Ernest. What have I done to deserve——?
Teodora. It is all over between us. Regard me as one who no longer exists for you.
Ernest. Is this contempt?
Teodora. Go.
Ernest. Go? in this way?
Teodora. My husband is dying in there—and here I feel as if I too were dying. [Staggers back and clutches the arm-chair to keep from falling.]
Ernest. Teodora. [Rushes forward to support her.]
Teodora. [Angrily drawing herself away.] Don't touch me. [Pause.] Ah, I breathe again more freely. [Tries to walk, staggers again weakly, and a second time Ernest offers to assist her. She repulses him.]
Ernest. Why not, Teodora?
Teodora. Your touch would soil me.