The Daughter. I can see the watchdog right at the back of his kennel. The swans are crossing to the other bank!...
The Uncle. They are afraid of my sister. I will go and see. [He calls.] Sister! sister! Is that you?... There is no one there.
The Daughter. I am sure that some one has come into the garden. You will see.
The Uncle. But she would answer me!
The Grandfather. Are not the nightingales beginning to sing again, Ursula?
The Daughter. I cannot hear one anywhere.
The Grandfather. But there is no noise.
The Father. There is a silence of the grave.
The Grandfather. It must be a stranger that is frightening them, for if it were one of the family they would not be silent.
The Uncle. How much longer are you going to discuss these nightingales?