THE FATHER. [Sadly] It is true then?—And you are thinking of your children first and last.
THE MOTHER. That has been my life and my reason for living—my joy and my sorrow
THE FATHER. Christine, forgive me—everything!
THE MOTHER. What have I to forgive? Dearest, you forgive me! We have been tormenting each other. Why? That we may not know. We couldn't do anything else—However, here is the new linen for the children. See that they change twice a week—Wednesdays and Sundays—and that Louise washes them—their whole bodies—Are you going out?
THE FATHER. I have to be in the Department at eleven o'clock.
THE MOTHER. Ask Alfred to come in before you go.
THE FATHER. [Pointing to THE OFFICER] Why, he is standing right there, dear heart.
THE MOTHER. So my eyes are failing, too—Yes, it is turning dark. [Trims the candle] Come here, Alfred.
THE FATHER goes out through the middle of the wall, nodding good-bye as he leaves.
THE OFFICER goes over to THE MOTHER.
THE MOTHER. Who is that girl?