No! No! It is his mouth that is like that.
[Her excitement is obviously gathering to an almost unbearable point as the dance proceeds. In a low voice:]
Oh, he is deformed, he is terribly deformed, his shoulders are not abreast of one another. Or is it some devil's head squatting upon his body of an angel.
A Voice
No, it is his legs; they are bent in opposite directions.
A Voice
No wonder the lady will not come back to him!
[Gwymplane's dance seems to be reaching a climax; he has nosed about the floor like a dog; he has tried to leap over the roof in order to discover his lost sweetheart, and now he turns facing the audience, his arms outstretched in pitiful dejection. There is an instant's deep silence, and then a great laugh rings out from the audience. The Queen herself rocks to and fro, backward and forward behind her fan. Josephine starts forward, in her face a mixture of amusement, giving gradually way to some sinister thought which makes her gaze fixedly at the mountebank with parted lips. Her unswerving glance at length draws his eyes towards her and for one single instant their glances seem to pass through one another—the exquisite duchess, the grotesque clown. No one has seen the look, save Phedro, who wipes his lips with an expression of intense amusement. Suddenly from behind Gwymplane steps Dea, and he returns with an almost imperceptible start to his act. Seeing this lovely apparition, he throws himself at her feet, and she, apparently perceiving him, does not repel him but puts her slim hands in his wild hair, and they go through some tender motions to an exquisite melody upon the flute. Gradually with gestures of pity and love she invites him to go with her, and he hardly believing is about to be led away, when suddenly the oriental melody begins again. The dancer appears. She glances at Gwymplane with the hypnotized fascination of utter horror. Dea attempts drawing Gwymplane away, but he resists, becoming again a victim to the old charm. The slave girl, with a wild gesture, offers herself to him. Simultaneously, Dea motions him with prayer to go with her. He makes some pitiful indecisive motions between them. Dea wrings her hands; the slave girl smiles; when, with a sudden gesture of despair, Gwymplane takes out his knife and makes a motion of cutting out his heart, then sinks upon the ground, and suddenly holds up his heart dripping with blood in his two pale hands. The slave girl tries to snatch it, but he gives it to Dea, who presses it against her own. Gwymplane breathes his last, and the slave, falling at the feet of Dea, licks the blood from the heart of her dancer off the floor.
Miniature curtain descends to some strange music recalling the chimes of a clock.]
Queen