But you don't refuse me? And I'm not too old?
Margot (_passionately bursting into laughter_).
I was never free from the fear that you might not see anything in me except an image of that wasted, old creature. (_Instead of answering_, Margot _stretches out her arms to him with a soft cry of longing_. Ebeling _draws the low stool to the writing-chair on which she is sitting, sits down upon it, and embraces her._) Margot, my youth, my whole youth that I've squandered and frittered away comes back to me once more through you. And now all will be well with you, too. It was only a nightmare. Your true self had nothing to do with it. Only--you must take heart again--you must think of yourself now.
Yes, I am equal to anything now. I am not afraid to face the worst. I can even marry that man. I shall send him my acceptance quite calmly.--Of course. Why not?
Why should you be astonished at that? Now that I know you love me? Only for a year! Perhaps for two! Yes, two! Oh, please, two! Then, later, when you've left me, let others come! It's all the same, who! For marriage, of course, I'm entirely spoiled! But I'll be revenged on him! On him and on Virtue and on Loyalty and on all that stuff with which they've so long tormented me. And the evening before my wedding--then may I--come to you again? Toward twilight! It must be on a Sunday. I'll arrange for that, so we can be alone. Ah, I shall count the days till then! Why do you look at me like that? (Ebeling _stands up and throws himself on the sofa, burying his face in his hands. A long pause._) What can I have done? (_She stands up. Another pause._) Surely I haven't done you any wrong by loving you?
I wanted to leave some time ago, but you made me stay. (_She buttons her coat, throws on her boa, and is about to go out. Then she turns around resolutely, and places herself before him._) Oh, I know--I'm disgraced--I'm not worthy of anything better--; but I needn't have had to endure _such_ scorn and contempt! (Ebeling _rises, looks at her, groans, buries his face in his hands, and falls back into the chair_. Margot _kneels beside him, weeping._) Dear--dearest--what is it? What's wrong, my darling?
Ebeling (_compelling himself to be composed_).