The comfort thou hast caused mankind, God's moon!
[She goes out, leaving Constance. Dance-music from within.
(Norbert enters.)
Nor. Well? we have but one minute and one word!
Con. I am yours, Norbert!
Nor. Yes, mine.
Con. Not till now!
You were mine. Now I give myself to you.
Nor. Constance?
Con. Your own! I know the thriftier way