FIRST LADY TOURIST [from below, very Southern]: Martha, look at the fan-lights on those windows!

THIRD LADY TOURIST [from below]: This is the sweetest court in the Quarter, I don’t like the restored ones. How old is this courtyard?

TOURIST GUIDE [from below]: Ladies, this is one of the oldest, most historic buildings in the Quarter.

SECOND LADY TOURIST: Sweet little fountain here! Fish.

JANE: Those—tourists! If I’d known when I took this place it was over a tourist attraction— [She slams the gallery doors: leans exhausted again them.]

TYE: It’s the festival, Babe, it ain’t always—festival.

JANE: Azalea—festival—ladies . . .

TYE: Gimme my cigarettes, Babe, ought to be some left in a pocket.

JANE [throwing his pants and fancy sport shirt]: Here, your clothes, get in them.

TYE: Not yet. It’s Sunday, Babe.

JANE: I know and I skipped Mass.

TYE: Won’t burn in hell for that, Babe.

JANE: I suppose I have—other things to—burn for . . .

TYE: —Where’s Beret? I like Beret to be here when I wake up.

JANE: Not even a cat will wait ten, twelve hours for you to sleep off whatever you shot last night. —How did a girl well-educated and reasonably well brought up get involved in this—oh, I’m talking to myself.

TYE: I hear you, Babe, and I see you.

JANE: Not all of me: just a remnant. You’re not talking to me.

TYE: Who else is in the room?

JANE: Me! Jane! —Do you recognize the remnant?

TYE: I see your elegance and hear your New Yawk langwidge.

JANE: Then—get up and dressed.

TYE: It’s not dark yet, Babe. Y’know I never get dressed till after dark on Sundays. It’s a—rule.

JANE: The foundations of the republic aren’t based on it and today—

TYE: It’s a rule I stuck to all my life: think it started in childhood to avoid Sunday School in—Friar’s Point—Mississippi . . .

JANE [cutting him off]: Today has to be an exception. Drink your coffee. I’m—expecting a caller, very important to me.

TYE: Fashion-designer?

JANE: No. Buyer. —to look at my designs. —I’ve looked at them myself and they’re no good, I’m no good. I just had a flair, not a talent and the flair flared out, I’m—finished, I’m—please get dressed, be decent: consider someone beside yourself for a change. It makes a difference in life, you feel better for it. —Some inconveniences make you feel better later . . .

TYE: You’re pantin’ like a hound that’s run a mile.

JANE: I know. I’m not without feelings despite the fact I’m a Yankee. — I suppose it’s the Bluegrass descent. I can still hear the voices, why do they scream like that, like tom-cats in heat!

FIRST LADY TOURIST [from downstairs, outside]: Bess! It’s a little dream! It’s like a dream.