~His Wife.~~ Ah! So you see that you are _not_ forgotten, my darling! Think, too, of the young man who saluted you so respectfully in the street the other day. ~The Man.~~ Yes, that is true, my wife. He was a nice-looking young man--a very nice-looking young man, and had such a distinguished face. I am glad to have been reminded of his bow that day. Well, I am almost bowing myself now; yes, bowing to sleep, for I am quite worn out. Yes, I am growing old, my little greyheaded wife. Do you not notice it? ~His Wife.~~ No, you are as handsome as ever. ~The Man.~~ But are not my eyes just a little less bright than they used to be? ~His Wife.~~ No. They flash as brilliantly as ever they did. ~The Man.~~ And my hair--is it as jet-black as before? ~His Wife.~~ No; but it is so snowily white that it looks even more beautiful. ~The Man~~ And have I no wrinkles? ~His Wife.~~ Oh, perhaps a _little_ one or two, but---- ~The Man.~~ Oh yes, I know! I am a perfect Adonis. I will buy a uniform to-morrow, and take service in the light cavalry. Will that do, eh? [_His Wife bursts out laughing._] ~His Wife.~~ Ah, now you are joking, just as you used to do. But lie down here, my darling, and take some sleep, while I go and sit by our boy. You may rest easy, for I shall not leave him, and when he wakes I will call you.--You will not mind kissing an old wrinkled hand, will you? ~The Man.~~ Silence, silence! You are still the most beautiful woman that I have ever seen. ~His Wife.~~ But are there no wrinkles on my face? ~The Man.~~ Wrinkles? What wrinkles? I see only a beautiful, dear, kind, clever face--beyond that, nothing. You will not be angry with me for chiding you thus? Now go to our boy, and watch over him; spreading around his bed the calm halo of your love and tenderness. And if he should be restless in his sleep, sing to him a little lullaby, as you were wont to do, and place the grapes near his bedside, so that he may be able to reach them with his hand when he awakes. [_Exit the Man's Wife, while the Man lies down upon the couch with his head at the end which is nearest to the corner occupied by the motionless figure of the Being in Grey: so near, indeed, that the hand of the Being seems almost to be resting upon the Man's grey, dishevelled locks. In a moment the Man is asleep._] ~The Being in Grey.~~