Oh, God forbid!—no, no—right is right! “Honour thy father and thy mother.” A hand that you raise against your own father—that’s an inhuman hand! We’ve had our quarrels—oh yes! we’ve both our faults, my husband and I, but that’s _our_ business, no human being has a right to interfere, least of all one’s own son. And who had to suffer for it? I, of course. An old woman like me has broad shoulders; my husband left the house the very same day, and half an hour later, William too. There was no good talking; first I thought they would come back, but whoever else did they didn’t! And William alone is to blame for it, no one else—no one. MRS BUCHNER. William may have been _much_ to blame—I’m convinced of that. But think, to have repented for years, and— MRS SCHOLZ. No—no! Good heavens, what can you be thinking of! It’s not so easily got over; that would be worse still. It’s very good of you to have taken so to the boy, and it’s nice too that he’s coming—as indeed why shouldn’t he? But, after all, what’s the good of it? It’s not so easy to fill up a gulf—yes, yes, there _are_ gulfs—that’s what they are, gulfs—deep gulfs—in our family. MRS BUCHNER. Still I can’t help thinking that we—that those of us with firm, honest intentions— MRS SCHOLZ. Intentions, intentions! don’t talk to me! I know better! One can intend, and intend, and intend, hundreds of things, and nothing gets any further. No, no!—it’s quite another thing with your daughter. She is so—and William is so—and both are what they are.—Much too good a sort for one of us—much, much too good.—Oh, Lord, yes!—intentions!—Ah yes! all these good intentions—Your intentions are all very well, but whether they lead to anything—I doubt it! MRS BUCHNER. But I hope it—all the more. MRS SCHOLZ. Well, it may be. I’ll say nothing to spoil it. In spite of everything, my heart goes out to the boy; only it excites me so, I’m frightened; and, mind you, it won’t be all as easy as you think. IDA (_enters right; to Mrs Scholz, sweetly_). Little mother-in-law, she’s gilding the nuts. MRS BUCHNER. Time’s getting on, Ida! You must make yourself beautiful, he may be here at any moment. IDA (_startled_). What? Already! MRS SCHOLZ. Oh, don’t trouble! She’s much too beautiful for him as it is. MRS BUCHNER. I’ve put the blue out for you (_calling after Ida_), and put on the brooch; don’t forget. [_Exit Ida._ MRS BUCHNER (_continuing, to Mrs Scholz_). She doesn’t care a bit for jewellery. [_The outer door of the house opens and shuts._ MRS SCHOLZ. Wait—who—(_to Mrs Buchner_) please will you—I can’t see him yet—I— MRS BUCHNER (_calling up the stairs_). Ida! your William is here.