What’s the matter?  No lamentations!

SOPHY (as MARY stands disconcerted).

Mary—­

MARY (controls herself).

Are you again going into the forest tonight?

FORESTER.

Why?

MARY.

Because—­

SOPHY (interrupts, for fear MARY might tell the truth).

Because of the soup; she wants to know whether she is to warm it.

FORESTER.

No.  And what are you waiting for, you silly wench?

[Turns away.  As MARY hesitates, calls out roughly.]

Do you hear?

MARY (goes back to SOPHY).

Mother, he has been crying!  I saw a tear hanging on his eye-lash, mother!  And I am about to deceive him!

SOPHY.

He is crying because in his old age he has to go forth into misery.—­And as to you—­why, you are not obliged to go.

MARY.

If you speak in that way, mother!—­I am going.

SOPHY.

Then say good-night to him.  It is time.  Afterward I shall help you climb out of the window.  At this moment Robert is already waiting.  You can be back soon.

MARY.

Yes, mother, I will go.  But not for Robert’s sake, mother, nor for mine; only for father’s sake.  I will tell him:  “Robert,” I will say to him, “you will yet find a girl, more beautiful and better than myself, but my father will not find another child, if I leave him.”  I will tell him:  “Robert,” I will say to him, “I will forget you!  God will give me strength that I may be able to forget you.  Remain away from me, so that I may not see you again.”  God will help me, mother, will he not?  He will, for I did love Robert so much.

SOPHY.

Now go.  Say good-night and don’t betray yourself.

[MARY stands by the FORESTER.]

SOPHY.

Mary wants to say good-night to you.

FORESTER.

Can’t you say it yourself, silly thing?

MARY (mastering her emotion).

Good-night, father.

FORESTER.

Good-night.  You need not wait for me tomorrow when you are going to your uncle.  Perhaps I shall have gone out by that time.  I have an errand; don’t know whether I shall come back tomorrow.  And take Nero along—­and whatever else is there; take everything along.  I no longer need anything—­but my tools, my short rifle and—­powder and bullets.  The other rifles you may sell.  Go to Wilkens, you poor thing, he perhaps will get Robert for you yet—­after I have gone; after people have once forgotten that your father was a dismissed man.

MARY.

Good-night.

[Beside herself.]

Good-night, father!

FORESTER.

Wench, that is a good-night as if forever.—­You are right, Mary.  Such a stain as I am upon your good reputation must be removed.  Go, Mary.  Do you hear, Mary?