Margot.
There! Now you know on whom you've wasted your sympathy! Now I can go. (Stands up, snatches her muff, and prepares to leave.)
Ebeling.
(Who has been silently walking up and down more hotly.) It appears then that you still love that man.
Margot (with a short, cutting laugh).
Oh, Herr Ebeling, if you've gathered that from all I've said, then I might just as well have addressed myself to the four walls. I've been hoping for three long years that you would secretly manage the thing in such a way that I'd never have to see him again in all my life--never, never--not even from a distance.
Ebeling.
Why did you never confide in me before? Why to-day for the first time?
Margot.
Can one do such a thing? Is one ever allowed to? I'm a well-bred young girl, you know. I must observe the conventions. How I came to do it to-day, I don't know myself. But formerly when you were alone with me, did you ever, at any time, give me to understand, even by a glance, that you--you knew anything--about me? Do you think such an attitude gives one courage? Ah, and in my need I've prayed so often, "Dear God, let him see into my soul! If he doesn't free me, no one will." Instead, you've only plunged me the deeper--pushed me before you--always deeper into misery--into the arms of that beast--into the filth. (Sinks into a chair, sobbing.)