Hoffman:

That isn’t the question now.  We are going away—­the best of us—­to be shot, most likely.  Don’t you suppose we want to send some part of ourselves into the future, since we can’t live ourselves?  There, that’s straight; and right, too.

Hedwig: [Nodding slowly.]

What I said—­to breed a soldier for the empire; to restock the land. [Fiercely.] And for what?  For food for the next generation’s cannon.  Oh, it is an insult to our womanhood!  You violate all that makes marriage sacred! [Agitated, she walks about the room.] Are we women never to get up out of the dust?  You never asked us if we wanted this war, yet you ask us to gather in the crops, cut the wood, keep the world going, drudge and slave, and wait, and agonize, lose our all, and go on bearing more men—­and more—­to be shot down!  If we breed the men for you, why don’t you let us say what is to become of them?  Do we want them shot—­the very breath of our life?

Hoffman:

It is for the fatherland.

Hedwig:

You use us, and use us—­dolls, beasts of burden, and you expect us to bear it forever dumbly; but I won’t!  I shall cry out till I die.  And now you say it almost out loud, “Go and breed for the empire.”  War brides!  Pah! [Minna gasps, beginning to be terrified.  Hoffman rages.  Mother gazes with anxious concern.  Amelia turns pale.]

Hoffman:

I never would dream of speaking of Amelia like that.  She is the sweetest girl I have seen for many a day.

Hedwig:

What will happen to Amelia?  Have you thought of that?  No; I warrant you haven’t.  Well, look.  A few kisses and sweet words, the excitement of the ceremony, the cheers of the crowd, some days of living together,—­I won’t call it marriage, for Franz and I are the ones who know what real marriage is, and how sacred it is,—­then what?  Before you know it, an order to march.  Amelia left to wait for her child.  No husband to wait with her, to watch over her.  Think of her anxiety, if she learns to love you!  What kind of child will it be?  Look at me.  What kind of child would I have, do you think?  I can hardly breathe for thinking of my Franz, waiting, never knowing from minute to minute.  From the way I feel, I should think my child would be born mad, I’m that wild with worrying.  And then for Amelia to go through the agony alone!  No husband to help her through the terrible hour.  What solace can the state give then?  And after that, if you don’t come back, who is going to earn the bread for her child?  Struggle and struggle to feed herself and her child; and the fine-sounding name you trick us with—­war bride!  Humph! that will all be forgotten then.  Only one thing can make it worth while, and do you know what that is?  Love.  We’ll struggle through fire and water for that; but without it—­[Gesture.]

Hoffman: [Drawing Amelia to him.]