Michael, I don't understand you. You have never shut me out from your counsels. Hitherto, if I have taken part in your discussions, it was because you wished me to; to-day I have a right to be here. Kellinghausen. My dear child, don't you always have your way? If Richard doesn't object---- Richard. Whatever you wish---- Beata. But first I want to give you a piece of good news. Norbert and Ellen are engaged. Kellinghausen (_his face lighting up_). Ha? What? Those two children? I saw it coming, bless their hearts!--but I'd no notion--where are they, Beata? (_Goes to door, left_.) Richard (_in a low tone, to_ Beata). He knows nothing. Beata (_with an effort_). Michael--never mind--don't speak to them now! To-morrow Norbert will---- (_She breathes painfully_. Richard _makes a startled movement_.) Kellinghausen. What is it? Are you ill? Beata. No--no, it's nothing. But happiness reverberates so! Norbert is coming back to-morrow. He wishes to tell his mother first. Kellinghausen. Ah, that's thoughtful of him. I had forgotten about his mother. Well, shake hands, old man. Confound it--I'm ashamed to look you in the face with this cursed thing hanging over us. And to think how happy we three might be--oh, that hound, that vile infamous hound! Richard. Tell me what happened, Michael. Kellinghausen. There isn't much to tell. My lawyer had a talk with him. He says his only object is to bring out the facts. Richard (_after a short pause_). Well--let him bring them out. Kellinghausen. Let him? You should have heard Brachtmann. The man was beside himself. He began with the old story of the Frenchman who said that if he were accused of stealing the towers of Notre Dame he would take the first train for the frontier. "No matter how blameless you all are, the lie will stick to you," he said. "It will stick to you and to your children and to your party." I had to give him my word of honour that, whatever happens, I will do nothing to bring scandal on the party. Richard. But you haven't stuck to your resolve? Kellinghausen. How could I? We can't wring the scoundrel's neck without landing ourselves in prison. Norbert was right yesterday. In such cases we have no refuge left but the courts. There is more in that boy's ideas than I was willing to admit at the time. Well--meanwhile I've agreed to think the matter over for twenty-four hours. A mere formality, of course--and yet not quite, after all. The fact is, I wanted to talk it out with you. Richard. Very well.