Beata (_laughing_). What do you know about it? Ellen. Oh, I know. It's just the same with-- Mother, how can people _bear_ life sometimes? It's so beautiful one simply can't breathe! Beata (_with emotion_). Yes, it _is_ beautiful. And even when it's nothing but pain and fear and renunciation, even then it's still beautiful, Ellen. Ellen (_alarmed_). Mother--what is the matter? Beata. Nothing, dear. I'm only a little tired. (_She goes to the door_.) Conrad _enters_. Conrad. Baron Norbert. (_Goes out_.) Norbert _enters_. Norbert. How d'ye do, Aunt Beata? How are you to-day? Beata (_wearily_). Very well, thanks. Ellen (_anxiously_). No, not very well. (Beata _signs her to be silent_.) Norbert. This is Thursday. Ellen and I were to read _I Promessi Sposi_ together; but if I might say a word to you first---- Beata. Presently, Norbert. Wait for me here. Ellen. Don't you want me, mother? Beata. No, dear. Stay with Norbert. I shall be back in a moment. (_She goes out_.) Ellen (_looking after her_). Oh, Norbert! Norbert. Is she really worse? Ellen. No, she is just the same as usual. But at night--oh, Norbert, she's never in bed. All night she wanders, wanders. When I hear her coming, I lie quite still. If she knew I was awake she might not come any more. She never touches me, but just bends over and strokes my pillow, oh, so softly! And she breathes so hard, as if it hurt her--and then gradually she grows quiet again. When you see her in the daytime, so gay and dear and busy, so full of other people's pleasures, you'd never guess the misery she endures. Oh, Norbert, you _do_ love her, don't you? Norbert. I believe I love her better than my own mother. Ellen. No, no, Norbert, that's wicked. You mustn't say that. Norbert.