(He minuets forward three paces on tripping bee’s feet.) Tout le monde en avant! R�v�rence! Tout le monde en place!

(The prelude ceases. Professor Goodwin, beating vague arms shrivels, sinks, his live cape falling about the stool. The air in firmer waltz time sounds. Stephen and Zoe circle freely. The lights change, glow, fade gold rosy violet.)

THE PIANOLA:

Two young fellows were talking about their girls, girls, girls,

Sweethearts they’d left behind...

(From a corner the morning hours run out, goldhaired, slimsandalled, in girlish blue, waspwaisted, with innocent hands. Nimbly they dance, twirling their skipping ropes.