The Lady.
No, not that. I only want you to take this great weight from my soul.
v. Wolters.
Ah, Countess, I am a man of my word.
The Lady.
And that's what you call being torn to pieces for me?
v. Wolters (trembling).
Whether I can answer for this to him and to my own conscience--whether I can ever again think of him--without shame--will depend upon what we shall find in there.
The Lady.
But you will open it? (A pause.) Herr von Wolters, you'll not let me die of fear and distraction?