The King: Go? When my life is bound to yours? Sweet Blanche,
There is one heavenly thing alone on earth,
And that is love. Glory and wealth and power
Are base and worthless when compared with it.
Blanche, it is happiness your lover brings,
Happiness, shyly waiting on your wish.
Life is a flower, and love the honey of life.
Come, let us taste it, mouth to mouth, my sweet.
[Taking her in his arms, he kisses her.
Blanche: I do not know your name. Are you a lord?
My father does not like them.
The King (confused): Yes.... My name—
Gaucher Mahiet, a poor young scholar.
Dame Berarde: Look!
Someone is coming.
[It is Triboulet. Seeing his daughter in the arms of a man, he rushes forward with a terrible cry. King François leaves Blanche, and, brushing past the jester, who staggers as he catches a glimpse of his face, hastens away.
Triboulet: The King! Oh, God, the King!
[Then, in a sort of madness, he mutters to himself.
That man that spoke to me ... Hôtel du Maine;
At noon ... yes; in his house ... no noise, no risk ...
Oh, King François, the grave is dug for you!