Act Second - Page 2

FALK.
There love's romance is being done to death.--
The butcher once who boggled at the slaughter,
Prolonging needlessly the ox's breath,--
He got his twenty days of bread and water;
But these--these butchers yonder--they go free.
[Clenches his fist.
I could be tempted--; hold, words have no worth,
I've sworn it, action only from henceforth!

LIND [coming hastily but cautiously out].
Thank God, they're talking fashions; now's my chance
To slip away--

FALK.
Ha, Lind, you've drawn the prize
Of luck,--congratulations buzz and dance
All day about you, like a swarm of flies.

LIND.
They're all at heart so kindly and so nice;
But rather fewer clients would suffice.
Their helping hands begin to gall and fret me;
I'll get a moment's respite, if they'll let me.
[Going out to the right.

FALK.
Wither away?

LIND.
Our den;--it has a lock;
In case you find the oak is sported, knock.

FALK.
But shall I not fetch Anna to you?

LIND.
No--
If she wants anything, she'll let me know.
Last night we were discussing until late;
We've settled almost everything of weight;
Besides I think it scarcely goes with piety
To have too much of one's beloved's society.

FALK.
Yes, you are right; for daily food we need
A simple diet.

LIND.
Pray, excuse me, friend.
I want a whiff of reason and the weed;
I haven't smoked for three whole days on end.
My blood was pulsing in such agitation,
I trembled for rejection all the time--

FALK.
Yes, you may well desire recuperation--

LIND.
And won't tobacco's flavour be sublime!

[Goes out to the right. MISS JAY and some other
LADIES come out of the garden-room.

MISS JAY [to FALK].
That was he surely?

FALK.
Yes, your hunted deer.

LADIES.
To run away from us!

OTHERS.
For shame! For shame!

FALK.
'Tis a bit shy at present, but, no fear,
A week of servitude will make him tame.

MISS JAY [looking round].
Where is he hid?

FALK.
His present hiding-place
Is in the garden loft, our common lair;
[Blandly.
But let me beg you not to seek him there;
Give him a breathing time!

MISS JAY.
Well, good: the grace
Will not be long, tho'.

FALK.
Nay, be generous!
Ten minutes,--then begin the game again.
He has an English sermon on the brain.

MISS JAY.
An English--?

LADIES.
O you laugh! You're fooling us!

FALK.
I'm in grim earnest. 'Tis his fixed intention
To take a charge among the emigrants,
And therefore--

MISS JAY [with horror].
Heavens,