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[_Beating on the door at the left_.] Papa, papa! Come quickly, be merciful, come quickly!
[_Exit_ Theresa _at a sign from_ Franziska.]
_Enter_ Schwartze.
SCHWARTZE.
What's the matter?
MARIE.
Magda--the carriage!
SCHWARTZE.
Good G.o.d! [_Hurries to the window_.]
MARIE.
Look--look! She's standing up! She's trying to look into the windows.
[_Clapping her hands_.] Papa! papa!
SCHWARTZE.
What is it you have to say?
MARIE.
[_Frightened_.] I? Nothing.
SCHWARTZE.
Perhaps you were going to say, "She stood before your door and you would not open it." Eh?
MARIE.
Yes, yes.
SCHWARTZE.
Do you hear, wife? She stands before our door. Shall we--in spite of our pride--shall we call her in?
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Oh, Leopold, since everybody thinks so much of her--
MARIE.
Ah! She's driving away!
SCHWARTZE.
No, no, she's not. Come, we will bring her to you.
FRANZISKA.
Yes, yes, bring her to me, too.
[_Exit_ Schwartze _and_ Mrs. Schwartze.
MARIE.
She's sitting back again! If only the carriage doesn't-- What a long time they are! They must have got downstairs. [_Frightened, almost beside herself_.] There--there--oh, don't go away! Magda! Magda!
FRANZISKA.
Don't scream so! What's the matter?
MARIE.
She's looking round. She's seen them. She's stopping. She's bursting open the door. She's jumped out! Now! Now! She's in father's arms!
[_Covers her face and sobs_.] Oh, Aunt Frankie! Aunt Frankie!
FRANZISKA.
What else could a father do? Since I have forgiven her, he could not--he could not hold out--
MARIE.
She's between father and mother. Oh, how grand she is! She's coming--she's coming. What a homely little thing I shall seem beside her! Oh, I am so frightened! [_Leans against the wall, left. A pause.
Voices of_ Magda _and her parents are heard outside_.]
_Enter_ Magda, _brilliantly dressed, with a large mantle, and a Spanish veil on her head. She embraces_ Marie.
MAGDA.
My puss! My little one! How my little one has grown! My pet--my--[_kissing her pa.s.sionately_]. But what's the matter? You're dizzy. Come, sit down. No, no, please sit down. Now. Yes, you must.
[_Places_ Marie _in an arm-chair_.] Dear little hands, dear little hands! [_Kneels before her, kissing and stroking her hands_.] But they're rough and red, and my darling is pale. There are rings round her eyes.
SCHWARTZE.
[_Lays his hand lightly on her shoulder_.] Magda, we are here too.
MAGDA.
Yes, yes--I'm entirely--[_Standing up, affectionately_.] Dear old papa!
How white you have become! Dear papa! [_Taking his hand_.] But what's the matter with your hand? It's trembling.
SCHWARTZE.
