HELENA. You know perfectly well that when anything's the matter with the Government it's always straightened out at the other end of the palace. Finish my shoulder. [She examines her arm.] I doubt if there is a finer skin than this in Sparta.
[TSUMU begins to massage the QUEEN'S shoulder.]
HELENA [taking up a mirror]. That touch of deep carmine right here in the centre of my lips was quite an idea.
TSUMU [busily pounding the QUEEN]. An inspiration of the Gods!
HELENA. The Gods have nothing to do with it. I copied it from a low woman I saw at the circus. I can't understand how these bad women have such good ideas. [HELENA twists about.]
TSUMU. If your majesty doesn't sit still, I may pinch you.
HELENA [boxing her ears]. None of your tricks, you ebony fiend!
TSUMU [crouching]. Descendant of paradise, forgive me.
HELENA. If you bruise my perfect flesh, the King will kill you. My beauty is his religion. He can sit for hours, as if at prayer, just examining the arch of my foot. Tsumu, you may kiss my foot.
TSUMU [prostrate]. May the Gods make me worthy of your kindness!