you! What kind of child will it be? Look at me. What kind of child would
_I_ have, do you think? I can hardly breathe for thinking of my Franz,
waiting, never knowing from minute to minute. From the way I feel, I
should think my child would be born mad, I'm that wild with worrying.
And then for Amelia to go through the agony alone! No husband to help
her through the terrible hour. What solace can the state give then? And
after that, if you don't come back, who is going to earn the bread for
her child? Struggle and struggle to feed herself and her child; and the
fine-sounding name you trick us with--war bride! Humph! that will all be
forgotten then. Only one thing can make it worth while, and do you know
what that is? Love. We'll struggle through fire and water for that; but
without it--[_Gesture._]


_Hoffman:_ [_Drawing Amelia to him._]

Don't listen to her, Amelia.


_Amelia:_ [_Pushing Hoffman violently from her, runs from the room._]

No, no, I can't marry you! I won't! I won't!

[_She shuts the door in his face._]


_Hedwig:_ [_Triumphantly._]

She will never be your war bride, Hans Hoffman!