How could you--Oh, how could you?--nay, how could I?
But now you will set all right again, and I
Shall not be made the laughter of the village,
And poor old father not die miserable.
DORA (_singing in the distance_).
'O joy for the promise of May, of May,
O joy for the promise of May.'
EDGAR.
Speak not so loudly; that must be your sister.
You never told her, then, of what has past
Between us.
EVA.
Never!
EDGAR.
Do not till I bid you.
EVA.
No, Philip, no. [_Turns away_.
EDGAR (_moved_).
How gracefully there she stands
Weeping--the little Niobe! What! we prize
The statue or the picture all the more
When we have made them ours! Is she less loveable,
Less lovely, being wholly mine? To stay--
Follow my art among these quiet fields,
Live with these honest folk--
And play the fool!
No! she that gave herself to me so easily
Will yield herself as easily to another.
EVA.
Did you speak, Philip?
EDGAR.
Nothing more, farewell.
[_They embrace_.
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