ere. How great and serene! Not the
vestige of a doubt left! Everything overcome. All the questions
solved!... (Lamenting.) Father, father, if I were only in your place!
(He presses his head in his hands.)

AUNT CLARA (worried). Paul, what's the matter!

PAUL. Nothing, Aunt Clara, it's over now.

AUNT CLARA. No, no, my boy, there's something wrong with you. You
needn't tell me. I know well enough.

PAUL (controlling himself). You know nothing at all.

AUNT CLARA. And you can't talk me out of it. It's your wife. What I
know, I know. Your wife is to blame! And if you _do_ say no ten times
over!

PAUL (gets up, with a firm voice). I repeat, Aunt Clara, you know
nothing about it! I do not want to hear one word about that, please
remember. (With marked emphasis.) I do not want to hear of it! (Walks
up and down in excitement.)

AUNT CLARA. Paul, Paul, if you had only taken Antonie!

PAUL (sits down in the chair at the fireplace, restraining his pain).
Be quiet, Aunt Clara!... Do you want to make me even more miserable
than I am?

AUNT CLARA (gets up, steps up to him and lays her hand on his head). My
poor, poor boy!

ACT II

The forenoon of the following day. The gloomy light of a winter day
comes in through the wide windows at the background of the hall, as on
the day before. Outside, white bushes and trees loom up vaguely. A dark
velvet cover is spread over the sofa table now. A fire again biases in
the fireplace. In front of it on the left sits GLYSZINSKI with his feet
toward the fire and a book in his hand. He is again faultlessly clad in
a black suit; looks pale. At his right, in the center chair HELLA
reposes comfortably. She likewise holds a book and looks as if she had
been reading. As on the previous day, her dress is dark, but not black.

HELLA. These awful visits of condolence all day yesterday! If calls of
that kind continue today, I'll simply lock myself in and fail to
appear. Let Paul settle it as he may.

GLYSZINSKI. And yet! How easily and graciously you can dispose of the
good people. I can't get over my astonishment.

HELLA. Yes and then to feign a sadness that one does not remotely feel,
cannot feel! What an idea!

GLYSZINSKI (after a moment of reflection, whispering). Do you know what
makes me glad?

HELLA (curtly). No, possibly you will tell me.

GLYSZINSKI (halts a bit). That the dead man is out of the house!... I
suppose they took him to the church?

HELLA. Yes, quite e