Miller (Suddenly).—No, Your Grace.

Princess.—But you came unwillingly.

Miller.—I judged by your servants.

Princess.—You too are different from what I have heard of you. (A key rattles in the door. Princess is unpleasantly surprised.)

Zan (Opening the door, cautiously looks about).—The Lord be praised! (Comes in and turns his eyes toward the stairs on the left.)

Princess.—Ah, old Zan. I do not desire anything as yet.

Zan.—Your Grace, I—(Looks toward the left.)

Princess.—Where is Tereza?

Zan.—Way back in the last room. She is afraid.

Princess.—And you, too. So you just hide there likewise and wait until I call.

Zan (Hesitates, casting glances toward the left).—Your Grace, I really would—

Princess (Impatiently).—Do go.

Zan (Leaving).—But if horror gets hold of her! (Goes out on the right.)

Princess.—They are afraid. And it is no wonder. The late hour, the light of the moon, and black shadows in so remote a solitude (More quickly.) The time and place are full of mysterious apparitions and (enticingly to the Miller) of stories. Now you could tell one. (Urgently.) Do tell one. (Steps closer to him.)

Miller (Begins to be confused).—Your Grace—what is—there to tell—I—perhaps about—

Princess.—Just as you said.

Miller.—Well, then, I’ll begin.

From the forest a duet on hunting horns is heard.