Richard (agitated).
Beata!
Beata.
Don't be afraid. I am not going to force your confidence. You would only repeat what Michael has already told me--that you are going to travel, to disappear for a while.--Is this the laugh with which we were to have greeted death? Often and often, at night, when I've lain in bed struggling for breath, I've said to myself that I should die before morning. What if it really happened to-night? You'd have to wait then--you'd have no right to follow me. Think how people would talk if you did! (With a sudden start.) The children, Richard--there must be no shadow on the children.
Richard.
Beata, don't talk so wildly. Do shake off such fancies.
Beata (musing).
Yes--yes.--You know you'll have a note from Michael in the morning.
Richard.
What do you mean?