(In the midst of the market place is a simple stage, from which a flight of steps leads to the spectators' seats, as shown in the above plan. A rope separates the auditorium from the rest of the market place. The back of the stage is curtained off. To the left, a small stairway leads from the stage to a space which serves as a dressing room. The King is kneeling in this space, before a little mirror, making up his face to resemble a majestic kingly mask. He is smooth shaven, is in his shirt sleeves and is clad simply, but richly. Princess Alma sits near him, on an upturned box, with her left foot over her right knee, tuning her lute. She wears a tasteful punchinello's dress, all of white, composed of tights, a close-fitting jacket, trimmed with fur, and a high pointed hat.)
THE KING.
Have you chanced to hear, my child, how the advance sale is today?
ALMA.
How can you have any doubts about that? The announcement that you were to appear sold all the seats for to-day's performance by sundown yesterday. Indeed, all Perugia knows already that your art far exceeds anything they saw in Epaminondas Alexandrion hitherto.
THE KING.
At the bottom of my soul, I was never pained before that my laurels increased the fame of another. The assumed name protected me from too mortifying a contact with humanity. Even in my most daring dreams I cannot imagine how I would look today upon a throne. Perhaps, after all, I am fit for something higher in this world than dishing out, day by day, the recollections of vanished pomp to the childish rabble as the copy of real majesty.
ALMA.
In how happy a mood you have been wherever we have played! It even seems to me as if you found our stormy success some slight reward for all the long years of sorrow.