Analytikos. Tell Her Majesty a stranger awaits her here.
[Tsumu exits, her eyes wide on Paris.]
You should thank the Gods for this moment.
Paris [his eyes on the door]. You do it for me. I can never remember all their names.
[Helena enters clad in her Sicily blue, crowned with a garland of golden flowers. She and Paris stand riveted, looking at each other. Their attitude might be described as fantastic. Analytikos watches them for a moment and then with hands and head lifted to heaven he goes into the library.]
Paris [quivering with emotion]. I have the most strange sensation of having seen you before. Something I can't explain—
Helena [quite practically]. Please don't bother about all sorts of fine distinctions. Under the influence of Analytikos and my husband, life has become a mess of indecision. I'm a simple, direct woman and I expect you to say just what you think.
Paris. Do you? Very well, then—[He comes a step nearer to her.] Fate is impelling me toward you.
Helena. Yes. That's much better. So you're a fatalist. It's very Greek. I don't see what our dramatists would do without it.
Paris. In my country there are no dramatists. We are too busy with reality.