GEORGE. Solitude and silence, two wonderful words. What they call up in my mind! Solitude for the physical and silence for the mind. It is in these states that Art flourishes in its greatest form. Art is turning back to the works of the primitive artists, early Italians principally. And it is here that it should turn--it should turn back to Art and not to Nature, which only holds it back. And we who expect to figure in this new Renaissance must live as our masters, cloistered, alone, removed from the material, within ourselves--as Angelico or as Fra Filippo Lippi. For from the cave of Silence comes the flame of creation, and we who hope to receive a spark of this flame must worship in solitude, as monks and as nuns. ALICE (smiling). But have I not heard something about a rope ladder in connection with Fra Filippo Lippi? GEORGE. Legends--inventions of the common mind which sometimes are chronicled by still commoner ones--and thus accepted finally as facts. ALICE. Truths, I should say. GEORGE (jumping up). I am going out! CAMELE (in a boisterous voice). Schopenhauer, I prefer De Mau--(Her voice is lost as Alice's is heard speaking to George.) ALICE. Don't run away, George, I want to talk with you. I think that you are beginning to understand the change in me, the new Alice, let us say--and I want to make sure of it. GEORGE (sitting down). No, I do not understand the new Alice. ALICE. You will not, would not be nearer the truth, I think. GEORGE. No, I do not is exactly what I mean. ALICE. I will try again to show you then, George. (She moves closer to him. George starts to move away from her but changes his mind evidently and sits still.) GEORGE. I'm ready for the revelation, Alice. Make it as long as you like. It will probably be our last real talk together. ALICE. Why? GEORGE. Because--because we have nothing in common--this new Alice pose--I can't think of it as anything else but as a pose--has or will come between us and break up our friendship. ALICE. And in breaking up our friendship it will produce something much finer. GEORGE. Finer? that is the finest thing in life--friendship. ALICE. It is the beginning only of the finest thing in life. GEORGE. Alice, you don't mean to say--Alice!--Lord!--you're not making--(She blushes and turns away her eyes.) MAUD (from the tea table). They give "Parsifal" next week. (George tries to become composed.) ALICE (speaking across the stage to the group). I know one of the "Flower Maidens." I get "comps." (Alice glances at George, who has failed to become composed.) ALICE (after a pause). George? GEORGE (weakly). Well? ALICE. Do you like my pose as you call it? GEORGE (looking at her). Is it a pose? ALICE (after they look intently at each other, drops her glance). Yes. (Meaning no!--and adds more excitedly.) Yes, yes!--I was only acting to see what you would do. (But she takes his hand.)