(Arising and going to window.)
I shall not die yet.
(Parts the curtains and gazes out.)
Nina
‘Tis the dread
Still clinging from the clutches of the sea,
That living, writhing horror! Ugh! O’er me
Almost I feel the liquid terror crawl!
Through glassy worlds of tortured sleep to fall,
Where winds blow not, nor mornings ever blush,