Henriette.  What a wonderful night!  Have we been dreaming, or is this something we have really lived through?

Maurice. [Rising] And what a morning after such a night!  I feel as if it were the world’s first day that is now being illumined by the rising sun.  Only this minute was the earth created and stripped of those white films that are now floating off into space.  There lies the Garden of Eden in the rosy light of dawn, and here is the first human couple—­Do you know, I am so happy I could cry at the thought that all mankind is not equally happy—­Do you hear that distant murmur as of ocean waves beating against a rocky shore, as of winds sweeping through a forest?  Do you know what it is?  It is Paris whispering my name.  Do you see the columns of smoke that rise skyward in thousands and tens of thousands?  They are the fires burning on my altars, and if that be not so, then it must become so, for I will it.  At this moment all the telegraph instruments of Europe are clicking out my name.  The Oriental Express is carrying the newspapers to the Far East, toward the rising sun; and the ocean steamers are carrying them to the utmost West.  The earth is mine, and for that reason it is beautiful.  Now I should like to have wings for us two, so that we might rise from here and fly far, far away, before anybody can soil my happiness, before envy has a chance to wake me out of my dream—­for it is probably a dream!

Henriette. [Holding out her hand to him] Here you can feel that you are not dreaming.

Maurice.  It is not a dream, but it has been one.  As a poor young man, you know, when I was walking in the woods down there, and looked up to this Pavilion, it looked to me like a fairy castle, and always my thoughts carried me up to this room, with the balcony outside and the heavy curtains, as to a place of supreme bliss.  To be sitting here in company with a beloved woman and see the sun rise while the candles were still burning in the candelabra:  that was the most audacious dream of my youth.  Now it has come true, and now I have no more to ask of life—­Do you want to die now, together with me?

Henriette.  No, you fool!  Now I want to begin living.

Maurice. [Rising] To live:  that is to suffer!  Now comes reality.  I can hear his steps on the stairs.  He is panting with alarm, and his heart is beating with dread of having lost what it holds most precious.  Can you believe me if I tell you that Adolphe is under this roof?  Within a minute he will be standing in the middle of this floor.

Henriette. [Alarmed] It was a stupid trick to ask him to come here, and I am already regretting it—­Well, we shall see anyhow if your forecast of the situation proves correct.

Maurice.  Oh, it is easy to be mistaken about a person’s feelings.

(The head waiter enters with a card.)

Maurice.  Ask the gentleman to step in. [To Henriette] I am afraid we’ll regret this.