LUCREZIA (_throws her arms round his neck_). Oh, Sidney, Sidney....

DOLPHIN (_freeing himself with surprising energy and prompt.i.tude from her embrace_). No, no, none of that, I beg. Another moment and we shall be losing our heads. Personally I think I shall go to bed now. I should advise you to do the same, Miss Grattarol. You're overwrought. We might all be better for a small dose of bromide. (_He goes in_.)

LUCREZIA (_looking up and stretching forth her hands_). Sidney....

(DOLPHIN _does not look round, and disappears through the gla.s.s door into the hotel_, LUCREZIA _covers her face with her hands and sits for a little sobbing silently. The nightingale sings on. Midnight sounds with an infinite melancholy from all the twenty campaniles of the city in the valley. From far away comes the spasmodic throbbing of a guitar and the singing of an Italian voice, high-pitched, pa.s.sionate, throaty. The seconds pa.s.s_, LUCREZIA _rises to her feet and walks slowly into the hotel. On the threshold she encounters the_ VICOMTE _coming out_.)

PAUL. You, Signorina Lucrezia? I've escaped for a breath of fresh, cool air. Mightn't we take a turn together? (LUCREZIA _shakes her head_.) Ah, well, then, good-night. You'll be glad to hear that Miss Toomis knows all about Correggio now.

(_He inhales a deep breath of air. Then looking at his dinner-jacket he begins brushing at it with his hand. A lamentable figure creeps in from the left. It is_ ALBERTO. _If he had a tail, it would be trailing on the ground between his legs_.)

PAUL. Hullo, Alberto. What is it? Been losing at cards?

ALBERTO. Worse than that.

PAUL. Creditors foreclosing?

ALBERTO. Much worse.

PAUL. Father ruined by imprudent speculations?

ALBERTO. No, no, no. It's nothing to do with money.

PAUL. Oh, well, then. It can't be anything very serious. It's women, I suppose.

ALBERTO. My mistress refuses to see me. I have been beating on her door for hours in vain.

PAUL. I wish we all had your luck, Bertino. Mine opens her door only too promptly. The difficulty is to get out again. Does yours use such an awful lot of this evil-smelling powder? I'm simply covered with it. Ugh!

(_He brushes his coat again_.)

ALBERTO. Can't you be serious, Paul?

PAUL. Of course I can ... about a serious matter. But you can't expect me to pull a long face about your mistress, can you, now? Do look at things in their right proportions.

ALBERTO. It's no use talking to you. You're heartless, soulless.

PAUL. What you mean, my dear Alberto, is that I'm relatively speaking bodiless. Physical pa.s.sion never goes to my head. I'm always _compos mentis_. You aren't, that's all.

ALBERTO. Oh, you disgust me. I think I shall hang myself to-night.

PAUL. Do. It will give us something to talk about at lunch to-morrow.

ALBERTO. Monster! (_He goes into the hotel_, PAUL _strolls out towards the garden, whistling an air from Mozart as he goes. The window on the left opens and_ LUCREZIA _steps on to her balcony. Uncoiled, her red hair falls almost to her waist. Her nightdress is always half slipping off one shoulder or the other, like those loose-bodied Restoration gowns that reveal the tight-blown charms of Kneller's Beauties. Her feet are bare. She is a marvellously romantic figure, as she stands there, leaning on the bal.u.s.trade, and with eyes more sombre than night, gazing into the darkness. The nightingales, the bells, the guitar, and pa.s.sionate voice strike up. Great stars palpitate in the sky. The moon has swum imperceptibly to the height of heaven. In the garden below flowers are yielding their souls into the air, censers invisible. It is too much, too much.... Large tears roll down_ LUCREZIA's _cheeks and fall with a splash to the ground. Suddenly, but with the noiselessness of a cat,_ ALBERTO _appears, childish-looking in pink pajamas, on the middle of the three balconies. He sees_ LUCREZIA, _but she is much too deeply absorbed in thought to have noticed his coming_, ALBERTO _plants his elbows on the rail of the balcony, covers his face, and begins to sob, at first inaudibly, then in a gradual quickening crescendo. At the seventh sob_ LUCREZIA _starts and becomes aware of his presence_.)

LUCREZIA. Alberto. I didn't know.... Have you been there long? (ALBERTO _makes no articulate reply, but his sobs keep on growing louder_.) Alberto, are you unhappy? Answer me.

ALBERTO (_with difficulty, after a pause_). Yes.

LUCREZIA. Didn't she let you in?

ALBERTO. No. (_His sobs become convulsive_.)

LUCREZIA. Poor boy.

ALBERTO (_lifting up a blubbered face to the moonlight_). I am so unhappy.

LUCREZIA. You can't be more unhappy than I am.

ALBERTO. Oh yes, I am. It's impossible to be unhappier than me.

LUCREZIA. But I _am_ more unhappy.

ALBERTO. You re not. Oh, how can you be so cruel Lucrezia? (_He covers his face once more_.)

LUCREZIA. But I only said I was unhappy Alberto.

ALBERTO. Yes, I know. That showed you weren't thinking of me. n.o.body loves me. I shall hang myself to-night with the cord of my dressing-gown.

LUCREZIA. NO, no, Alberto. You mustn't do anything rash.

ALBERTO. I shall. Your cruelty has been the last straw.

LUCREZIA. I'm sorry, Bertino mio. But if you only knew how miserable I was feeling. I didn't mean to be unsympathetic. Poor boy. I'm so sorry.

There, don't cry, poor darling.

ALBERTO. Oh, I knew you wouldn't desert me, Lucrezia. You've always been a mother to me. (_He stretches out his hand and seizes hers, which has gone half-way to meet him; but the balconies are too far apart to allow him to kiss it. He makes an effort and fails. He is too short in the body_,) Will you let me come onto your balcony, Lucrezia? I want to tell you how grateful I am.

LUCREZIA. But you can do that from your own balcony.

ALBERTO. Please, please, Lucrezia. You mustn't be cruel to me again. I can't bear it.

LUCREZIA. Well, then.... Just for a moment, but for no more, (BERTINO _climbs from one balcony to the other. One is a little reminded of the trousered monkeys on the barrel organs. Arrived, he kneels down and kisses_ LUCREZIA'S _hand_.)

ALBERTO. You've saved me. You've given given me a fresh desire to live and a fresh faith in life. How can I thank you enough, Lucrezia, darling?

LUCREZIA (_patting his head_). There, there. _We_ are just two unhappy creatures. We must try and comfort one another.

ALBERTO. What a brute I am! I never thought of your unhappiness. I am so selfish. What is it, Lucrezia?

LUCREZIA. I can't tell you, Bertino; but it's very painful.

ALBERTO. Poor child, poor child. (_His kisses, which started at the hand, have mounted, by this time, some way up the arm, changing perceptibly in character as they rise. At the shoulder they have a warmth which could not have been inferred from the respectful salutes which barely touched the fingers_.) Poor darling! You've given me consolation. Now you must let me comfort your unhappiness.

LUCREZIA (_with an effort_). I think you ought to go back now, Bertino.

ALBERTO. In a minute, my darling. There, there, poor Lucrezia. (_He puts an arm round her, kisses her hair and neck._ LUCREZIA _leans her bowed head against his chest. The sound of footsteps is heard. They both look up with scared, wide-open eyes_.)

LUCREZIA. We mustn't be seen here, Bertino. What would people think?

ALBERTO. I'll go back.