Anthony.
Have you still no appetite?
Clara.
I’ve had enough, father.
Anthony.
Enough of nothing!
Clara.
I had a bite in the kitchen.
Anthony.
A poor appetite means a bad conscience. Well, we shall see. Or was there poison in the soup, as I dreamed last night, a bit of wild hemlock that was plucked with the other herbs by mistake? That would be a wise thing for you to do.