George. Yes, thank heaven! But you must not imagine for a moment that the book contains anything I am ashamed of; on the contrary, I consider it so sacred I would not have it desecrated by a stranger's eye. About four years ago, something occurred within me--within my soul. No one knows--no one could even guess, and no one shall ever know. Marie. No one? Not even I? George. No, not even you. But where is the book? Give it to me! Marie. [_Turns up stage and takes it from her bosom_.] Here it is. George. How shall I ever thank you? Marie. I want you to do me one favor. Will you promise me? George. If it's in my power, certainly! Marie. Then I must first confess to you. A few moments ago, when papa questioned me, I deceived him. I was attacked last night--yes--but not by a man, but by a woman--a Lithuanian woman. George, that woman was my mother! George. But I understood your mother was dead. Marie. No, no; that is not so. Not one of you ever told me the truth. On the day of my confirmation I was waylaid by that very same woman--I cannot have been mistaken. George. Come, tell me, how did it happen? Marie. I was walking along quietly--'twas already dawning--when suddenly a gaunt form arose from the ditch beside the road. I looked, and saw before me a miserable beggarwoman, who called out to me in a trembling voice: "Marie--Madame--Daughter!" I turned cold in fear and horror, and, unable to utter one sound, I began to run; and I ran, ran, ran, and behind me I only heard her agonizing call: "My Marie--my daughter!" And so, I ran away from my own mother. And now, after a few hours' thought, I realize I did wrong. I must see her and speak to her, and learn from her own lips who and what I am; and as papa has forbidden me to leave this house--I would go in spite of him, but I have a fear--I beg of you, George, dear, go to her, I implore you, find her for me--she cannot be far away, and---- George. And then? Marie. Then bring her to me, into the garden, or, better still, into this room towards evening, when papa and mama are calling on the old pastor---- George. Marie, I cannot do that! Marie. The first time I ask a favor of you--and you say you cannot do it? George.