Helene. That I told my father and mother!
Lassalle. And they——
Helene. Renounced me, cursed me—called me vile names—threatened me! They said you are a—— [Trying to laugh]
Lassalle. A Jew and a demagogue!
Helene. Would to God they had used terms so mild.
Lassalle. Did they attack my honor—my personal character?
Helene. Why ask me? What they said is nothing. They are furious, blind with rage—I escaped to save my life—and—I am here.
Lassalle. [Coolly, taking his seat in a chair opposite her] Yes, you are here, that is irrefutable. You are here. Now we must consider the situation and then decide on what to do. First, let me ask you how you came to mention me to them.
Helene. Is it necessary that we should enter into details? Pardon me, I am so sick with fear and humiliation. When I reached home I found the whole household joyous over the news of my sister's betrothal to Count Kayserling. They are to be married in June. I thought it a good time to tell my own joy. You see, I hesitated about your coming to our home in a false position—you and I meeting as if we had never met. I told my sister first. She was grieved, but satisfied since it was my will. She kissed me in blessing. I am an honest woman, Ferdinand—that is, I want to be honest. I scorn a lie—my prayer is to leave every prevarication behind. So I told my mother of you—knowing of course there would be a storm, but never guessing the violence of it. She called in my father and cried, "Your daughter has been debauched by a Jew!" I resented the insult and tried to explain. I upheld you—my father seized the bread-knife from the table and brandished it over me, trying to make me swear never to see you. I refused—he choked me and called me a harlot. To save my life I promised never again to see you. Their violence abated, and when their vigilance relaxed, I escaped and came here—here!
[Holds out her arms toward him; and cowers into her seat as she sees he does not respond.]