_Ger._ She's but an old woman; she can't keep them out. They would walk over her. All the goddesses have such long legs! You go and look. You'll easily know them: if they've got no irises to their eyes, don't let them in, for the love of God, William! Real women have irises to their eyes: those have none--those frightful snowy beauties.--And yet snow is very nice! And I'm so hot! _There_ they come again! _Exit_ COL. G. _Enter_ MRS. CLIFFORD. _Ger._ Aunt! aunt! help me! There they come! _Mrs. C._ What is it, my Arthur? They shan't hurt you. I am here. I will take care of you. _Ger._ Yes, yes, you will! I am not a bit afraid of them now. Do you know them, aunt? I'll tell you a secret: they are Juno and Diana and Venus.--They hate sculptors. But I never wronged them. Three white women--only, between their fingers and behind their knees they are purple--and inside their lips, when they smile--and in the hollows of their eyes--ugh! They want me to love them; and they say you are all--all of you women--no better than they are. I _know_ that is a lie; for they have no eyelids and no irises to their eyes. _Mrs. C._ Dear boy, they shan't come near you. Shall I sing to you, and drive them away? _Ger._ No, don't. I can't bear birds in my brain. _Mrs. C._ How long have you had this headache? (_laying her hand on his forehead_.) _Ger._ Only a year or two--since the white woman came--that woman (_pointing to the Psyche_). She's been buried for ages, and won't grow brown. _Mrs. C._ There's no woman there, Arthur. _Ger._ Of course not. It was an old story that bothered me. Oh, my head! my head!--There's my father standing behind the door and won't come in!--_He_ could help me now, if he would. William! show my father in. But he isn't in the story--so he can't. _Mrs. C._ Do try to keep yourself quiet, Arthur. The doctor will be here in a few minutes. _Ger._ He shan't come here! He would put the white woman out. She does smell earthy, but I won't part with her. (_A knock_.) What a devil of a noise! Why don't they use the knocker? What's the use of taking a sledge-hammer? _Mrs. C._ It's that stupid James! _Enter_ CONSTANCE. MRS. C. _goes to meet her_. _Mrs. C._ Constance, you go and hurry the doctor. I will stay with Arthur. _Con._ Is he _very_ ill, aunt? _Mrs. C._ I'm afraid he is. _Ger._ (_sitting up_). Constance! Constance! _Con._ Here I am! (_running to him_). _Ger._ Oh, my head! I wish I could find somewhere to lay it!--Sit by me, Constance, and let me lay my head on your shoulder--for one minute--only one minute. It aches so! (_She sits down by him. His head sinks on her shoulder_. MRS. C. _looks annoyed, and exit_.) _Con._ Thank you, thank you, dear Arthur! (_sobbing_). You used to like me! I could not believe you hated me now. You _have_ forgiven me? Dear head! _He closes his eyes. Slow plaintive music_.