I've already sent her away, mamma.
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
That's right, that's right. [Exit Marie. Mrs. Schwartze knocks again.] Leopold! listen to me, Leopold! [Retreating.] Oh, Heaven! he's coming! [Enter Schwartze, bent and tottering.]
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
How do you feel, Leopold?
SCHWARTZE.
[Sinking into a chair.] Yes, yes,--just like the roses. The knife conies, and cuts the stem, and the wound can never be healed. What am I saying? What?
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
He's out of his mind.