Fanny. Yes, I loved him all the time, but I fought my feelings. Life had taught me to restrain and to suppress my desires. I argued: He is too far above me—
Lizzie. Too far above you?
Fanny [continuing]. And I am too worn-out for him. And furthermore, I tried to make myself believe that his daily visits here were accidental, that they were not intended for me at all, but for his friend and nephew Hindes, who happens to board with me.
Lizzie. But how could you help perceiving that he was something more than indifference to you? You must have been able to read it in his eyes.
Fanny [smiling]. Well, you see how it is! And perhaps for the very reason that I had abandoned all ideas of love, and had sought to deceive myself into believing that I was a dried-up twig on the tree of live—
Lizzie [jumping up]. My! How you sinned against yourself!
Fanny [rising]. But now the sap and the strength flow again within me,—now I am young once more.—Ah! Life, life!—To enjoy it, to drink it down in copious draughts, to feel it in every pulse-beat—Oh, Lizzie, play me a triumphal march, a song of joy, of jubilation....
Lizzie. So that the very walls will dance and the heavens join in the chorus. [Goes to the door at the left, singing.] "Joy, thou goddess, fair, immortal, daughter of Elysium, Mad with rapture—" [Suddenly stops.] Sh! Hindes is coming!
[Listens.]
Fanny [she has been standing as if entranced; her whole body trembles as she awakens to her surroundings. She puts her finger to her nose, warningly.] Don't say a word to him about it.