VERA
You thought you were ordering your soldiers to fire at the Jews, but it was my heart they pierced.
[She sobs on.]
BARON
... And my own.... But we will comfort each other. I will go to the Tsar myself—with my forehead to the earth—to beg for your pardon!... Come, put your wet face to little father's....
VERA [Violently pushing his face away]
I hate you! I curse the day I was born your daughter!
[She staggers toward the door leading to the interior. At the same moment David, who has reached the door leading to the hall, now feeling subconsciously that Vera is going and that his last reason for lingering on is removed, turns the door-handle. The click attracts the Baron's attention, he veers round.]
BARON [To David]
Halt!