The Queen stands in the lofty hall
Which is lit with so many candles.
She says to the page: "Run once more
And fetch to me the bag with our games.
It lies close at hand
On my table's edge."
The boy was so fleet of foot,
He was soon at the back of the castle.

And drinking next to the Queen at that moment
Was Sorbet, the most beautiful of women.
She struck her mouth so hard with her glass
It was ghastly to behold.
Embarrassment! Shame!
Wine all over her best dress!
She hurries and flies swiftly
To the back of the castle.

The page began running back
Towards the beauty in torment;
No one except the two of them knew
They cherished each other in their hearts.
And, oh, what luck,
What providence!
They threw themselves into embrace,
And carressed and kissed to their heart's desire.

But finally they tear themselves free
And she hurries to her chamber.
The page makes his way to the great Queen
Through all the fans and sabres.
The Queen notices
His stained doublet:
Nothing escaped her understanding,
Just like the Queen of Sheba.

Their hostess summoned them to her presence:
"We just recently had an argument,
And you stubbornly maintained
That the spirit reaches nothing over distance.
That only the present
Leaves a trace,
But no one affects anything outside space or time,
Not even the heavenly stars.

Now look! Just now at my side
Was spilled this ghostly sweet drink.
And at the same moment, so far away,
It spoiled the young man's doublet.
You must trouble yourself to get a new one!
And since I'm so pleased
That the doublet provided my proof,
I'll pay for it! or else you'll be scolded."