Glyszinski. I wish I were that far along!
Paul. Possibly you are, without knowing it. But as for myself, when I was of your age and began to fly the track, the aforesaid track, I was quite another fellow! Today as I rode through the snow knee-deep, that became quite clear to me! I saw myself as I had been once upon a time and then realized what had later become of me! All the strength! All the life! All the color! All lost! All gone!... Colorless and commonplace! That is the outcome! (He sinks down in complete collapse.)
Glyszinski (very uncomfortably). And you blame Hella for all that?
Hella (a pen behind her ear, puts in her head and calls). Glyszinski! Doctor! Why don't you come in! I want you to help me write a number of letters. I shall dictate to you. (Withdraws again.)
Glyszinski (with precipitation). Immediately, madam. (He runs to the right.)
Paul (raising his finger). You have been warned!
Glyszinski (already at the door on the right). Some other time! I have no time now!
[Goes off, the door closes again and is bolted on the other side.]
Paul (looks after him, then, after a pause). He is going the same course! (Takes a few steps through the hall, remains standing before the portraits on the wall, looks up at them for a long while, breathes deeply and says, only just audibly): The Warkentins bring no luck!... And they have no luck!...
[He steps across to the spinet which is open, sits down, and softly strikes a number of chords. Aunt Clara comes in quickly from the right, looks around.]