Robert. (With a cry) Money!
Frau Heinecke. (Frightened) Lord! I thought so!
Heinecke. Yes, sir! Here it is, good as gold!
Robert. What! you took it?
Heinecke. (Wonderingly) Well?
Robert. He offered you money and you took it! (Against his will he springs toward his father)
Michalski. (Stepping between them) I advise you to leave the old man alone!
Robert. (Reeling back without noticing him) Mother, you took it!
Frau Heinecke. (Folding her hands) We're poor folks, my boy! (Robert sinks down with a strange laugh on the work-stool. Michalski and Auguste gather about Heinecke and Frau Heinecke; Alma sits smiling, with folded hands) God have mercy on us! There's something wrong with him! (Puts her hand on his shoulder) My Boy, take a little advice from your poor old mother. Don't step on your good fortune's toes, for pride dies on the straw.
Robert. Straw wouldn't be the worst. Mother--I shall die on the grave's edge, or in the gutter like a street cur! Only do give the money back--(Desperately) See, I am talking perfectly calmly, perfectly sensibly, I'll show you as plain as day what you must do. That fellow has brought us into disgrace--But we are innocent--We needn't be ashamed before anyone. A man can steal honor just the same as he can steal a purse. No one can prevent that!--But if we let someone buy our honor with cold money, then we have no honor at all--and it serves us right--(Heinecke turns to Michalski, touching his forehead) Heaven knows I understand it all! I'm not critcizing--Really I'm not.--You are poor and you've always been poor. Such a miserable existence! Nothing but worry for daily bread destroys all judgment and all dignity. And now you let yourselves be blinded by a little money!--but believe me, it will never give you pleasure. Nothing will be left but disgust! (Choking) Ah, the disgust! It chokes----