Frau Von Donniges. Away with that man—I will not allow him to remain in this room!
Lassalle. [Bowing, with hand on heart] Surely, Madame, you do not know me. Will you not allow me to speak—to explain!
Frau Von Donniges. Away, I say—out of my sight! Begone, you craven coward—you thief!
[These are new epithets to Lassalle. He is used to being called a Jew, a fanatic, a dangerous demagogue—something half-complimentary. But there is no alloy in "coward," "thief." He looks at Helene as if to receive reassurance that he hears aright.]
Helene. Come—you see it is as I told you—reason in her is dead. Let us go.
Lassalle. [Loosening Helene's hold upon his arm and stepping toward the Frau] Madame, you have availed yourself of a woman's privilege, and used language toward me which men never use toward each other unless they court death. I say no more to you, preferring now to speak to your husband.
Frau Von Donniges. Yes, you speak to my husband—and he will give you what you deserve.
Lassalle. [Changing his tactics] Your husband is a gentleman, I trust. And you—are the mother of the lady I love, so I will resent nothing you say. You speak only in a passion, and not from your heart. I resent nothing.
Frau Von Donniges. A man spotted with every vice says he loves my daughter! Your love is pollution. My ears are closed to you—you may stand and grimace and insult me, but I hear you not. Go!
Lassalle. Very well, I will go and see Helene's father. Men may dislike each other—they may be enemies, but they do not spit on each other. If they fight, they fight courteously. I will see Helene's father—he will at least hear me.