that the husband of my mother looks at me like that. I know not what it means. Of a truth I know it too well.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN
You have left the feast, Princess?
SALOMÉ
How sweet is the air here! I can breathe here! Within there are Jews from Jerusalem who are tearing each other in pieces over their foolish ceremonies, and barbarians who drink and drink, and spill their wine on the pavement, and Greeks from Smyrna with painted eyes and painted cheeks, and frizzed hair curled in columns, and Egyptians silent and subtle, with long nails of gade and russett cloaks, and Romans brutal and coarse, with their uncouth jargon. Ah! how I loathe the Romans I They are rough and common, and they give themselves the airs of noble lords.
THE YOUNG SYRIAN
Will you be seated. Princess?
THE PAGE OF HERODIAS
Why do you speak to her? Oh! something terrible will happen. Why do you look at her?
SALOMÉ
How good to see the moon! She is like a little piece of money, a little silver flower. She
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