body of a girl with
bare arms and feet, her dark hair unbound, and the face of the
PROFESSOR'S WIFE. Hypnotized, she slowly sways towards him,
their eyes fixed on each other, till she is quite close. Her
arms go out to him, cling round his neck and, their lips meet.
But as they meet there comes a gasp and the PROFESSOR with
rumpled hair is seen starting from his chair, his hands thrown
up; and at his horrified "Oh!" the Stage is darkened with a
black-out.]

[The voice of FRUST is heard speaking.]

FRUST. Gee!

The Stage is lighted up again, as in the opening scene. The
PROFESSOR is seen in his chair, with spilt sheets of paper round
him, waking from a dream. He shakes himself, pinches his leg,
stares heavily round into the moonlight, rises.

PROF. Phew! Beastly dream! Boof! H'm! [He moves to the window
and calls.] Blanche! Blanche! [To himself] Made trees-made trees!
[Calling] Blanche!

WIFE's VOICE. Yes.

PROF. Where are you?

WIFE. [Appearing by the stone with her hair down] Here!

PROF. I say--I---I've been asleep--had a dream. Come in. I'll tell
you.

[She comes, and they stand in the window.]

PROF. I dreamed I saw a-faun on that boulder blowing on a pipe. [He
looks nervously at the stone] With two damned little rabbits and a
fox sitting up and listening. And then from out there came our
friend Orpheus playing on his confounded lute, till he actually
turned that tree there into you. And gradually he-he drew you like a
snake till you--er--put your arms round his neck and--er--kissed him.
Boof! I woke up. Most unpleasant. Why! Your hair's down!

WIFE. Yes.

PROF. Why?

WIFE. It was no dream. He was bringing me to life.

PROF. What on earth?

WIFE. Do you suppose I am alive? I'm as dead as Euridice.

PROF. Good heavens, Blanche, what's the matter with you to-night?

WIFE. [Pointing to the litter of papers] Why don't we live, instead
of writing of it? [She points out unto the moonlight] What do we
get out of life? Money, fame, fashion, talk, learning? Yes. And
what good are they? I want to live!

PROF. [Helplessly] My dear, I really don't know what you mean.

WIFE. [Pointing out into the moonlight] Look! Orpheus with his
lute, and nobody can see him. Beauty, beauty, beauty--we let it go.
[With sudden passion] Beauty, love, the spring. They should be in
us, and they're