THE PRINCESS. But your princess deserves something better than your opinion of her.
STRÜBEL. How do you know that?
THE PRINCESS. You really ought to try to become acquainted with her some time.
STRÜBEL. No, no, no—and again no! As long as she remains my far-away princess she is everything that I want her to be—modest, gracious, loving. She smiles upon me dreamily. Yes, she even listens when I recite my poems to her—and that can't be said of many people! And as soon as I have finished she sighs, takes a rose from her breast, and casts it down to the poet. I wrote a few verses yesterday about that rose, that flower which represents the pinnacle of my desires, as it were.
THE PRINCESS. [Eagerly.] Oh, yes. Oh, please, please!
STRÜBEL. Well, then, here goes. H'm——
"Twenty roses nestling close——"
THE PRINCESS. What? Are there twenty now?
STRÜBEL. [Severely.] My princess would not have interrupted me.
THE PRINCESS. Oh, please—forgive me.