THE LADY.

[After a short pause.] Who was the other?  The woman you had with you—­there at the table?

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[A little reluctantly.] She?  That was my—­my wife.

THE LADY.

[Nods slowly.] Indeed.  That is well, Arnold.  Some one, then, who does not concern me—–­

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Nods.] No, of course not—–­

THE LADY.

—­one whom you have taken to you after my lifetime.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Suddenly looking hard at her.] After your—?  What do you mean by that, Irene?

IRENE.

[Without answering.] And the child?  I hear the child is prospering too.  Our child survives me—­and has come to honour and glory.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Smiles as at a far-off recollection.] Our child?  Yes, we called it so—­then.

IRENE.

In my lifetime, yes.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Trying to take a lighter tone.] Yes, Irene.—­I can assure you “our child” has become famous all the wide world over.  I suppose you have read about it.

IRENE.

[Nods.] And has made its father famous too.—­That was your dream.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[More softly, with emotion.] It is to you I owe everything, everything, Irene—­and I thank you.

IRENE.

[Lost in thought for a moment.] If I had then done what I had a right to do, Arnold—–­

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Well?  What then?

IRENE.

I should have killed that child.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

Killed it, you say?

IRENE.

[Whispering.] Killed it—­before I went away from you.  Crushed it—­ crushed it to dust.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.

[Shakes his head reproachfully.] You would never have been able to, Irene.  You had not the heart to do it.

IRENE.

No, in those days I had not that sort of heart.

PROFESSOR RUBEK.