A radiant, azure space, bedecked with flowers and cushions;
mirrors, a small table with coloured glasses containing cold drinks
and straws. High seats, as in a bar.
VAGRANT. [Rubs his eyes and looks around.] Hallo, how lovely,
how beautiful! Why, it's just like -- like being in paradise.
A painter couldn't have made a better picture. And how nice
it smells!

[Clythie runs in laughing.

OTAKAR. [Running after her.] I love you, Clythie.

[Clythie runs off laughing, Otakar after her.

VAGRANT. Butterflies. Aha, butterflies. They're playing. I'd
have a look at 'em, if I wasn't so--- [Brushes his clothes.] Oh,
let 'em kick me out. I 'll lie down here. [Arranges the
cushions.] I'll lie down. I 'm blowed if I won't! [Arranges a
bed in the proscenium.] And if we don't like it, we'll close our
eyes and have forty winks. [Lies down.] That's the way.

Enter Felix

FELIX. Where is Iris? I saw her quaff the scent of the flowers
-- Iris, Iris. If I could at least find a rhyme to you. [Sits
down among the cushions.] 'Beauteous Iris, who as pure as fire
is' -- No. Something else: '-- a diamond buckler my love's
attire is, and has filled me with angel strength -- Iris, Iris, Iris.'
That would do. But where is Iris? How can she always be
with that fellow Victor? Oh dear. 'Upon thy lips divine,
grows not oft bitter, Iris, thy smile of victory, when sorrow's
gesture dire is --' I'll make an elegy of this, in regular
alexandrines when she has let me down. Ah, 'tis a poet's lot
to suffer.[Laughter behind the scene.

That's Iris.

[Behind, by the entrance, a picture of delicate grief, he
props his head in his hands. Iris enters, Victor after
her.

IRIS. Felix, is that you there by yourself? And so interestingly
sad?

-98-