id heavens over us. Ay, we will flee
from this awful and dangerous town; the great peace will come over us.
Is it not true, Leocadie, that we have often had such dreams?

LEOCADIE. Yes, we have often had such dreams.

HOST. Look here, Henri, you should consider it. I will gladly raise
your wages and I will give Leocadie quite as much as you.

LEOCADIE. Hear you that, Henri?

HOST. I really don't know who's to take your place here. Not a single
one of my people has such precious inspirations as you have, not one of
them is so popular with my audience as you ... don't go away.

HENRI. I can quite believe that no one will take my place.

HOST. Stay by me, Henri. (Throws LEOCADIE a look; she intimates that
she will arrange matters.)

HENRI. And I can promise you that they will take my departure to
heart--they, not I. For tonight--for my final appearance I have
reserved something that will make them all shudder ... a foreboding of
the end of this world will come over them ... for the end of their
world is nigh. But I shall only experience it from a safe distance ...
they will tell us about it out there, Leocadie, many days after it has
happened.... But I tell you, they will shudder. And you yourself will
say, "Henri has never played so well."

HOST. What are you going to play? What? Do you know what, Leocadie?

LEOCADIE. I never know anything.

HENRI. But has anyone any idea of what an artist lies hidden within me?

HOST. They certainly have an idea, and that's why I tell you that a man
with a talent such as yours doesn't go and bury himself in the country.
What an injustice to yourself! and to Art!

HENRI. I don't care a straw about Art. I wish for quiet. You don't
understand that, Prosper; you have never loved--

HOST. Oh!

HENRI. As I love. I want to be alone with her--that's the only way ...
that's the only way, Leocadie, of forgetting everything. But then we
shall be happier than human beings have ever been before. We shall
have children; you will be a good mother, Leocadie, and a true
wife. All the past, all the past will be blotted out. (Great pause.)

LEOCADIE. 'Tis getting late, Henri. I must go to the theatre. Farewell,
Prosper; I am glad at last to have seen your famous den, the place
where Henri scores such triumphs.

HOST. But why did you never come?

LEOCADIE. Henri would not let me--because I should have to sit next to
the young men, you know.

HENRI (has gone to the back). Give me a drin