standing wrapped in his mountain
cloak.

LAMOND. What is it?

SEELCHEN. He!

LAMOND. There is nothing. [He holds her fast] I have shown you the
marvels of my town--the gay, the bitter wonders. We have known life.
If with you I may no longer live, then let us die! See! Here are
sweet Deaths by Slumber and by Drowning!

The mandolin twangs out, and from the dim doorway of the Inn come
forth the shadowy forms. DEATH BY SLUMBER, and DEATH BY DROWNING.
who to a ghostly twanging of mandolins dance slowly towards SEELCHEN.
stand smiling at her, and as slowly dance away.

SEELCHEN. [Following] Yes. They are good and sweet.

While she moves towards the Inn. LAMOND'S face becomes
transfigured with joy. But just as she reaches the doorway.
there is a distant chiming of bells and blowing of pipes, and
the Shepherd of THE COW HORN sings:

"To the wild grass come, and the dull far roar
Of the falling rock; to the flowery meads
Of thy mountain home, where the eagles soar,
And the grizzled flock in the sunshine feeds.
To the Alp, where I, in the pale light crowned
With the moon's thin horns, to my pasture roam;
To the silent sky, and the wistful sound
Of the rosy dawns---my daughter, come!"

While HE sings, the sun has risen; and SEELCHEN has turned.
with parted lips, and hands stretched out; and the forms of
death have vanished.

SEELCHEN. I come.

LAMOND. [Clasping her knees] Little soul! Must I then die, like a
gnat when the sun goes down? Without you I am nothing.

SEELCHEN. [Releasing herself] Poor heart--I am gone!

LAMOND. It is dark. [He covers his face with his cloak].

Then as SEELCHEN reaches the Shepherd of THE COW HORN, there is
blown a long note of a pipe; the scene falls back; and there
rises a far, continual, mingled sound of Cowbells, and Flower
Bells, and Pipes.

SCENE IV

The scene slowly brightens with the misty flush of dawn.
SEELCHEN stands on a green alp, with all around, nothing but
blue sky. A slip of a crescent moon is lying on her back. On a
low rock sits a brown faced GOATHERD blowing on a pipe, and the
four Flower-children are dancing in their shifts of grey white.
and blue, rose-pink, and burnt-gold. Their bells are ringing.
as they pelt each other with flowers of their own colour