The Lady.
(_Putting her hand to her brow, stammering._) No, no, no; it's--it's
grieving for him that makes me lose my wits. The world had so long set
me on a pedestal that I thought I belonged there. Now I feel as if I
were torn down. Now I lie there-- Herr von Wolters, pay no attention to
me!
v. Wolters.
If I could only help you, Countess!
The Lady (_smiling sorrowfully_).
Help me--you? And yet, why not? His friend and his beloved! It is we,
you and I, who are paying the last honours to the dead. Who could know
his worth better than we? Whose grief could be more eloquent than ours?
No, no, no--I must not talk. Ah, I see him before me now with his
bright, careless smile--his conqueror's smile! I suppose you never were
courted by women as he was?
v. Wolters.
My dear Countess, I lead a fairly quiet, uneventful life.
The Lady.
But you're not--you're not a Puritan, are you?
v. Wolters.