Rebecca.
What then——?
Brendel.
Victory is assured. But—mark me well—on one indispensable condition.
Rebecca.
Which is——?
Brendel.
[Takes her gently by the wrist.] That the woman who loves him shall gladly go out into the kitchen and hack off her tender, rosy-white little finger—here—just here at the middle joint. Item, that the aforesaid loving woman—again gladly—shall slice off her incomparably-moulded left ear. [Lets her go, and turns to Rosmer.] Farewell, my conquering Johannes.
Rosmer.
Are you going now? In the dark night?