Kellinghausen.
And I can't make you out, either. Here they are, throwing mud at us--calling you I won't say what--and you stand there like--like--Haven't you got any blood in your veins? Don't you realise what it all means?
Beata.
I haven't much strength to spare, and I have to economise my emotions.
Kellinghausen.
Good God--how white you are! Don't mind me--I'll pull myself together. We won't talk of the damned thing any more.
Beata.
It will be the first time in twenty years that we haven't talked over what you had on your mind.
Kellinghausen.
I wish to heaven I'd never told you of it. The devil take Leonie! She can't hold her cursed meddling tongue; Richard ought to muzzle her. By the way, it's strange he hasn't shown himself to-day.