Answer, trull, can one live without eating? THE PRINCESS: You can answer that yourself, you that took the bread that I had. THE DESERTER: That bread? What is it, bread? With what is it made, bread? THE PRINCESS: With barley or rye. THE DESERTER: You know that, eh? Who is it that grows the barley or the rye? Who reaps it? Who threshes it? Who grinds it? Who makes it into bread? If the bread were turned to someone who had a nose and a mouth and it commanded you to do its will Would you not have to obey? And the maker of the bread, is he not the bread itself? Yet he has not even the right to keep it for himself, but here I take it from you again, by force. --So come here! Here, I say! THE PRINCESS: Since you are my master, I am here. You can kill me if you wish. THE DESERTER (_taking her by the hand_): Come. THE PRINCESS: What do you mean to do with me? Why do you take me beneath this gloomy tree? THE DESERTER: There is a hawk that someone has fastened by the wings to the trunk of this pine with two nails. See how its head droops. THE PRINCESS: It is a very barbarous custom. THE DESERTER: Presently you will replace that bird. THE PRINCESS: What did you say? You are not thinking of doing what you say? Ah! Ah! You will not fasten me to that tree like a bird that one nails by the wings! THE DESERTER (_pulling out the nails_): They do not hold firmly.--They can be used again. That stone will be my hammer. THE PRINCESS: Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! THE DESERTER: Give me your hands. The Princess (_hiding her hands and smiling with terror_): No! No! THE DESERTER: You do not wish it? Of what use are they? THE PRINCESS: I tell you this, my friend. These hands that do not know how to work Could bring a better nourishment than bread, Although I know how to make bread as well. And you, what prompts you to devour me? And those who saw me took no thought of food and, young or old, their hearts burned within them. Alas, my beauty has abandoned me! If it were otherwise you would not wish to kill me nor would you have humiliated me in such rude fashion, striking me in the face. What have I done? Do not kill me! Merely because I cannot work like you Do I deserve this horrible punishment, Dying so slowly, my two hands pierced with nails? Do not do it, lest those that love me Should not accept the excuse that you did not know who I am and your name should be a thing accursed forever. For I was the honor of our native land and there is no more beauty there since I am there no longer. And what will they say if they learn that it was you who killed me, nailing me thus? THE DESERTER (_sharpening the nails on a stone_): What use are all these words? THE PRINCESS: Clod, I am a queen! The highest dignity To which humanity can attain was mine, nor can you take it away. Who am I? Who are you? Look me in the eyes. Will you dare to raise your hand against me? What common ground can there be between me and you?