seems to see upon the wall, in
letters of fire, some words that were said to him the night before--true
words (CLARA looks up at him in surprise)--the words: "I despise you!"
(CLARA gives a start.) Words like that can burn out falsehood. And he,
to whom they are said, may long to hear again the tones of the voice
that spoke them. No man has ever hated what has given him new life. If
you had read a single one of the letters which I felt impelled to write
even if they were refused acceptance--you would not have called it
persecution. (CLARA does not answer.) And, as for my persecution of your
father--I am not going to make any excuses for myself; I will only
ask you to remember that a king has no control over the law and its
judgments. I feel the sincerest respect for your father.

Clara. Thank you.

The King. And it is just part of the falsehood I was speaking of, that
he should be condemned for saying of me what I have said a thousand
times of myself!

Clara (softly). Dare I believe that?

The King. Ah, if only you had read one of my letters! Or even the little
book of poems I sent you last! I thought that, if you would not receive
my letters, perhaps a book--

Clara. I do not accept anonymous gifts.

The King. I see you are on your guard--although I don't admit that the
poems were mine! May I read it to you?

Clara. I don't understand--.

The King. One that I marked--for you. It will prove to you what you
refuse to believe.

Clara. But if the poem is not yours?

The King. The fact that I have marked it shows that its sentiments apply
to me. Will you let me read it to you? (CLARA looks up.) Do not be too
much surprised, Miss Ernst! (Takes a slim volume from his pocket.) I
found this somewhere. (Turns over the leaves.) It won't take long to
read. May I?

Clara. If only I understood--

The King.--why I want to read it? Simply for the reason that you have
forbidden me to speak to you--or to write to you; but not, as yet, to
read to you! (CLARA smiles. A pause.) Do you know--a little event has
just happened in my life?--and yet not such a little one, after all!

Clara. What is that?

The King. I have seen you smile for the first time.

Clara. Your Majesty!

The King. But, Miss Ernst, is it an insult, too, to see you smile?

Clara (smiling). If I consent to hear the poem, shall not the Baroness--

The King.--hear it also? With pleasure; but not at the same time!
Please! Because I am a very bad reader.