Yes, papa. [_Exit_ Schwartze, Mrs. Schwartze, Franziska, _and_ Marie. MAGDA. [_Sits down and examines him through her lorgnette_.] So this is the man who undertakes by a five minutes' interview entirely and absolutely to break my will. That they believe in your ability to do it shows me that you are a king in your own dominions. I make obeisance. And now let me see you ply your arts. HEFFTERDINGT. I understand no arts, madam, and would avail myself of none. If they put some trust in me here, it is because they know that I seek nothing for myself. MAGDA. [_Ironically_.] That has always been the case? HEFFTERDINGT. No, madam. I had, once in my life, a strong, an intense desire. It was to have you for my wife. I need only look at you to see that I was presumptuous. Since then I have put the wish away from me. MAGDA. Ah, Pastor, I believe you're paying court to me now. HEFFTERDINGT. Madam, if it were not discourteous-- MAGDA. Oh, then even a shepherd of souls may be discourteous! HEFFTERDINGT. I should commiserate you on the atmosphere which has surrounded you. MAGDA. [_With mocking superiority_.] Really? What do you know about my atmosphere? HEFFTERDINGT. It seems to me that it has made you forget that serious men are to be taken seriously. MAGDA. Ah! [_Rising_.] Well, then I will take you seriously; and I will tell you that you have always been unbearable to me, with your well-acted simplicity, your droning mildness, your-- Since, however, you condescended to cast your eyes on my worthlessness and drove me from home with your suit,--since then, I have hated you. HEFFTERDINGT. It seems to me that according to this I was the foundation of your greatness. MAGDA. You're right there. Here I was parched and stifled. No, no, I don't hate you. Why should I hate you so much? It's all so far, so very far, behind me. If you only knew how far! You have sat here day after day in this heavy close air, reeking of lavender, tobacco, and cough mixture, while I have felt the storm breaking about my head. Pastor, if you had a suspicion of what life really is,--of the trial of strength, of the taste of guilt, of conquest, and of pleasure,--you would find yourself very comical with your clerical shop-talk. Ha, ha, ha! Pardon me, I don't believe such a laugh has rung through this respectable house for twelve years; for there's no one here who knows how to laugh. Is there, eh? HEFFTERDINGT. No, I fear not. MAGDA.