ALBERTO. Monster! (_He goes into the hotel_, PAUL _strolls out towards the garden, whistling an air from Mozart as he goes. The window on the left opens and_ LUCREZIA _steps on to her balcony. Uncoiled, her red hair falls almost to her waist. Her nightdress is always half slipping off one shoulder or the other, like those loose-bodied Restoration gowns that reveal the tight-blown charms of Kneller's Beauties. Her feet are bare. She is a marvellously romantic figure, as she stands there, leaning on the balustrade, and with eyes more sombre than night, gazing into the darkness. The nightingales, the bells, the guitar, and passionate voice strike up. Great stars palpitate in the sky. The moon has swum imperceptibly to the height of heaven. In the garden below flowers are yielding their souls into the air, censers invisible. It is too much, too much.... Large tears roll down_ LUCREZIA's _cheeks and fall with a splash to the ground. Suddenly, but with the noiselessness of a cat,_ ALBERTO _appears, childish-looking in pink pajamas, on the middle of the three balconies. He sees_ LUCREZIA, _but she is much too deeply absorbed in thought to have noticed his coming_, ALBERTO _plants his elbows on the rail of the balcony, covers his face, and begins to sob, at first inaudibly, then in a gradual quickening crescendo. At the seventh sob_ LUCREZIA _starts and becomes aware of his presence_.) LUCREZIA. Alberto. I didn't know.... Have you been there long? (ALBERTO _makes no articulate reply, but his sobs keep on growing louder_.) Alberto, are you unhappy? Answer me. ALBERTO (_with difficulty, after a pause_). Yes. LUCREZIA. Didn't she let you in? ALBERTO. No. (_His sobs become convulsive_.) LUCREZIA. Poor boy. ALBERTO (_lifting up a blubbered face to the moonlight_). I am so unhappy. LUCREZIA. You can't be more unhappy than I am. ALBERTO. Oh yes, I am. It's impossible to be unhappier than me. LUCREZIA. But I _am_ more unhappy. ALBERTO. You re not. Oh, how can you be so cruel Lucrezia? (_He covers his face once more_.) LUCREZIA. But I only said I was unhappy Alberto. ALBERTO. Yes, I know. That showed you weren't thinking of me. Nobody loves me. I shall hang myself to-night with the cord of my dressing-gown. LUCREZIA. NO, no, Alberto. You mustn't do anything rash. ALBERTO. I shall. Your cruelty has been the last straw. LUCREZIA. I'm sorry, Bertino mio. But if you only knew how miserable I was feeling. I didn't mean to be unsympathetic. Poor boy. I'm so sorry. There, don't cry, poor darling. ALBERTO. Oh, I knew you wouldn't desert me, Lucrezia. You've always been a mother to me. (_He stretches out his hand and seizes hers, which has gone half-way to meet him; but the balconies are too far apart to allow him to kiss it. He makes an effort and fails. He is too short in the body_,) Will you let me come onto your balcony, Lucrezia? I want to tell you how grateful I am. LUCREZIA. But you can do that from your own balcony.