As is usual with stage
bedrooms, Isabelle's bower is about the size of an average
cathedral. It is very sparsely furnished, but near the footlights
is a large gilt couch, on which Isabelle is lying fast asleep.
Robert enters on tip-toe very very gently, so as not to disturb
his beloved, and sings in a voice that you could hear two miles
off, 'Isa-belle!' dropping a full octave on the last note.
Isabelle half awakes, and murmurs, 'I do believe I heard
something. I feel so nervous!' Robert advances a yard, and sings
again, if anything rather louder, 'Isa-belle!' Isabelle says:
'Really, my nerves do play me such tricks! I can't help fancying
that there is some one in the room, and I am so terribly afraid of
burglars. Perhaps it is only a mouse.' Robert advances right up to
Isabelle's bed, and shouts for the third time in a voice that
makes the chandelier ring again, 'Isa-belle!' Isabelle says, 'I
don't think that I can have imagined that. There really is some
one in the room. I'm terribly frightened, and don't quite know
what to do,' so she gets out of bed, and anxiously scans the
stalls and boxes over the footlights for signs of an intruder.
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