Clara. Oh!—(Nestles in his arms again.)
The King. Bear up!—It will soon be over.
Clara. I believe it will. Yes, I know it will.—Let me walk about a little! (The KING walks up and down with her.)
The King. And turn our thoughts to something else! Do you know where I have come from?
Clara. Where?
The King. From our little house in the park.
Clara. Why, we drove past it yesterday!
The King. You will feel only one person's presence there! Wherever you go, you will be surrounded by the thoughts I have had of you there. If you look out of the window, or go out on to the balcony—on every rock, by each turn of the stream—on the lawns, under the trees, among the bushes—everywhere you will find a thousand thoughts of you hidden. Breathe the words "my darling girl," and they will all come clustering round you!—Let us sit down.
Clara. It is all like a fairy tale.
The King. And I am the latest fairy prince! (He sits down and draws her on to his knee.) And you are the little maid who comes, led by good fairies, to the enchanted castle to wake him. He has been kept asleep by wicked spells for many, many years.