r wine.

STRANGER. No. I only want to look at it for the last time. It's
beautiful....

CONFESSOR. Don't lose yourself in meditation; memories lie at the bottom
of the cup.

STRANGER. And oblivion, and songs, and power--imaginary power, but for
that reason all the greater.

CONFESSOR. Wait here a moment; I'll go and order the ferry.

STRANGER. 'Sh! I can hear singing, and I can see.... I can see.... For
a moment I saw a flag unfurling in a puff of wind, only to fall back
on the flagstaff and hang there limply as if it were nothing but a
dishcloth. I've witnessed my whole life flashing past in a second,
with its joys and sorrows, its beauty and its misery! But now I can see
nothing.

CONFESSOR (going to the left). Wait here a moment, I'll go and order the
ferry.

(The STRANGER goes so far up stage that the rays of the setting sun,
which are streaming from the right through the trees, throw his shadow
across the bank and the river. The LADY enters from the right, in deep
mourning. Her shadow slowly approaches that of the STRANGER.)

STRANGER (who, to begin with, looks only at his own shadow). Ah! The
sun! It makes me a bloodless shape, a giant, who can walk on the water
of the river, climb the mountain, stride over the roof of the monastery
church, and rise, as he does now, up into the firmament--up to the
stars. Ah, now I'm up here with the stars.... (He notices the shadow
thrown by the LADY.) But who's following me? Who's interrupting my
ascension? Trying to climb on my shoulders? (Turning.) You!

LADY. Yes. I!

STRANGER. So black! So black and so evil.

LADY. No longer evil. I'm in mourning....

STRANGER. For whom?

LADY. For our Mizzi.

STRANGER. My daughter! (The LADY opens her arms, in order to throw
herself on to his breast, but he avoids her.) I congratulate the dead
child. I'm sorry for you. I myself feel outside everything.

LADY. Comfort me, too.

STRANGER. A fine idea! I'm to comfort my fury, weep with my hangman,
amuse my tormentor.

LADY. Have you no feelings?

STRANGER. None! I wasted the feelings I used to have on you and others.

LADY. You're right. You can reproach me.

STRANGER. I've neither the time nor the wish to do that. Where are you
going?

LADY. I want to cross with the ferry.

STRANGER. Then I've no luck, for I wanted to do the same. (The LADY
weeps into her handkerchief. The STRANGER takes it from her and dries
her eyes.) Dry your eyes, child, and be yourself! As