assing his hand across his brow. The
DUCHESS leans toward him, almost over him._]
I am very lonely, Gwymplane. Give me a few moments of forgetfulness.
O, tell me about your life--tell me about what has happened to you.
[_She lays her hand upon his shoulder. GWYMPLANE takes it, kisses
it, and looks up at her with flaming eyes and chalk-pale face._]
Ah, that is nice! The touch of your lips chills, burns me with
forgetfulness. The touch of your lips is like a tide hushing, sucking
my wakefulness down into depths of terrible oblivion. O, listen, you
are grotesque--your limbs are like the coils of nightmare. I love you
because you are so grotesque--because upon your face is stamped the
contorted beauty of your mind--your mind that is surely as amazing as
your face. O, Gwymplane, tell me of what you have thought, tell me of
what you are thinking.
GWYMPLANE
[_Who is led into rapture by her words, kneels and suddenly
kisses her feet._]
I am kissing your little white feet. It is like brushing my face
amongst sprays of silken flowers.
DUCHESS
Ah, do not talk beautifully to me, Gwymplane.
GWYMPLANE
But you are beauty! What other language would you understand?
DUCHESS
Do not talk to me beautifully, Gwymplane. Talk to me with the savage
pulsating words of your clown language. Talk to me as if you held a
whip in your hand. [_She catches at his hand_] What marvellous hands
you have! Deceitful hands--for they look unlike the things they
do--the things they must do.
GWYMPLANE
[_Sitting upon her couch and bending over her lips._]
I think you are something I have stolen out of a temple--a wonderful
winged crowned figure that I have stolen out of a temple and profaned.
I feel as if we were in a black barge upon a scarlet sea, as if in a
moment it would dip over the horizon line and we should be lost
forever together. O, I feel as if all the light in the world were
flowing from behind the chalice of your pale face. I love you, I love
you.
DUCHESS
[_Drawing away from his straining arms and lips._]
You love me, you love me! But you do not talk to me as if you were a
clown. You do not speak to me with those curiously pungent words that
are flung between men and women in the thickets near the booths.
[_almost pettishly_] You do not talk at all like a clown, Gwymplane.
GWYMPLANE
[_His eyes slowly travelling over her body._]
I do not understand--I cannot un
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