Clara (with faltering voice, and repressed tears). And then, one evening, when, enveloped in his mantle, he surprised us as we sat at our lamp, who busied herself in receiving him, while I remained, lost in astonishment, as if fastened to my chair? Mother. Could I imagine that the prudent Clara would so soon be carried away by this unhappy love? I must now endure that my daughter-- Clara (bursting into tears). Mother! How can you? You take pleasure in tormenting me! Mother (weeping). Ay, weep away! Make me yet more wretched by thy grief. Is it not misery enough that my only daughter is a castaway? Clara (rising, and speaking coldly). A castaway! The beloved of Egmont a castaway!--What princess would not envy the poor Clara a place in his heart? Oh, Mother,--my own Mother, you were not wont to speak thus! Dear Mother, be kind!--Let the people think, let the neighbours whisper what they like--this chamber, this lowly house is a paradise, since Egmont's love dwelt here. Mother. One cannot help liking him, that is true. He is always so kind, frank, and open-hearted. Clara. There is not a drop of false blood in his veins. And then, Mother, he is indeed the great Egmont; yet, when he comes to me, how tender he is, how kind! How he tries to conceal from me his rank, his bravery! How anxious he is about me! so entirely the man, the friend, the lover. Mother. DO you expect him to-day? Clara. Have you not seen how often I go to the window? Have you not noticed how I listen to every noise at the door?--Though I know that he will not come before night, yet, from the time when I rise in the morning, I keep expecting him every moment. Were I but a boy, to follow him always, to the court and everywhere! Could I but carry his colours in the field--! Mother. You were always such a lively, restless creature; even as a little child, now wild, now thoughtful. Will you not dress yourself a little better? Clara. Perhaps, Mother, if I want something to do.--Yesterday, some of his people went by, singing songs in honour. At least his name was in the songs! The rest I could not understand. My heart leaped up into my throat,--I would fain have called them back if I had not felt ashamed. Mother. Take care! Thy impetuous nature will ruin all. Thou wilt betray thyself before the people; as, not long ago, at thy cousin's, when thou roundest out the woodcut with the description, and didst exclaim, with a cry: "Count Egmont!"--I grew as red as fire.