[Not as loud as before.] Oh, mine daughter! My Mamie--my Mamie----! [Dying out.]
George.
Will you not go out to her, no matter what she has done?
Marie.
How can I? How can I? I am afraid--afraid----
George.
Then shall I go?
Marie.
[Frightened.] No, no; don't leave me!! Sh! Be quiet! So, quiet! Now they have gone! Thank heaven! [Again wailing, but very distant.] Hear? Hear? Let her shriek! Let her call! I cannot help her! I am a thief, the same as she. I, too, have come to this house, and I have stolen. But oh, my God, what have I stolen? What have I stolen?