PIERRETTE (hurt)
So you want to go away, Pierrot?
PIERROT (passionately)
I want to capture it again—the power, the thrill, the fire of song!
PIERRETTE
And you would capture it if—if I—(looking toward the screen which hides the crib) if we—were not here?
PIERROT (flinging out his arms in despair)
Oh, I’m a brute, Pierrette! I don’t know. I’m gone stale—that’s the trouble. I’m done for—all these worries and things. I’ll sit at home, I guess, and darn socks!
(He flings himself into his chair. Pierrette moves quietly about, putting his tea on the table. She sets tea only for one.)
PIERRETTE (handing him his cup)