LADY. Your good, your beautiful thoughts....
STRANGER. Given me by you.
LADY. Had I anything to give you?
STRANGER. You? Everything! But up to now my hands have not been free to take it. Not clean enough to stroke your little heart....
LADY. Beloved! The time for reconciliation's coming.
STRANGER. With mankind, and woman—through a woman? Yes, that time has come; and blessed may you be amongst women.
(The candles and lamps go out; it grows dark in the dining-room; but a weak ray of light can be seen, coming from the brass standard lamp in the LADY's room.)
LADY. Why's it grown dark? Oh!
STRANGER. Where are you, beloved? Give me your hand. I'm afraid!
LADY. Here, dearest.