Sobeide (frees herself).
Just come tonight and speak to him,
And say I wanted him to hear thy prayer.
Now go, I beg thee, for I have no time.
[The old slave goes toward the gate, but
stands still in the shrubbery. The gardener's
wife has approached Sobeide from the
left. Sobeide takes a few steps, then lets
her vacant glance wander about, strikes
her brow as if she had forgotten something.
She suddenly stands still before the gardener's
wife, looks at her absently, then
inquires hastily:]
The pond is there, I hear? The pond?
[Points to the left.]
Wife.
No, here.
[Points to the right.]
Here down this winding path. It turns right there.
Wouldst overtake my lord? He's walking slowly:
When thou art at the crossways, thou wilt see him.
Thou canst not miss him.
Sobeide (more agitated).
I, the master?
Wife.
Why yes, dost thou not seek him?
Sobeide.
Him?—Yes, yes,
Then—I'll—go—there.