George.
So, then, we have both our burden; and we soon will have to part.
Therefore we can now safely speak of the past. My manuscript you read!
You even went so far as to perjure yourself on account of it. Oh, you
don't mind a little thing like that! I wish I were the same! You know
the subject of my verses, and we must now understand each other fully.
Now, tell me openly, why, why did you treat me so unkindly, to say
nothing worse, in former days?
Marie.
Did I, George?
George.
'Tis hardly necessary to remind you of all the indignities you heaped
upon me. It almost seemed to me as if you purposely intended to drive
me mad. Do you remember the day when I followed you into the cellar,
and you turned and ran out and locked the door, and compelled me to
remain there all night?
Marie.
[_Smiling_.] Yes, I remember!
George.
Why did you do that?
Marie.
That is very simple. You are Count von Harten--and I?--I am but a poor
Lithuanian foundling--aye, worse than that. If you follow such a one
into the cellar, she knows, or at least thinks she knows, your purpose.
George.
So, that was the reason! And at the same time you went under your
manzanillo-tree to die?
Marie.
[_Nods_.]
George.
And did you never realize the real state of things? Gertrude was then
still a child--and because I could not win you, I took her. Did that
thought never occur to you?
Marie.
How could I ever dare to think that?
George.
But later?
Marie.
The day before yesterday, when I read your book, I felt it for the
first time.
George.