Scene I.—A cross-road through a woodland. In the back ground a distant village spire. Evening. Victorian as a traveling student; a guitar slung under his arm.
Vic. I will forget thee! All dear recollections
Pressed in my heart, like flowers within a book,
Shall be torn out and scattered to the winds!
I will forget thee! but perhaps hereafter,
When thou shalt learn how heartless is the world,
A voice within thee will repeat my name,
And thou wilt say, “He was indeed my friend!”
(Enter Hypolito, dressed like Victorian.)
Hyp. Still dreaming of the absent?