Those others, I did not wish to have them see me die. But we cannot hide ourselves From the eyes of the woman who bears us children. Stay, if this pleases you, My enemy! What do you say? Do you think that our obstinate souls Do not wish to keep their grievance? Mine still preserves a savor of ancient rancour against you, For you come of a race of enemies.--And yet I thank you. THE PRINCESS: I do not wish To have you thank me. THE KING (_scrutinising her_): Your face is beautiful and in itself sets forth your sovereignty. --You hate me with reason. For it seems That we must hate those who have done us wrong. And you Have much to lay at my door. Avenge yourself On these pitiable remains! But I beg you to do one of two things, Either kill me, if such is your will, upon the instant, Or let me die and do not trouble me with your importunate cries. It is the moment in which I would meditate alone. THE PRINCESS: I do not hate you. THE KING: I am glad. Farewell, young girl. _(He smiles at her._ _(Pause._ THE PRINCESS: O Tête-d'or! I do not regret that you killed my father! How happy I am! It is you Who took my royal throne, and it is through your doing That I have walked the roads with weary feet, in shame and poverty, despised, insulted, denied, and that I have come to this place and that I die! And I could wish that it had been you Who nailed me to that tree, And I would have closed my eyes to feel the better, And loving you I would have died in silence. My very dear! O my most precious one! You see, this injury that you did me was not in vain. I die indeed like you! This last, this lingering suffering has frozen me to death. O let me be like the gathered flower that smells the sweeter, and like the new-mown grass! O I am happy to think that there is not one of my many sufferings but had its source in you, And that now I can breathe them back to you, like a perfume, O my master! THE KING: O Pity with hands transpierced! Sweet as the last of the sun! Happy is he who can take this rapture in his arms and kiss it on the softness of its cheek! I am overjoyed to see you, Benediction! As the supreme sun Dyes golden the saliva on the lips and the tears in the eyes and the dew in its rose-leaf cradle, And makes a multitude happy in the mist.... I do not see clearly! Listen to what I have to say to you. Death presses me! THE PRINCESS: Do not die yet, I beg of you! THE KING: Death is nothing; but here, here is the final throe! On what a breast do you lay your head, Compassion! The vintage is wholly trodden, and from my wounds there oozes only water. I did not wish to weep, but to arise and walk. But man goes only forward and he must halt at last. And from his eyes gush forth the waters Of that sea whose tide is the same for every breast. It has been given to you to charm all hearts, august shoot of the cedar! THE PRINCESS: I give you all that I have. THE KING: And I also was not destitute of glory.