xtent I had found myself; but at first ...! I was so helpless
and distracted. I did everything I could--I painted, I even gave
English lessons in the boardinghouse where I was living. Just think
what it was like, to be there as a divorced woman at twenty-two, to
have no one ...

CLEMENT. Why didn't you stay quietly in Vienna?

MARGARET. Because I was not on good terms with my family. No one has
really understood me. Oh, these people ...! Do you suppose any of my
relations could conceive that one should want anything else from life
except a husband and pretty clothes and a position in society!
Oh, good heavens ...! If I had had a child, things might have been very
different--and again they might not. I am a very complex creature. But
after all, what have you to complain of! Wasn't my going to Munich the
best thing I could have done? How else should I ever have known you!

CLEMENT. That's all right--but you didn't go there with that purpose in
view.

MARGARET. I went because I wanted to be free--inwardly free. I wanted
to see if I could make the thing go on my own resources. And you must
admit that it looked as if I should be able to. I was on the road to
becoming famous. (CLEMENT looks at her dubiously.) But I cared more for
you than even for fame.

CLEMENT (good-naturedly). And I'm a bit more dependable.

MARGARET. I wasn't thinking about that. I loved you from the very first
moment--that was the thing that counted. I had always dreamed of some
one just like you; I had always known that no other sort of man could
make me happy. Blood isn't a mere empty word; it's the only thing that
counts. Do you know, that's why I always have a kind of idea ...

CLEMENT. What?

MARGARET. At least now and then the thought comes to me that there may
be some noble blood in my veins too.

CLEMENT. How so?

MARGARET. Well, it would be a possibility.

CLEMENT. I don't understand.

MARGARET. I told you that there used to be aristocratic visitors at my
parents' house ...

CLEMENT. Well, and if there were ...?

MARGARET. Who knows ...?

CLEMENT. Oh, I say, Margaret! How can you talk of such things!

MARGARET. Oh, when you're about one can never say what one thinks!
That's the only thing the matter with you--if it weren't for that you'd
be perfect. (She nestles up to him.) I do love you so tremendously.
The very first evening, when you came into the cafe with Wangenheim,
I knew it at once--knew that you were the man for me.