SCHIERKE
Maybe not. Nobody c'n tell.
MRS. KNOBBE
[With renewed emphasis.] My wretchedness is not invented, although it may seem so when I relate how, one night, sunk in the deepest abysses of my shame, I met on the street a cousin—the playmate of my youth—who is now captain in the horse-guards. He lives in the world: I live in the underworld ever since my father from pride of rank and race disowned me because in my earliest youth I had made a mistake. Oh, you have no conception of the dullness, the coarseness, the essential vulgarity that obtains in those circles. I am a trodden worm, sir, and yet not for a moment do I yearn to be there, in that glittering wretchedness….
SCHIERKE
Maybe you don't mind comin' to the point now!
HASSENREUTER
If you please, Mr. Schierke, all that interests me. So suppose you don't interrupt the lady for a while. [To MRS. KNOBBE.] You were speaking of your cousin. Didn't you say that he is a captain in the horse-guards?
MRS. KNOBBE
He was in plain clothes. He is, however, a captain in the horse-guards. He recognised me at once and we dedicated some blessed though painful hours to memories. Accompanying him there was—I will not call his name—a very young lieutenant, a fair, sweet boy, delicate and brooding. Mr. Hassenreuter, I have forgotten what shame is! Was I not even, the other day, turned out of church? Why should a down-trodden, dishonoured, deserted creature, more than once punished by the laws—why should such an one hesitate to confess that he became the father of Helfgott Gundofried?