[The earthly music ceases.]
Queen:
O do not speak of the gods. The gods are very terrible; all the dooms that shall ever be come forth from the gods. In misty windings of the wandering hills they forge the future even as on an anvil. The future frightens me.
King Karnos:
Call the Queen's maidens. Send quickly for her maidens. Do not let the future frighten you.
Queen:
Men laugh at the gods; they often laugh at the gods. I am more sure that the gods laugh too. It is dreadful to think of the laughter of the gods. O the lute! the lute! How clearly I hear the lute. But you all hear it? Do you not? You swear that you all hear it?
King Karnos:
Yes, yes. We all hear the lute. It is only a man playing.
Queen: