A GREAT TERRACE, behind which is the banqueting hall of the palace of HEROD. Some soldiers are leaning over the balcony. To the right is an immense flight of steps; to the left, at the back, an old cistern with a wall of green bronze around it. A full moon.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. How lovely the Princess Salome is tonight.
THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. Look at the moon. The moon has a strange look. She is like a woman rising from a tomb. She is like a dead woman. She might be seeking for the dead.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. She has a strange look. She is like a little princess who wears a yellow veil and has silver feet. She is like a princess with little white doves for feet. She might almost be dancing.
THE PAGE. She is like a dead woman. She moves so slowly. [Noise in the banqueting hall.]
FIRST SOLDIER. What an uproar! Who are those howling wild beasts?
SECOND SOLDIER. The Jews. That is the way they are all the time. They are arguing about their religion.
FIRST SOLDIER. Why do they argue about their religion?
SECOND SOLDIER. I do not know. They are always at it. The Pharisees assert that there are angels, and the Sadducees say that angels do not exist.
FIRST SOLDIER. I think it is idiotic to dispute about such things.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. How lovely the Princess Salome is tonight.
THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. You are always looking at her. You look at her too much. It is dangerous to look at people that way. Something terrible may happen.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. She is very lovely tonight.
FIRST SOLDIER. The tetrarch’s face is gloomy.
SECOND SOLDIER. Yes, it is gloomy.
FIRST SOLDIER. He is staring at something.
SECOND SOLDIER. He is staring at someone.
FIRST SOLDIER. But at whom?
SECOND SOLDIER. I do not know.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. How pale the princess is! Never have I seen her so pale. She is like a white rose reflected in a silver mirror.
THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. You must not look at her. You look at her too much!
FIRST SOLDIER. Herodias has filled the tetrarch’s cup.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. Is that Queen Herodias, the one wearing the black mitre sprinkled with pearls, whose hair is powdered blue?
FIRST SOLDIER. Yes, that is Herodias. That is the tetrarch’s wife.
SECOND SOLDIER. The tetrarch is very fond of wine. He has three kinds of wine. One which comes from the island of Samothrace and is as purple as Caesar’s cloak.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. I have never seen Caesar.
SECOND SOLDIER. A second comes from Cyprus and is yellow like gold.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. I love gold.
SECOND SOLDIER. And the third is Sicilian. That wine is red like blood.
THE NUBIAN. The gods of my country are very fond of blood. Twice each year we sacrifice young men and virgins to them; fifty young men and fifty virgins. But we never seem to give them enough, for they are cruel to us.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. In my country no gods are left. The Romans have driven them away. Some say they are hiding in the mountains, but I do not believe it. I spent three nights on the mountains hunting everywhere for them. I did not find them. At the end, I summoned them by their names, and they did not come. I think they must be dead.
FIRST SOLDIER. The Jews worship a god who cannot be seen.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. I cannot understand that.
FIRST SOLDIER. They only believe in things that cannot be seen.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. How ridiculous!
THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. After me cometh one mightier than I. I am not worthy even to unloose the latchet of his shoes. When he comes, the barren earth will rejoice. It will blossom like the lily. The eyes of the blind will see the light of day, and the ears of the deaf will be opened. . . . The newborn child will put his hand in the dragons’ lair, and will lead the lions by their manes.
SECOND SOLDIER. Make him be silent. He is always talking nonsense.
FIRST SOLDIER. No, no. He is a holy man. He is gentle too. Every day I bring him his food. He always thanks me.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. Who is he?
FIRST SOLDIER. He is a prophet.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. What is his name?
FIRST SOLDIER. Iokanaan.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. Where does he come from?
FIRST SOLDIER. From the wilderness, where he fed on locusts and wild honey. He was clothed with camel’s hair and had a girdle of leather about his loins. He looked wild indeed. A great crowd followed after him. He even had disciples.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. What is he talking about?
FIRST SOLDIER. Who knows? Sometimes he says things that are terrifying, but no one can understand him.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. May one look at him?
FIRST SOLDIER. No. The tetrarch forbids it.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. The princess has hidden her face behind her fan! Her little white hands tremble like doves flying toward their dovecotes. They look like white butterflies. They look exactly like white butterflies.
THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. What business is it of yours? Why do you look at her? You must not look at her. . . . Something evil may come of it.
THE CAPPADOCIAN [pointing to the cistern]. What an extraordinary prison!
SECOND SOLDIER. It is an old cistern.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. An old cistern! It must be full of disease.
SECOND SOLDIER. Oh no! The tetrarch’s brother, his elder brother, Queen Herodias’s first husband, was imprisoned in it for twelve years. He did not die of it. In the end he had to be strangled.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. Strangled! Who dared do that?
SECOND SOLDIER [pointing to the executioner, a huge black man]. It was him, Naaman.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. Wasn’t he afraid?
SECOND SOLDIER. Of course not. The tetrarch had sent him his ring.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. Which ring is that?
SECOND SOLDIER. The death-ring. So he was not afraid.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. And yet, it is a dreadful thing to strangle a king.
FIRST SOLDIER. Why is that? Kings have only one neck, like everybody else.
THE CAPPADOCIAN. I feel it is terrible.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. The princess is getting up. She is leaving the table. She looks deeply annoyed. Look, she’s coming this way. Yes, she is coming toward us. How pale she is. Never have I seen her so pale. . . .
THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. Do not look at her. I implore you not to look at her.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. She is like a dove that has lost its way. . . . She is like a narcissus blown by the wind. . . . She is like a silver flower.
Enter SALOME.
SALOME. I will not stay in that place. I cannot stay. Why does the tetrarch keep looking at me with those mole’s eyes under his quivering eyelids? Strange that my mother’s husband should look at me that way. I do not know what it means. Or rather, I know too well.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. You have left the feast, Princess?
SALOME. How cool the air is here! I can breathe at last! In there Jews from Jerusalem are tearing each other to pieces over their silly ceremonies, and barbarians are forever drinking and spilling their wine on the marble floor, and there are Greeks from Smyrna with painted eyes and rouged cheeks, and their hair twisted in ringlets, and silent, subtle Egyptians with their jade nails and brown cloaks, and brutal, heavy Romans with their coarse jargon. Ah! how I loathe the Romans! They are lowborn, and give themselves lordly airs.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Will you not be seated, Princess?
THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. Why speak to her? Why look at her? . . . Oh! something terrible is about to happen.
SALOME. How good to see the moon! She looks like a little coin. She might be a little silver flower. She is cold and chaste, the moon. . . . I am positive that she is a virgin. She has a virgin beauty. . . . Yes, she is a virgin. She has never been defiled. She has never given herself to men, like the other goddesses.
THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. The Lord hath come. The Son of Man hath come. The centaurs have hidden in the rivers, and the sirens have left the rivers and lie under the leaves of the forest.
SALOME. Who was that crying out?
SECOND SOLDIER. The prophet, Princess.
SALOME. Ah! the prophet! Him that the tetrarch fears?
SECOND SOLDIER. We know nothing of that, Princess. He is the prophet Iokanaan.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Would you want me to order your litter, Princess? The garden is at its best.
SALOME. He says monstrous things about my mother, does he not?
SECOND SOLDIER. We understand none of what he says, Princess.
SALOME. Yes, he says monstrous things about her.
Enter A SLAVE.
A SLAVE. Princess, the tetrarch bids you return to the feast.
SALOME. I will not go back there.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Forgive me, Princess, but if you do not go back, something terrible might happen.
SALOME. Is he an old man, this prophet?
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Princess, it would be best to go back. Permit me to escort you.
SALOME. This prophet, is he an old man?
FIRST SOLDIER. No, Princess, he is quite young.
SECOND SOLDIER. No one is certain. Some say he is Elias.
SALOME. Who is Elias?
SECOND SOLDIER. An ancient prophet of this country, Princess.
A SLAVE. What answer should I give to the tetrarch on behalf of the princess?
THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. Rejoice not, O land of Palestine, because the rod of him who smote thee is broken. For from the seed of the serpent shall come forth a basilisk, and that which is born of it shall devour the birds.
SALOME. What a strange voice! I would speak with him.
FIRST SOLDIER. I fear it is not possible, Princess. The tetrarch does not wish him to be spoken to. He even forbade the high priest to speak to him.
SALOME. I desire to speak to him.
FIRST SOLDIER. It is impossible, Princess.
SALOME. I wish it.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Princess, will you not return to the feast?
SALOME. Bring forth this prophet.
FIRST SOLDIER. We do not dare, Princess.
SALOME [drawing near the cistern and staring into it]. So dark down there! It must be dreadful to be in so black a hole! It is like a tomb [To the soldiers.] Did you not hear me? Bring him forth. I wish to see him.
SECOND SOLDIER. Princess, I beg you not to require that of us.
SALOME. You keep me waiting.
FIRST SOLDIER. Princess, our lives are yours, but we are not able to do what you demand. . . . It is not to us you should speak.
SALOME [looking at THE YOUNG SYRIAN]. Ah!
THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. What is about to happen? I am sure something terrible is about to happen.
SALOME [going up to THE YOUNG SYRIAN]. You will do this thing for me, will you not, Narraboth? You will do this for me? I have always been kind to you. Will you not do it for me? I only want to look at this strange prophet. There is so much talk about him. I have heard the tetrarch talking so often about him. I think he is afraid of him. Could it be that even you are afraid of him, Narraboth?
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. I do not fear him, Princess; I fear no man. But the tetrarch has absolutely forbidden anyone to lift the cover of this well.
SALOME. You will do this for me, Narraboth, and tomorrow when I pass in my litter over the gate of the idol-seller, I will let fall for you a little flower, a little green flower.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Princess, I cannot, I cannot.
SALOME [smiling]. You will do this for me, Narraboth. You well know that you will. And tomorrow when I pass in my litter over the bridge of the idol-buyers, I will look at you through the muslin veils, I will smile at you, perhaps. Look at me, Narraboth. Look at me. Ah! you know that you will do what I ask of you. You know that you will, do you not? . . . I know you will do it.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN [gesturing to THE THIRD SOLDIER]. Bring forth the prophet. . . . 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 pulling at her shroud to cover herself.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. She looks most strange. She might be a little princess with amber eyes. She smiles through the muslin clouds like a little princess.
[The prophet emerges from the cistern. SALOME looks at him and recoils.]
IOKANAAN. Where is he whose cup of abominations is now full? Where is he who will die one day in his silver robe in front of all the people? Bid him to come so he may hear the voice of one who has cried in the wilderness and in the palaces of kings.
SALOME. Whom is he speaking about?
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. No one knows, Princess.
IOKANAAN. Where is she who saw images of men painted on the walls, images of the Chaldeans painted with colors, and gave herself up to the concupiscence of her eyes, and sent ambassadors to Chaldea?
SALOME. It is my mother he is speaking of.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Surely not, Princess.
SALOME. Yes, my mother.
IOKANAAN. Where is she who gave herself to the Assyrian captains, who belt their loins with baldrics and wear on their heads chaplets of many colors? And where is she who abandoned herself to the young men of Egypt, who are clothed in linen and jacinths, who carry golden shields and silver helmets, and have mighty bodies? Bid her rise up from the bed of her abominations, from her incestuous bed, that she may hear the words of him who prepares the way of the Lord, so she may repent of her iniquities. Even if she does not repent, but remains sunk in her abominations, bid her come, for the Lord has his flail in his hand.
SALOME. But he is terrible, he is terrible.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Do not stay here, Princess, I beseech you.
SALOME. It is his eyes especially that are terrible. They might be black holes burned by torches in a Tyrian tapestry. They might be black caves where dragons dwell, black Egyptian caves where dragons make their lairs. They might be black lakes stirred by fantastic moons. . . . Do you suppose he will speak once more?
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Do not stay here, Princess! I beseech you not to stay here.
SALOME. How wasted he is! He is like a thin ivory statue. He might be a silver image. I am sure that he is chaste, chaste as the moon. He is like a silver moonbeam. His flesh must be very cold, like ivory. . . . I desire to go nearer to look at him.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. No, no, Princess!
SALOME. I must go nearer to look at him.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Princess! Princess!
IOKANAAN. Who is this woman who is looking at me? I will not have her look at me. Why does she look at me with her golden eyes beneath her gilded eyelids? I do not know who she is. I do not wish to know. Bid her be gone. It is not to her that I would speak.
SALOME. I am Salome, daughter of Herodias, Princess of Judaea.
IOKANAAN. Back! Daughter of Babylon! Come not near the chosen of the Lord. Your mother has filled the earth with the wine of her iniquities, and the noise of her sins has mounted even to the ears of God.
SALOME. Speak on, Iokanaan. Your voice makes me drunk.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Princess! Princess! Princess!
SALOME. Yes, speak on. Speak on, Iokanaan, and tell me what it is I must do.
IOKANAAN. Do not come near me, daughter of Sodom, but cover your face with a veil, pour ashes on your head, and go to the desert and seek out the Son of Man.
SALOME. Who can he be, the Son of Man? Is he as beautiful as you, Iokanaan?
IOKANAAN. Back! Back! I hear in the palace the beating of the wings of the angel of death.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Princess, I entreat you to go in.
IOKANAAN. Angel of the Lord God, why do you appear here with your sword? Whom do you seek in this vile palace? . . . The hour of him who will die in a silver robe has not yet come.
SALOME. Iokanaan!
IOKANAAN. Who spoke?
SALOME. I am enamored of your body, Iokanaan! Your body is white like the lilies of a field that no mower has ever mowed. Your body is white like the snows that lie on the mountains of Judaea and then flow into the valleys. The roses in the garden of the Queen of Arabia are not so white as your body. Neither the roses of the Queen of Arabia, nor the feet of the dawn when they tread on the leaves, nor the breast of the moon when she lies on the breast of the sea . . . Nothing in the world is so white as your body. Allow me to touch your body.
IOKANAAN. Back, daughter of Babylon! By woman came evil into the world. Do not speak to me. I do not wish to listen to you. I hear none but the words of the Lord God.
SALOME. Your body is hideous. It is like the body of a leper. It is like a plaster wall where vipers have crawled, like a plaster wall where scorpions have nested. It is like a whited sepulchre, one full of loathsome things. It is horrible, your body is horrible! . . . It is your hair I am in love with, Iokanaan. Your hair is like clusters of grapes, the clusters of black grapes that hang from the vines of Edom in the land of the Edomites. Your hair is like the cedars of Lebanon, like the great cedars of Lebanon that give their shadow to the lions and the robbers who hide by day. The long black nights, the nights when the moon does not show herself, when the stars are afraid, are not so black. The silence that dwells in the forest is not so black. Nothing in the world is so black as your hair. . . . Allow me to touch your hair.
IOKANAAN. Back, daughter of Sodom! Touch me not. Profane not the temple of the Lord God.
SALOME. Your hair is horrible. It is covered with mire and dust. It is like a crown of thorns placed upon your head. It is like a knot of serpents coiled around your neck. I do not love your hair. . . . It is your mouth that I am in love with, Iokanaan. Your mouth is like a scarlet band upon an ivory tower. It is like a pomegranate cut with an ivory knife. The pomegranate flowers that bloom in the gardens of Tyre and are redder than roses, are yet not so red. The red blasts of trumpets that herald the advent of kings and strike fear into the enemy are not so red. Your mouth is redder than the feet of those who tread grapes in the winepresses. It is redder than the feet of the doves who live in the temples and are fed by the priests. It is redder than the feet of a man coming from a forest where he has killed a lion and seen gilded tigers. Your mouth is like branch of coral that fishermen have found in the twilight of the sea and have put aside for kings. . . . It is like the vermilion that the Moabites find in the mines of Moab and that kings take from them. It is like the bow of the King of the Persians that is painted with vermilion and tipped with coral. There is nothing in the world so red as your mouth. . . . Allow me to kiss your mouth.
IOKANAAN. Never! daughter of Babylon! Daughter of Sodom! Never.
SALOME. I will kiss your mouth, Iokanaan. I will kiss your mouth.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Princess, Princess, you who are like a garden of myrrh, you the dove of doves, do not look at this man, do not look at him! Do not say such things to him. I cannot endure it. . . . Princess, Princess, do not say such things
SALOME. I will kiss your mouth, Iokanaan.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Ah!
[He kills himself and falls between SALOME and IOKANAAN.]
THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. The young Syrian has killed himself! The young captain has killed himself! He has killed himself, the man who was my friend! I gave him a little box of perfumes and earrings wrought in silver, and now he has killed himself! Ah! did he not predict that some misfortune was about to occur? . . . I foretold it myself, and it is upon us. I could tell that the moon was seeking a dead person, but I did not know that she was seeking for him. Ah! why did I not hide him from the moon? If I had hidden him in a cave she would not have seen him.
FIRST SOLDIER. Princess, the young captain has just killed himself.
SALOME. Allow me to kiss your mouth, Iokanaan.
IOKANAAN. Are you not afraid, daughter of Herodias? Did I not tell you that I had heard in the palace the beating of the wings of the angel of death, and has the angel not come?
SALOME. Allow me to kiss your mouth.
IOKANAAN. Daughter of adultery, one man alone can save you. It is he of whom I spoke. Go seek him. He is in a boat on the sea of Galilee, and he is speaking to his disciples. Kneel down on the sea shore, and call him by his name. When he comes to you, and he comes to all who call him, bow down at his feet and ask of him forgiveness for your sins.
SALOME. Allow me to kiss your mouth.
IOKANAAN. I curse you, daughter of an incestuous mother. I curse you.
SALOME. I will kiss your mouth, Iokanaan.
IOKANAAN. I will not look at you. I will not look at you. You are accursed, Salome, you are accursed.
[He goes down into the cistern.]
SALOME. I will kiss your mouth, Iokanaan; I will kiss your mouth.
FIRST SOLDIER. We must bear the body away. The tetrarch does not care to see dead bodies, except the bodies of those whom he himself has killed.
THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. He was my brother, and closer to me than a brother. I gave him a little box full of perfumes, and an agate ring that he always wore on his hand. In the evening we used to walk by the river and among the almond trees and he would tell me things about his country. He always spoke very low. The sound of his voice was like the sound of a flute played by a fluteplayer. And then he loved to look at himself in the river. I often reproached him for that.
SECOND SOLDIER. You are right; we must hide the body. The tetrarch must not see it.
FIRST SOLDIER. The tetrarch will not come here. He never comes on the terrace. He is too much afraid of the prophet.
[Enter HEROD, HERODIAS, and all the Court.]
HEROD. Where is Salome? Where is the princess? Why did she not return to the feast as I commanded? Ah! there she is!
HERODIAS. You must not look at her. You are always looking at her.
HEROD. The moon has a strange look tonight. Has she not a strange look? She might be a madwoman, a madwoman seeking everywhere for lovers. She is naked too. She is quite naked. The clouds try to clothe her nakedness, but she will not let them. She reels through the clouds like a drunken woman. . . . I am sure she is searching for lovers. Does she not reel like a drunken woman? She is like a madwoman, is she not?
HERODIAS. No. The moon is like the moon, that is all. Let us go in. . . . You have nothing to do here.
HEROD. I will stay! Manasseh, lay carpets there. Light the torches. Bring forth the ivory tables, and the tables of jasper. The air is delicious here. I will drink more wine with my guests. All honor must be shown to Caesar’s ambassadors.
HERODIAS. You are not staying here because of them.
HEROD. Yes, the air is delicious. Come, Herodias, our guests await us. Ah! I slipped. I slipped in blood! It is an evil omen. It is a very evil omen. Why is there blood here? . . . And this body? What is this body doing here? Would you take me for the King of Egypt who never gives a feast without showing his guests a corpse? Whose is it? I will not look at it.
FIRST SOLDIER. It is our captain, sire. He is the young Syrian whom you made captain just three days ago.
HEROD. I issued no order to kill him.
SECOND SOLDIER. He killed himself, sire.
HEROD. But why? I had made him captain.
SECOND SOLDIER. We do not know, sire. But he killed himself.
HEROD. How strange. I thought it was only the Roman philosophers who killed themselves. Is it not true, Tigellinus, that philosophers at Rome kill themselves?
TIGELLINUS. Some of them do, sire. They are Stoics. They are people of no cultivation. They are ridiculous people. I call them ridiculous.
HEROD. And so do I. Killing oneself is ridiculous.
TIGELLINUS. At Rome they are laughingstocks. The emperor has written a satire on them. It is recited everywhere.
HEROD. Ah! he has written a satire on them? Caesar is wonderful. He can do everything. How strange that he should have killed himself, this young Syrian. I am sorry. Yes, I am very sorry. For he was handsome. He was really handsome. His eyes were very languorous. I remember I saw him looking languorously at Salome. It seemed to me that he looked at her a bit too much.
HERODIAS. There are others who look at her too much.
HEROD. His father was a king, I drove him from his kingdom. And you, Herodias, you made a slave of his mother. So he was here as my guest. For that reason I made him captain. I am sorry that he is dead. . . . Ho! why have you left the body here? You must take it away. I will not look at it. . . . Take it away. . . . [The body is taken away.] It is chilly here. There is a wind blowing. Isn’t there a wind?
HERODIAS. No. There is no wind.
HEROD. I tell you there is a wind. . . . And I hear in the air something that is like the beating of wings, like the beating of enormous wings. Do you hear it?
HERODIAS. I hear nothing.
HEROD. I hear it no longer. But I did hear it. It must have been the wind. It has ceased. But wait, I hear it again. Do you not hear it? It is just like the beating of wings.
HERODIAS. I tell you there is nothing. You are unwell. Let us go in.
HEROD. I am not unwell. Your daughter is the one who is not well. She looks decidedly ill, your daughter. I have never seen her so pale.
HERODIAS. I told you not to look at her.
HEROD. Pour me some wine. [Wine is brought.] Salome, come and drink a little wine with me. I have a wine here that is marvelous. Caesar himself sent it to me. Wet your little red lips in it and then I will drain the cup.
SALOME. I am not thirsty, Tetrarch.
HEROD. You hear how your daughter answers me.
HERODIAS. She does well. Why are you always looking at her?
HEROD. Bring some fruit. [Fruits are brought.] Salome, come and have some fruit with me. I love to see the mark of your little teeth in a fruit. Bite just a bit of this fruit, and I will eat the rest.
SALOME. I am not hungry, Tetrarch.
HEROD [to HERODIAS]. So this is how you have brought up your daughter.
HERODIAS. My daughter and I stem from a royal race. As for you, your father was a camel driver! He was a thief as well!
HEROD. You lie!
HERODIAS. You know it is true.
HEROD. Salome, come sit beside me. I will give you your mother’s throne.
SALOME. I am not tired, Tetrarch.
HERODIAS. You see what she thinks of you.
HEROD. Bring me . . . What did I have in mind . . . I can’t remember. Ah! Ah! now I remember . . .
THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. The time has come! That which I foretold has come to pass, saith the Lord God. The day that I spoke of is at hand.
HERODIAS. Make him be silent. I will not hear his voice. This man is forever vomiting insults against me.
HEROD. He has said nothing against you. Besides, he is a great prophet.
HERODIAS. I do not believe in prophets. Can a man say what is to happen? No one can know. And he is forever insulting me. I think you are afraid of him. . . . In fact, I know you are afraid of him.
HEROD. I am not afraid of him. I am not afraid of anyone.
HERODIAS. I tell you, you are afraid of him. If you are not, why do you not hand him over to the Jews, who have been clamoring for him for six months?
A JEW. Truly, sire, it would be better to hand him over to us.
HEROD. That is enough. I have already given you my answer. I do not want to hand him over. The man has seen God.
A JEW. That cannot be. No one has seen God since the prophet Elias. He was the last to see God. In our time God does not show himself. He hides. And because of that great evils have come upon the land.
ANOTHER JEW. No man really knows if the prophet Elias saw God. More likely it was the shadow of God he saw.
A THIRD JEW. God is never in hiding. He shows himself always and in all things. God is in evil as he is in good.
A FOURTH JEW. That you should not say. That is a dangerous idea. An idea which comes from the schools in Alexandria where Greek philosophy is taught. And the Greeks are gentiles. They are not even circumcised.
A FIFTH JEW. No one knows the workings of God. His ways are mysterious ways. Perhaps what we call evil is good, and what we call good is evil. There is no way of knowing. All we can do is submit in everything. God is indeed mighty. He crushes the weak and strong alike. He has no care for anyone.
FIRST JEW. That is so. God is terrible. He crushes the weak and the strong as wheat is brayed in a mortar. But this man has never seen God. No one has seen God since the prophet Elias.
HERODIAS. Make them be silent. They bore me.
HEROD. But I have heard it said that Iokanaan is himself your prophet Elias.
THE JEW. That cannot be. Three hundred years have elapsed since the time of the prophet Elias.
HEROD. Yet some say he is the prophet Elias.
A NAZARENE. I am positive that he is the prophet Elias.
THE JEW. No, no, he is not the prophet Elias.
THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. The day hath come, the day of the Lord, and I hear upon the mountains the feet of him who will be the Savior of the world.
HEROD. What does he mean by that? The Savior of the world?
TIGELLINUS. That is one of Caesar’s titles.
HEROD. But Caesar is not coming to Judaea. I had letters from Rome yesterday. Nothing was said of that in them. Tell me, Tigellinus, you were in Rome all winter, did you hear anything about it?
TIGELLINUS. Sire, I heard nothing of it. I was referring only to the title. It is one of Caesar’s.
HEROD. But Caesar cannot come. He is too gouty. They say his feet are like an elephant’s. And there are reasons of state. Who leaves Rome, loses Rome. He will not come. But of course, Caesar is master. If he wishes he will come. But I do not expect he will.
THE FIRST NAZARENE. Caesar was not the one the prophet was talking about, sire.
HEROD. Not Caesar?
THE FIRST NAZARENE. No, sire.
HEROD. Then who was it he was talking about?
THE FIRST NAZARENE. The Messiah who has come.
A JEW. The Messiah has not come.
THE FIRST NAZARENE. He has come, and everywhere he works miracles.
HERODIAS. Oh! Oh! Miracles. I do not believe in miracles. I have seen too many. [To THE PAGE.] My fan.
FIRST NAZARENE. This man works genuine miracles. At a marriage which took place in a little town of Galilee, a rather well-known town, he changed water into wine. Some people who were present told me about it. He also healed two lepers who were sitting before the gate of Capernaum, simply by touching them.
THE SECOND NAZARENE. No, those he healed at Capernaum were two blind men.
FIRST NAZARENE. No, they were lepers. But he has healed the blind too, and he has been seen on a mountain talking with angels.
A SADDUCEE. Angels do not exist.
A PHARISEE. Angels exist, but I do not believe that this man has talked with them.
THE FIRST NAZARENE. He was seen by a great multitude talking with angels.
A SADDUCEE. Not with angels.
HERODIAS. How exasperating these men are! They are louts. They are absolute louts. [To THE PAGE.] Here! My fan. [THE PAGE gives her the fan.] You seem to be dreaming. Don’t dream. Only the sick dream. [She strikes THE PAGE with her fan.]
THE SECOND NAZARENE. There was the miracle of the daughter of Jairus, too.
THE FIRST NAZARENE. Yes, that one is unquestionable. No one can deny it.
HERODIAS. These men are mad. They have looked too long at the moon. Command them to be silent.
HEROD. What was this miracle of the daughter of Jairus?
THE FIRST NAZARENE. The daughter of Jairus was dead. He restored her to life.
HEROD. He restores the dead to life?
THE FIRST NAZARENE. Yes, sire. He restores the dead to life.
HEROD. I do not wish him to do that. I forbid him to do that. I do not permit anyone to restore the dead to life. Find out this man and tell him that I do not permit him to restore the dead to life. Where is he at present?
THE SECOND NAZARENE. He is everywhere, sire, but it is hard to find him.
THE FIRST NAZARENE. He is said to be in Samaria now.
A JEW. Then if he is in Samaria, he is obviously not the Messiah. The Messiah is not to come to the Samaritans. The Samaritans are accursed. They bring no offerings to the temple.
SECOND NAZARENE. He left Samaria a few days ago. I would think that at this very moment he is close to Jerusalem.
FIRST NAZARENE. No, he is not there. I have just come from Jerusalem. For two months they have had no news of him.
HEROD. No matter! But let him be found and told from me that I do not permit the dead to be restored to life. Changing water to wine, healing lepers and blind men . . . he can do as much of that as he likes. I have no objection. I recognize that healing lepers is a good deed. But I will not permit the dead to be restored to life. . . . It would be terrible if the dead came back.
THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. Ah! the wanton! the prostitute! Ah! the daughter of Babylon with eyes of gold and gilded eyelids! Thus saith the Lord God. Let there come up against her a multitude of men. Let them take stones and stone her. . . .
HERODIAS. Make him stop.
THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. Let the captains of the hosts pierce her with their swords, let them crush her beneath their shields.
HERODIAS. This is an outrage.
THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. Thus I will wipe out wickedness from the earth, and all women will learn not to imitate that woman’s abominations.
HERODIAS. You hear what he says against me? You allow him to insult your wife?
HEROD. But he did not say your name.
HERODIAS. What does that matter? You know it is me whom he tries to insult. And I am your wife, am I not?
HEROD. Yes, dear and respected Herodias, you are my wife, and you were once the wife of my brother.
HERODIAS. You tore me from his arms.
HEROD. Yes, I was the stronger . . . but let us not talk about that. I wish not to speak of that. It is the cause of the terrible words that the prophet has spoken. Perhaps something fearful will happen because of it. Let us not speak of it. . . . Noble Herodias, we are forgetting our guests. Fill my cup, darling. Pour wine into the great silver goblets and the great glass goblets. I will drink to Caesar’s health. There are Romans here, we must drink to Caesar’s health.
ALL. Caesar! Caesar!
HEROD. Do you not notice how pale your daughter is?
HERODIAS. What is it to you whether she is pale or not?
HEROD. I have never seen her so pale.
HERODIAS. You must not look at her.
THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. In that day the sun will become black like sackcloth of hair, and the moon become like blood, and the stars of heaven will fall upon the earth like green figs from a fig tree, and the kings of the world will be afraid.
HERODIAS. Ah! Ah! I should like to see that day he speaks of, when the moon will become like blood and the stars will fall like green figs. This prophet speaks like a drunken man. . . . But I cannot endure the sound of his voice. I loathe his voice. Command him to be silent.
HEROD. I will not. What he says I do not understand, but it may be an omen.
HERODIAS. I do not believe in omens. He raves like a drunkard.
HEROD. He may be drunk with the wine of God!
HERODIAS. What wine is that, the wine of God? What vineyard is it from? In what winepress is it kept?
HEROD [he keeps looking at SALOME]. Tigellinus, during your recent stay in Rome, did the emperor speak to you on the subject of . . . ?
TIGELLINUS. On what subject, sire?
HEROD. What subject? Ah, I asked you something, did I not? I have forgotten what I wanted to know.
HERODIAS. You are still looking at my daughter. You must not look at her. I have already told you that.
HEROD. You say nothing else.
HERODIAS. I say it again.
HEROD. And the rebuilding of the Temple which they have talked so much about? Are they going to do anything? Is it not said that the veil of the sanctuary has disappeared?
HERODIAS. You stole it yourself. You talk at sixes and sevens. I do not wish to remain here. Let us go in.
HEROD. Salome, dance for me.
HERODIAS. I will not have her dance.
SALOME. I do not feel like dancing, Tetrarch.
HEROD. Salome, daughter of Herodias, dance for me.
HERODIAS. Leave her alone.
HEROD. I command you to dance, Salome.
SALOME. I will not dance, Tetrarch.
HERODIAS [laughing]. See how she obeys you!
HEROD. What is it to me whether she dance or not? I do not care. I am happy this evening. I am very happy. I have never been so happy.
FIRST SOLDIER. The tetrarch looks gloomy. Don’t you think he looks gloomy?
SECOND SOLDIER. He looks gloomy.
HEROD. Why should I not be happy? Caesar, the master of the world, the master of everything, loves me well. He has sent me presents of great value. And he has promised to summon my enemy, the King of Cappadocia, to Rome. He may well crucify him there. Caesar can do whatever he pleases. Yes, he is master. So anyone can see I have the right to be happy. Nothing in the world can impair my happiness.
THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. He will be seated on his throne. He will be clothed in purple and scarlet. He will hold in his hand a golden cup full of his blasphemies. And the angel of the Lord will strike him. He will be eaten of worms.
HERODIAS. You hear what he says about you. He says you will be eaten of worms.
HEROD. He is not speaking about me. Nothing that he says is ever against me. He is speaking of the King of Cappadocia, that king who is my enemy. He is the one who will be eaten of worms. Not I. This prophet has never said anything against me except that I was wrong to take to wife the wife of my brother. Perhaps he is right. After all, you are barren.
HERODIAS. I, barren? You say that, when you are forever looking at my daughter, you who wanted her to dance for your pleasure? It is nonsense to say that. I have had a child. You have never had one, even with one of your slaves. You are the sterile one, not I.
HEROD. Be silent. I tell you that you are barren. You have borne me no child, and the prophet says that our marriage is not a true marriage. He says it is an incestuous marriage, a marriage which will bring evils. . . . I fear he may be right. I know he is right. But this is not the time to speak of such things. At the moment I wish to be happy. I am exceedingly happy. I want for nothing.
HERODIAS. I am glad you are in such a good humor this evening. It is not like you. But it is late. Let us go in. Do not forget that at sunrise we are going to hunt. All honor must be paid to Caesar’s ambassadors, as you know.
SECOND SOLDIER. How gloomy the tetrarch looks.
FIRST SOLDIER. Yes, he is gloomy.
HEROD. Salome, Salome, dance for me. I beg you to dance for me. This evening I feel sad. Yes, very sad this evening. When I came out here, I slipped in blood—a bad omen, and I heard, I am sure I heard, the beating of wings in the air, the beating of enormous wings. What this means I do not know. . . . I feel sad this evening. So dance for me. If you dance for me you can ask of me what you like and I will give it to you. Yes, dance for me, Salome, and I will give you all you ask of me, even to half my kingdom.
SALOME [getting up]. Will you give me all I ask, Tetrarch?
HERODIAS. Do not dance, my daughter.
HEROD. All, even to half my kingdom.
SALOME. Do you swear it, Tetrarch?
HEROD. I swear it, Salome.
SALOME. What do you swear by, Tetrarch?
HEROD. By my life, by my crown, by my gods. Everything you wish I will give you, even to half my kingdom, if you will dance for me. Oh! Salome, Salome, dance for me.
SALOME. You have sworn, Tetrarch.
HEROD. I have sworn, Salome.
SALOME. All that I ask, even to half your kingdom?
HERODIAS. Do not dance, my daughter.
HEROD. Even to half my kingdom. You will be beautiful as queen, Salome, if you should wish to ask for half my kingdom. Will she not make a beautiful queen? . . . Ah! how chilly it is here! There is a bitter wind, and I hear . . . Why do I hear this beating of wings in the air? Oh! it might be a bird, a huge black bird which hovers over the terrace. Why am I unable to see this bird? The beating of its wings is terrible. The wind from its wings is terrible. It is a chill wind. . . . But I mistake, the wind is not chill. No, it is fiery hot. Too hot. I am choking. Pour some water over my hands. Give me some snow to eat. Loosen my cloak. Quickly, quickly, loosen my cloak. . . . No. Let it be. My chaplet is what hurts me, my chaplet of roses. The roses seem to be made of fire. They have burned my forehead. [He tears the chaplet from his head and throws it on the table.] Ah! now I can breathe. How red these petals are! They look like bloodstains on the cloth. No matter. We must not find symbols in everything we see. To do so would make life impossible. Better to say that bloodstains are as beautiful as rose petals. Much better to say that . . . But we need not speak of that. Now I am happy. I am altogether happy. Have I not reason to be happy? Your daughter is going to dance for me. Are you not going to dance for me, Salome? You promised to dance for me.
HERODIAS. I will not have her dance.
SALOME. I will dance for you, Tetrarch.
HEROD. You hear what your daughter says. She is going to dance for me. You do well to dance for me, Salome. And after you have danced, do not forget to ask of me what you like. Anything you ask for I will give you, up to half my kingdom. Have I not taken an oath?
SALOME. Indeed you have, Tetrarch.
HEROD. And I have never broken my word. I am not one of those who do. I cannot lie. I am the slave of my word, and my word is the word of a king. The king of Cappadocia is always lying, but he is no true king. He is a coward. He owes me money, too, which he hates to pay. He has dared to insult my ambassadors. He has wounded me with what he has said. But when he comes to Rome Caesar will crucify him. I know he will crucify him. Or else he will die, eaten of worms. The prophet foretold it. And now, Salome, why do you delay?
SALOME. I am waiting for my slaves to bring perfumes and the seven veils, and to take off my sandals.
[Slaves bring perfumes and the seven veils and take off SALOME’s sandals.]
HEROD. Ah! so you will dance with naked feet! Splendid! Splendid! Your little feet will be like white doves. They will resemble the white flowers that dance under a tree. . . . Ah, but no. She is going to dance on blood! There is blood on the ground. I do not want her to dance on blood. It would be a dreadful omen.
HERODIAS. Why do you mind so much her dancing on blood? You have waded deep in it yourself. . . .
HEROD. Why do I mind? Ah! look at the moon. She has turned red. She has turned red like blood. Ah! the prophet prophesied well. He prophesied that the moon would turn red like blood. Did he not prophesy that? You all heard him. The moon has turned red like blood. Do you not see it?
HERODIAS. I see it well enough, and the stars fall like green figs, do they not? And the sun turns black like sackcloth of hair, and the kings of the earth are afraid. That at least can be seen. For once in his life the prophet was right. The kings of the earth are afraid. . . . Well, let us go in. You are unwell. They will say in Rome that you are mad. Let us go in, I say.
THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. Who is this who comes from Edom, with garments dyed purple from Bozrah? Who is glorious in the beauty of his apparel, and walks in the greatness of his strength? Why are your garments stained with scarlet?
HERODIAS. Let us go in. That man’s voice drives me mad. I would not have my daughter dance while he cries out in that fashion. I would not have her dance while you look at her in that way. In short, I do not want her to dance.
HEROD. Do not stand up, my wife, my queen, it will not avail you. I will not go in until she has danced. Dance, Salome, dance for me.
HERODIAS. Do not dance, my daughter.
SALOME. I am ready, Tetrarch.
[SALOME dances the dance of the seven veils.]
HEROD. Ah! magnificent! magnificent! You see, your daughter has danced for me. Come near, Salome, come near! Come near so that I may give you what you have earned. Ah! I pay dancers well. And I will pay you well. I will give you whatever you like. What would you like, tell me?
SALOME [kneeling]. I want, brought to me on a silver charger . . .
HEROD [laughing]. On a silver charger? Why of course, on a silver charger. Is she not charming? What do you wish brought to you on a silver charger, dear, lovely Salome, loveliest of all the daughters of Judaea? What do you wish brought to you on a silver charger? Tell me. Whatever it is, it will be given to you. My treasures are yours. What, then, Salome?
SALOME [rising]. The head of Iokanaan.
HERODIAS. Excellent, my daughter.
HEROD. No, no.
HERODIAS. Excellent, my daughter.
HEROD. No, no, Salome. You cannot want that. Do not heed your mother. She always offers bad counsel. You must ignore her.
SALOME. I am not obeying my mother. For my own pleasure I ask the head of Iokanaan on a silver charger. You have sworn an oath, Herod. Do not forget that you have sworn.
HEROD. How well I know it. I swore by my gods. I know that. But I implore you, Salome, ask something else of me. Ask me for half my kingdom, and I will give it to you. But do not ask for what you have asked.
SALOME. I demand the head of Iokanaan.
HEROD. No, no, I cannot.
SALOME. You have sworn an oath, Herod.
HERODIAS. Yes, you have sworn an oath. Everybody heard you. You swore it before everyone.
HEROD. Be silent. I am not speaking to you.
HERODIAS. My daughter has done well to ask the head of that man. He vomited insults upon me. He said dreadful things against me. You can see that she loves her mother. Do not give in, my daughter. He has sworn, he has sworn indeed.
HEROD. Silence! Do not speak to me. . . . Look here, Salome, be sensible. We must be sensible, you know. I have never been harsh with you. I have always loved you. . . . Perhaps I have loved you too much. So do not ask that of me. That request is horrible, frightful. I cannot believe you mean it seriously. A man’s decapitated head is an ugly thing, do you not realize? Not a thing for a virgin to look at. What possible pleasure could it afford you? None. No, no, you would not wish for that. . . . Listen to me a moment. I have an emerald, a great round emerald that Caesar’s favorite sent to me. Look into it and you can see things that are happening far away. Caesar himself wears an emerald like it when he goes to the circus. But mine is larger. It is the largest emerald in the world. Surely that is what you would like to have? Ask me for it and I will give it to you.
SALOME. I demand the head of Iokanaan.
HEROD. You are not listening to me, you are not listening. Let me say something to you, Salome.
SALOME. The head of Iokanaan.
HEROD. No, no, you do not want that. You only say that to plague me because I have been looking at you all evening. That I admit. I have been looking at you all evening. Your beauty has upset me. Your beauty has upset me, and I have looked at you too much. But I will do it no more. One should look neither at things nor at persons. One should look only at mirrors. For mirrors show us nothing but masks. . . . Oh! Oh! Bring wine! I am thirsty. . . . Salome, Salome, let us be friends. Well, look . . . What was I going to say? What was it? Ah! now I remember. . . . Salome! No, come near me. I am afraid of your not hearing me. . . . Salome, you know those white peacocks of mine, those marvelous white peacocks that walk about the garden between the myrtles and the tall cypresses. Their beaks are gilded, and the grains they eat are gilded too, and their feet are stained with purple. When they cry out the rain comes, and when they spread their tails the moon appears in the sky. They move two by two between the cypresses and the black myrtles and each has a slave to care for it. Sometimes they fly atop the trees and sometimes they couch in the grass and beside the pool. The world cannot show any birds so marvelous as these. No king in the world possesses such birds. I am sure that even Caesar has no birds so beautiful. Well, then, I will give you fifty of my peacocks. They will follow you everywhere, and in the midst of them you will be like the moon surrounded by a great white cloud. . . . I will give you all of them. I have only a hundred, and though there is no king in the world who possesses peacocks like mine, I will give them all to you. Only, you must release me from my oath and not ask me for what you have asked.
[He empties the goblet of wine.]
SALOME. Give me the head of Iokanaan.
HERODIAS. Well said, my daughter. How ridiculous you are with your peacocks.
HEROD. Silence! You are always screaming something. You scream like a beast of prey. You must not scream like that. Your voice annoys me. Silence, I tell you. . . . Salome, think what you are doing. That man may come from God. I feel sure he does come from God. He is a holy man. The finger of God has touched him. God has put terrible words into his mouth. In the palace, as in the wilderness, God is always beside him. . . . At least it may be so. We do not know for sure, but God may be beside and behind him. And if he should die, something terrible may happen to me. He foretold that the day he died would bring a terrible misfortune to someone. It can only be to me. Remember how I slipped in blood when I came out here. And how I heard the beating of wings in the air, the beating of enormous wings. These are vile omens. And there were others as well. I am sure there were others, although I did not see them. And now, Salome, you would not want anything horrible to happen to me? You would not want that. Then listen to my words.
SALOME. Give me the head of Iokanaan.
HEROD. It is clear that you are not listening. But be calm. Calm as I am. I am utterly calm. Listen then. I have jewels hidden here that your mother even has not seen, marvellous jewels. I have a collar of pearls, set in four rows. They look like moons chained with silver moonbeams. They look like fifty moons caught in a golden net. A queen wore it on her ivory breasts. When you wear it, you will be as radiant as a queen. I have two kinds of amethysts. One is black like wine, and one is red like wine mixed with water. I have topazes that are as yellow as the eyes of tigers, and topazes that are as pink as the eyes of pigeons, and topazes that are as green as the eyes of cats. I have opals that burn with an icy flame, opals that make one sad and are afraid of shadows. I have onyxes like the pupils of a dead woman. I have moonstones that change when the moon changes and turn pale at sight of the sun. I have sapphires big as eggs and blue as blue flowers. The sea wanders within them and the moon never comes to disturb the blue of their waves. I have chrysolites and beryls, I have chrysoprases and rubies, I have sardonyx and jacinths, and chalcedony, and I will give them all to you, yes, all, and I will add other things too. The king of the Indies has just sent me four fans fashioned from the feathers of parrots, and the king of Numidia a garment of ostrich feathers. I have a crystal, which no woman is allowed to look into, and which even the young men must not look at until they have been whipped with scourges. In a coffer of nacre I have three wonderful turquoises. Wearing them on your forehead, you will be able to imagine things that do not exist; carrying them in your hand, you can make women barren. These are precious treasures. And that is not all. In an ebony coffer I have two amber cups that are like apples of gold. Should an enemy pour poison into these cups, they become like apples of silver. In a coffer encrusted with amber I have sandals encrusted with crystal. I have cloaks that come from the land of the Seres, and bracelets adorned with carbuncles and jade that come from the city of the Euphrates. . . . So then, Salome, what would you like to have? Tell me your wish and I will gratify it. I will give you anything you ask except one thing. I will give you all I possess, except one life. I will give you the prayer shawl of the high priest. I will give you the veil of the sanctuary.
THE JEWS. Oh! Oh!
SALOME. Give me the head of Iokanaan.
HEROD [sinking back in his seat]. Let her be given what she asks! Truly she is her mother’s daughter. [THE FIRST SOLDIER approaches. HERODIAS draws the ring of death from the hand of the tetrarch and gives it to the soldier who at once conveys it to THE EXECUTIONER.] Who has taken my ring? There was a ring on my right hand. Who has drunk my wine? There was wine in my cup. A cupful of wine. Has someone drunk it? Oh, I feel certain that a terrible thing is about to befall someone. [THE EXECUTIONER goes down into the cistern.] Ah! why did I give my word? Kings should never give their word. If they break it, it is terrible. If they keep it, it is terrible too. . . .
HERODIAS. I consider that my daughter has done well.
HEROD. I feel sure that something dreadful is about to happen.
SALOME [she leans over the cistern and listens]. Not a sound. I hear nothing. Why does the man not cry out? Ah, if someone sought to kill me, I would cry out, I would struggle, I would not wish to suffer. . . . Strike, Naaman, strike. Strike, I tell you. . . . No. I hear nothing. A fearful silence. Ah! something has fallen on the ground. I heard something fall. It was the executioner’s sword. The slave is frightened. He has dropped his sword. He dares not kill him. The slave is a coward. Let soldiers be sent. [She sees THE PAGE OF HERODIAS and addresses him.] Come here. You were the friend of that dead man, were you not? Well, there are not dead men enough. Tell the soldiers to go down and bring me what I demand, what the tetrarch promised me, what belongs to me. [THE PAGE recoils. She addresses herself to the soldiers.] Come here, soldiers. Go down into that cistern, and bring me that man’s head. [The soldiers recoil.] Tetrarch, Tetrarch, order your soldiers to bring me the head of Iokanaan. [A huge black arm, THE EXECUTIONER’s arm, emerges from the cistern bearing on a silver charger the head of IOKANAAN. SALOME seizes it. HEROD hides his face with his cloak. HERODIAS smiles and fans herself. The Nazarenes kneel and begin to pray.] Ah! you did not wish to let me kiss your mouth, Iokanaan. Well, I will kiss it now. I will bite it with my teeth the way one bites a ripe fruit. Yes, I will kiss your mouth, Iokanaan, I told you so, did I not? I told you so. Well, I will kiss it now. . . . But why do you not look at me, Iokanaan? Those eyes which were once so terrible, so full of anger and contempt, are they closed? Open your eyes! Raise your eyelids, Iokanaan. Why do you not look at me? Are you so afraid of me, Iokanaan, that you do not wish to look at me? . . . And your tongue that was a red serpent spewing its poisons, it no longer moves, it says nothing now, Iokanaan, that red viper which was vomiting venom at me. Strange, is it not? How can it be that the red viper no longer moves? . . . You would have none of me, Iokanaan. You rejected me. You showered me with infamy. You treated me like a courtesan, like a prostitute, me, Salome, daughter of Herodias, Princess of Judaea! Well, Iokanaan, I am alive now but you are dead and your head belongs to me. I can do with it what I will. I can cast it to the dogs and the birds of the air. What the dogs leave, the birds of the air will devour. . . . Ah! Iokanaan, Iokanaan, you are the only man I have loved. All other men have inspired me with disgust. But you alone were beautiful. Your body was an ivory column on a silver base. It was a garden filled with doves and silver lilies. It was a silver tower decked with ivory shields. Nothing in the world was so white as your body. Nothing in the world was so black as your hair. Nothing in the world was so red as your mouth. Your voice was a censer that scattered strange perfumes, and when I looked at you I heard a strange music! Ah! why did you not look at me, Iokanaan? You hid your face behind your hands and your blasphemies. You put on your eyes the bandage of one who wishes to see his God. Well, you have seen him, your God, Iokanaan, but me, me . . . you never saw. If you had seen me, you would have loved me. For I saw you, Iokanaan, and I loved you. Oh, how I loved you. I love you still, Iokanaan. I love only you . . . I am thirsty for your beauty. I am starved for your body. And neither wine nor fruit can allay my desire. What shall I do now, Iokanaan? Neither the rivers nor the great waters can extinguish my passion. I was a Princess, you scorned me. I was a virgin, you deflowered me. I was chaste, you filled my veins with fire. . . . Ah! Ah! why did you not look at me, Iokanaan? If you had looked at me, you would have loved me. I know you would have loved me, and the mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death. We must think only of love.
HEROD. Your daughter is monstrous, utterly monstrous. What she has done is a great crime. I am sure it is a crime against an unknown god.
HERODIAS. I approve what my daughter has done, and now I wish to stay here.
HEROD [rising]. Ah! it is the incestuous wife speaking! Come! I do not want to stay here. Come, I say. I feel sure that something horrible will happen. Manasseh, Issachar, Ozias, put out the torches. I do not wish to look at these things. I do not want these things to look at me. Put out the torches. Hide the moon! Hide the stars! Let us too hide in our palace, Herodias. I begin to be afraid.
[The slaves put out the torches. The stars disappear. A great black cloud passes over the moon and hides it completely. The scene becomes entirely sombre. The tetrarch begins to climb the staircase.]
THE VOICE OF SALOME. Ah! I have kissed your mouth, Iokanaan, I have kissed your mouth. Your lips had a bitter taste. Was it the taste of blood? . . . Perhaps it was the taste of love. They say that love has a bitter taste. . . . But what does it matter? What does it matter? I have kissed your mouth, Iokanaan, I have kissed your mouth.
[A ray of moonlight falls on SALOME and illuminates her.]
HEROD [turning back and seeing SALOME]. Kill that woman!
[The soldiers rush forward and crush under their shields, SALOME, daughter of HERODIAS, Princess of Judaea.]
Curtain.