Van Elst. I suppose I'll have to wait. [He sits down in utter despair.]
Louise [goes up to him unsteadily, groping for the arm of the chair. With a laugh]. Tell me, which one was it. This shoulder or this one? Ah, aren't you clever! You're the old gentleman, aren't you, you old duck?
Van Elst. A useless commission. Poor parents!
Louise. What's that? The joke's on me.
Van Elst. Next she'll ask me to dance with her, I suppose.
Louise. Dance? No dancing. Don't get up. You needn't get up. I don't mean it ... really, I don't.
[Louise sits in front of the harp and runs her fingers idly over the strings. Then slowly, she plays the same melody she hummed previously. She hums it again dreamily. The music grows softer and softer. She sighs, stops playing, her head drops to her hands and she falls limply to the floor.]
Van Elst. Good God, what's this? It wasn't my fault. I suppose I was cruel to her. [Walks excitedly back and forth. Sophie enters.]
Sophie. What's the matter?
Van Elst. Look at your mistress. I can't make out what's wrong with her.