THE MAID. Yes….
THE GYPSY. With some one who will never give you love in return?
THE MAID. Yes. …
THE GYPSY. And is it—?
THE MAID. The King—yes. Oh, I am a fool to tell you!
She hides her face in her hands.
THE GYPSY. Listen, my child. You are not more a fool than I. The other day I rode out on a swift horse to be by myself under the sky, and think my thoughts. And there, a two days' journey from this city, I saw the slow-moving caravan of the Princess of Basque, on her way to wed this King whom she has never seen. Curiosity drew me near, for I wanted to see the face of the Princess. I tied my horse to a tree, and hid among the bushes by the road-side as they passed. I saw her among the cushions of the royal wagon. She had a strange, wild beauty. I saw her, and loved her, and grew sick with loneliness. I rode back to the city, and tried to wash out the memory of that face with wine. But it was no use, so I left the tavern and climbed the wall and entered the palace, that I might look also at the man whom she is to wed. When I have seen him, then I shall—I don't know what. But—we are two foolish ones, you and I!
THE MAID. Thank you for telling me that. But you must go now. It is almost time for the King to come.
THE GYPSY. What if he found me here—what would he do? Have me beheaded, or merely thrown into prison?
THE MAID. No—he is a kind king. He would only tell you how wrong it is to break into people's houses and show disrespect for the law.