Toward midnight the noise died away; only a blind peasant still scratched upon the three strings which were left on his violin; some servant-girls wandered, arm-in-arm, with their sweethearts, and sang.

At twelve o'clock all assembled about the well, and drank the clear, ice-cold water.

From no great distance resounded, through the still night, a chorus of four manly voices.

It was as if the wood gods sang in praise of the nymph of the well.
Upon the hill all was now deserted and quiet.

Bajazzo and il Padrone slept behind the thin linen partition, under a coverlid.