helplessly. The curtains of the door at the back are parted, and GONERIL
appears in hunting dress,--her kirtle caught up in her girdle, a light
spear over her shoulder--stands there a moment, then enters noiselessly
and, approaches the bed. She is a girl just turning to woman-hood, proud
in her poise, swift and cold, an almost gleaming presence, a virgin
huntress.]


Goneril:

Mother, were you calling?
Have I awakened you?
They said that you were sleeping.
Why are you left alone, mother, my dear one?


Hygd:

Who are you? No, no, no! Stand farther off!
You pulse and glow; you are too vital; your presence hurts ...
Freshness of hill-swards, wind and trodden ling,
I should have known that Goneril stands here.
It is yet dawn, but you have been afoot
Afar and long: where could you climb so soon?


Goneril:

Dearest, I am an evil daughter to you:
I never thought of you--O, never once--