g up and
listening. A shiver of wind passes, blowing petals from the
apple-trees.]

[The FAUN darts his head towards where, from Right, comes slowly
the figure of a Greek youth, holding a lute or lyre which his
fingers strike, lifting out little wandering strains as of wind
whinnying in funnels and odd corners. The FAUN darts down
behind the stone, and the youth stands by the boulder playing
his lute. Slowly while he plays the whitened trunk of an
apple-tree is seen, to dissolve into the body of a girl with
bare arms and feet, her dark hair unbound, and the face of the
PROFESSOR'S WIFE. Hypnotized, she slowly sways towards him,
their eyes fixed on each other, till she is quite close. Her
arms go out to him, cling round his neck and, their lips meet.
But as they meet there comes a gasp and the PROFESSOR with
rumpled hair is seen starting from his chair, his hands thrown
up; and at his horrified "Oh!" the Stage is darkened with a
black-out.]

[The voice of FRUST is heard speaking.]

FRUST. Gee!

The Stage is lighted up again, as in the opening scene. The
PROFESSOR is seen in his chair, with spilt sheets of paper round
him, waking from a dream. He shakes himself, pinches his leg,
stares heavily round into the moonlight, rises.

PROF. Phew! Beastly dream! Boof! H'm! [He moves to the window
and calls.] Blanche! Blanche! [To himself] Made trees-made trees!
[Calling] Blanche!

WIFE's VOICE. Yes.

PROF. Where are you?

WIFE. [Appearing by the stone with her hair down] Here!

PROF. I say--I---I've been asleep--had a dream. Come in. I'll tell
you.

[She comes, and they stand in the window.]

PROF. I dreamed I saw a-faun on that boulder blowing on a pipe. [He
looks nervously at the stone] With two damned little rabbits and a
fox sitting up and listening. And then from out there came our
friend Orpheus playing on his confounded lute, till he actually
turned that tree there into you. And gradually he-he drew you like a
snake till you--er--put your arms round his neck and--er--kissed him.
Boof! I woke up. Most unpleasant. Why! Your hair's down!

WIFE. Yes.

PROF. Why?

WIFE. It was no dream. He was bringing me to life.

PROF. What on earth?

WIFE. Do you suppose I am alive? I'm as dead as Euridice.

PROF. Good heavens, Blanche, what's the matter with you