AGNES. There is a man here, in Venice, who is torturing me--flaying me
alive.

GERTRUDE. Torturing you?

AGNES. He came here about a week ago; he is trying to separate us.

GERTRUDE. You and Mr. Cleeve?

AGNES. Yes.

GERTRUDE. You are afraid he will succeed?

AGNES. Succeed! What nonsense you talk!

GERTRUDE. What upsets you, then?

AGNES. After all, it's difficult to explain--the feeling is so
indefinite. It's like--something in the air. This man is influencing
us both oddly. Lucas is as near illness again as possible; I can hear
his nerves vibrating. And I--you know what a fish-like thing I am as a
rule--just look at me now, as I'm speaking to you.

GERTRUDE. But don't you and Mr. Cleeve--talk to each other?

AGNES. As children do when the lights are put out--of everything but
what's uppermost in their minds.

GERTRUDE. You have met the man?