I despise you, gross brute!
The blood jets from my hands! But in spite of these arms made fast above my head, I remain what I have been.
The Deserter: Take care that I do not kill you before your time!
The Princess: Go!
The Deserter: Won't you bid me good-bye? Won't you clasp me by the hand?
The Princess: I am fastened to this post, but my royal soul
Is unimpaired and therefore
This place has all the honor of a throne.
The Deserter: Now I can eat my bread.
(He slowly eats his bread to the last mouthful, without removing his eyes from her, and, picking up the crumbs, he swallows them.