Father, I have had enough.
ANTONY.
But you have taken nothing!
CLARA.
I ate out in the kitchen.
ANTONY.
A bad appetite means a guilty conscience. Oh, well, we shall see—or was there poison in the soup, as I dreamt yesterday? Perhaps some wild hemlock got in with the other vegetables by mistake, when they were gathered?—In that case you did well!
CLARA. Great Heavens!
ANTONY.
Forgive me! I—Away with your pale sad look, which you stole from our Savior's Mother! One should look ruddy when one is young! There is but one who might show such a face, and he does not do it! Hey! A box on the ear for every man who says "ouch!" when he cuts his finger! No man has any right to do that now, for here stands a man who—ugh!—self-praise stinks!—But what did I do when our neighbor started to nail down the cover of your mother's coffin?