25
Gil: Understand, you're not to breathe a word.
Marg: I’ve made up my mind.
Gil: indeed, Have a care. For, if you do, I shall sell my
hider at a good price.
I shall hurl such nabed trutha at him that he’ll waar
Marg:
no baron heard the like of them.
Glen: (entering) somewhat surprised, but quite cool and
courteous.) Oh, Mr. Gilbert, if I'm not mistaken
The very same, Baron. I'm kravelling south, and I
Gil:
could'nt repress the desire to pay my respects to
madame.
Clem: Ah, indeed. (cause) Pardon me, it seems I've inter-
rupted your conversation. Pray, don’t let me disturb
you.
What were we talking about just now?
Gil.
Perhaps I can assist your memory. In Munich, if I recall
Clem:
correctly, you always talked about your books.
Gil: quite so. As a matter of fact, I was speaking about
my nen novel.
Pray, continue. Nowaways, I find that I too can talk
Clem:
literature. Eh, Margarette? Is it naturalistie? Sym-
bolic? Autobiographical? Or, let me see--is it dis-
tilled?
Gil: Oh, in a certain sense we all write about our life-
exper & onces
Clem: H'mj That's good to know.
Gil: Yes, if you're lpainting the character of Nero, it is
my opinion, it's absolutely necessary that you should
have Car monally set fioe to Rome....
Clem: – – naturally.
Gilj-Frem what source should a writer dorive his Estration
if not from himself? Where should he go for his models
if not to the life which is nearest to him? (Margarettu
becomes more and more unsasy.)
so rarely
Cloms- Is'nt it a pity, though, that the models a