Richard.
I can't, Beata.
Beata.
It is the last thing I shall ever ask of you. Now you're smiling again--well, I'll believe anything you tell me--about your travelling, about your disappearing--I'll believe anything, if you'll only come. Richard, come for the children's sake. And if not for the children's sake, come for mine--or I shall die of it--I shall die of it, Richard, in the night----
Richard (overcome).
I will come.
Beata.
Give me your hand. (Richard gives it. Beata takes his hand, and passes it over her eyes and cheeks.) There--I'm quite quiet again, you see. (Sits down.) I don't know if I told you that I'm going to Rossitsch to-morrow.
Richard.
For good?