dition. [He falls on his knees before her.]
I shall come close to you, though the flame of your beauty consume me.

HELENA. You'd better be careful what you say to me. Remember I'm the
Queen.

PARIS. No man weighs his words who has but a moment to live.

HELENA. You said that exactly like an actor. [He leans very close to
her.] What are you doing now?

PARIS. I am looking into you. You are the clear glass in which I read
the secret of the universe.

HELENA. The secret of the universe. Ah! Perhaps you could understand me.

PARIS. First you must understand yourself.

HELENA [instinctively taking up a mirror]. How?

PARIS. You must break with all this prose. [With an unconscious gesture
he sweeps a tray of toilet articles from the table. HELENA emits a
little shriek.]

HELENA. The ointment!

PARIS [rushing to the window and pointing to the distance]. And climb to
infinite poesie!

HELENA [catching his enthusiasm, says very blandly]. There is nothing in
the world like poetry.

PARIS [lyrically]. Have you ever heard the poignant breathing of the
stars?

HELENA. No. I don't believe in astrology.

PARIS. Have you ever smelt the powdery mists of the sun?

HELENA. I should sneeze myself to death.

PARIS. Have you ever listened to the sapphire soul of the sea?

HELENA. Has the sea a soul? But please don't stop talking. You do it so
beautifully.

PARIS. Deeds are sweeter than words. Shall we go hand in hand to meet
eternity?

HELENA [not comprehending him]. That's very pretty. Say it again.

PARIS [passionately]. There's but a moment of life left me. I shall
stifle it in ecstasy. Helena, Helena, I adore you!

HELENA [jumping up in high surprise]. You're not making love to me, you
naughty boy?

PARIS. Helena!

HELENA. You've spoken to me so little, and already you dare to do that.

PARIS [impetuously]. I am a lover of life. I skip the inessentials.

HELENA. Remember who I am.

PARIS. I have not forgotten. Daughter of Heaven. [Suddenly he leaps to
his feet.] Listen!

HELENA. Shhh! That's the King and Analytikos in the library.

PARIS. No! No! Don't you hear the flutter of wings?

HELENA. Wings?

PARIS [ecstatically]. Venus, mother of Love!

HELENA [alarmed]. What is it?

PARIS. She has sent her messenger. I hear the patter of little feet.

HELENA. Those little feet are the soldiers below in the courtyard. [A
trumpet sounds.]

PARIS [the truth of the situation breaking through his emotion