KARL (aside.) Observed! (To HAROLD.) An infirmity I've had from my youth upward. I shall be better presently.
HAROLD.
You tremble like one with the ague.
KARL. We Hungarians have not your tough constitution, comrade: besides, the weather is chilly—it freezes me to the bone.
HAROLD. It's the weather within, Karl. Repair to the factory, and sun yourself in the bright eyes of Sophia Mansfield! That will warm you, especially if Count Laniska happens to be by to stir up the fire of your jealousy—eh?
KARL.
You have a sharp wit, which I lack, comrade.
HAROLD (sarcastically.)
And I've another thing which you lack—COMRADE.
KARL.
What may that be?
HAROLD.
A clear conscience, my old boy!
[Exit HAROLD into tent
KARL. Does he suspect? No—sleeping and waking I have concealed this (his arm) damning evidence of my guilt. The mark of Cain I bear about me is known to none, and the secret dies with me.—For that young Pole, Sophia scorns me; but let him beware!—My revenge, though slow, is sure!