The Painter.