THE DAUGHTER. Yes, father; it is moonlight, and I can see the avenue as far as the cypress wood.
THE GRANDFATHER. And you do not see anyone?
THE DAUGHTER. No one, grandfather.
THE UNCLE. What sort of a night is it?
THE DAUGHTER. Very fine. Do you hear the nightingales?
THE UNCLE. Yes, yes.
THE DAUGHTER. A little wind is rising in the avenue.
THE GRANDFATHER. A little wind in the avenue?
THE DAUGHTER. Yes; the trees are trembling a little.
THE UNCLE. I am surprised that my sister is not here yet.
THE GRANDFATHER. I cannot hear the nightingales any longer.
THE DAUGHTER. I think someone has come into the garden, grandfather.
THE GRANDFATHER. Who is it?
THE DAUGHTER. I do not know; I can see no one.
THE UNCLE. Because there is no one there.
THE DAUGHTER. There must be someone in the garden; the nightingales have suddenly ceased singing.
THE GRANDFATHER. But I do not hear anyone coming.
THE DAUGHTER. Someone must be pa.s.sing by the pond, because the swans are scared.
ANOTHER DAUGHTER. All the fishes in the pond are diving suddenly.
THE FATHER. You cannot see anyone?
THE DAUGHTER. No one, father.
THE FATHER. But the pond lies in the moonlight....
THE DAUGHTER. Yes; I can see that the swans are scared.
THE UNCLE. I am sure it is my sister who is scaring them. She must have come in by the little gate.
THE FATHER. I cannot understand why the dogs do not bark.
THE DAUGHTER. I can see the watch-dog right at the back of his kennel.
The swans are crossing to the other bank!...
THE UNCLE. They are afraid of my sister. I will go and see. [_He calls._] Sister! sister! Is that you?... There is no one there.
THE DAUGHTER. I am sure that someone has come into the garden. You will see.
THE UNCLE. But she would answer me!
THE GRANDFATHER. Are not the nightingales beginning to sing again, Ursula?
THE DAUGHTER. I cannot hear one anywhere.
THE GRANDFATHER. And yet there is no noise.
THE FATHER. There is a silence of the grave.
THE GRANDFATHER. It must be some stranger that scares them, for if it were one of the family they would not be silent.
THE UNCLE. How much longer are you going to discuss these nightingales.
THE GRANDFATHER. Are all the windows open, Ursula?
THE DAUGHTER. The gla.s.s door is open, grandfather.
THE GRANDFATHER. It seems to me that the cold is penetrating into the room.
THE DAUGHTER. There is a little wind in the garden, grandfather, and the rose-leaves are falling.
THE FATHER. Well, shut the door. It is late.
THE DAUGHTER. Yes, father.... I cannot shut the door.
THE TWO OTHER DAUGHTERS. We cannot shut the door.
THE GRANDFATHER. Why, what is the matter with the door, my children?
THE UNCLE. You need not say that in such an extraordinary voice. I will go and help them.
THE ELDEST DAUGHTER. We cannot manage to shut it quite.
THE UNCLE. It is because of the damp. Let us all push together. There must be something in the way.
THE FATHER. The carpenter will set it right to-morrow.
THE GRANDFATHER. Is the carpenter coming to-morrow?
THE DAUGHTER. Yes, grandfather; he is coming to do some work in the cellar.