LADY. The man I'm searching for's not lame.
BEGGAR. Nor was he. It seems he'd hurt his hip; and that made him walk unsteadily. I mustn't be malicious. Look here in the mud.
LADY. Where?
BEGGAR (pointing). There! At that rut. In it you can see the impression of a boot, firmly planted....
LADY (looking at the impression). It's he! His heavy tread.... Can I catch him up?
BEGGAR. Follow the track!
LADY (taking his hand and kissing it). Thank you, my friend. (Exit.)
[The same landscape as before, but now winter. The sea is dark blue, and on the horizon great clouds take on the shapes of huge heads. In the distance three bare masts of a wrecked ship, that look like three white crosses. The table and seat are still under the tree, but the chairs have been removed. There is snow on the ground. From time to time a bell-buoy can be heard. The STRANGER comes in from the left, stops a moment and looks out to sea, then goes out, right, behind the cottage. The LADY enters, left, and appears to be following the STRANGER'S footsteps on the snow; she exits in front of the cottage, right. The STRANGER re-enters, right, notices the footprints of the LADY, pauses, and looks back, right. The LADY re-enters, throws herself into his arms, but recoils.]
LADY. You thrust me away.
STRANGER. No. It seems there's someone between us.