THE MAID. It isn't curiosity. It's just a custom that has sprung up.

All the merchants and well-to-do people hire a Gazetteer. It may be useful to them--but I think the King regards it more as a duty than a pleasure.

THE GYPSY. I remember now. They have something like it in the taverns.

I foresee a great future for it....

THE MAID. And it seems to go with that new drink.

THE GYPSY. What new drink?

THE MAID. Why, the new drink from Arabia. It has a queer name. Ka-Fe.

THE GYPSY. Ka-Fe--and what is it like?

THE MAID. It is dark, and served hot with sugar and cream.

THE GYPSY. It sounds interesting. I would like to taste it. What is it most like--mead, perhaps, or wine, or that strong liquor distilled from juniper berries?

THE MAID. Like none of these. It does not make men talk and sing and tell their secrets and reveal their love and their hate, and knock their heads against the stars and tangle their feet one with the other....

THE GYPSY. Then what is the good of it?

THE MAID. It makes the head clearer, and sobers the judgment. It makes men think more and talk less. And it gives them strength to rule their inward feelings.

THE GYPSY. What a pity! People are too much like that as it is.

THE MAID. The King says that some time the whole world will learn to drink it!

THE GYPSY. A world of Ka-Fe drinkers! A world where people rule their inward feelings and hide their secret thoughts! I shall be dead before then, thank heaven!

THE MAID. But you keep your secrets--even from women--so you say.

THE GYPSY. It was a vain boast. Sometime, with my head in a woman's lap, I shall blab away the secrets that give me power. I know it.

Somewhere in the world is a woman whose look will intoxicate me more than wine. And for her sake I shall invent some new folly.

THE MAID. What a pity!

THE GYPSY. No--the thought cheers me. So long as there are women, men will be fools. Their Ka-Fe will not help them.

THE MAID. Do you approve of folly, then?

THE GYPSY. It is the thing that makes life worth living. I have committed every kind of folly I know, and the world would be dull and empty if I did not think that some new and greater folly lay ahead.

THE MAID. You think, then, that one should surrender oneself to folly?

THE GYPSY. I think so truly. What have you on the tip of your tongue?

What folly have you given yourself to, my child?

THE MAID. I am afraid you will laugh at me. ...

THE GYPSY. Not I. Tell me, my dear, are you in love?

THE MAID. Yes....

THE GYPSY. With some one who will never give you love in return?

THE MAID. Yes. ...

THE GYPSY. And is it--?

THE MAID. The King--yes. Oh, I am a fool to tell you!

_She hides her face in her hands_.

THE GYPSY. Listen, my child. You are not more a fool than I. The other day I rode out on a swift horse to be by myself under the sky, and think my thoughts. And there, a two days' journey from this city, I saw the slow-moving caravan of the Princess of Basque, on her way to wed this King whom she has never seen. Curiosity drew me near, for I wanted to see the face of the Princess. I tied my horse to a tree, and hid among the bushes by the road-side as they pa.s.sed. I saw her among the cushions of the royal wagon. She had a strange, wild beauty. I saw her, and loved her, and grew sick with loneliness. I rode back to the city, and tried to wash out the memory of that face with wine. But it was no use, so I left the tavern and climbed the wall and entered the palace, that I might look also at the man whom she is to wed. When I have seen him, then I shall--I don't know what. But--we are two foolish ones, you and I!

THE MAID. Thank you for telling me that. But you must go now. It is almost time for the King to come.

THE GYPSY. What if he found me here--what would he do? Have me beheaded, or merely thrown into prison?

THE MAID. No--he is a kind king. He would only tell you how wrong it is to break into people's houses and show disrespect for the law.

THE GYPSY. I had almost rather be put in prison than lectured at. Well, I must invent something to explain my presence. (_There is a knock_.) Who is that?

THE MAID. Hide yourself. I will see.

THE GYSPY. (_from behind the curtains of the window_) I am hidden.

_The maid goes to the door, and comes back with a paper in her hand_.

THE GYPSY. Well?

THE MAID. (_looking at the paper_) The Gazetteer is ill, and cannot come.

THE GYPSY. (_emerging from the curtains_) The Gazetteer is ill....

THE MAID. The King will be annoyed.

THE GYPSY. We will spare his majesty that annoyance. I shall be the King's Gazetteer this morning!

THE MAID. But how can you?

THE GYPSY. Leave that to me. (_He takes his position behind the curtains_.) Such news as he has never heard, I shall recite to the King!

THE MAID. Ssh! Here he comes now!

_The King enters, in his dressing gown, yawning, with his hand over his mouth. In the midst of his yawn, he speaks_.

THE KING. Goo' mo'ing!