Nio. (advancing C.) Who has made these changes? Where’s Amphion? Is he not yet back from Olympia?
Dunn. (getting L. of table, half frightened) I’m sure I don’t know—he’ll be some time yet; if he is staying for the Ballet.
Nio. Who has won the Kotinos of poetry? My Amphion was the Alutarches.
Dunn. Very likely! But he isn’t now! I’m afraid you don’t quite realize what has happened to you. That you have just been—revived—I suppose—as it were: That you’re not in your Palace here, but mine! That we are now in Anno Domini 1896, and that the trifling events you’re thinking and speaking of, occurred about one thousand years B. C.; before you changed your mortal flesh into Parian marble.
During this speech, Niobe, her hand to her head, appears to be trying to recall the past.
Nio. (as if recollecting—coming down stage) Ah! No! The gods! Knowledge returns; alas! Phœbus and Artemis punished me—Changed! Ah fate! Oh, my unhappy fate. (kneeling, sobs bitterly)
Dunn. (L. C.) That’s a settler—I never can; I never could bear to see a woman cry—Never! There, don’t grieve, dear; you were turned into stone, but you’ve turned out all right; don’t cry! Please don’t cry.
Nio. Ah me! That I so easily am moved.
Dunn. Well, it took eight men to carry you in here.
Nio. (crosses L.) I’ll dry these tears, the cause of my hard lot.