Sir T. Say the word Again, and I'll hiss too! Good night, my man. Boulder. Good night, Sir Tristram. [Goes out.] Sir T. Hildreth, Abbot; come.-- About this lady not a word remember.-- I'll ask you something; did you ever see A woman's soul? Hildreth. I never did, Sir Tristram. Sir T. Abbot? Salerne. Nor I. Sir T. And never may you need to! Once on a time I saw a woman's soul. I looked and looked, expecting colours, flowers, A perfume and an opal. I found instead A sooty cobweb diapered with limbs And empty hulls of captives long undone. I shook it, but the spider made no sign: It, too, was dead. I brushed the film away, And where it hung a mortal crevice yawned, Obscene and dark and barren as the grave.-- How late it is! My guests will all be gone. Come, quickly.--Prophecies fulfil themselves. [The three go out.] [Temple re-enters from the Dressing-room, packs the clothes Sir Tristram had been wearing during the day, closes the portmanteau and goes out.] [Enter Blyth, carrying a lady's hat and clothes. He looks about, and then beckons at the door of the Reception-room.] [Enter Europa Troop, as Cressida.] Blyth. [Pointing to the Business-room] In there. Europa. Turn up the light. [Blyth lights up the Business-room.] A smell of leather; Ledgers; business-smell; red ink and copying-ink-- The faintest spice: I feel them in the air. Turn out the light. [Blyth extinguishes the light in the Business-room.] The smells are out as well. I saw the books, the pots. Turn up the light. [Blyth lights up the Business-room.] The smells again. The senses, Blyth, are glued Together. Did you ever see a smell? Blyth. Fumes? Europa. Oh, yes!--fumes. Now Blyth, is this correct? Won't Abbot and his clerks be here again? Blyth. That's not the counting-house. Sir Tristram's own. Europa. Sir Tristram's own? Blyth. His private business-room. Europa. This is the most palatial theatre! Dispose my things--there, on the roll-top desk. [Blyth does so.] I'll risk it, Blyth. [Gives Blyth money.] Blyth. [Counting the money] One short. You promised five. Europa. [Gives a fifth sovereign] I know I did. I thought you'd let me off. Blyth. You'll know me better next time. Europa. That's the style! _We_ can collaborate. Blyth. What are you getting at? What do you want to know? Europa. I'll tell you, Blyth. I want to know what makes this theatre feel Uncanny. All the time I'm like a ghost Astray in some mirage. Blyth. A plump one, lady; A very handsome one. Europa. Thanks, Blyth; I'm fit. I'll tell you something else, because I like you: I want to take possession of Sir Tristram; I have it in me, Blyth. What do you think? Blyth. Sir Tristram's married and a gentleman.