“Have you no pity yourself? Do you not know that I, your father, am so poor, that I have not even the necessary care? You wish your parents to sacrifice themselves for you, and suffer want! No, the daughter should sacrifice herself for her parents.” “A beautiful sacrifice, a fine sorrow!” sneered her mother. “She will be a rich woman, and have the most splendid house and furniture and most costly equipage in Berlin!” “And a husband who adores her,” cried Ebenstreit, “and who will feel it his duty to make her and her parents happy. Resolve bravely to bury the past, and look the immutable future joyfully in the face. Eleven will be the happy hour; fear not that the altar will not be worthy the charming bride of such a rich family. Money will procure every thing, and I will send a florist who will change this room into a blooming temple, fit to receive the goddess of love. In your room you will find the gift of my affection, a simple wedding-dress, which I trust you will approve of. Oh, do not shake your head, do not say that you will never wear it; you must believe that all resistance is in vain. You will become my wife, I and my money will it.” “And I,” cried Marie, standing before him pale and defiant, regarding him with unspeakable contempt, “I and my love will it not. May God judge between us! May He forgive those who have brought this misfortune upon me! I can only say, ‘Woe to them!’” “Woe to you!” cried her mother. “Woe to the seducer who has persuaded our child to sin and crime, and--” “Hush mother! I will not permit you to slander him whom I love, and ever shall, so long--” “Until you forget him, and love me, Marie,” said Ebenstreit. Approaching her, he seized her hand, and pressed a kiss upon it. She drew it away with disgust, and turned slowly to the door, tossing back her head proudly. “Where are you going?” demanded her mother. With her hand upon the knob, she replied, turning her pale, wan face to her mother, “To my own room, which I suppose is permitted to me, as there is nothing more to be said.” Her mother would reply, and retain her, but her son-in-law held her gently back. “Let her go,” said he; “she needs rest for composure and to accustom herself to the thought that her fate is unavoidable.” “But what if she should resort to desperate means in her mad infatuation and foolish passion? Some one must watch her continually, for she may try to elope.” “You are right, dearest mother, some one must be with her, in whom she will confide. Would it not be possible to win old Trude?” “No, nothing would gain her; she is a silly fool, who thinks only Marie is of consequence.” Ebenstreit shrugged his shoulders. “That means that she would sell herself at a high price. I beg that you will send for her.” “You will see,” said she, calling the old woman, who entered from the opposite door. Trude looked about, scowling and grumbling. “Leberecht told me my mistress called me.”