HERODIAS
I have clothed myself in Indian draperies; I have put pomegranate blossoms in my bosom, and gold dust in my hair ... but thou seest nothing!... My converse is bridal, but thou hearest it not.
[Salome has appeared on the balcony with Maecha. Herod notices her.]
SALOME
Wait; let me see whether he has already come. [She looks over, and after her eyes have met Herod's she vanishes.]
HERODIAS
[Observing his absence of mind, with an exclamation.] No! thou hearest nothing.
HEROD
[Quickly recovering himself?] Well; what if it is so? The language of our soul, which thou art kind enough to call bridal, was fitting to the delight of those fragrant gardens. To-day, methinks, we have another task before us!
HERODIAS