[Embarrassed.] Perhaps-- Nevertheless you should not go. Only a few days,--just not to take away the idea that you belong here. So much you owe to them!
MAGDA.
[Sadly.] I owe nothing now to any one here.
HEFFTERDINGT.
No? Really nothing? Then I must tell you about a certain day,--eleven years ago now. I was called into this house in haste, for the Colonel was dying. When I came, he lay there stiff and motionless, his face drawn and white; one eye was already closed, in the other still flickered a little life. He tried to speak, but his lips only quivered and mumbled.
MAGDA.
What had happened?
HEFFTERDINGT.
What had happened? I will tell you. He had just received a letter in which his eldest daughter bade him farewell.