petrified hand._

CURTAIN

THE THIRD SCENE

A BALL AT MAN'S HOUSE

_The ball is in the drawing-room of Man's large mansion. It is a very
lofty, spacious, perfectly rectangular room. The floor is bright and
smooth. There is a certain irregularity about the room due to the
disproportionate size of the parts. Thus, the doors are very small
in proportion to the windows. This produces a strange, irritating
impression, as of something disharmonious, something lacking, and also
of something superfluous and adventitious. The whole is pervaded by a
chilly white, the monotony of which is broken only by a row of windows
in the rear wall. They are very high, reaching almost to the ceiling,
and dense with the blackness of night. Not one gleam, not a bright
spot shows in the blank spaces between the window frames. Man's wealth
shows in the abundance of gildings. There are gilded chairs, and
very wide gold frames enclose the pictures. These constitute the only
furniture as well as the only ornamentation. The lighting is from
three chandeliers shaped like tings, with a few electric lights placed
at a great distance apart. At the ceiling the light is bright, but
considerably less so below, so that the walls seem grayish.

The ball is in full swing. The music is furnished by an orchestra
of three pieces. The musicians resemble closely their respective
instruments; the violinist, a violin--lean neck, small head, a shock
of hair brushed to one side, back somewhat bent, a handkerchief
correctly adjusted on his shoulder under the violin; the flute-player,
a flute--very, tall, with a thin, elongated face, and stiff, thin
legs, the bass-violinist, a double-bass--stumpy, round-shouldered,
lower part of his body very stout, wide trousers. The uncommon effort
with which the musicians play is painfully evident. They beat time,
swing their heads, and shake their bodies. The tune is the same
throughout the ball, a short polka in two musical phrases, producing a
jolly, hopping, extremely insipid effect. The three instruments do
not quite keep time with one another, producing a sort of queer
detachment, a vacant space, as it were, between them and the sounds
which they produce.

Young men and girls are dancing dreamily. All are handsome,
distinguished-looking, with good figures. In contrast to the piercing
notes of the music, their dancing is smooth, noiseless, light. At
the first musical phrase, they circle around; at the second, they