The King. Indeed, I can't tell it you in a single sentence. Won't you sit down? (CLARA remains standing.) You must not be afraid of me. I mean you no harm; I never could mean you any harm.
Clara (in tears). Then what do you call the persecution that I have endured for more than a year?
The King. If you had condescended to read a single one of my long and many letters you would have known I call it a passion that is stronger than—. (CLARA turns to go. The KING continues anxiously.) No, Miss Ernst, by everything you hold dear, I beg you not to leave me!
Clara. Then you must not insult me!
The King. If that is an insult your terms are very hard.
Clara. Hard? No, but what you have done to me is hard! (Bursts into tears.)
The King. Don't cry, Miss Ernst! You don't know how you hurt me!
Clara (angrily). Do you know what it means to try and ruin a young girl's reputation?
The King. I repeat that you are doing me an injustice
Clara. An injustice?—Good God! Do you know who I am?