How absurd! How could I! What would mother say? And without me everything would be topsy-turvy at home in no time. POET It would be so wonderful to live with you a few weeks, all alone with you, somewhere far away, in the forest, in the world of nature… Nature. And then, some day, “Good-by”—each going, without the other knowing where. MISS You are talking already about saying good-by. And I thought that you loved me such a lot. POET That is just the reason—(_Bends over her, and kisses her upon the forehead._) You sweet darling! MISS Please, hold me tight. I feel so cold. POET I fancy it’s time for you to dress. Wait, I’ll light a few more candles for you. MISS (_Rising_) Don’t look this way. POET No. (_At the window_) Tell me, child, are you happy? MISS What do you mean? POET I mean are you happy the way things are in general? MISS Well, they might be better. POET You misunderstand me. You have told me enough about your conditions at home. I know you are not a princess. Leaving all that aside, do you feel alive. Do you feel life pulsing through you? MISS Come, have you a comb? POET (_Goes to the dressing-table, hands her a comb, and watches her_) Good Lord, how lovely you look! MISS Please … don’t! POET Please, stay a while yet. I’ll get something for supper, and… MISS But it is awfully late already. POET It is not yet nine. MISS Dear me, I must hurry. Please! POET When shall I see you again? MISS When would you like to see me? POET To-morrow. MISS What day is to-morrow? POET Saturday. MISS Oh, then I can’t. I must take my little sister to her guardian. POET Then Sunday … hm … Sunday … on Sunday … now I’ll have to explain something to you.—I’m not Biebitz, but Biebitz is a friend of mine. I’ll introduce him to you sometime. Biebitz’s play will be given Sunday. I’ll send you tickets, and take you home after the performance. You will tell me then how you liked the play. Won’t you? MISS Here you are talking about this Biebitz again.—I don’t understand what it is all about. POET I won’t know you really, until I know what impression the play made on you. MISS Now … I’m ready. POET Come, sweetheart. (_They go out_) THE POET AND THE ACTRESS _A room in an inn in the country. It is an evening in spring; moonlight floods the meadows and hills; the windows are open. A deep silence reigns. The POET and the ACTRESS enter, and as they cross the threshold, the candle which the POET is carrying in his hand is blown out._ POET Oh… ACTRESS What’s the matter? POET The candle.—But we don’t need any. Look, how light it is. Wonderful! ACTRESS (_Sinks suddenly down at the window with her hands folded_) POET What’s the matter with you? ACTRESS (_Remains silent_) POET (_Going to her_) What are you doing? ACTRESS (_Indignant_) Can’t you see that I am praying?— POET Do you believe in God? ACTRESS Of course I do; I am not a fool. POET Oh, I see! ACTRESS