STRANGER (re-entering). So there's the Terrible One! How did he come here? But isn't he the beggar, after all?
CONFESSOR. Yes, I am your terrible friend, and I've come for you.
STRANGER. What? Have I...?
CONFESSOR. Yes. Once already you promised me your soul, on oath, when you lay ill and felt near madness. It was then you offered to serve the powers of good; but when you got well again you broke your oath, and therefore were plagued with unrest, and wandered abroad unable to find peace—tortured by your own conscience.
STRANGER. Who are you really? Who dares lay a hand on my destiny?
CONFESSOR. You must ask her that.
LADY. This is the man to whom I was first engaged, and who dedicated his life to the service of God, when I left him.
STRANGER. Even if he were!
LADY. So you needn't think so ill of yourself because it was you who punished my faithlessness and another's lack of conscience.
STRANGER. His sin cannot justify mine. Of course it's untrue, like everything else; and you only say it to console me.