LORD CULLEN. [_At the end of it_.] Worse and worse. Could I have dreamed both the music and the dance and the dancer? LADY CULLEN. [_Soothingly_.] I am sure this was the case, my dear son. LORD CULLEN. [_Rallying_.] I heard her voice singing in the forest before ever she began to dance. It was the sweetest voice and song I ever heard. [_Looking around_.] Can any of these maid, sing to me, I wonder? MARION. [_Steps forward_.] I only know one song, my lord. [LORD CULLEN _signs to her to sing_, _and she stands before the dais and sings a verse of_ “_Bedlam_.” LORD CULLEN. [_Impatiently_.] No, no—that is not in the least what I remember. [_Turning to_ ROSE.] You try now. ROSE. I don’t sing, my lord—but—[_Indicating another girl in the group_] she has a sweet voice, and she knows a powerful lot of songs. [_A girl steps out from the others and sings a verse of_ “_The Lark in the Morn_.” LORD CULLEN. Not that. Mine was a song to stir the depths of a man’s heart and bring tears up from the fountains of it. [_He leans back in deep dejection—and at this moment_ LADY MILLICENT _and_ ALICE _come forward_. LORD CULLEN. [_Eagerly_.] I seem to know that russet skirt—those bare, small feet. [_Standing up quickly_.] Mother, look at that maid with the red kerchief on her head. LADY CULLEN. Some sort of a gipsy dress, to all appearance. LORD CULLEN. [_Doubtfully_.] The skirt she wore was torn and ragged—that day in the forest. She had no gold rings to her ears, nor silken scarf upon her head—But this might be her dress for holidays. [JOCKIE _advances and begins to play the tune of_ “_Princess Royal_.” LORD CULLEN. [_Eagerly_.] That is the right music—O is it possible my quest is ended! [LADY MILLICENT _and_ ALICE, _standing opposite one to another begin to dance—slowly and clumsily_, _and in evident doubt as to their steps_. LORD CULLEN _watches them for a moment and then claps his hands angrily as a sign for the music to stop_. _The dancers pause_. LORD CULLEN. This is a sad mimicry of my beautiful love. But there lies something behind the masquerade which I shall probe. [_He leaves the dais and goes straight towards_ LADY MILLICENT, _who turns from him in confusion_. LORD CULLEN. From whom did you take the manner and the colour of your garments, my maid? [LADY MILLICENT _remains obstinately silent_. LORD CULLEN. [_To_ ALICE.] Perhaps you have a tongue in your head. From whom did you try to learn those steps? [ALICE _turns sulkily away_. JOCKIE _comes forward_. JOCKIE. I’ll tell your lordship all about it, and I’ll take your lordship straight to the right wench, that I will, if so be as your lordship will give a shilling to a poor little swine-herd what goes empty and hungered most of the year round. LORD CULLEN. A handful of gold, my boy, if you lead me rightly.