SECRETARY.

I am to blame.  I realize it.  Well, what is difficult is not necessarily impossible.  I will get him to release you.  Perhaps—­

CLARA.

Release me?  There!

[Throws LEONARD’S letter to him.]

SECRETARY (reads).

As cashier, I—­your brother—­thief—­very sorry—­but out of consideration for my office, I cannot help it—­[To CLARA.] He wrote you that on the very day your mother died?  For he adds his condolence on her sudden death!

CLARA.

I suppose so!

SECRETARY.

The Devil take him!  Great God, the cats, snakes and other monsters which, so to speak, slipped through Thy fingers at Creation, so delighted Beelzebub that he imitated Thy patterns—­but he finished them off better than Thou didst; he put them in a human skin, and now they stand in rank and file with the rest of Thy humanity, and one does not recognize them until they begin to scratch and sting!

[To CLARA.]

But it is well, indeed it is fine!

[He tries to embrace her.]

Come!  Forever!  With this kiss—­

CLARA (sinks into his arms).

No, not forever!  Only to keep me from falling—­but no kiss!

SECRETARY.

Girl, you do not love him, you have your release—­

CLARA (gloomily, straightening herself up again).

And yet I must go to him, I must throw myself on my knees before him and cry out:  “Behold my father’s white hairs!  Take me!”

SECRETARY.

Unhappy girl!  Do I understand you?

CLARA.

Yes!

SECRETARY.

No man can overlook that!  Think of having to cast down one’s eyes before a man into whose face one would like to spit!

[He presses CLARA wildly to him.]

Poor, poor girl!

CLARA.

Go now, go!

SECRETARY (to himself, brooding).

Or else one would have to shoot the dog who knows of it.  Oh, that he had some courage about him!  That he would stand up and fight!  That one could force him to it!  I should not be afraid of missing him!

CLARA.

I beg of you!

SECRETARY (going).

As soon as it grows dark!

[He returns and grasps CLARA’s hand.]

Girl, you stand before me—­[He turns away.]

Thousands of your sex would have kept it a secret with shrewd cunning, and only in an hour of sweet forgetfulness would have confided it coaxingly to the ear and soul of their husbands.  I feel what I owe you!

CLARA (alone).

Oh, my heart, lock yourself up!  Crush yourself together so that not another drop of that blood may escape which would kindle again the congealing life in my veins!  For a moment a feeling akin to hope arose in you again!  Now for the first time I am conscious of it!