Helena—[In a quiet, level voice.] The fall is almost here.
Storm—Yes, it’s almost here.
Helena—The leaves on the mountain road are turning yellow.
Storm—Yes, the leaves are turning.
Helena—It’s late, your son will be waiting dinner for you.
Storm—Don’t take everything away.
Helena—You will not even recall having seen me.
Storm—Can memory be taken too?
Helena—Only that memory that goes past recollection may be kept.
Storm—[At the door.] Good night——