(Surangama goes out.) O King, my only King! You have left me alone, and you have been but just in doing so. But will you not know the inmost truth within my soul? (Taking out a dagger from within her bosom.) This body of mine has received a stain—I shall make a sacrifice of it to-day in the dust of the hall, before all these princes! But shall I never be able to tell you that I know of no stain of faithlessness within the hidden chambers of my heart? That dark chamber where you would come to meet me lies cold and empty within my bosom to-day—but, O my Lord! none has opened its doors, none has entered it but you, O King! Will you never come again to open those doors? Then, let death come, for it is dark like yourself, and its features are beautiful as yours. It is you—it is yourself, O King!
