Will you not go out to her, no matter what she has done? Marie. How can I? How can I? I am afraid--afraid---- George. Then shall I go? Marie. [_Frightened_.] No, no; don't leave me!! Sh! Be quiet! So, quiet! Now they have gone! Thank heaven! [_Again wailing, but very distant_.] Hear? Hear? Let her shriek! Let her call! I cannot help her! I am a thief, the same as she. I, too, have come to this house, and I have stolen. But oh, my God, what have I stolen? What have I stolen? George. Come, Marie, control yourself! Think of what we have before us! Marie. Yes, yes--I'll be quiet! What have we before us? No, no; I will not--I cannot--I---- George. Do you mean to---- Brauer. [_In door_.] Did you hear anything, children? Any noise? George. We heard screams and a scuffle. What was the matter? Brauer. Oh, nothing of any consequence. Don't mind it. An old vagabond of a woman, that's all. I have only to sign the papers now, then I'll be back. [_Exit_.] George. _Marie_! Marie. Hush, not a word, not a word! She out there must go her way, and I must go mine! George. What do you mean? Marie. You said it yourself. 'Tis madness! Yes, yes; 'tis madness! _All_--_all_! What we do--what we desire--all--all! George. Marie! Marie. Or do you imagine for one moment we could be happy together? No, I know you too well. I know the certain result. You would never forgive yourself nor me, and in the end life would become a burden to me, if only because I was in your way. Yes, yes, that would be the end of it all---- George. _Marie_, I will be faithful to you forever, let come what may, be it good or bad; you know that! Marie. Yes, thank God!--yes! George. If there was only the slightest possibility of a chance to escape from all this whirl--then we might be free, we might---- But no matter what we begin, we cannot shake off nor disregard our obligations to this house; never, as long as we live! Marie. Therefore, what more can you desire? Everything on earth we possess, all that was beautiful, all the love, all--all, we gave to each other. There is nothing more to give, for either one of us. St. John's night is past, the fires are out, are dead---- George. And what shall become of us? Marie.