Is throned in the midst of the lungs that envelop him,
Receiving all the blood in himself and sending it out again through his gates,
Even so it is that the contemplation of my intellect was made
To establish itself on a royal seat, on the throne of the memory and the will. It is my wish
To reign.
(Murmur. Exclamations. The sound of words whispered from one to another.
The King: Tête-d'or....
The Tribune of the People: Let me! I will reply to him.
(The man out of office makes an exclamation. The go-between seems disturbed and agitated and looks to left and right.
The Schoolmaster (with a grimace): This young man is utterly mad!