glistening on top of the crags. Oh, and for open-air music, our little
church owns the sweetest little peal of bells--! [AGNES rises,
disturbed.] Ah, I can't promise you their silence! Indeed, I'm very
much afraid that on a still Sunday you can even hear the sound of the
organ quite a long distance off. I am the organist when I'm at home.
That's Ketherick. Will you come? [The distant tinkling of mandolin and
guitar is again heard.]

AGNES. Listen to that. The mandolinisti! You talk of the sound of your
church organ, and I hear his music.

GERTRUDE. His music?

AGNES. The music he is fond of; the music that gives him the thoughts
that please him, soothe him.

GERTRUDE. [Listening--humming the words of the air, contemptuously:
"Bell'amore deh! Porgi l'orecchio, ad un canto che parte del
cuore . . ."] Love-music!

AGNES. [In a low voice, staring upon the ground.] Yes, love music.

[The door leading from LUCAS'S room opens, and ST. OLPHERTS and LUCAS
are heard talking. GERTRUDE hastily goes out. KUCAS enters; the
boyishness of manner has left him--he is pale and excited.]

AGNES. What is the matter?

LUCAS. My wife is revealing quite a novel phase of character.