THE YOUTH.  Come! own up:  arnt you very unhappy?  It’s dreadful to see you ancients going about by yourselves, never noticing anything, never dancing, never laughing, never singing, never getting anything out of life.  None of us are going to be like that when we grow up.  It’s a dog’s life.

THE ANCIENT.  Not at all.  You repeat that old phrase without knowing that there was once a creature on earth called a dog.  Those who are interested in extinct forms of life will tell you that it loved the sound of its own voice and bounded about when it was happy, just as you are doing here.  It is you, my children, who are living the dog’s life.

THE YOUTH.  The dog must have been a good sensible creature:  it set you a very wise example.  You should let yourself go occasionally and have a good time.

THE ANCIENT.  My children:  be content to let us ancients go our ways and enjoy ourselves in our own fashion.

He turns to go.

THE MAIDEN.  But wait a moment.  Why will you not tell us how you enjoy yourself?  You must have secret pleasures that you hide from us, and that you never get tired of.  I get tired of all our dances and all our tunes.  I get tired of all my partners.

THE YOUTH [suspiciously] Do you?  I shall bear that in mind.

They all look at one another as if there were some sinister significance in what she has said.

THE MAIDEN.  We all do:  what is the use of pretending we don’t?  It is natural.

SEVERAL YOUNG PEOPLE.  No, no.  We don’t.  It is not natural.

THE ANCIENT.  You are older than he is, I see.  You are growing up.

THE MAIDEN.  How do you know?  I do not look so much older, do I?

THE ANCIENT.  Oh, I was not looking at you.  Your looks do not interest me.

THE MAIDEN.  Thank you.

They all laugh.

THE YOUTH.  You old fish!  I believe you don’t know the difference between a man and a woman.

THE ANCIENT.  It has long ceased to interest me in the way it interests you.  And when anything no longer interests us we no longer know it.

THE MAIDEN.  You havnt told me how I shew my age.  That is what I want to know.  As a matter of fact I am older than this boy here:  older than he thinks.  How did you find that out?

THE ANCIENT.  Easily enough.  You are ceasing to pretend that these childish games—­this dancing and singing and mating—­do not become tiresome and unsatisfying after a while.  And you no longer care to pretend that you are younger than you are.  These are the signs of adolescence.  And then, see these fantastic rags with which you have draped yourself. [He takes up a piece of her draperies in his hand].  It is rather badly worn here.  Why do you not get a new one?

THE MAIDEN.  Oh, I did not notice it.  Besides, it is too much trouble.  Clothes are a nuisance.  I think I shall do without them some day, as you ancients do.