[In tender sympathy, but still with a tinge of superiority.] My poor old father--listen to me--I can't change what has passed. I will give Marie half my fortune. I will make up a thousand times all that I have made you suffer to-day. But now, I implore you, let me go my way.
SCHWARTZE.
Oho!
MAGDA.
What do you want of me? What am I to you? Yesterday at this time you did not know even whether I still lived; and to-day-- It is madness to demand that I should think and feel again as you do; but I am afraid of you, father, I'm afraid of you all--ah, I am not myself-- [Breaking out in torment.] I cannot bear the sorrow.
SCHWARTZE.
Ha, ha!
MAGDA.
Father dear, I will humble myself before you willingly. I lament with my whole heart that I've brought sorrow to you to-day, for my flesh and blood still belong to you. But I must live out my own life. That I owe to myself,--to myself and mine. Good-by!