Cébès: What hope....
Tête-d'or: I look at you and is it thus you lie!
Cébès: Come, let's not talk of it. Things are better than you think. But, tell me....
I do not understand ... you follow me ... eh? What inner pride, what secret flame....
Tête-d'or: Neither do I, I do not understand! I am tired!
You speak of hidden things that the thick tongue shudders to say,
Tales with no basis of reason, blood that flows like saliva!
A little word of consolation watches beneath all wretchedness,
Sweet forget-me-not of fire that lights us mournfully with its faithful gleam!
—Beyond the silence a voice like the human voice