ILSE--How do I know?--Over the bed was a mirror let into the ceiling. The little room looked tower-high and bright as an opera-house. You saw yourself actually hanging downwards from the sky. I had the most frightful dreams at night.--God, O God, when would it be day again!--Good night, Ilse. When you sleep you’re beautiful for murder! MORITZ--Is this Henry still alive? ILSE--God willing, no!--One day when he went to get some absinthe I threw my cloak on and slipped out onto the street. The Carnival was over. The police snapped me up. What was I after in men’s clothes?--They took me to headquarters, and there came Nohl, Fehrendorf, Padinsky, Spühler, Oikonomopulos, the whole Priapia, and bailed me out. In a cab they transported me to Adolar’s studio. Ever since I’ve been true to the gang. Fehrendorf is a monkey, Nohl is a pig, Boyokevitch an owl, Loison a hyena, Oikonomopulos a camel--but that’s why I love them one and all the same, and don’t care to tie up to anyone else, though the world were full of archangels and millionaires! MORITZ--I must go back, Ilse. ILSE--Come with me as far as our house. MORITZ--What for?--What for? ILSE--[_Kidding him._] To drink fresh, warm goat’s milk!--I’ll singe your forelock and hang a little bell around your neck. And we still have a rocking-horse that you can play with. MORITZ--I must get back. I still have the Sassanids, the Sermon on the Mount and the parallelepipedon on my conscience.--Good night, Ilse. ILSE--Sweet dreams!--Do you ever go down to the wigwam any more, where Melchi Gabor buried my tomahawk?--Brrr! Before you catch on, I’ll lie in the dust-bin! [_She hurries off._] MORITZ--One word, it would have cost.--[_Calls._] Ilse!--Ilse!---- Praise God, she doesn’t hear! --I am not in the mood.--For that, one needs a clear head and a joyful heart.--Too bad, too bad the chance is lost! ... I shall say that I have had huge crystal mirrors over my beds--and have trained an unruly filly--and made her prance before me across the carpet in long black silk stockings and patent-leather shoes, and long black kid gloves and black velvet around her neck;--and how I stifled her in my pillows, in an access of madness.... I shall smile when the talk is of lust.... I shall---- =scream!--I shall scream!--Oh to be you, Ilse!--Priapia!--Unconsciousness!--That takes away my power!--This favorite of fortune, this sunny creature, this daughter of joy upon my dolorous path!--Oh!--Oh!= [_He staggers across the path and falls under the high, dark, cavernous bushes on the further side, crawling towards the river._] * * * * *