The King (taking his hat). In the best of humours! Here, my darling (fastens CLARA'S cloak about her shoulders), here is the last scandalous bit of concealment for you! When we take it off again, you shall stand radiant in the light of your own truth. Come! (Gives her his arm, and they go trippingly up to the back of the room. Suddenly the phantom of an emaciated figure leaning on crutches appears in their path, staring at them. His hair and beard are in wild disorder, and blood is pouring from his mouth. CLARA gives a terrified scream.)
The King. In Heaven's name, what is it?
Clara. My father!
The King. Where? (To the BARONESS.) Go and see! (The BARONESS opens the doors at the back and looks out).
Baroness. I can see no one.
The King. Look down the corridor!
Baroness. No—no one there, either! (CLARA has sunk lifelessly into the KING'S arms. After one or two spasmodic twitchings of her hands, her arms slip away from him and her head falls back.)
The King. Help, help!
The Baroness (rushing to him with a shriek). Clara!
Curtain.