Imperia. No, not in such witches. But there comes a Saturday Night in all our lives, even the most peaceful of them, when our souls, like the witches, fly to their lairs. We exist for years to reach one hour which is vital and real. Then our witches' souls take flight, some toward their hopes and ambitions, some toward their vices, their follies, others toward their loves—toward something which is far from and alien to our lives, but which has always smouldered in us, and at heart is what we are.
Rinaldi. It is true. And to-night we are in our lair. We may salute each other. Hail, sister!
Imperia. Sister and brother, hail! Whither away, toward good or toward ill?
Leonardo. I? Where life dissolves in the desert and is gone like the flower.
Rinaldi. I? To the Kingdom of Love where joy is—joy that outlasts death.
Leonardo. And you, Imperia?
Imperia. I? To find myself, to find Donina, poor, ignorant Donina—Donina in love. Your art has revealed to me the light that was in me, and I follow my dream!
Leonardo. Which is?…
Imperia. To grow, to become rich! For money is power. With it, all things are possible, for good or for evil, for justice or revenge!
Rinaldi. The performance is over. The people are coming out.
Leonardo. It is time to go.
A number of Spectators and Performers enter, among the latter Ruhu-Sahib.
Rinaldi. There! Do you see? The Hindu… I wonder if it would be possible to interest you in the taming of elephants?
