a little princess.
[The prophet comes out of the cistern. Salomé looks at him and steps slowly back.]
·17· jokanaan
Where is he whose cup of abominations is now full? Where is he, who in a robe of silver shall one day die in the face of all the people? Bid him come forth, that he may hear the voice of him who hath cried in the waste places and in the houses of kings.
salomé
Of whom is he speaking?
the young syrian
You can never tell, Princess.
jokanaan
Where is she who having seen the images of men painted on the walls, the images of the Chaldeans limned in colours, gave herself up unto the lust of her eyes, and sent ambassadors into Chaldea?
salomé
It is of my mother that he speaks.
the young syrian
Oh, no, Princess.
salomé
Yes; it is of my mother that he speaks.
jokanaan
Where is she who gave herself unto the Captains of Assyria, who have baldricks on their ·18· loins, and tiaras of divers colours on their heads? Where is she who hath given herself to the young men of Egypt, who are clothed in fine linen and purple, whose shields are of gold, whose helmets are of silver, whose bodies are mighty? Bid her rise up from the bed of her abominations, from the bed of her incestuousness, that she may hear the words of him who prepareth the way of the Lord, that she may repent her of her iniquities. Though she will never repent, but will stick fast in her abominations; bid her come, for the fan of the Lord is in His hand.
salomé
But he is terrible, he is terrible!
the young syrian
Do not stay here, Princess, I beseech you.
salomé
It is his eyes above all that are terrible. They are like black holes burned by torches in a Tyrian tapestry. They are like black caverns where dragons dwell. They are like the black caverns of Egypt in which the dragons make their lairs. They are like black lakes troubled by fantastic moons…. Do you think he will speak again?
the young syrian
Do not stay here, Princess. I pray you do not stay here.
·19· salomé
How wasted he is! He is like a thin ivory statue. He is like an image of silver. I am sure he is chaste as the moon is. He is like a moonbeam, like a shaft of silver. His flesh must be cool like ivory. I would look closer at him.
the young syrian
No, no, Princess.
salomé
I must look at him closer.
the young syrian
Princess! Princess!
jokanaan
Who is this woman who is looking at me? I will not have her look at me. Wherefore doth she look at me with her golden eyes, under her gilded eyelids? I know not who she is. I do not wish to know who she is. Bid her begone. It is not to her that I would speak.
salomé
I am Salomé, daughter of Herodias, Princess of Judæa.
jokanaan
Back! daughter of Babylon! Come not near the chosen of the Lord. Thy mother hath filled the earth with the wine of her iniquities, and the cry of her sins hath come up to the ears of God [E: God.]
·20· salomé
Speak again, Jokanaan. Thy voice is wine to me.
the young syrian
Princess! Princess! Princess!
salomé
Speak again! Speak again, Jokanaan, and tell me what I must do.
jokanaan
Daughter of Sodom, come not near me! But cover thy face with a veil, and scatter ashes upon thine head, and get thee to the desert and seek out the Son of Man.
salomé
Who is he, the Son of Man? Is he as beautiful as thou art, Jokanaan?
jokanaan
Get thee behind me! I hear in the palace the beating of the wings of the angel of death.
the young syrian
Princess, I beseech thee to go within.
jokanaan
Angel of the Lord God, what dost thou here with thy sword? Whom seekest thou in this foul palace? The day of him who shall die in a robe of silver has not yet come.
·21· salomé
Jokanaan!
jokanaan
Who speaketh?
salomé
Jokanaan, I am amorous of thy body! Thy body is white like the lilies of a field that the mower hath never mowed. Thy body is white like the snows that lie on the mountains, like the snows that lie on the mountains of Judæa, and come down into the valleys. The roses in the garden of the Queen of Arabia are not so white as thy body. Neither the roses in the garden of the Queen of Arabia, the perfumed garden of spices of the Queen of Arabia, nor the feet of the dawn when they light on the leaves, nor the breast of the moon when she lies on the breast of the sea…. There is nothing in the world so white as thy body. Let me touch thy body.
jokanaan
Back! daughter of Babylon! By woman came evil into the world. Speak not to me. I will not listen to thee. I listen but to the voice of the Lord God.
salomé
Thy body is hideous. It is like the body of a leper. It is like a plastered wall where vipers have crawled; like a plastered wall where the ·22· scorpions have made their nest. It is like a whitened sepulchre full of loathsome things. It is horrible, thy body is horrible. It is of thy hair that I am enamoured, Jokanaan. Thy hair is like clusters of grapes, like the clusters of black grapes that hang from the vine-trees of Edom in the land of the Edomites. Thy hair is like the cedars of Lebanon, like the great cedars of Lebanon that give their shade to the lions and to the robbers who would hide themselves by day. The long black nights, when the moon hides her face, when the stars are afraid, are not so black.
