Helms [bitterly]. That was ... that was powerful consolation, Krakau, I must say.... But tell me how you are so sure that Andrea was your daughter.
Krakau. Caroline told me herself. Besides, didn't I know that she had lived with you ten years before and never had a child.
Helms [pathetically]. No. [With a flash of anger.] Why didn't you tell me this before?
Krakau [who is half sorry now]. Why should I have told you?
Helms [without heeding him; mumbles half to himself, shaking his head]. And if she was your daughter, then Knut is your grandson and you are also his godfather ... and to me he is nothing [bows his head]. I am eighty years old to-day, Krakau.... It is hard to be told such a thing when you are eighty....
Krakau [has gone over to him, sympathetically touching his shoulder]. I'm sorry, Helms. I wish I hadn't told you. But you made me so angry it just popped out.... But don't worry ... everything will be just the same as before—
Helms [shakes his head mournfully]. No.
Krakau. But yes! I don't want him all for myself. We can share him, can't we?
Helms. Share him?
Krakau. Of course. Instead of being your grandson Knut will be our grandson, that's all.