THE FIGURE. I—I am the Princess of Basque!
They stare at her.
* * * * *
Mid-day. Yellow curtains have been drawn across the broad window. On the wide seat, the King, dressed in purple robes, sits with head bowed in thought…. There is a noise of shouting outside. The King looks up.
THE KING. (sadly) There it is again.
THE GYPSY. (entering) Your majesty—
THE KING. You? What are you doing here?
THE GYPSY. Your majesty, the palace is in a turmoil. The attendants are helping the soldiers keep order among the crowd in the courtyard—the gentlemen-in-waiting are receiving deputations with wedding presents— the women are distributing medals bearing the image of the bride. All the city is celebrating her unexpected arrival, and rejoicing with you in your presumed happiness. In this disturbed state of affairs, I have been drafted into your majesty's service, and come to bring you a message.
THE KING. (bitterly) I hoped I would never see you again. It all began with you. If I were a superstitious person I would say you brought misfortune with you into this house. Before you came this morning, everything was as it had always been—orderly and regular. What is your message? That madwoman has not escaped, has she?
THE GYPSY. The young woman who calls herself the Princess of Basque is safe under lock and key, according to your majesty's orders.