Vera.
I don't understand. Why are you like this?
Elizabeth.
I was stupid with weeping when he came that night, and he was so brave and strong. He never feared anything in his life. He called me "Poor child." "Poor child," he said, "do you know why you are unhappy? Because you dare not do the thing that your heart is praying for." . . . Then he took the child out with him and came back alone.
Vera.
What child? Was it his own child? [Fiercely, starting towards her.]—Tell me, or I will kill you!—and were you its mother?
Elizabeth.
I thought he had told you.
Vera.