That is difficult, my servant isn’t here now—but, wait a minute—I will go myself … what would you like? MISS Oh, really don’t bother; I have to go home anyway. POET Child, that’s out of the question. Now I will tell you something; when we leave, we will go together somewhere for supper. MISS Oh, no. I haven’t time for that. And, then, where could we go? Somebody we know might see us. POET Do you know such a lot of people? MISS Well, it takes only one to make trouble for us. POET Why trouble? MISS Well, suppose mother should hear about it… POET We can go somewhere, where no one can see us. There are plenty of restaurants with private dining-rooms. MISS (_Singing_) “Let’s dine in a chambre separée!” POET Have you ever been in a private dining-room? MISS To tell the truth—yes. POET Who was the happy man? MISS Oh, it wasn’t the way you imagine… I went with a friend and her fiancé. They took me along. POET And you expect me to believe that? MISS You needn’t believe it! POET (_Close to her_) Did you blush? You can hardly see anything. I can’t even distinguish your features. (_He touches her cheeks with his hands_) But even so I recognize you. MISS Well, be careful that you don’t take me for some one else. POET It is strange, I don’t seem to remember how you look. MISS Thank you! POET (_Seriously_) It is almost uncanny. I can’t imagine any longer how you look—In a certain way I have already forgotten you—Now, if I couldn’t remember even the sound of your voice … what would you do then?—Something near and far away at the same time … it’s uncanny. MISS What are you talking about? POET Nothing, my angel, nothing. Where are your lips?… (_He kisses her_) MISS Wouldn’t it be better to light the lamp? POET No… (_Very tenderly_) Tell me, do you love me? MISS Very much … oh, so much! POET Have you ever loved any one as much as me? MISS I told you already that I didn’t. POET But… (_He sighs_) MISS He was my fiancé. POET I’d rather you wouldn’t think of him now. MISS Why … what’s the difference … look… POET We might imagine now that we were in a palace in India. MISS I’m sure people there wouldn’t be as wicked as you are. POET How idiotic! Perfectly divine—Ah, if you only know what you are to me… MISS Well? POET Don’t always push me away, I’m not going to hurt you— MISS My corset hurts me. POET (_Simply_) Take it off. MISS Yes. But you must behave. POET Of course! MISS (_Rises, and takes off her corset in the darkness_) POET (_Sits in the meantime on the sofa_) Tell me, aren’t you at all curious to know my name? MISS Yes, what is it? POET I’d rather not tell you my real name, but the name I go by. MISS What is the difference? POET I mean the name I use as a writer. MISS Oh, you don’t write under your real name? POET (_Close to her_) MISS Oh … stop … don’t. POET What fragrance! How sweet. (_He kisses her breasts_) MISS You are tearing my chemise. POET