The Bonds of Interest/Act 2

Sirena. Is it not enough to deprive a woman of her five senses, Columbine? Can it be possible that a lady should see herself placed in so embarrassing a position and by low, unfeeling people? How did you ever dare to show yourself in my presence with such a tale?

Columbine. But sooner or later wouldn't you have had to know it?

Sirena. I had rather have died first. But did they all say the same?

Columbine. All, one after the other, exactly as I have told it to you. The tailor absolutely refuses to send you the gown until you have paid him everything that you owe.

Sirena. Impudent rascal! Everything that I owe him. The barefaced highwayman! And does he not stand indebted for his reputation and his very credit in this city to me? Until I employed him in the decoration of my person he did not know, so to speak, what it was to dress a lady.

Columbine. All the cooks and musicians and servants say the same. They refuse to play to-night or to appear at the fête unless they are all paid beforehand.

Sirena. The rogues! The brood of vipers! Whence does such insolence spring? Were these people not born to serve? Are they to be paid nowadays in nothing but money? A money the only thing which has value in the world? Woe unto her who is left without a husband to look after her, as I am, without male relatives, alas, without any mas​culine connection! A woman by herself is worth nothing in the world, be she never so noble or virtuous. O day foretold of the Apocalypse! Surely Antichrist has come!

Columbine. I never saw you so put out before. I hardly know you. You have always been able to rise above these calamities.

Sirena. Those were other days, Columbine. Then I had my youth to count on, and my beauty, as powerful allies. Princes and great grandees cast themselves at my feet.

Columbine. But on the other hand you did not have the experience and knowledge of the world which you have now. And as far as beauty is concerned, surely you never shone with such refulgence as to-day—that is, if you will listen to me.

Sirena. Don't attempt to flatter me. Do you suppose that I should ever have got myself into such a fix if I had been the Doña Sirena of my twenties?

Columbine. Your twenty suitors?

Sirena. What do you think? I had no end of suitors. And you who have not yet begun upon twenty, you have not the sense to perceive what that means and to profit by it. I would never have believed it possible. Otherwise should I have adopted you for my niece if I had, though I saw myself abandoned by every man in the world and reduced to live alone with a maid servant? If instead of wasting your youth on this impecunious Harlequin, this poet who can bring you nothing but ballads and verses, you had had the sense to make a proper use of your time, we should not be languishing now in this humiliating dilemma.

Columbine. What do you expect? I am too young to resign myself to being loved without loving. If I am ever to become skilful in making others suffer for love of me, surely I must learn first what it is one suffers when one loves. ​And when I do, I am positive I shall be able to profit by it. I have not yet turned twenty, but you must not think because of that I have so little sense as to marry Harlequin.

Sirena. I would not trust you. You are capricious, flighty, and allow yourself to be run away with by your imagination. But first let us consider what is to be done. How are we to extricate ourselves from this horrible dilemma? In a short time the guests will arrive—all persons of quality and importance, and among them Signor Polichinelle and his wife and daughter, who, for various reasons, are of more account to me than the rest. You know my house has been frequented of late by several noble gentlemen, somewhat frayed in their nobility, it is true, as I am, through want of means. For any one of them, the daughter of Signor Polichinelle, with her rich dowry and the priceless sum which she will inherit upon her father's death, would be an untold treasure. She has many suitors, but I interpose my influence with Signor Polichinelle and with his wife in favor of them all. Whichever one should be fortunate I know that he will requite my good offices with his bounty, because I have made them all sign an agreement which assures me of it. I have no other means than this to repair my state. If now some rich merchant or some trader by some lucky chance should fall in love with you.… Ah, who can say? This house might become again what it was in other days. But if the insolence of these people breaks out to-night, if I cannot give the fête.… No! I cannot think of it! It would be the death of me!

Columbine. Do not trouble yourself, Doña Sirena. We have enough in the house to provide the entertainment. As for the music and the servants, Signor Harlequin will be able to supply them—he is not a poet and in love with me for nothing. Many singers and choice spirits of his acquain​tance will willingly lend themselves to any adventure. You will see that nothing will be lacking, and your guests will all say that they have never been present at so marvellous a fête in their lives.

Sirena. Ah, Columbine! If that could only be, how greatly you would rise in my estimation! Run, run and seek out your poet.… There is no time to lose.

Columbine. My poet? Surely he is walking up and down now on the other side of the garden, waiting for a sign.

Sirena. I fear it would not be proper for me to be present at your interview. I ought not to demean myself by soliciting his favors. I leave all that to you. Let nothing be wanting at the fête and you shall be well repaid, for these terrible straits through which we are passing to-night cannot continue forever—or else I am not Doña Sirena!

Columbine. All will be well. Have no fear.

Columbine. [Stepping toward the right and calling] Harlequin! Harlequin! [Crispin enters] It isn't he!

Crispin. Be not afraid, beautiful Columbine, mistress of the mightiest poet, who yet has not been able to heighten in his verses the splendors of your charm. If the picture must always be different from reality, the advantage in this case is all on the side of reality. You can imagine, no doubt, what the picture must Have been.

Columbine. Are you a poet, too, or only a courtier and a flatterer?

Crispin. I am the best friend of your lover Harlequin, although I only met him to-day; but he has had ample proof of my friendship in this brief time. My greatest desire has been to salute you, and Signor Harlequin would not have been the poet that I take him for, had he not trusted ​to my friendship implicitly. But for his confidence I should have been in danger of falling in love with you simply upon the opportunity which he has afforded me of seeing you.

Columbine. Signor Harlequin trusted as much in my love as he did to your friendship. Don't take so much credit to yourself. It is as foolish to trust a man while he lives as a woman while she loves.

Crispin. Now I see that you are not so fatal to the sight as to the ear.

Columbine. Pardon me. Before the fête to-night I must speak with Signor Harlequin, and.…

Crispin. It will not be necessary. That is why I have come, a poor ambassador from him and from my master, who stoops to kiss your hand.

Columbine. Who is your master, if I may ask that question?

Crispin. The noblest and most powerful gentleman in the world. Permit me for the present not to mention his name. Soon it will be known. My master desires to salute Doña Sirena and to be present at her fête to-night.

Columbine. At her fête? Don't you know.…

Crispin. I know everything. That is my business—to investigate. I know that there were certain inconveniences which threatened to becloud it; but there will be none. Everything is provided for.

Columbine. What! Then you do know?

Crispin. I assure you everything is provided for—a sumptuous reception, lights and fireworks, musicians and sweet song. It will be the most brilliant fête which ever was in the world.

Columbine. Ah, then you are an enchanter?

Crispin. Now you begin to know me. But I shall only tell you that I do not bring good fortune with me for nothing. ​The people of this city are so intelligent that I am sure they will be incapable of frowning upon it and discouraging it with foolish scruples when they see it arrive. My master knows that Signor Polichinelle and his only daughter, the beautiful Silvia, the richest heiress in the city, are to be present at the fête to-night. My master has to fall in love with her, my master has to marry her; and my master will know how to requite in fitting fashion the good offices of Doña Sirena and of yourself in the matter, if so be that you do him the honor to assist in his suit.

Columbine. Your speech is impertinent. Such boldness gives offense.

Crispin. Time presses and I have no leisure to pay compliments.

Columbine. If the master is to be judged by the man.…

Crispin. Reassure yourself. You will find my master the most courteous, the most affable gentleman in the world. My effrontery permits him to be modest. The hard necessities of life sometimes compel the noblest cavalier to descend to the devices of the ruffian, just as sometimes they oblige the noblest ladies, in order to maintain their state, to stoop to menial tricks, and this mixture of ruin and nobility in one person is out of harmony with nature. It is better to divide among two persons that which is usually found confused clumsily and joined in one. My master and myself, as being one person, are each a part of the other. Would it could be always so! We have all within ourselves a great and splendid gentleman of lofty hopes and towering ideals, capable of everything that is noble and everything that is good—and by his side, a humble servant born to forlorn hopes and miserable and hidden things, who employs himself in the base actions to which we are enforced by life. The art of living is so to separate the two that when we ​fall into any ignominy we can say: "It was not my fault; it was not I. It was my servant." In the greatest misery to which we sink there is always something in us which rises superior to ourselves. We should despise ourselves too much if we did not believe that we were better than our lives. Of course you know who my master is: he is the one of the towering thoughts, of the lofty, beautiful ideals. Of course you know who I am: I am the one of the forlorn and hidden things, the one who grovels and toils on the ground, delving among falsehood and humiliation and lies. Only there is something in me which redeems me and elevates me in my own eyes. It is the loyalty of my service, this loyalty which humiliates and abases itself that another may fly, that he may always be the lord of the towering thoughts, of the lofty, beautiful ideals.

Columbine. What is this music?

Crispin. The music which my master is bringing with him to the fête with all his pages and all the attendants of his train, accompanied by a great court of poets and singers presided over by Signor Harlequin, and an entire legion of soldiers with the Captain at their head, illuminating his coming with torches, with rockets and red fire.

Columbine. Who is your master, that he is able to do so much? I run to tell my lady.…

Crispin. It will not be necessary. She is here.

Sirena. What is this? Who has prepared this music? What troop of people is arriving at my door?

Columbine. Ask no questions. Know that to-day a great gentleman has arrived in this city, and it is he who offers you this fête to-night. His servant will tell you everything. I hardly know myself whether I have been talking ​to a great rogue or a great madman. Whichever it is, I assure you that he is a most extraordinary man.

Sirena. Then it is not Harlequin?

Columbine. Ask no questions. It is all a work of magic!

Crispin. Doña Sirena, my master begs permission to kiss your hand. So great a lady and so noble a gentleman ought not, when they meet, to descend to indignities inappropriate to their state. That is why, before he arrives, I have come to tell you everything. I am acquainted with a thousand notable exploits of your history, which should I but refer to them, would be sufficient to assure me attention. But it might seem impertinence to mention them. [Handing her a paper] My master acknowledges in this paper over his signature the great sum which he will be in your debt should you be able to fulfil upon your part that which he has here the honor to propose.

Sirena. What paper and what debt is this? [Reading the paper to herself] How? A hundred thousand crowns at once and an equal quantity upon the death of Signor Polichinelle, if your master succeeds in marrying his daughter? What insolence and what infamy have we here? And to a lady! Do you know to whom you are speaking? Do you know what house this is?

Crispin. Doña Sirena! Forego your wrath. There is nobody present to warrant such concern. Put that paper away with the others, and let us not refer to the matter again. My master proposes nothing which is improper to you, nor would you consent that he should do so. Whatever may happen hereafter will be the work of chance and of love. I, the servant, was the one who set this unworthy snare. You are ever the noble dame, my master the virtuous cavalier, and as you meet in this festival to-night, you will talk of a thousand gallant and priceless things, as ​your guests stroll by and whisper enviously in praise of the ladies' beauty and the exquisite artfulness of their dress, the splendor and magnificence of the entertainment, the sweetness of the music, the nimble grace of the dancers' feet. And who is to say that this is not the whole story? Is not life just this—a fête in which the music serves to cover up the words, the words to cover up the thoughts? Then let the music sound, let conversation flash and sparkle with its smiles, let the supper be well served—this is all that concerns the guests. See, here is my master, who comes to salute you in all courtesy.

Leander. Doña Sirena, I kiss your hand.

Sirena. Sir.…

Leander. My servant has already told you in my name much more than I myself could say.

Crispin. Being a gentleman of discretion, my master is a man of few words. His admiration is mute.

Harlequin. He wisely knows how to admire.

Captain. True merit.

Harlequin. True valor.

Captain. The divine art of poesy.

Harlequin. The incomparable science of war.

Captain. His greatness appears in everything!

Harlequin. He is the noblest gentleman in the world.

Captain. My sword shall always be at his service.

Harlequin. I shall dedicate my greatest poem to his glory.

Crispin. Enough! Enough! You will offend his native modesty. See how he tries to hide himself and slip away. He is a violet.

​Sirena. Surely he has no need to speak for himself who can make others talk like this in his praise.

Sirena. What do you think of this, Columbine?

Columbine. I think that the master is most attractive in his figure and the servant most captivating in his impertinence.

Sirena. We shall take advantage of them both. For either I know nothing of the world or about men, or else fortune this day has set her foot within my doors.

Columbine. Surely then it must be fortune, for you do know something of the world, and about men—what don't you know!

Sirena. Here are Risela and Laura, the first to arrive.

Columbine. When were they the last at anything? I leave them to you; I must not lose sight of our cavalier.

Sirena. My dears! Do you know, I was beginning to worry already for fear that you would not come?

Laura. What? Is it really so late?

Sirena. Naturally it is late before I worry about you.

Risela. We were obliged to disappoint at two other fêtes so as not to miss yours.

Laura. Though we understood that you might not be able to give it to-night. We heard that you were indisposed.

Sirena. If only to rebuke gossipers I should have given it though I had died.

Risela. And we should have been present at it even though we had died.

Laura. But of course you have not heard the news?

​Risela. Nobody is talking of anything else.

Laura. A mysterious personage has arrived in the city. Some say that he is a secret ambassador from Venice or from France.

Risela. Others say that he has come to seek a wife for the Grand Turk.

Laura. They say he is beautiful as an Adonis.

Risela. If we could only manage to meet him!—What a pity! You ought to have invited him to your fête.

Sirena. It was not necessary, my dears. He himself sent an ambassador begging permission to come. He is now in my house, and I have not the slightest doubt but that you will be talking to him soon.

Laura. What is that? I told you that we made no mistake when we came. Something was sure to happen.

Risela. How we shall be envied to-night!

Laura. Everybody is mad to know him.

Sirena. It was no effort for me. It was sufficient for him to hear that I was receiving in my house.

Risela. Of course—the old story. No person of importance ever arrives in the city, but it seems he runs at once and pays his attentions to you.

Laura. I am impatient to see him. Lead us to him, on your life!

Risela. Yes! Take us where he is.

Sirena. I beg your pardons—Signor Polichinelle arriving with his family. But, my dears, you will not wait. You need no introductions.

Risela. Certainly not! Come, Laura.

Laura. Come, Risela, before the crowd grows too great and it is impossible to get near.

​Sirena. O, Signor Polichinelle! I was afraid you were not coming. Until now I really did not know whether or not I was to have a fête!

Polichinelle. It was not my fault; it was my wife's. With forty gowns to select from, she can never make up her mind which to put on.

Wife of Polichinelle. Yes, if I were to please him I should make an exhibition of myself. Any suggestion will do. As it is, you see that I have really not had time to put on anything.

Sirena. But you never were more beautiful!

Polichinelle. Well, she is not displaying one-half of her jewels. If she were, she could not support the weight of the treasure.

Sirena. Who has a better right to be proud than you have, Signor Polichinelle? What your wife displays are the riches which you have acquired by your labor.

Wife of Polichinelle. I tell him this is the time to enjoy them. He ought to be ambitious and seek to rise in the world. Instead, all he thinks about is how he can marry his daughter to some trader.

Sirena. O, Signor Polichinelle! Your daughter deserves a great deal better than a trader. Surely you hold your daughter far too high for trade. Such a thing is not to be thought of for one moment. You have no right to sacrifice her heart to a bargain. What do you say, Silvia?

Polichinelle. She would prefer some waxed-up dandy. Instead of listening to my advice, she reads novels and poetry. It disgusts me.

Silvia. I always do as my father says, unless it is displeasing to my mother or distasteful to me.

Sirena. You speak very sensibly.

​Wife of Polichinelle. Her father has an idea that there is nothing but money to be had in the world.

Polichinelle. I have an idea that without money there is nothing to be had out of the world. Money is the one thing which counts. It buys everything.

Sirena. Oh, I cannot hear you talk like that! What of virtue, what of intelligence, what of noble blood?

Polichinelle. They all have their price. You know it. And nobody knows it better than I do, for I have bought heavily in those lines, and found them reasonable.

Sirena. O, Signor Polichinelle! You are in a playful humor this evening. You know very well that money will not buy everything, and if your daughter should fall in love with some noble gentleman, you would not dream of attempting to oppose her. I can see that you have a father's heart.

Polichinelle. I have. I would do anything for my daughter.

Sirena. Even ruin yourself?

Polichinelle. That would not be anything for my daughter. Why, I would steal first, rob, murder—anything.…

Sirena. I felt sure that you must know some way to recoup yourself. But the fête is crowded already! Come with me, Silvia. I have picked out a handsome gentleman to dance with you. You will make a striking couple—ideal!

Crispin. Signor Polichinelle! With your permission.… A word with you.…

Polichinelle. Who calls me? What do you want?

Crispin. You don t remember me? It is not surprising. ​Time blots out everything, and when what has been blotted out was unpleasant, after a while we do not remember even the blot, but hurry and paint over it with bright colors, like these with which you now hide your capers from the world. Why, when I knew you, Signor Polichinelle, you had hard work to cover your nakedness with a couple of muddy rags!

Polichinelle. Who are you and where did you know me?

Crispin. I was a mere boy then; you were a grown man. But you cannot have forgotten so soon all those glorious exploits on the high seas, all those victories gained over the Turks, to which we contributed not a little with our heroic strength, both pulling chained at the same noble oar in the same victorious galley?

Polichinelle. Impudent scoundrel! Silence, or——

Crispin. Or you will do with me as you did with your first master in Naples, or with your first wife in Bologna, or with that usurious Jew in Venice?

Polichinelle. Silence! Who are you who know so much and talk so freely?

Crispin. I am—what you were. One who will come to be what you are—as you have done. Not with the same violence as you, for these are other days and only madmen commit murder now, and lovers, and poor ignorant wretches who fall armed upon the wayfarer in dark alleys or along the solitary highway. Despicable gallows-birds! Negligible!

Polichinelle. What do you want of me? Money, is it not? Well, we can meet again; this is not the place.…

Crispin. Do not trouble yourself about your money. I only want to be your friend, your ally, as in those days.

Polichinelle. What can I do for you?

Crispin. Nothing; for to-day I am the one who is going to do for you, and oblige you with a warning. [Directing him to look of upon the right] Do you see your daughter there—​how she is dancing with that young gentleman? How coyly she blushes at his gallant compliments! Well, that gentleman is my master.

Polichinelle. Your master? Then he must be an adventurer, a rogue, a blackguard, like.…

Crispin. Like us, you were going to say? No, he is more dangerous than we, because, as you see, he has a fine figure, and there is a mystery and an enchantment in his glance and a sweetness in his voice which go straight to the heart, and which stir it as at the recital of some sad tale. Is not this enough to make any woman fall in love? Never say that I did not warn you. Run and separate your daughter from this man and never permit her to dance with him again, no, nor to speak to him, so long as she shall live.

Polichinelle. Do you mean to say that he is your master and is this the way you serve him?

Crispin. Are you surprised? Have you forgotten already how it was when you were a servant? And I have not planned to assassinate him yet.

Polichinelle. You are right. A master is always despicable. But what interest have you in serving me?

Crispin. To come safe into some good port, as we often did when we rowed together at the oar. Then sometimes you used to say to me: "You are stronger than I, row for me." In this galley in which we are to-day, you are stronger than I. Row for me, for your faithful friend of other days, for life is a horrible vile galley and I have rowed so long.

Laura. Only Doña Sirena could have given such a fête!

Risela. To-night she has outstripped all the others.

Sirena. The presence of so distinguished a gentleman was an added attraction.

​Polichinelle. But Silvia? Where is Silvia? What have you done with my daughter?

Sirena. Do not disturb yourself, Signor Polichinelle. Your daughter is in excellent hands, and you may rest assured that she will remain in them as long as she is in my house.

Risela. There were no attentions for any one but her.

Laura. All the smiles were for her.

Risela. And all the sighs!

Polichinelle. Whose? This mysterious gentleman's? I do not like it. This must stop——

Sirena. But Signor Polichinelle!

Polichinelle. Away! Let me be! I know what I am doing. [He rushes out.

Sirena. What is the matter? What infatuation is this?

Wife of Polichinelle. Now you see what sort of man he is. He is going to commit an outrage on that gentleman. He wants to marry his daughter to a trader, does he—a clinker of worthless coin? He wants to make her unhappy for the rest of her life.

Sirena. No, anything rather than that! Remember—you are her mother and this is the time for you to interpose your authority.

Wife of Polichinelle. Look! He has spoken to him and the cavalier drops Silvia's hand and retires, hanging his head.

Laura. And now Signor Polichinelle is attacking your daughter!

Sirena. Come! Come! Such conduct cannot be tolerated in my house.

Risela. Signora Polichinelle, in spite of your riches you are an unfortunate woman.

​Wife of Polichinelle. Would you believe it, he even forgets himself so far sometimes as to turn upon me?

Laura. Is it possible? And are you a woman to submit to that?

Wife of Polichinelle. He makes it up afterward by giving me a handsome present.

Sirena. Well, there are husbands of my acquaintance who never even think of making up.…

Crispin. What is this sadness, this dejection? I expected to find you in better spirits.

Leander. I was never unfortunate till now; at least it never mattered to me whether or not I was unfortunate. Let us fly, Crispin, let us fly from this city before any one can discover us and find out who we are.

Crispin. If we fly it will be after every one has discovered us and they are running after us to detain us and bring us back in spite of ourselves. It would be most discourteous to depart with such scant ceremony without bidding our attentive friends good-by.

Leander. Do not jest, Crispin; I am in despair.

Crispin. So you are. And just when our hopes are under fullest sail.

Leander. What could you expect? You wanted me to pretend to be in love, but I have not been able to pretend it.

Crispin. Why not?

Leander. Because I love—I love in spirit and in truth!

Crispin. Silvia? Is that what you are complaining about?

Leander. I never believed it possible a man could love like this. I never believed that I could ever love. Through all my wandering life along the dusty roads, I was not only ​the one who passed, I was the one who fled, the enemy of the harvest and the field, the enemy of man, enemy of sunshine and the day. Sometimes the fruit of the wayside tree, stolen, not given, left some savor of joy on my parched lips, and sometimes, after many a bitter day, resting at night beneath the stars, the calm repose of heaven would invite and soothe me to a dream of something that might be in my life like that calm night sky, brooding infinite over my soul—serene! And so to-night, in the enchantment-of this fête, it seemed to me as if there had come a calm, a peace into my life—and I was dreaming! How I did dream! But to-morrow it will be again the bitter flight with justice at our heels, and I cannot bear that they should take me here where she is, and where she may ever have cause to be ashamed at having known me.

Crispin. Why, I thought that you had been received with favor! And I was not the only one who noticed it. Doña Sirena and our good friends, the Captain and the poet, have been most eloquent in your praises. To that rare excellent mother, the Wife of Polichinelle, who thinks of nothing but how she can relate herself by marriage to some nobleman, you have seemed the son-in-law of her dreams. As for Signor Polichinelle.…

Leander. He knows.… he suspects.…

Crispin. Naturally. It is not so easy to deceive Signor Polichinelle as it is an ordinary man. An old fox like him has to be cheated truthfully. I decided that the best thing for us to do was to tell him everything.

Leander. How so?

Crispin. Obviously. He knows me of old. When I told him that you were my master, he rightly supposed that the master must be worthy of the man. And upon my part, in appreciation of his confidence, I warned him not to permit ​you under any circumstances to come near to or speak with his daughter.

Leander. You did? Then what have I to hope?

Crispin. You are a fool! Why, that Signor Polichinelle will exert all his authority to prevent you from meeting her.

Leander. I do not understand.

Crispin. In that way he will become our most powerful ally, for if he opposes it, that will be enough to make his wife take the opposite side, and the daughter will fall in love with you madly. You have no idea what a young and beautiful daughter of a rich father, who has been brought up to the gratification of her every whim, can do when she finds out for the first time in her life that somebody is opposing her wishes. I am certain that this very night, before the fête is over, she will find some way of eluding the vigilance of her father at whatever cost, and return to speak with you.

Leander. But can't you see that Signor Polichinelle is nothing to me, no, nor the wide world either? It is she, only she! It is to her that I am unwilling to appear unworthy or mean, it is to her—to her that I cannot lie.

Crispin. Bah! Enough of this nonsense! Don't tell me that. It is too late to draw back. Think what will happen if we vacillate now and hesitate in going on. You say that you have fallen in love? Well, this real love will serve us better than if it were put on. Otherwise you would have wanted to get through with it too quickly. If insolence and effrontery are the only qualities which are of use elsewhere, in love a faint suggestion of timidity is of advantage to a man. Timidity in a man always makes the woman bolder. If you don't believe it, here is the innocent Silvia now, skulking in the shadows and only waiting for a chance to come near until I retire or am concealed.

Leander. Silvia, do you say?

​Crispin. Hush! You may frighten her. When she is with you, remember, discretion—only a few words, very few. Adore her, admire her, contemplate her, and let the enchantment of this night of pallid blue speak for you, propitious as it is to love, and whisper to her in the music whose soft notes die away amid the foliage and fall upon our ears like sad overtones of this festival of joy.

Leander. Do not trifle, Crispin! Do not trifle with my love! It will be my death.

Crispin. Why should I trifle with it? I know, too, it is not always well to grovel on the ground. Sometimes we must soar and mount up into the sky better to dominate the earth. Mount now and soar—and I will grovel still. The world lies in our hands!

Leander. Silvia!

Silvia. Is it you? You must pardon me. I did not expect to find you here.

Leander. I fly from the festival. I am saddened by this joy.

Silvia. What? You, too?

Leander. Too, do you say? Does joy sadden you, too?

Silvia. My father is angry with me. He never spoke to me like this before. And he was discourteous to you. Will you forgive him?

Leander. Yes. I forgive him everything. But you must not make him angry upon my account. Return to the company. They will be looking for you. If they find you here with me.…

Silvia. You are right. But you must come, too. Why should you be so sad?

Leander. No, I must slip away without anybody seeing me, without their knowing I am gone. I must go far away.

​Silvia. What? But you have important business in the city. I know you have.… You will have to stay a long, long time.

Leander. No, no! Not another day, not another hour!

Silvia. But then.… You have not lied to me?

Leander. Lied? No! Don't say that I have lied! No; this is the one truth of my whole life—this dream from which there should be no awakening!

Silvia. It is Harlequin, singing.… What is the matter? You are crying. Is it the music which makes you cry? Why will you not tell me what it is that makes you cry?

Leander. What makes me cry? The song will tell you. Listen to the song!

Silvia. We can hear only the music; the words are lost, it is so far away. But don't you know it? It is a song to the silence of the night. It is called the "Kingdom of the Soul." You must know it.

Leander. Say it over to me.

Silvia:

Leander:

Crispin. [Who appears at the right—to himself]