PIKE looks up again, turns
toward the gates, and, after a short pause, again begins to sing and
work, but very softly.]
[IVANOFF appears on top of the wall at back, climbing up cautiously from
lane below. He creeps from the wall to the top of pergola and cautiously
along that through the foliage to above PIKE. He peers over the foliage
at PIKE.]
[PIKE looks up slowly, and, as slowly, stops "Sweet Genevieve," his
voice fading away on a half syllable as he encounters IVANOFF'S gaze.
They stare at each other, LADY CREECH observing unseen.]
[IVANOFF is a thin, very fragile-looking man of thirty-eight. His
disordered hair is prematurely gray, his beard is a grizzled four days'
stubble. He is exceedingly haggard and worn, but has the face and look
of a man of refinement and cultivation. He has lost his hat; his shoes
and trousers are splashed with dried mud, and brambles cling to him here
and there. He wears a soiled white shirt and collar, and a torn black
tie, black waistcoat and trousers. He is covered with dust from head to
foot; one sleeve of his shirt has been torn off at the elbow. He wears
no coat.]
IVANOFF [in a voice tremulous with tragic appeal]. Et ce que vous etes
un homme de bon coeur? Je ne suis pas coupable--
PIKE [very gravely]. There ain't any use in the world your talkin' to me
like that!
IVANOFF [panting].
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