sman, and the mountains.

SEELCHEN. It is not good to eat only bread.

LAMOND. [Looking at her hard] I would like to eat you!

SEELCHEN. But I am not nice; I am full of big wants--like the cheese
with holes.

LAMOND. I shall come again.

SEELCHEN. There will be no more hard mountains left to climb. And
if it is not exciting, you do not care.

LAMOND. O wise little soul!

SEELCHEN. No. I am not wise. In here it is always aching.

LAMOND. For the moon?

SEELCHEN. Yes. [Then suddenly] From the big world you will
remember?

LAMOND. [Taking her hand] There is nothing in the big world so
sweet as this.

SEELCHEN. [Wisely] But there is the big world itself.

LAMOND. May I kiss you, for good-night?

She puts her face forward; and he kisses her cheek, and,
suddenly, her lips. Then as she draws away.

LAMOND. I am sorry, little soul.

SEELCHEN. That's all right!

LAMOND. [Taking the candle] Dream well! Goodnight!

SEELCHEN. [Softly] Good-night!

FELSMAN. [Coming in from the air, and eyeing them] It is cold--it
will be fine.

LAMOND still looking back goes up the stairs; and FELSMAN waits
for him to pass.

SEELCHEN. [From the window seat] It was hard for him here. I
thought.

He goes up to her, stays a moment looking down then bends and
kisses her hungrily.

SEELCHEN. Art thou angry?

He does not answer, but turning out the lamp, goes into an inner
room.

SEELCHEN sits gazing through the window at the peaks bathed in
full moonlight. Then, drawing the blankets about her, she
snuggles doom on the window seat.

SEELCHEN. [In a sleepy voice] They kissed me--both. [She sleeps]

The scene falls quite dark

SCENE II

The scene is slowly illumined as by dawn. SEELCHEN is still
lying on the window seat. She sits up, freeing her face and
hands from the blankets, changing the swathings of deep sleep
for the filmy coverings of a dream. The wall of the hut has
vanished; there is nothing between her and the three mountains
veiled in mist, save a through of darkness. There, as the peaks
of the mountains brighten, they are seen to have great faces.

SEELCHEN. Oh! They have faces!

The face of THE WINE HORN is the profile of a beardless youth.
The face of THE COW HORN is that of a mountain shepherd.
solemn, and broom, with fierce black eyes,