GRANDFATHER.
So they have escaped you! Could you not throw the least bit of colour on them? You should have forced your way there.
THIRD MAN.
My dear old man, they have a different sort of red specially to themselves. Their eyes are red: the turbans of their guards and retinue are red too. And the latter flourished their swords about so much that a little more nearness on our part would have meant a lavish display of the fundamental red colour.
GRANDFATHER.
Well done, friends—always keep them at a distance. They are the exiles of the Earth—and we have got to keep them so.
THIRD MAN.
I am going home, Grandpa; it is past midnight.[Goes out.]
[Enter a BAND of SINGERS, singing.]
All blacks and whites have lost their distinction
And have become red—red as the tinge of your feet.
Red is my bodice and red are my dreams,
My heart sways and trembles like a red lotus.
GRANDFATHER.
Excellent, my friends, splendid! So you had a really enjoyable time!
Singers.
Oh, grand! Everything was red, red! Only the moon in the sky gave us the slip—it remained white.
GRANDFATHER.
He only looks so innocent from the outside. If you had only taken off his white disguise, you would have seen his trickery. I have been watching what red colours he is throwing on the Earth to-night. And yet, fancy his remaining white and colourless all the while!
SONG.
With you is my game, love, my love!
My heart is mad, it will never own defeat,
Do you think you will escape stainless yourself reddening me with red powder?
Could I not colour your robe with the red pollens of the blossom of my heart?