Hella. Look into my face, Paul! Are you happy here?
Paul (lowers his head). Do not ask me, Hella!
Hella (triumphantly). Then you are not! Didn't I know it? I am proud of you for that, Paul!
Paul (blurting out). Hella, do not exult! I cannot go back again!
Hella (undaunted). Yes you can! Are these people here meant for you? Do you mean to say that you are suited to these peasants? You, with your refined instincts? You would think of degrading yourself consciously! Nobody can do that, you least of all! I tell you once more, you are too good for these rubes!
Paul, (frees himself from her). Give me time till this evening, Hella! Then I will give you a full explanation!
Hella (seizes his hand). Not thirty minutes, Paul! You are to decide at once! As I have you at this moment, I shall possibly never have you again. Pack your trunk and come with me! Have some one manage the estate. We will go back tomorrow morning and begin the new life with the new year. Thank your stars when you are once more out of this stuffy air. It induces thoughts in you that can never make you happy. Say yes, Paul, say that we are going!
Paul (has not listened to the last words, listens to what is going on outside). Do you hear, Hella? (He frees himself and goes to the foreground. One can hear people singing outside, accompanied by a deep-toned instrument.)
Hella (impatiently). What in the world is that!
Paul. I have an idea, the people of the estate, coming to proclaim Saint Sylvester, (The door at the right is opened.)