There she goes. Three times I dreamed she lay in her coffin, and now---- Oh these malicious dreams, they clothe themselves in our fears to terrify our hopes. I’ll never give heed to a dream again. I’ll never again take pleasure in a good one, and then I won’t have to worry about the evil one that follows it. How firm and sure is her step! She’s already near the churchyard. I wonder who’ll be the first to meet her--not that it matters, but----(_starting in terror_). The grave-digger! He has just dug a grave and is climbing out of it. She’s nodded to him, and is looking down into the dark hole with a smile. Now she’s thrown the flowers in, and is going into church. (_Music is heard._) They’re singing: “Now thank we all our God.” (_Folding her hands._) Yes! yes! If mother had died, I’d never have been happy again, for----(_looking towards heaven_). But Thou art gracious, Thou art merciful! I wish I had a faith like the Catholics, so that I could give Thee something. I would empty my money-box and buy Thee a lovely golden heart and wreathe it with roses. Our clergyman says that gifts are nothing in Thy eyes, for all is Thine, and we should not try to give Thee what Thou hast. But then, everything in the house belongs to father, and yet he’s pleased when I buy him a kerchief with his own money, and embroider it neatly and put it on his plate on his birthday. Yes, he honours me by wearing it on special holidays, Christmas or Whitsuntide. Once I saw a tiny little Catholic girl bringing her cherries to the altar. How I loved to see her! They were the first of the year, and I could see how she longed to eat them. But still she fought against her innocent desire, and threw them down quickly to make an end of temptation. The priest, saying Mass, had just raised the chalice, and looked frowningly at her, and the child hurried away terrified, but the Virgin over the altar smiled down so tenderly, as if she would have liked to step out of her frame, run after the child, and kiss her. I did it for her. There’s Leonard. Ah! SCENE 4 LEONARD (_outside_). Are you dressed? CLARA. Why so tender, so thoughtful? I’m not a princess. LEONARD (_coming in_). I didn’t think you were alone. As I went past, I thought I saw Barbara from next-door at the window. CLARA. That’s why, then, is it? LEONARD. You are always cross. A fellow can stay away for a fortnight; it can have rained and shone again ten times over; but each time I see _you_, there’s always the same old cloud on your face. CLARA. It used to be so different. LEONARD. Yes, indeed! If you’d always looked as you do now, we’d never have been good friends. CLARA. What does it matter? LEONARD.