I have tried to give you a pleasant afternoon and have failed." "No, no," said Alfred, looking at her with a blue flame in his eyes.
"The afternoon has been perfect.

I have forgotten my role, and have allowed you to see my real self, something I have tried to hide from all." "And are you always sad when you are sincere ?" "Not always.

But I am often sad.

Is it any wonder?
Is not all nature sad?
Listen! There is the song of the oriole.

Breaking in on the stillness it is mournful.