doorway appear FERRAND and MRS. MEGAN. They
stand, unseen, looking at him. FERRAND is more ragged, if
possible, than on Christmas Eve. His chin and cheeks are
clothed in a reddish golden beard. MRS. MEGAN's dress is not
so woe-begone, but her face is white, her eyes dark-circled.
They whisper. She slips back into the shadow of the doorway.
WELLWYN turns at the sound, and stares at FERRAND in
amazement.]

FERRAND. [Advancing.] Enchanted to see you, Monsieur. [He looks
round the empty room.] You are leaving?

WELLWYN. [Nodding--then taking the young man's hand.] How goes it?

FERRAND. [Displaying himself, simply.] As you see, Monsieur. I
have done of my best. It still flies from me.

WELLWYN. [Sadly--as if against his will.] Ferrand, it will always
fly.

[The young foreigner shivers suddenly from head to foot; then
controls himself with a great effort.]

FERRAND. Don't say that, Monsieur! It is too much the echo of my
heart.

WELLWYN. Forgive me! I didn't mean to pain you.

FERRAND. [Drawing nearer the fire.] That old cabby, Monsieur, you
remember--they tell me, he nearly succeeded to gain happiness the
other day.

[WELLWYN nods.]

FERRAND. And those Sirs, so interested in him, with their theories?
He has worn them out? [WELLWYN nods.] That goes without saying.
And now they wish for him the lethal chamber.

WELLWYN. [Startled.] How did you know that?

[There is silence.]

FERRAND. [Staring into the fire.] Monsieur, while I was on the
road this time I fell ill of a fever. It seemed to me in my illness
that I saw the truth--how I was wasting in this world--I would never
be good for any one--nor any one for me--all would go by, and I
never of it--fame, and fortune, and peace, even the necessities of
life, ever mocking me.

[He draws closer to the fire, spreading his fingers to the
flame. And while he is speaking, through the doorway MRS.
MEGAN creeps in to listen.]

FERRAND. [Speaking on into the fire.] And I saw, Monsieur, so
plain, that I should be vagabond all my days, and my days short, I
dying in the end the death of a dog. I saw it all in my fever--
clear as that flame--there was nothing for us others, but the herb
of death. [WELLWYN takes his arm and presses it.] And so,
Monsieur, I wished to die. I told no one of my fever. I lay out on
the ground--it was verree cold. But they would not l