Yes, stolen! At least it is so asserted! It may be! But though my enemies are mighty and have every means at their command, I am not yet wholly convinced of it. And yet it may be a plot concocted by the parents of the child's father whose name you would be astonished to hear, for they represent one of the oldest and most illustrious families. Farewell! Whatever you may hear of me, sir, do not think that my better feelings have been wholly extinguished in the mire into which I am forced to cast myself. I need this mire in which I am on terms of equality with the dregs of mankind. Here, look! [_She thrusts forward her naked arm._] Forgetfulness! Insensibility! I achieve it by means of chloral, of opium. Or I find it in the abysses of human life. And why not? To whom am I responsible?--There was a time when my dear mama was scolded by my father on my account! The maid had convulsions because of me! Mademoiselle and an English governess tore each other's _chignons_ from their heads because each asserted that I loved _her_ best--! Now ... SCHIERKE Aw, I tell you to shut it now! We can't take up people's time an' lock 'em up. [_He opens the library door._] Now tell us if this here is your kid? _PAULINE, staring at MRS. KNOBBE with eyes full of hatred, comes out first. MRS. KIELBACKE, carrying the child, comes next. SCHIERKE removes the shawl, that has been thrown over the child._ PAULINE What d'you want o' me? Why d'you come chasin' me? I ain' no gypsy! I don' go in people's houses stealin' their children! Eh? You're crazy, I wouldn't do no such thing. I ain't hardly got enough to eat for myself an' my own child. D'you s'pose I'm goin' to steal strange children an' feed 'em till they're grown when the one I got is trouble an' worry enough! _MRS. KNOBBE stares about her inquiringly and as if seeking help. Rapidly she draws a little flask from her pocket and pours its contents upon a handkerchief. The latter she carries swiftly to her mouth and nose, inhaling the fragrance of the perfume to keep her from fainting._ HASSENREUTER Well, why don't you speak, Mrs. Knobbe? This girl asserts that she is the mother of the child--not you. _MRS. KNOBBE lifts her umbrella in order to strike out with it. She is restrained by those present._ SCHIERKE That won't do! You can't practice no discipline like that here! You c'n do that when you're alone in your nursery downstairs.--The main thing is: who does here kid belong to? An' so--now--Mrs. Knobbe, you just take care an' think so's to tell nothin' but the truth here! Well! Is it yours or is it her'n? MRS. KNOBBE [_Bursts out_] I swear by the holy Mother of God, by Jesus Christ, Father, Son and Holy Ghost that I am the mother of this child. PAULINE An' I swears by the Holy Mother o' God ... HASSENREUTER