PAGE 15
The Rim Of The World: A Fantasy
by
THE KING.
I am happy to see you in so profitable a frame of mind.
Let me remind you that the royal luncheon will be
served promptly in half an hour.
THE PRINCESS.
I shall be there–on time.
THE KING.
Meanwhile I leave you to your thoughts.
He goes.
THE PRINCESS.
How weak I am!
( She goes to the wide seat, and sits down, brooding.
The Gypsy steals in, and crouches on the dais beside the wide seat.)
A good queen, and a good wife–?
THE GYPSY.
( softly )
Impossible.
THE PRINCESS
( startled )
Was it I said that?
* * * * *
Night. The curtains are drawn aside. The walls and pillars are silhouetted against a moonlit sky…. The Gypsy is standing by the window, looking out.
THE GYPSY.
Ah, nameless and immortal goddess, whose home is in the moonbeams! I speak to you and praise you for perhaps the last time. O august and whimsical goddess, I am about to die for your sake–I, the last of your worshippers! When I have perished on your altar, the whole world will be sane. Your butterflies will no longer whirl on crimson wings within the minds of men; only the maggots of reason will crawl and fester. You will look, and weep a foolish tear–for all this is not worth your grief–and take your flight to other constellations.
THE MAID.
( who has just entered and stands listening )
The constellations! Oh, do teach me astronomy!
THE GYPSY.
Astronomy! Why do you want to be taught astronomy?
THE MAID.
Because I want to be able to tell fortunes from the stars.
THE GYPSY.
That is astrology, my dear–a much more useful science. Come, and I will give you a lesson. Do you see that dim planet swinging low on the horizon? That is my star. Its name is Saturn. It is the star of mischief and rebellion. I was born under that star, and I shall always hate order as Saturn hated his great enemy Jupiter.
THE MAID.
One does not need to know the stars to tell that.
But let me counsel you to caution.
THE GYPSY.
Ah, my dear, that was a wifely speech! You will make a success of marriage.
THE MAID.
I shall never marry.
THE GYPSY.
It would be a pity not to make some good man happy.
You are the ideal of every male being in this kingdom, including its ruler.
THE MAID.
Do you really think I am the sort of girl to make the King happy?
THE GYPSY.
I am sure of it. You are the very one. You have all the domestic virtues. You are quiet, dignified, obedient. If you have any thoughts or impulses which do not fit into the frame of wifely domesticity, you know how to suppress them.
THE MAID.
You are making fun of me.
THE GYPSY.
I am speaking the truth. You would make the King a perfect wife. Ah, if only you were the Princess of Basque, and she a child of the gypsies!–Shall I read your fortune from the stars?
THE MAID.
Yes!
THE GYPSY.
What is your birthday?