Leave art out of the question. Consider me nothing more than the seamstress or the servant-maid who seeks, among strangers, the little food and the little love she needs. See how much the family with its morality demand from us! It throws us on our own resources, it gives us neither shelter nor happiness, and yet, in our loneliness, we must live according to the laws which it has planned for itself alone. We must still crouch in the corner, and there wait patiently until a respectful wooer happens to come. Yes, wait. And meanwhile the war for existence of body and soul is consuming us. Ahead we see nothing but sorrow and despair, and yet shall we not once dare to give what we have of youth and strength to the man for whom our whole being cries? Gag us, stupefy us, shut us up in harems or in cloisters--and that perhaps would be best. But if you give us our freedom, do not wonder if we take advantage of it. SCHWARTZE. There, there! That is the spirit of rebellion abroad in the world. My child--my dear child--tell me that you were not in earnest--that you--that you--pity me--if-- [_Looking for the pistol-case_]. I don't know what may happen--child--have pity on me! MAGDA. Father, father, be calm, I cannot bear that. SCHWARTZE. I will not do it--I cannot do it-- [_Looking still for the pistol-case._] Take it from me! Take it from me! MAGDA. What, father? SCHWARTZE. Nothing, nothing, nothing. I ask you for the last time. MAGDA. Then you persist in it? SCHWARTZE. My child, I warn you. You know I cannot do otherwise. MAGDA. Yes, father, you leave me no other way. Well, then, are you sure that you ought to force me upon this man--[Schwartze _listens_] that, according to your standards, I am altogether worthy of him? [_Hesitating, looking into space_.] I mean--that he was the only one in my life? SCHWARTZE. [_Feels for the pistol-case and takes the pistol out_.] You jade! [_He advances upon her, trying to raise the weapon. At the same moment he falls back on the seat, where he remains motionless, with staring eyes, the pistol grasped in his hand, which hangs down by his side_.] MAGDA. [_With a loud cry_.] Father! [_She flies toward the stove for shelter from the weapon, then takes a few steps, with her hands before her face_.] Father! [_She sinks, with her knees in a chair, her face on the back. Calling and knocking outside. The door is broken open_.] _Enter_ Max, Marie, Heffterdingt, and Mrs. Schwartze. MRS. SCHWARTZE. Leopold, what's the matter? Leopold! [_To the_ Pastor.] O my God, he's as he used to be! MARIE.