THE PRINCESS. One moment! There is a girl here I am sorry for. Can we not think of some way to help her before we go? She loves the King. Think!
THE GYPSY. I have thought. She is the rightful Princess of Basque— stolen from her cradle by Gypsies. Tomorrow an old woman from the tribe will come with the proofs. The King will marry her, and they will be happy.
THE PRINCESS. And I am the Gypsy child left in her place! But is it really true?
THE GYPSY. What matters reality to us? We are not real.
THE PRINCESS. Good-bye, then, to this place of solid fact that has imprisoned us too long. In another moment we shall melt into the moonlight.
THE GYPSY. Kiss me!
THE PRINCESS. Not here.
THE GYPSY. No. There is a fire in our kisses that would shatter and destroy these comfortable walls. Under the stars, among the winds, we shall quench the hunger and thirst of our love. And there let our dream come true….
THE PRINCESS. Ah, there is a fire in our hearts that will shatter and destroy all comfort, even our own. Not even there, under the stars, among the winds, shall the hunger and thirst of love be quenched. Never shall our dream come true….
THE GYPSY. It is enough that we go to be companions of the winds and stars, wanderers with them….