FREDERIK. [Looks about uneasily, then glances towards the door leading into the hall.] Who is at the door?  Curious ...  I thought I heard someone at ...

PETER.  I am at the door—­I, Peter Grimm!  Annamarie is at the door—­the little girl who is ashamed to come home; the old mother in the kitchen breaking her heart for some word.  William is at the door—­your own flesh and blood—­nameless; Katie, sobbing her heart out—­you can hear her; all—­ we are all at the door—­every soul in this house.  We are all at the door of your conscience, Frederik....  Don’t keep us waiting, my boy.  It’s very hard to kill the love I had for you.  I long to love you again—­to take you back to my heart—­lies and all. [FREDERIK rises—­in deep thought.] Yes!  Call her!  Tell her the truth.  Give her back her promise....  Give her back her home....  Close the door on a peaceful, happy, silent room and go.  Think—­think of that moment when you give her back her freedom!  Think of her joy, her gratitude, her affection.  It’s worth living for, lad.  Speak!  Make haste and call her, Fritz. [FREDERIK takes several steps—­then turns back to the desk.  He tears the letter in two, muttering to himself, “Damn the woman,” and sinks into his chair.] Frederik Grimm, stand up before me! [FREDERIK starts to rise, but changes his mind.] Stand up! [FREDERIK rises—­not knowing why he has risen. PETER points an accusing finger at FREDERIK.] Liar to the dead!  Cheat, thief, hypocrite!  You sha’n’t have my little girl.  You only want her for a week, a day, an hour.  I refuse.  I have come back to take her from you and you cannot put me to rest....  I have come back....  You cannot drive me from your thoughts—­I am there.... [Tapping his forehead, without touching it.] I am looking over your shoulder ... in at the window ... under the door....  You are breathing me in the air....  I am looking at your heart. [He brings his clenched fist down on the desk in answer to FREDERIK’S gesture; but, despite the seeming violence of the blow, he makes no sound.] Hear me!  You shall hear me!  Hear me! [Calling loudly.] Hear me!  Hear me!  Hear me!  Will nobody hear me?  Is there no one in this house to hear me?  No one?  Has my journey been in vain?... [For the first time fully realizing the situation.] Oh, must we stand or fall by the mistakes we made here and the deed we did?  Is there no second chance in this world?

FREDERIK. [With a sneer on his lips as though trying to banish his thoughts.] Psh!

MARTA enters with a tray, containing a pot of coffee and a plate of small cakes. PETER, who has watched her with appealing eyes, like a dog craving attention, glances from her to the desk and from the desk back to MARTA—­trying to tempt her to look at the torn letter. FREDERIK, deep in thought, does not notice her. PETER points to the desk as though to say, “Look!” After a pause, she picks up the picture and the letter—­ holding them in one hand to clear a spot for the tray which she is about to set on the desk.