They're just stupid and friendly and nice, like
all one's country cousins. But just in time comes Harlequin-Mercury. He has
no wings left to his feet, because you wear off wings rather soon if you
wander about the world. And his wand hasn't any snakes left. It's just
painted white wood. And it's a good thing we've come to the jokes about the
sausages, because, now Harlequin's only a strolling player, he's sometimes
awfully hungry.
UNCLE EDWARD. Very true. Are they ready?
ALICE. I'll see.
[So she turns and sticks her head through the curtains.
Yes.
UNCLE EDWARD. Music.
[And the music begins again.
Some are all for a bell, and again others are for a gong, but ...
[He wields his trusty mallet for three hard whacks on the floor. And
then the two of them draw back the curtains on the second scene.
* * * * *
A line of dark cypress trees; a blue sky and an Italian landscape. A path
to a house. A young man lying on the ground reading. His name is Gelsomino.
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