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Updated: June 17, 2025
Half the footlights and one row of border lights illuminated the stage, and a fat man in very light grey clothes, a vast white waistcoat and a pot hat was singing 'Salut demeure' in a nasal half-voice to the tail of the Commendatore's white horse, from Don Juan.
"She's coming back," said Io's voice. "No. Don't come nearer. You'll shut off the air. Find me a fan." He ran to the outer room and came back with a palm-leaf. "She wants something," said Io in an agonized half-voice. "She wants it so badly. What is it? Help me, Ban! She can't speak. Look at her eyes so imploring. Is it medicine?... No! Ban, can't you help?"
For a time he stood behind her at the hearth, breathing snortingly, and at times seeming to laugh; said in a half-voice, "A fire fit to roast an ox!" and for a space was busy moving lumps of coal down into the grate. A silence followed before he came to the other side of her table and said, "Stop that noise. I want to speak to you."
For a moment she was stiff and still, then, "What is it, Mr. Gael?" she asked in a frightened half-voice. He felt, through her body, the slight recoil of spirit, and drew away, and arose to his feet. "You're angry?" He laughed. "Oh, no. I'm not angry; why should I be? I'm a superman. I'm made let's say of alabaster.
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