LEONARD.
Yes, Clara, you talked about keeping one’s word, and just because
I _am_ a man of my word, I am compelled to answer as I do. I
broke with you a week ago. You can’t deny it. There lies the
letter. (_He passes the letter; she takes it mechanically._) I
had good reason to; your brother--you say he’s been cleared.
I’m glad to hear it. In the course of this week I have made
promises elsewhere. I had a perfect right to, because you didn’t
protest at the right time against my letter. In my own mind I
was as free as before the law. Now you’ve come, but I’ve already
given my word and taken somebody else’s, yes--(_aside_) I wish
it were so!--she’s in the same condition as you.--I’m sorry for
you--(_stroking back her hair_, CLARA _passive, as if she did not
notice it_), but you’ll understand that the mayor is not to be
trifled with.
CLARA (_absently_).
Trifled with!
LEONARD.
Now, you’re getting sensible. And as for your father, you can
tell him straight to his face that he’s to blame for it all.
Don’t stare at me like that, don’t shake your head; it is so,
my girl, it is so! Just tell him so; he’ll understand and keep
quiet, I’ll answer for it. (_Aside._) When a man gives away his
daughter’s dowry, he needn’t be surprised if she’s left on the
shelf. It puts my back up to think of it, and almost makes me
wish the old boy was here to be lectured to. Why do I have to
be cruel? Simply because he was a fool! Whatever happens, he’s
responsible for it, that’s clear. (_To_ CLARA.) Would you like
me to talk to him, myself? I’ll risk a black eye for your sake
and go to him. He can be as rude as he likes, he can throw the
boot-tree at me, but he’ll have to swallow the truth, in spite of
the belly-ache it gives him, and leave you in peace. Be assured
of that. Is he at home?
CLARA (_standing up straight_).
Thank you. (_Going._)
LEONARD.
Should I come across with you? I’m not afraid.
CLARA.
I thank you as I would thank a snake that had entwined itself
around me, and then left me of its own accord to follow other
game. I know that I’ve been stung, and am only released because
it doesn’t seem worth while to suck the bit of marrow out of
my bones. But I thank you in spite of it, for now I shall have
a quiet death. Yes, it is no mockery! I thank you. I feel as
if I had seen through your heart into the abyss of hell, and
whatever may be my lot in the terrors of eternity, I shall have
no more to do with _you_, and that’s a comfort! And just as the
unhappy creature bitten by a snake is not blamed for opening his
veins in horror and disgust and letting his poisoned life well
quickly away, so it may be that God of His grace will take pity
on me when He sees you and what you’ve made of me.--If I had no
_right_ ever to do such a thing, how should I be _able_ to do
it?--One thing more: my father knows nothing of this, he doesn’t
suspect, and in order that he may never know, I shall leave this
world to-night. If I thought that _you_----(_Takes a step wildly
towards him._) But that’s folly. Nothing could suit you better
than to see them all stand and shake their heads and vainly ask
why it happened!
LEONARD.
Such things do happen. What’s to be done? Clara!
CLARA.
Away, away! He can speak! (_Going._)
LEONARD.
Do you think I believe you?
CLARA.
No!
LEONARD.
If you kill yourself, you kill your child, too.
CLARA.
Rather both than kill my father! I know you can’t amend sin with
sin. But what I do now, comes on my head alone. If I put the
knife in his hand, it affects him as well as me. _I_ get it in
any case. That gives me courage and strength in all my anguish.
It’ll go well with you on this earth. (_Goes out._)