MAGDA.
No, my friend, I don't regret it. But I feel very curiously. I seem to be in a tepid bath, I'm so weak and warm. What they call German sentiment is awaking again, and I have been so unused to it. My heart seems like a Christmas number of the "Gartenlaube,"--moonlight, betrothals, lieutenants, and I don't know what! But the best of it is, I know that I'm playing with myself. I can cast it all off as a child throws away its doll, and be my old self again.
HEFFTERDINGT.
That would be bad for us.