Cure yourself, you mean. Why am I sick? Give me the healing draught, physician! Your brother is the worst of sons. You be the best of daughters. Here I stand before the world like a worthless bankrupt. I owed it a worthy man, to take the place of this invalid here, and I’ve pawned off a rogue on it. You be the woman your mother was. Then people will say: “It wasn’t the parents’ fault that the boy went wrong, for the daughter is going the right road and leads the way for others.” (_With fearful coldness._) And I’ll do my share. I’ll make it easier for you than the others. The moment I see people pointing their fingers at you,--I shall--(_passing his finger over his throat_) shave myself, and, this I’ll swear, I shall shave myself away altogether. You can say a fright did it--a horse ran away in the street, or the cat knocked a chair over, or a mouse ran up my legs. Those that know me will have their doubts, because I’m not particularly nervous, but what does it matter? I can’t go on living in a world where only sympathy keeps people from spitting when they see me. CLARA. Merciful God, what shall I do? ANTHONY. Nothing at all, my child. I’m too hard on you. I know it well. Nothing at all. Just stay as you are and it will be all right. I’ve suffered such injustice that I must practise it, or go under altogether, when it takes hold of me. I was crossing the road just now when Small-pox John came along, that vagabond I had locked up years ago, after he’d robbed me three times. There was a time when the wretch didn’t dare to look at me, but now he walks up coolly and holds out his hand. I wanted to box his ears, but thought better of it and didn’t even spit. Aren’t we cousins of a week’s standing? And isn’t it right for relations to greet one another? Our good man, the parson, came to see me yesterday, and said a man was responsible for nobody but himself, and it was unchristian arrogance in me to make myself answerable for my son, or else Adam would have to take it as much to heart as I. O God, I well believe that it doesn’t disturb the arch-father’s peace in paradise, when one of his great-great-grandchildren goes robbing and murdering, but didn’t he tear his hair over Cain? No, no, it is too much! At times I feel like looking to see if my shadow hasn’t gone blacker. I can bear anything, and I’ve proved it, anything but disgrace. Put as much weight round my neck as you like, but don’t cut through the nerve that holds me together. CLARA. But, father, Karl hasn’t confessed to it yet, and they didn’t find anything on him. ANTHONY.