SEELCHEN. Sometimes. [Going to a door, she calls softly] Hans! [Then pointing to another door] There are seven German gentlemen asleep in there!
LAMOND. Oh God!
SEELCHEN. Please? They are here to see the sunrise. [She picks up a little book that has dropped from LAMOND'S pocket] I have read several books.
LAMOND. This is by the great English poet. Do you never make poetry here, and dream dreams, among your mountains?
SEELCHEN. [Slowly shaking her head] See! It is the full moon.
While they stand at the window looking at the moon, there enters a lean, well-built, taciturn young man dressed in Loden.
SEELCHEN. Hans!
FELSMAN. [In a deep voice] The gentleman wishes me?
SEELCHEN. [Awed] The Great Horn for to-morrow! [Whispering to him] It is the celebrated London one.
FELSMAN. The Great Horn is not possible.
LAMOND. You say that? And you're the famous Felsman?
FELSMAN. [Grimly] We start at dawn.
SEELCHEN. It is the first time for years!
LAMOND. [Placing his plaid and rucksack on the window bench] Can I sleep here?
SEELCHEN. I will see; perhaps—
[She runs out up some stairs]
FELSMAN. [Taking blankets from the cupboard and spreading them on the window seat] So!
As he goes out into the air. SEELCHEN comes slipping in again with a lighted candle.
SEELCHEN. There is still one bed. This is too hard for you.
LAMOND. Oh! thanks; but that's all right.
SEELCHEN. To please me!
LAMOND. May I ask your name?
SEELCHEN. Seelchen.
LAMOND. Little soul, that means—doesn't it? To please you I would sleep with seven German gentlemen.
SEELCHEN. Oh! no; it is not necessary.
CHEN. Yes. yes! I want him. H
LAMOND. [With a grave bow] At your service, then. [He prepares to go]
SEELCHEN. Is it very nice in towns, in the World, where you come from?
LAMOND. When I'm there I would be here; but when I'm here I would be there.
SEELCHEN. [Clasping her hands] That is like me but I am always here.
LAMOND. Ah! yes; there is no one like you in towns.
SEELCHEN. In two places one cannot be. [Suddenly] In the towns there are theatres, and there is beautiful fine work, and—dancing, and—churches—and trains—and all the things in books—and—
LAMOND. Misery.
SEELCHEN. But there is life.
LAMOND. And there is death.
SEELCHEN. To-morrow, when you have climbed—will you not come back?
LAMOND. No.
SEELCHEN. You have all the world; and I have nothing.
LAMOND. Except Felsman, and the mountains.
SEELCHEN. It is not good to eat only bread.
LAMOND. [Looking at her hard] I would like to eat you!
SEELCHEN. But I am not nice; I am full of big wants—like the cheese with holes.
LAMOND. I shall come again.
SEELCHEN. There will be no more hard mountains left to climb. And if it is not exciting, you do not care.
LAMOND. O wise little soul!
SEELCHEN. No. I am not wise. In here it is always aching.
LAMOND. For the moon?
SEELCHEN. Yes. [Then suddenly] From the big world you will remember?
LAMOND. [Taking her hand] There is nothing in the big world so sweet as this.
SEELCHEN. [Wisely] But there is the big world itself.