The Daughter. It will soon be midnight, grandfather. [Here the Uncle begins to pace up and down the room.]
The Grandfather. Who is that walking round us like that?
The Uncle. Only I! only I! Do not be frightened! I want to walk about a little. [Silence.]—But I am going to sit down again;—I cannot see where I am going. [Silence.]
The Grandfather. I wish I were out of this place.
The Daughter. Where would you like to go, grandfather?
The Grandfather. I do not know where—into another room, no matter where! no matter where!
The Father. Where could we go?
The Uncle. It is too late to go anywhere else. [Silence. They are sitting, motionless, round the table.]
The Grandfather. What is that I hear, Ursula?
The Daughter. Nothing, grandfather; it is the leaves falling.—Yes, it is the leaves falling on the terrace.