Lassalle. [Calmly] Well spoken, Helene, and now tell me, will you make a sacrifice—a temporary sacrifice for me?
Helene. [Looking straight at him in absolute faith] Yes, command me!
Lassalle. Go home, with your—mother!
Helene. Anything but that.
Lassalle. Yes, that is what I ask.
Helene. [Writhing in awful pain] You will not ask of me the impossible.
Lassalle. No, but this you can do. Your going will soften them. We will win them. Go with them. Do this for me. I leave you here.
[Backs away, and goes out bowing low and very calm. Helene sinks into a chair, crushed in spirit, wrenched, mangled.]
Hilda Von Donniges. [Comes forward, and caresses the drooping head of her sister] Bear up, Helene, my sister! We are your friends, our home is yours, no matter what you have done—we forgive it all. Our home is still yours. Bear up—he is gone—now come with us. [Helene merely moans]
Frau Von Donniges. [In Amazonian flush of success] No more of this foolishness—no more of it, I say! He is gone; I knew he could not withstand my plain-spoken truths. He could not look me in the eye. You heard me, Hilda; he could not answer—he dare not. Come, Helene!