King [startled, bewildered]. Why do ye stand there so amazed? Do ye not know me? I am he, your King, your much-loved King, he with whose hero-tread treason has entered in your flock, into your hearts.
Queen [coming forward]. My King!
King [reeling back]. Thou! Thou hast come here,--into this den where lust holds sway? Burst open all the windows wide! Perfume the air with fine resin! Fetch sage and thyme and peppermint, that the fumes of this place may not attaint her breath! Hasten! Faded and withered, let them--
Cölestin [whispers]. My lord, where hast thou left the Prince?
King. What? Who? The--the--am I the Prince's keeper?
Queen. My King, the battle rages now already about the castle walls. The door still holds. The people wait, counting their heart-throbs till thou comest, trusting in thee still. There is yet time. There lies the kingly sword and waits for thee.
King [to himself]. If Hans understood me rightly--
Queen. Stoop to it. It is worth the stooping for.
King. Thinkest thou?... Still?... And that this hand is worthy, too, to raise it?
Queen. I trust in it as in immortal life.