Salome (smiling) Thou wilt do this thing for me, Narraboth. Thou knowest that thou wilt do this thing for me. And on the morrow when I shall pass in my litter by the bridge of the idol-buyers, I will look at thee through the muslin veils, I will look at thee, Narraboth, it may be I will smile at thee. Look at me, Narraboth, look at me. Ah! thou knowest that thou wilt do what I ask of thee. Thou knowest it.…I know that thou wilt do this thing.

The Young Syrian (signing to the third Soldier) Let the prophet come forth.…The Princess Salome desires to see him.

Salome Ah!

The Page of Herodias Oh! How strange the moon looks! Like the hand of a dead woman who is seeking to cover herself with a shroud.

The Young Syrian She has a strange aspect! She is like a little princess, whose eyes are eyes of amber. Through the clouds of muslin she is smiling like a little princess.

The prophet comes out of the cistern. Salome looks at him and steps slowly back

Iokanaan 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.

Salome Of whom is he speaking?

The Young Syrian No one can tell, Princess.

Iokanaan Where is she who saw the images of men painted on the walls, even the images of the Chaldaeans painted with colours, and gave herself up unto the lust of her eyes, and sent ambassadors into the land of Chaldaea?°

Salome It is of my mother that he is speaking.

The Young Syrian Oh no, Princess.

Salome Yes: it is of my mother that he is speaking.

Iokanaan Where is she who gave herself unto the Captains of Assyria, who have baldricks° on their loins, and crowns of many colours on their heads? Where is she who hath given herself to the young men of the Egyptians, who are clothed in fine linen and hyacinth, whose shields are of gold, whose helmets are of silver, whose bodies are mighty? Go, 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 not repent, but will stick fast in her abominations, go bid her come, for the fan of the Lord° is in His hand.

Salome Ah, but he is terrible, he is terrible!

The Young Syrian Do not stay here, Princess, I beseech you.

Salome It is his eyes above all that are terrible. They are like black holes burned by torches in a tapestry of Tyre. They are like the black caverns where the dragons live, 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.