Papa dear! Speak, one word! [Throws herself down at his right.]
HEFFTERDINGT.
Get the doctor, Max.
MAX.
Is it a stroke?
HEFFTERDINGT.
I think so. [Exit Max. Aside to Magda.] Come to him. [As she hesitates.] Come; it is the end. [Leads her trembling to Schwartze's chair.]
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
[Who has tried to take the pistol.] Let it go, Leopold; what do you want with it? See, he's holding the pistol and won't let it go.