(The princess slowly stretches out her arms and kneeling she kisses the ground, where she remains prostrate.
(Two women lift her up clasping her under the arms and she stands before tête-d'or, her head bowed on her breast.
(Silence.
The Schoolmaster (weeping, to tête-d'or): Behold her, O King, and have pity!
I was her tutor and when she was but a child I held her on my knee,
When in her picture book I showed her the images of the creation.
And on her fête-day, according to ancient custom,
When the women came to cure their baby's spasms,
At mid-day when in her cymar of flowered silk she appeared on the topmost step
In the glory of youth and beauty, like a sunflower upturning its beaming face to the sun,