Not a friend is left me and everyone turns towards me a hostile face.
O you in whom my father trusted as in a son, putting his arm about your neck! And you! And you! O teacher that taught me from childhood, you also are ranked with my foes!
And you, my father's brother, stand at his murderer's right hand!
The Brother of the King: Young girl, I do not know you! But I am he who stands at the right hand of the Prince.
The Princess: O Father! O Father!
O King of this country, august as the ascension of the hand when it begins the sign of the cross,
It is thus that they have wearied of allegiance and thrown you to the earth,
They have thrown you aside like a worthless thing, like a bone that one tosses to dogs!
And they bear your blood on the soles of their shoes, and upon the sides of their den
Are stains like those on the walls of a slaughter-house!