PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Softly, shaking his head.] I dare not—­I dare not look at you.

IRENE.

Why dare you not look at me any more?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

You have a shadow that tortures me.  And I have the crushing weight of my conscience.

IRENE.

[With a glad cry of deliverance.] At last!

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Springs up.] Irene—­what is it!

IRENE.

[Motioning him off.] Keep still, still, still! [Draws a deep breath and says, as though relieved of a burden.] There!  Now they let me go.  For this time.—­Now we can sit down and talk as we used to—­when I was alive.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Oh, if only we could talk as we used to.

IRENE.

Sit there, where you were sitting.  I will sit here beside you.

    [He sits down again.  She seats herself on another stone, close
       to him.

IRENE.

[After a short interval of silence.] Now I have come back to you from the uttermost regions, Arnold.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Aye, truly, from an endless journey.

IRENE.

Come home to my lord and master—–­

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

To our home;—­to our own home, Irene.

IRENE.

Have you looked for my coming every single day?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

How dared I look for you?

IRENE.

[With a sidelong glance.] No, I suppose you dared not.  For you understood nothing.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Was it really not for the sake of some one else that you all of a sudden disappeared from me in that way?

IRENE.

Might it not quite well be for your sake, Arnold?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Looks doubtfully at her.] I don’t understand you—–?

IRENE.

When I had served you with my soul and with my body—­when the statue stood there finished—­our child as you called it—­then I laid at your feet the most precious sacrifice of all—­by effacing myself for all time.