LEONARD.

I cannot yet regret it. I knew it was the only way I could have kept you
to myself. The old girlhood love was opening its eyes again, and I could
not close them quickly enough!

CLARA.

When I got home, I found my mother ill, mortally ill. She had been
stricken suddenly, as if by an invisible hand. My father had wanted to
send for me, but she would not consent to his doing so, not wishing to
interrupt my happiness. And how I felt when I heard that! I held myself
aloof, I did not dare to touch her, I trembled! She took it for childish
anxiety and motioned me over to her; when I slowly drew near her, she
held me down and kissed my desecrated mouth. I lost control of myself; I
wanted to confess to her, to cry out what I thought and felt: It is my
fault that you are lying there! I tried to do so, but tears and sobs
choked my voice. She reached for my father's hand, and said with a
blissful glance at me: What a heart!

LEONARD.

She is well again. I have come to congratulate her, and--what do you
think?

CLARA.

What?