His Fellow Passenger (to herself). It's too silly to be sitting here like a pair of images, considering that——(Aloud.) I hope you aren't feeling unwell?
Und. Thank you, no, not unwell. I was merely thinking.
His Fellow P. You don't seem very cheerful over it, I must say. I've no wish to be inquisitive, but perhaps you're feeling a little lowspirited about the place you're going to?
Und. I—I must confess I am rather dreading the prospect. How wonderful that you should have guessed it!
His Fellow P. Oh, I've been through it myself. I'm just the same when I go down to a new place; feel a sort of sinking, you know, as if the people were sure to be disagreeable, and I should never get on with them.
Und. Exactly my own sensations! If I could only be sure of finding one kindred spirit, one soul who would help and understand me. But I daren't let myself hope even for that!
His Fellow P. Well, I wouldn't judge beforehand. The chances are there'll be somebody you can take to.
Und. (to himself). What sympathy! What bright, cheerful common sense! (Aloud.) Do you know, you encourage me more than you can possibly imagine!
His Fellow P. (retreating). Oh, if you are going to take my remarks like that, I shall be afraid to go on talking to you!
Und. (with pathos). Don't—don't be afraid to talk to me! If you only knew the comfort you give! I have found life very sad, very solitary. And true sympathy is so rare, so refreshing. I—I fear such an appeal from a stranger may seem a little startling; it is true that hitherto we have only exchanged a very few sentences; and yet already I feel that we have something—much—in common. You can't be so cruel as to let all intimacy cease here—it is quite tantalising enough that it must end so soon. A very few more minutes, and this brief episode will be only a memory; I shall have left the little green oasis far behind me, and be facing the dreary desert once more—alone!