Mother. What’s that? The director? And you’ve never mentioned a word about it. Yes—Helen may go— alone. Yes, without me!
Daughter.[Makes a gesture.]
Lise. Well, after all, it was only human nature that you should hare carried on like that. Helen, you must come, do you see?
Daughter. Yes, but now I don’t want to any more.
Mother. What are you talking about?
Daughter. No, I’m not fitted for society. I shall never feel comfortable anywhere where my mother is despised.
Mother. Stuff and nonsense! You surely ain’t going to go and cut your own throat? Now just you go and dress so as to look all right!
Daughter. No, I can’t, mother. I can’t leave you now that I know everything. I shall never have another happy hour. I can never believe in anything again.
Lise.[To MOTHER.] Now you shall reap what you have sown— if one day a man comes and makes your daughter his bride, then you’ll be alone in your old age, and then you’ll have time to be sorry for your foolishness. Good-bye. [Goes and kisses HELEN’S forehead.] Goodbye, sister.
Daughter. Good-bye.