THE QUEEN. Tell them to me.
THE FOOL. There is an old saying that three kisses bestowed by a queen upon a fool will make a hero of him.
THE QUEEN. That might be interesting. I think I will try it. Come to me, do not be afraid. This day I have given my kisses to a man who thought no more of them than that dead sailor there of the kisses of a harlot. What, must you kneel? Well, then, upon your forehead.
She kisses him upon the forehead as he kneels.
He slowly rises, and as he rises he takes on dignity. His fool's cap is dropped aside, he picks up the dead sailor's sword and girds it on him.
THE QUEEN. Ah, it is true. There is magic in it. You are handsome, too.
I am not sorry to have kissed you.
The old woman comes in.
THE QUEEN. Well, what is the news? The ship has sailed, has it not?
THE OLD WOMAN. Straight into the sunset. (She sees the dead man, and looks at the Queen and at the fool.) Who killed him?
THE QUEEN. I killed him. He was left behind, and I do not like to have strangers about.