I have done everything you demanded. I have humbled myself, I have surrendered my judgment, I have let myself be carried like a lamb to the slaughter. But my child I will not leave. Give up my child to save his career! [_Throws herself into a chair_.] SCHWARTZE. Mr. von Keller, will you please-- VON KELLER. I am inconsolable, Colonel. But it seems that the conditions which for the interest of both parties I had to propose, do not meet the approbation-- SCHWARTZE. My daughter is no longer in the position to choose the conditions under which she-- Dr. von Keller, I ask your pardon for the scene to which you have just been subjected. Wait for me at your home. I will myself bring you my daughter's consent. For that I pledge you my word of honor. [_Sensation_. Magda _rises quickly_.] VON KELLER. Have you considered what-- SCHWARTZE. [_Holding out his hand_.] I thank you, Dr. von Keller. VON KELLER. Not at all. I have only done my duty. [_Exit, with a bow_. MAGDA. [_Stretching herself_.] So! Now I'm the old Magda again. [Schwartze _locks the three doors silently_.] Do you think, father, that I shall become docile by being shut up? SCHWARTZE. So! Now we are alone. No one sees us but He who sees us--there [_pointing upward_] Quiet yourself, my child. We must talk together. MAGDA. [_Sits down_.] Good! We can come to an understanding, then,--my home and I. SCHWARTZE. Do you see that I am now quite calm? MAGDA. Certainly. SCHWARTZE. Quite calm, am I not? Even my arm does not tremble. What has happened, has happened. But just now I gave your betrothed-- MAGDA. My betrothed?-- Father dear! SCHWARTZE. I gave your betrothed my word of honor. And that must be kept, don't you see? MAGDA. But if it is not in your power, my dear father. SCHWARTZE. Then I must die,--then I must simply die. One cannot live on when one-- You are an officer's daughter. Don't you understand that? MAGDA. [_Compassionately_.] My God! SCHWARTZE. But before I die, I must set my home in order, must I not? Every one has something which he holds sacred. What is sacred to your inmost soul? MAGDA. My art. SCHWARTZE. No, that is not enough. It must be more sacred. MAGDA. My child. SCHWARTZE.