ROBERT.
I could not speak to you or follow you. There were too many people on the lawn. I wanted you to think over it and so I put it into your hand when you were going away.
BERTHA.
Now you have dared to say it.
ROBERT.
[Moves his hand slowly past his eyes.] You passed. The avenue was dim with dusky light. I could see the dark green masses of the trees. And you passed beyond them. You were like the moon.
BERTHA.
[Laughs.] Why like the moon?
ROBERT.
In that dress, with your slim body, walking with little even steps. I saw the moon passing in the dusk till you passed and left my sight.
BERTHA.
Did you think of me last night?
ROBERT.
[Comes nearer.] I think of you always—as something beautiful and distant—the moon or some deep music.
BERTHA.
[Smiling.] And last night which was I?
ROBERT.
I was awake half the night. I could hear your voice. I could see your face in the dark. Your eyes... I want to speak to you. Will you listen to me? May I speak?
BERTHA.
[Sitting down.] You may.