"Very well, send for him. I am ready."
Johanna fixed her eyes on her piercingly, as if she expected a new trick. Then she caught hold of the bell-rope, but let it fall again.
"You still think that I am in joke?" she asked; while Felicitas, apparently calm, followed every movement of her hands with a pained smile.
"I think that you are bent on ruining me," she replied; "and that is enough."
"Why should I wish to do that?"
"Because you hate me, Johanna."
Johanna came nearer to her, and in a voice which seemed nearly to choke her, she hissed in her ear--
"I will be honest. Yes, I hate you, I never hated my husband as much as I hate you. But that is not here or there. It has nothing to do with the matter in hand. As far as I am concerned, you might lead as pleasure-loving and sinful a life as you pleased. I shouldn't care. But you have laid hands on those who are dear to me. I could tear my own eyes out over it. Why should I spare you?"
"This is the right moment," thought Felicitas. And pressing her hand to her beating heart, she said, with the same martyr-like air--
"If that is the reason, Johanna, you and I are quits after all."