Chapter V: Tacita. Alwyn. Shy

[_Dreamily, the fluting of birds sounds in
the forest. Dimly from the background_
TACITA _appears. With steps of reverie,
she approaches, and pauses before
them_. ALWYN _looks up and, touching_
SHY’S _arm, speaks low_.]

Tacita! It is she!

SHY

Speak to her—you.

Alwyn

Dryad, and spirit of serenity,
Whose steps have fallen timeful as the dew
Upon our pathway, intervene
For us with that still-undiscovered queen—
Ornis, who reigns among your ancient boughs
Spirit of birds and sister of our race,
Man. Stir your spell-enchanted feet,
And by their moods arouse
Her hidden grace
To heed us, and hold speech from realms unseen.

[_To mysterious music_, TACITA _treads a dance of invocation,
appealing in pantomime to the unseen spirit of wings, which flits
and sings and broods in the boughs above her_. ALWYN _and_ SHY
_watch her, rapt and expectant_.

_Suddenly a sharp gun-shot sounds, shivering the music, which ceases.
Through the boughs, a bird falls fluttering to the earth._]