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Here, my friend, is that very moonstone seat.

[Hero sighs with tears.

O lady, I think their talk is about a dream. Let us listen then attentively.

[They both listen.

My friend, do I not say, "Here is that moonstone seat?"

It is well guessed. (Pointing to it with his hand.) This is that very moonstone seat on which I saw the loved one; her pale face reclined upon her left shoot-like hand, and her breast heaving with deep sobs. When I delayed to soothe her, her fit of anger passed away; and her slightly-quivering lip and burst of tears betrayed the real state of her feelings. We will sit therefore on this moonstone seat.

[They both sit down.

Who now can she be whom he thus talks about?

Just as we unobserved are looking at him, so I hope you too have not been seen by him.

It is possible. But then again, he is talking fondly about some one with whom he had a love quarrel.