You're just as handsome as ever. MAN And my eyes are bright? WIFE Yes, your eyes are bright. MAN And my hair is black as pitch? WIFE It's so white, so like snow that it's even more beautiful. MAN And no wrinkles? WIFE Yes, there are little wrinkles on your face, but-- MAN Of course, I know I'm a beauty. To-morrow I'll buy myself a uniform and enter the light cavalry. Yes? _(His Wife laughs)_ WIFE There, you're joking too, as in olden times. But lie down here and sleep a little. I'll go to look after our boy. Don't worry, I won't leave him. I'll call you when he wakes. You don't care to kiss an old wrinkled hand, do you? MAN _(kissing her hand)_ Go, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever known. WIFE And the wrinkles? MAN What wrinkles? I only see a dear, kind, good, sensible face. Nothing else. Don't take offence at my stern tone. Go to the boy, watch him, stay with him like a quiet shadow of gentleness and love. And if he is disturbed in his sleep, sing him a song as you used to do. And put the grapes nearer, so that he can reach them. _[The Wife goes out. Man lies down on the sofa, his head toward the spot where Someone in Gray stands immobile, so that His hand almost touches Man's gray, dishevelled hair. Man falls asleep quickly._ SOMEONE IN GRAY Man has fallen into a sound, sweet sleep, deceived by hope. His breath is soft as a child's, his heart beats calmly and evenly, bringing him relief. He knows not that in a few moments his son will die. In mysterious dream-fancies a picture of impossible happiness arises before him. It seems to him that he and his son are drifting in a white boat along a beautiful, quiet stream. It seems to him that it is a glorious day, and he sees the deep sky and the transparent crystal water. He hears the rustling of the reeds as they part before the boat. It seems to him that he is happy and glad. All his feelings betray him. Suddenly he is disturbed. The terrible truth has entered through the thick veil of sleep and stung his thoughts. "Why is your golden hair cut so short, my boy? Why?" "I had a headache, papa, that's why." And deceived once more, he feels happy again, sees the deep sky, and hears the rustling of the parting reeds. He knows not that his son is already dying. He hears not how, in a last senseless hope, with a child's faith in the power of adults, his son is calling him without words, with his heart: "Papa, papa, I am dying! Hold me!" Man sleeps soundly and sweetly, and in the deceptive, mysterious fancies there arises before him the picture of impossible happiness. Awake, Man! Your son is dead. _[Man lifts his head, frightened, and rises._ MAN Ha! What is it? I thought I heard someone call me. _[At that moment many women behind the scenes burst into a wail--the loud, long-drawn wail over the dead. The Wife enters, frightfully pale._ MAN Dead? WIFE Yes, he is dead. MAN Did he call me? WIFE