I'll bring it round just now.
Fitzgerald.
All right. Good-bye. (_Shakes hands, and exit._)
Denham.
Stay here, Constance. I'll bring the child to you.
(_Exit, following Fitzgerald._)
Mrs. Denham.
Undine, my little Undine! Have I been a bad mother to you? And I
have tried to do right. Oh, how I have tried! All in vain--all in
vain. (_Paces up and down, then sits listlessly on the sofa._) Utter
wreck! Utter wreck! Utter failure in everything!
(_Re-enter Denham, with Undine. Mrs. Denham starts up._)
Denham.
Here's our little truant come back to mother.
(_Undine comes down the stage slowly, looking dazed. Mrs. Denham
embraces the child passionately._)
Mrs. Denham.
My little Undine! My little girl! Did she think mother wanted to get
rid of her?
Undine.
(_with sorrowful indignation_) You said you wished I was dead, and I
thought you didn't want me any more. I thought perhaps you were
going to kill me with a knife, like Medea, and I didn't like that. I
thought the river would be kinder.
Mrs. Denham.
That was foolish, Undine. Mother would not kill her own little girl.
(_Sits down on sofa with Undine.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98