GERDA. I have accompanied on the piano.
CONSUL. Poor Gerda!
GERDA. Why? I love that kind of life. And when I was a prisoner here, it wasn't the keeper, but the prison itself, that made me fret.
CONSUL. But now you have had enough?
GERDA. Now I am in love with peace and solitude—and with my child above all.
CONSUL. Hush, he's coming!
GERDA. [Rises as if to run away, but sinks down on the chair again] Oh!
CONSUL. Now I leave you. Don't think of what you are to say. It will come of itself, like the "next move" in a game of chess.
GERDA. I fear his first glance most of all, for it will tell me whether I have changed for better or for worse—whether I have grown old and ugly.
CONSUL. [Going out to the right] If he finds you looking older, then he will dare to approach you. If he finds you as young as ever, he will have no hope, for he is more diffident than you think.—Now!