THE SAILOR. (suddenly straightening up, no longer drunk) Bitter.
What was in it?
THE QUEEN. The bitterness of my heart. It will kill you.
THE SAILOR. I have been poisoned. (He puts his hand to his side.) I am dying. But first—!
He draws a short sword, and runs at her. The fool starts up, but the Queen motions him away, and waits. When the sailor is almost upon her, he stops, throws up his hands, drops his sword, and falls in a heap.
THE QUEEN. (after a moment, going up, and touching the body with her foot) Dead. So that is what it is like?
THE FOOL. (trembling) Do you find it so interesting?
THE QUEEN. No—my heart is already aching with its emptiness again….
What shall I do?
THE FOOL. You might poison me, too. I think I would die in a more original manner than that silly sailor. Yes, I would seize you in my arms and kiss you before I died.
THE QUEEN. That would be amusing. But it is a pity to waste kisses on a dying man. And besides, you are the only one in my kingdom who understands me. I must have you alive to talk to.
THE FOOL. There are strange stories about the kisses of queens.