MRS. SCHWARTZE.
I hope, Magda, that you won't find any specks of dust.
MAGDA.
I'm sure of that, mammina. That wasn't what I meant. Twelve years! Without a trace! Have I dreamed all that comes between?
SCHWARTZE.
You will have a great deal to tell us, Magda.
MAGDA.
[Starting.] What? Well, we will see, we will see. Now I should like-- What would I like? I must sit still for a moment. It all comes over me so. When I think-- From that door to the window, from this table to the old bureau,--that was once my world.
SCHWARTZE.
A world, my child, which one never outgrows, which one never should outgrow--you have always held to that?