Princess.—How enchanted everything seems by the moonlight; how clear and changed and nearer the heart all things are, even the snowblossoms and the drowsy crowns of the tree; how sweetly the warm, fragrant night air soothes! (Gazes about her, rests her eyes on the Miller; then suddenly, gently.) Place the lantern farther away, to the side.

Miller does as bidden.

Princess.—O, now I believe that on such a night as this it is possible to understand the murmurings of the old linden. (Gazes ahead of her; then to the Miller, half jestingly, half seriously.) It would be delightful to listen to stories here. Tell me, what do people hear in this spot? Tell—and (reflects a moment) be seated.

Miller.—I? Is it permissible?

Princess.—That is the way to tell stories and to listen to them.

Miller (Seats himself).—It would be a gloomy tale.

Princess.—About what?

Miller.—About a lost crown.

Princess.—A lost one? Who lost it?

Miller.—A sorrowful kingdom.

A cloud crosses the moon; it becomes dark under the linden.

Princess (Utters a smothered cry and moves nearer).—What sudden darkness!

Miller.—Your Grace—I—I—I will bring the light.

Princess.—Why?

Miller.—I thought—

Princess (Merrily).—That I was afraid. No, leave the light alone; it hurts the eyes. Rather place it farther away.

Miller does as bidden.

Princess.—Still farther—behind the tree, and (in a subdued voice) begin your tale—

Just then the moon shines forth brightly.

Princess (Disappointed).—O!

Miller (Surprised).—But—

Princess.—What is the matter?

Miller.—I have found a folded paper here.

Princess.—What is it?

Miller (Looking at the paper).—A petition, a humble request.

Princess.—How strange people are. They do nothing but continually bow and beg, beg everywhere.