[He takes up his violin.]
Yes, I will make my old fiddle-strings burst with joy!
[He dashes into a jubilant tarantella. After a few bars there is a knock at the door leading from the hall; their happy faces betray no sign of hearing it; then the door slightly opens, and Baron Revendal's head looks hesitatingly in. As David perceives it, his features work convulsively, his string breaks with a tragic snap, and he totters backward into Vera's arms. Hoarsely]
The face! The face!
VERA
David—my dearest!
DAVID [His eyes closed, his violin clasped mechanically]
Don't be anxious—I shall be better soon—I oughtn't to have talked about it—the hallucination has never been so complete.
VERA
Don't speak—rest against Vera's heart—till it has passed away.