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MARIE.
Whom are you speaking of?
MAGDA.
Nothing, nothing. See here, how large is this sum you need?
MARIE.
Sixty thousand marks.
MAGDA.
When can you be married? Must it be now, or will afternoon do?
MARIE.
Don't mock me, Magda.
MAGDA.
You must give me time to telegraph. One can't carry so much money about with one.
MARIE.
[_Slowly taking it in, and then, with an outburst of joy, throwing herself at_ Magda's _feet_.] Magda!
MAGDA.
[_After a silence_.] Be happy, love your husband. And if you hold your first-born on your arm, in the face of the world [_holding out her arms with angry emphasis_]-- so, face to face, then think of one who-- Ah!
some one's coming.
_Enter_ Heffterdingt _with a portfolio_.
MAGDA.
[_Crossing to him_.] Oh, it's you. That's good. I wanted you.
HEFFTERDINGT.
You wanted me? What for?
MAGDA.
Only--I want to talk with you, holy man.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Isn't it good, Miss Magda, to be at home again?
MAGDA.
Oh, yes, except for the old aunt's sneaking about.
MARIE.
[_Who is collecting the breakfast-things; laughing, but frightened_.]
Oh, Heavens, Magda!
HEFFTERDINGT.
Good-morning, Miss Marie.
MARIE.
Good-morning, Pastor.
[_Exit, with the table_.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Heavens, how she beams!
MAGDA.
She has reason.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Isn't your father here?
MAGDA.
No.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Isn't he well?
MAGDA.
I think so. I haven't seen him yet. Yesterday we sat together till late. I told him what I could tell. But I think he was very unhappy; his eyes were always searching and probing. Oh, I fear your promise will be badly kept.
HEFFTERDINGT.
That seems like a reproach. I hope you don't regret--
MAGDA.
