Stella.—You are all too good.
Doctor.—At least solicitous. If you have a moment to spare let us be seated and have a talk. My solicitude must explain my boldness. With the dignity of a fiancé, serenity and happiness generally go hand in hand. When the heart is given willingly, all longing ceases and the future is viewed with serenity.
Stella.—My future contains something which might cause even the most valiant to fear.
Doctor.—Of what are you talking? You have called me a sceptic, but it is I who says: who loves, believes.
Stella.—What then?
Doctor.—Who doubts?
Stella.—Doctor.
Doctor.—Princess, I do not inquire. There are moments when the serenity visibly departs from your face, therefore I question you, which is my duty as a physician and a friend. Be calm. Pray, remember that this is asked by a man whom a while ago you called "brother," and who knows how dear to him is the happiness of such a sister! I have no one in this world—all my love of family is centred in your house. My heart has also its sorrows. Pray, quiet my apprehensions—that is all I ask you.
Stella.—What apprehensions?
Doctor.—Apprehensions of which I dare not speak. Since my return I have watched you constantly, and the more I watch you the more do I fear. You fear the future—you do not look into it with confidence and hope.