FRANZISKA. [_Sobbing_.] Your child! Magdalene! [Schwartze _staggers, and is supported by the_ Pastor. Mrs. Schwartze _cries out. A pause._] SCHWARTZE. Pastor? HEFFTERDINGT. It is true. SCHWARTZE. [_Standing up_.] Magdalene is no longer my child. FRANZISKA. Ah, just wait. If you listen, you'll look at it in quite another light. Such a child you will welcome with open arms. SCHWARTZE. Magdalene is no longer my child. HEFFTERDINGT. But you may at least hear the circumstances. SCHWARTZE. [_Dazed_.] Yes, I suppose so. FRANZISKA. [_At a sign from_ Heffterdingt.] Well, the great dining-hall was crammed. They were almost all strangers. Then I saw his Excellency coming down the room. And on his arm was a lady-- MRS. SCHWARTZE. On his Excellency's arm? FRANZISKA. With dark hair, and very proud and tall--and around her a crowd of men just like the circle about royalty--and chatting and laughing. And any one to whom she spoke seemed as happy as if it were the Princess. And she wore half a dozen orders, and an orange band with a medal about her neck. I was wondering what royal personage it could be--when she turned half around--and--I knew Magda's eyes! SCHWARTZE. Impossible! FRANZISKA. That is what I saw! HEFFTERDINGT. My dear Colonel, it is true. SCHWARTZE. If she-- [_Clasping his hands_.] At least she has not fallen! She has not fallen! Father in Heaven, Thou hast kept her safely! MRS. SCHWARTZE. And what is she, to have such honor-- HEFFTERDINGT. She has become a great singer, and calls herself, in Italian, Maddalene dall' Orto. MRS. SCHWARTZE. Listen, listen, Leopold, the famous singer of whom the papers are so full is our child! SCHWARTZE. Magda is no longer my child. HEFFTERDINGT. Is that your fixed resolve? FRANZISKA. What sort of a heart have you? You ought to imitate me. She offended me as only she could,--the little wretch! That is, then she was a little wretch. But now--well, she did not look at me; but if she had-- MRS. SCHWARTZE. Leopold, she was on his Excellency's arm! SCHWARTZE.