The King. Precisely.
The Princess. Are you going to keep no servants?
The King. As many as are necessary—but no more.
The Princess. Then I must secure a place as chambermaid in your Majesty's household as soon as possible. Because if my financial circumstances are inquired into there will be nothing else left for me but that!
The King. You have too sacred a vocation for that, Princess!
The Princess. How pretty! Your Majesty is a poet, and poets are allowed to be enthusiastic about ideals. But the people are poets too, in their way; they like their figure-head to be well gilded, and don't mind paying for it. That is their poetry.
The King. Are you certain of that?
The Princess. Absolutely certain! It is a point of honour with them.
The King. Then I have to weigh my honour against theirs! And my honour forbids me—for the honour of my people and their poetry—to keep up my palaces, my guards, and my court any longer! Voilà tout!
The Princess. My dear King, certain positions carry with them certain duties!