STRANGER. You, too?

LADY. And you mustn't stay here.

STRANGER. Where should I go?

LADY. Home. To your work.

STRANGER. But I'm no worker. I'm a writer.

LADY. I know. But I didn't want to hurt you. Creative power is
something given you, that can also taken away. See you don't
forfeit yours.

STRANGER. Where are you going?

LADY. Only to a shop.

STRANGER (after a pause). Tell me, are you a believer?

LADY. I am nothing.

STRANGER. All the better: you have a future. How I wish I were your
old blind father, whom you could lead to the market place to sing
for his bread. My tragedy is I cannot grow old that's what happens
to children of the elves, they have big heads and never only cry. I
wish I were someone's dog. I could follow him and never be alone
again. I'd get a meal sometimes, a kick now and then, a pat
perhaps, a blow often. ...