[_Reproachfully_.] Why did you do that? Why did you? Marie. I have my whole life before me, and the fires [_pointing to fields and to heart_] will not burn forever---- George. [_Bitterly_.] You should not have done it--you--it is a---- Marie. Sh--not so loud! George. But you do not love him at all!!!! Marie. How do you know? George. [_Bitterly_,] How? Of course, how should I? I don't know! Pardon me! Well, I congratulate you! Marie. [_Quietly_.] Thank you! George. But why am I the first one to be taken into your confidence? Why not uncle? We two have not been so intimate as---- Marie. No, we two have not been very intimate--I only thought---- George. So, then, we have both our burden; and we soon will have to part. Therefore we can now safely speak of the past. My manuscript you read! You even went so far as to perjure yourself on account of it. Oh, you don't mind a little thing like that! I wish I were the same! You know the subject of my verses, and we must now understand each other fully. Now, tell me openly, why, why did you treat me so unkindly, to say nothing worse, in former days? Marie. Did I, George? George. 'Tis hardly necessary to remind you of all the indignities you heaped upon me. It almost seemed to me as if you purposely intended to drive me mad. Do you remember the day when I followed you into the cellar, and you turned and ran out and locked the door, and compelled me to remain there all night? Marie. [_Smiling_.] Yes, I remember! George. Why did you do that? Marie. That is very simple. You are Count von Harten--and I?--I am but a poor Lithuanian foundling--aye, worse than that. If you follow such a one into the cellar, she knows, or at least thinks she knows, your purpose. George. So, that was the reason! And at the same time you went under your manzanillo-tree to die? Marie. [_Nods_.] George. And did you never realize the real state of things? Gertrude was then still a child--and because I could not win you, I took her. Did that thought never occur to you? Marie. How could I ever dare to think that? George. But later? Marie. The day before yesterday, when I read your book, I felt it for the first time. George. And now, it is too late---- Marie.