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THE DARK VALLEY
aside in the valleys evading their vision; quickly into a quiet their quarry escapes; the unicorn wanders away; the treasure lies hidden under the stone; the precious gold is at peace in the rock; and echo will not answer when they ask for help. The clouds are gathering round the granite peaks; and the black storm broods above, preparing to loose its rain on a ruined race.
Sound. — Horns again.
Woman. — For those horns are the howls of hunted creatures, the trumpets of a regiment retreating in rout, fleeing in panic through a perilous landscape with sinister shadows in pur¬ suit behind them as they stumble through the darkness of a dreadful dream.
Sound. — Goose.
Woman. — But why am I telling you all this, Nana? What can it matter to you what happens to the human race ? What good can it do you if it lives or dies ? You will die first.
Sound. — Goose hiss.
Woman. — There, now, don’t get alarmed. Of course, I don’t mean anything personal. After all, you won’t be the only one. I shall die, too. Whatever happens to us, there will still be tame geese and old women for a long time to come. At least we have to hope so.
Sound. — Patter of raindrops.
Woman. — Oh dear, here comes the rain, and I’m afraid we shall have to interrupt our little chat. Old women aren’t like geese, you know. If they get wet, they catch cold and die, and then who would look after poor Nana? So I must go indoors. Never mind. It’s only going to be a shower this time. I’ll be back as soon as it’s over. By then I ought to be about ready. Yes, Nana, soon it will be your turn. ( During the song she goes indoors and busies herself in the kitchen as she sings)
( Fade in) Lady weeping at the crossroads,
Watch you meet your love
In the twilight with his greyhounds
And the hawk on his glove ?
Sound. — Steps on wooden floor . . . kitchen clock, utensils , etc., etc.
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