MIN.
You disputant! You should not have called yourself unhappy at all
then. You should have told the whole, or kept quiet. Reason and
necessity commanded you to forget me? I am a great stickler for
reason; I have a great respect for necessity. But let me hear how
reasonable this reason, and how necessary this necessity may be.

MAJ. T.
Listen then, Madam. You call me Tellheim; the name is correct. But
suppose I am not that Tellheim whom you knew at home; the prosperous
man, full of just pretensions, with a thirst for glory; the master of
all his faculties, both of body and mind; before whom the lists of
honour and prosperity stood open; who, if he was not then worthy of
your heart and your hand, dared to hope that he might daily become
more nearly so. This Tellheim I am now, as little as I am my own
father. They both have been. Now I am Tellheim the discharged, the
suspected, the cripple, the beggar. To the former, Madam, you promised
your hand; do you wish to keep your word?

MIN.
That sounds very tragic . . . Yet, Major Tellheim, until I find the
former one again--I am quite foolish about the Tellheims--the latter
will have to help me in my dilemma. Your hand, dear beggar!
(Taking his hand).

MAJ. T. (holding his hat before his face with the other hand, and
turning away from her).
This is too much! . . . What am I? . . . Let me go, Madam. Your
kindness tortures me! Let me go.