I must speak with you! Marie. Speak; I am listening. George. Why this tone? Does it perhaps mean that between us all is over? Marie. If it is or is not, it matters little. George. Am I, then, to understand---- Marie. My God! Have you not Gertrude? But now I saw her in your arms! What do you want with me? George. I must speak with you---- Marie. Not now---- Gertrude. [_Re-enters_.] Here are the hairpins. [Marie _takes them_.] I have also brought my dressing-sacque and combs. Now we will excuse you for a little while, George dear. You can give your judgment later. George. [_With a glance at_ Marie.] May I not remain? Gertrude. No, no. You would criticise and find fault, and embarrass Marie, and me, too. Now be good, George, and go into the garden. [George _exits_.] Marie. [_Holding sacque_.] Will you put this on? Gertrude. No, I will put it around me. Marie. As you please. How do you want your hair dressed, high or low? Gertrude. But Marie, we had decided upon that! Have you forgotten? Marie. Oh, pardon me--I--of course we had! Gertrude. Then give me a kiss! [Marie _suddenly takes her head in both hands and stares at her_.] Gertrude. [_Frightened_.] Why do you look at me so strangely? Marie. [_Embraces her fiercely_] My darling!!!! Gertrude. Oh, you hurt me! Marie. Perhaps you hurt me, too---- Gertrude. I? How so? Marie. [_Has begun to comb_.] How can you ask? You are about to be married--and--and--I--I am jealous of you! Gertrude. Just wait, Marie, dear. [_Sings_.] "In a year, in a year, when the nightingale comes----" Marie. [_Intensely_.] When the nightingale comes? Gertrude. You will be Pastor's wife. [_Laughs_.] [Marie, _with one braid in her hand, bending back, laughing loudly and forced_.] Gertrude. [_In pain_.] Oh, you are pulling my hair---- Marie. Any one as happy as you should be able to bear a little pain. There! I will braid it into your hair--for you are happy, are you not? Very happy? Gertrude. Yes! I am--that is--I would like to be--but George--he is so sad.