Jean—But he will surely come.
Angelica—Yes, if he be not caught in a break!
Jean—Well, if he comes not, I shall still be here, strong and loving.
Angelica—(Timidly) Loving?
Jean—Yes, loving; why not? Have I not always been loving? From the first day I ever came into the Great River Branch and pushed my tool-cart along with old Jacques and saw you sitting there on the doorstep of your hut, saw you there but a minute when your mother called you in because she heard strange voices outside and the jingle of tools,—from that day have I not loved you and thought of you as my most sacred dream?
Angelica—(Clasping her hands) Have you, oh have you? Have I been to you like a dream?
Jean—And did you not think of me at all? Do you not remember that day too?
Angelica—I do not remember that day, I think, but I remember other days. I remember when we played together down where the Branch of Blind Alleys juts into the Great River Gallery. I had caught a little lizard and kept it to play with and called it Prince, and along came Didon, heedless, cruel Didon, and he gave my poor Prince one knock on the head. What is a lizard? he cried, and you—do you remember what you did?
Jean—Well, what I did was to give Didon a good thrashing. I beat him well and he deserved it.
Angelica—(Sighing) Ah, poor Didon!