GANEM. Accursed skill, that roused this blood again, Which was already half coagulated. I saw him speaking with thee just this morning. What was it? GUeLISTANE. I have told thee. GANEM. Speak, was that all? Thou liest, there was more! GUeLISTANE. He asked me-- GANEM. What? But hush, the walls have ears. [She whispers.] Beloved! While thou art speaking, ripes in me a plan, Most wonderful, note well, and based on this: He now is but the shadow of himself, And though he still stands threatening there, his feet Are clay. His wrath is thunder without lightning. And--mark me well--all this his lustfulness Is naught but senile braggadocio. GUeLISTANE. Well, What dost thou base on this? GANEM. The greatest hope. [He whispers.] GUeLISTANE. But such a poison-- Suppose there should be one of such a nature, To end the life, but leave the corpse unmarred-- This poison none will sell thee. GANEM. Aye, no man, A woman will-- GUeLISTANE. For what reward? GANEM. For this, That, thinking I am wed, she also thinks To call me husband--after. GUeLISTANE. Who'll believe it?... GANEM. There long has been a woman who believes it. GUeLISTANE. Thou liest: saidst thou not the plan was new? And now thou sayst there long has been a woman. GANEM. There has: I meshed her in this web of lies Before I saw the goal. Today 'tis clear. GUeLISTANE. Who is't? GANEM. The limping daughter of a poor Old pastrycook, who lives in the last alley Down in the sailors' quarter. GUeLISTANE. And her name? GANEM. What's in a name? Her eyes, with doglike fear, Clung to me when I passed, one of those faces That lure me, since so greedily they drink In lies, and weave out of themselves such fancies. And so I oft would stand and talk to her. [Illustration: LAKE IN THE GRUNEWALD] _From the Painting by Walter Leistikow_ GUeLISTANE. And who gives her the poison? GANEM. Why, her father, By keeping it where she can steal it from him. GUeLISTANE. What? He a pastry-maker?