THE PRINCESS. Is seventeen feet high. A guard of soldiers continually
marches around it. And there are spikes on the top. How did we get
over? That is our secret!
THE GYPSY. You have no regrets?
THE PRINCESS. None.
THE GYPSY. Your promise to the King?
THE PRINCESS. I am as mutable as wind.
THE GYPSY. Let us go.
THE PRINCESS. One moment! There is a girl here I am sorry for. Can we
not think of some way to help her before we go? She loves the King.
Think!
THE GYPSY. I have thought. She is the rightful Princess of Basque--
stolen from her cradle by Gypsies. Tomorrow an old woman from the tribe
will come with the proofs. The King will marry her, and they will be
happy.
THE PRINCESS. And I am the Gypsy child left in her place! But is it
really true?
THE GYPSY. What matters reality to us? _We_ are not real.
THE PRINCESS. Good-bye, then, to this place of solid fact that has
imprisoned us too long. In another moment we shall melt into the
moonlight.
THE GYPSY. Kiss me!
THE PRINCESS. Not here.
THE GYPSY. No. There is a fire in our kisses that would shatter and
destroy these comfortable walls. Under the stars, among the winds, we
shall quench the hunger and thirst of our love. And there let our dream
come true....
THE PRINCESS. Ah, there is a fire in our hearts that will shatter and
destroy all comfort, even our own. Not even there, under the stars,
among the winds, shall the hunger and thirst of love be quenched. Never
shall our dream come true....
THE GYPSY. It is enough that we go to be companions of the winds and
stars, wanderers with them....
_He leads her to the window_.
THE PRINCESS. Over the rim of the world!
_They ascend and vanish outside_.