Polly
Do you want some moosic? We will play you a song; do you want it?
Consuelo
[Smiling, eyes closed]: Yes, I do.
[The clowns play a soft and naïve song: tilly-polly, tilly-polly. General silence. HE sits in the corner with his face turned away. Jackson watches him out of the corner of his eye, and drinks wine, lazily. The Baron, in his usual pose, wide and heavily spread legs, looks at the pale face of Consuelo, with his bulging motionless eyes.]
Consuelo
[With a sudden cry]: Ah! Pain!
Zinida
What is it, Consuelo?
Mancini