SCHWARZ. By her mother's grave!
SCHÖN. She never knew her mother, let alone the grave. Her mother hasn't got a grave.
SCHWARZ. I don't fit in society. (He is in desperation.)
SCHÖN. What's the matter?
SCHWARZ. Pain—horrible pain!
SCHÖN. (Gets up, steps back; after a pause.) Guard her for yourself: she's yours. The moment is decisive. To-morrow she may be lost to you.
SCHWARZ. (Pointing to his breast.) Here, here.
SCHÖN. You have married half— (Reflecting.) She is lost to you if you let this moment slip!
SCHWARZ. If I could weep! Oh, if I could cry out!
SCHÖN. (With a hand on his shoulder.) You're suffering—