ANITRA. [_Pointing to his turban._] That lovely opal! PEER. [_Enchanted, handing her the jewel._] Anitra! Anitra! true daughter of Eve! I feel thee magnetic; for I am a man, And, as a much-esteemed author has phrased it: “Das Ewig-Weibliche ziehet uns an!”[91] SCENE SEVENTH. _A moonlight night. The palm-grove outside ANITRA’S tent._ _PEER GYNT is sitting beneath a tree, with an Arabian lute in his hands. His beard and hair are clipped; he looks considerably younger._ PEER GYNT. [_Plays and sings._] I double-locked my Paradise, And took its key with me. The north-wind bore me seaward ho! While lovely women all forlorn Wept on the ocean strand. Still southward, southward clove my keel The salt sea-currents through. Where palms were swaying proud and fair, A garland round the ocean-bight, I set my ship afire. I climbed aboard the desert ship, A ship on four stout legs. It foamed beneath the lashing whip;—— Oh, catch me; I’m a flitting bird;— I’m twittering on a bough! Anitra, thou’rt the palm-tree’s must; That know I now full well! Ay, even the Angora goat-milk cheese Is scarcely half such dainty fare, Anitra, ah, as thou! [_He hangs the lute over his shoulder, and comes forward._] Stillness! Is the fair one listening? Has she heard my little song? Peeps she from behind the curtain, Veil and so forth cast aside?— Hush! A sound as though a cork From a bottle burst amain! Now once more! And yet again! Love-sighs can it be? or songs?— No, it is distinctly snoring.— Dulcet strain! Anitra sleepeth! Nightingale, thy warbling stay! Every sort of woe betide thee, If with gurgling trill thou darest— But, as says the text: Let be! Nightingale, thou art a singer; Ah, even such an one am I. He, like me, ensnares with music Tender, shrinking little hearts. Balmy night is made for music; Music is our common sphere; In the act of singing, we are We, Peer Gynt and nightingale. And the maiden’s very sleeping Is my passion’s crowning bliss;— For the lips protruded o’er the Beaker yet untasted quite—— But she’s coming, I declare! After all, it’s best she should. ANITRA. [_From the tent._] Master, call’st thou in the night? PEER. Yes indeed, the Prophet calls. I was wakened by the cat With a furious hunting-hubbub—— ANITRA. Ah, not hunting-noises, Master; It was something much, much worse.