he looks at FREDDY.] He went into the forest
and spent his time hunting wild birds; and he gathered their feathers
and made them into this gorgeous robe... purple and gold and green and
scarlet. He brought it and laid it at my feet, and said that it was my
bridal-robe, that I must wear it at my feast.

ETHEL. Oh, how lovely!

FREDDY. [Rises and turns away in despair.] Oh!

ETHEL. Tell me a little about the Sunrise Dance.

OCEANA. It represents the worship of Nature. It portrays an awakening
from slumber... you know the soft part of the music at the beginning...

ETHEL. Yes.

OCEANA. Then gradually I rise to my feet and gaze towards the light.
There is the sun shining upon the waves of the sea, and upon the palm
branches. All life is awakening and singing for joy... and so the music
rises to an ecstasy.

ETHEL. And do you dance other things?

OCEANA. Oh, yes--lots of things.

ETHEL. Oh, Oceana! I'm just wild to see you!

OCEANA. And I'm wild to dance. I must have some vent pretty soon. You
see, at home I was out of doors all the time. I hunted and fished, I
swam and dived, I danced on the beach. And here... why, I walk down the
street, and I daren't even so much as sing out loud. I have to remember
that I'm a young lady, and have an ermine cloak on! Truly, I don't see
how you ever stand it!

ETHEL. We were brought up that way.

OCEANA. Yes; and that's why you're undeveloped and frail. But tell
me, don't you ever have an impulse to play? That beautiful snow out
there--don't you want to tumble round in it and pelt each other with
snowballs?

FREDDY. We did that when we were children.

OCEANA. Yes, that's the way. But I, you see... I'm a child still; and I
expect to be always.

ETHEL. And are you always happy, Oceana?

OCEANA. Always.

ETHEL. You never... you never even start to feel sad?

OCEANA. Why yes, now and then. But I don't permit such moods. You see,
I have the conviction that there is nothing beautiful or right about
sorrow--never, under any circumstances.

ETHEL. You mean you would not mourn, even if some one you loved were to
die?

OCEANA. I mean that I did not. [She pauses.] Yes, exactly... my father.
He had been my life's companion, and they brought him home drowned; and
yet I did not mourn.

ETHEL. Oceana!

OCEANA. I had trained myself... for just that. We had made ourselves
what you might call soul-exercises; little ceremonies to remind
ourselves of things we wished to hold by.