THE POET. I had a father who put his whole hope on me as his only son, destined to continue his enterprise. I ran away from the business college. My father grieved himself to death. My mother wanted me to be religious, and I could not do what she wanted—and she disowned me. I had a friend who assisted me through trying days of need—and that friend acted as a tyrant against those on whose behalf I was speaking and writing. And I had to strike down my friend and benefactor in order to save my soul. Since then I have had no peace. Men call me devoid of honour, infamous—and it does not help that my conscience says, "you have done right," for in the next moment it is saying, "you have done wrong." Such is life.
THE DAUGHTER. Come with me into the desert.
THE LAWYER. Your child!
THE DAUGHTER. [Indicating all those present] Here are my children. By themselves they are good, but if they only come together, then they quarrel and turn into demons—Farewell!
Outside the castle. The same scenery as in the first scene of the first act. But now the ground in front of the castle wall is covered with flowers—blue monk's-hood or aconite. On the roof of the castle, at the very top of its lantern, there is a chrysanthemum bud ready to open. The castle windows are illuminated with candles.
THE DAUGHTER and THE POET.
THE DAUGHTER. The hour is not distant when, with the help of the flames, I shall once more ascend to the ether. It is what you call to die, and what you approach in fear.
THE POET. Fear of the unknown.
THE DAUGHTER. Which is known to you.
THE POET. Who knows it?
THE DAUGHTER. All! Why do you not believe your prophets?