THE DESERTER: You will know it through your hands. _(The PRINCESS raises her hands and places them against the trunk of the tree._ THE PRINCESS: Very well. Where shall I place them? THE DESERTER: Here. Raise your hands. I am not tall enough. Stay where you are. _(He finds a large stone and mounts on it. Seizing the right arm of the PRINCESS he fastens it to the tree with a cord; then spreading out the fingers he manages with much difficulty to drive a nail through the hand._ THE PRINCESS (_shrieking_): Ah! Ah! Ah! ah! Ah! ah! O heavens! THE DESERTER: The left hand. THE PRINCESS: Here it is. _(He nails the left hand in the same way, then descends from the stone._ THE DESERTER: You did not cry that time, eh? THE PRINCESS (_spitting in his face_): I despise you, gross brute! The blood jets from my hands! But in spite of these arms made fast above my head, I remain what I have been. THE DESERTER: Take care that I do not kill you before your time! THE PRINCESS: Go! THE DESERTER: Won't you bid me good-bye? Won't you clasp me by the hand? THE PRINCESS: I am fastened to this post, but my royal soul Is unimpaired and therefore This place has all the honor of a throne. THE DESERTER: Now I can eat my bread. _(He slowly eats his bread to the last mouthful, without removing his eyes from her, and, picking up the crumbs, he swallows them._ THE DESERTER: Fasten the pelt more closely around your shoulders for it exposes the flesh beneath the arm, and it is not fitting you should uncover yourself so before a man. Ah! Ah! The tears are flowing from your eyes! Now I can die, for I have seen you weep! Stay where you are. With night the wolves will come And, rearing up, they will rend you piece-meal and tear your limbs from your body, And the ravens will pluck out your eyes. Stay there and die. _(He goes out._ THE PRINCESS (_shrieking suddenly_): Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Oh! (_She stops as if stifled._) O hands by which I am fixed as the vine is fastened to the wall! --O light that fills all space! O sun that makes the day, like a judge considering everything! See me pinioned thus, and these nails that are buried up to the head in my hands. It is morning still and I shall remain till noon, And till evening and till I am dead. But this is as it should be and I shall not complain. I shall die erect As is most fitting for one of a kingly race. O hands, I had dreamed that some day I should bring you both to my husband That he might bind you with the bonds of wedlock, But these nails are more suitable. My blood jets on high and it falls upon my head and runs down my body! Ah! Ah! My arms are heavy as lead! O God! My feet are free and I can only stamp on the earth. And if I remain, resting so on both feet, I pull on the nails and stifle and suffer intolerable pain! But if I stand on tiptoe, my strength is soon gone. O God, have pity on me!