Lamond. And don’t you want to see the world?
Seelchen. Sometimes. [Going to a door, she calls softly] Hans! [Then pointing to another door] There are seven German gentlemen asleep in there!
Lamond. Oh God!
Seelchen. Please? They are here to see the sunrise. [She picks up a little book that has dropped from LAMOND’S pocket] I have read several books.
Lamond. This is by the great English poet. Do you never make poetry here, and dream dreams, among your mountains?
Seelchen. [Slowly shaking her head] See! It is the full moon.
While they stand at
the window looking at the moon, there enters
a lean, well-built, taciturn young man dressed in Loden.
Felsman. [In a deep voice] The gentleman wishes me?
Seelchen. [Awed] The Great Horn for to-morrow!
[Whispering to him]
It is the celebrated London one.
Felsman. The Great Horn is not possible.
Lamond. You say that? And you’re the famous Felsman?
Felsman. [Grimly] We start at dawn.
Seelchen. It is the first time for years!
Lamond. [Placing his plaid and rucksack on the window bench] Can I sleep here?
Seelchen. I will see; perhaps—
[She runs out up some stairs]
Felsman. [Taking blankets from the cupboard and spreading them on the window seat] So!
As he goes out into
the air. Seelchen comes slipping in again
with a lighted candle.
Seelchen. There is still one bed. This is too hard for you.
Lamond. Oh! thanks; but that’s all right.
Seelchen. To please me!
Lamond. May I ask your name?
Lamond. Little soul, that means—doesn’t it? To please you I would sleep with seven German gentlemen.
Seelchen. Oh! no; it is not necessary.
Lamond. [With. a grave bow] At your service,
[He prepares to go]
Seelchen. Is it very nice in towns, in the World, where you come from?
Lamond. When I’m there I would be here; but when I’m here I would be there.
Seelchen. [Clasping her hands] That is like me but I am always here.
Lamond. Ah! yes; there is no one like you in towns.
Seelchen. In two places one cannot be. [Suddenly] In the towns there are theatres, and there is beautiful fine work, and—dancing, and—churches—and trains—and all the things in books—and—
Seelchen. But there is life.
Lamond. And there is death.