her down on the sofa). You have no right, Helen, to
complain of your husband! Why did you not know yourself better! Every
young girl is free to choose for herself. There is no power on earth
that could compel a girl to belong to a man whom she doesn't like. No
such violence can be done to woman's rights. That's a kind of nonsense
those women would like to make the world believe who having sold
themselves for some material advantage or other would prefer to escape
their obligations.

HELEN (smiling). Which would be a breach of contract, I suppose.

GERARDO. If _I_ sell myself, they are at least dealing with an honest
man!

HELEN (smiling). Then one who loves is not honest!

GERARDO. No!--Love is a distinctly philistine virtue. Love is sought by
those who do not venture out into the world, who fear a comparison with
others, who haven't the courage to face a fair trial of strength. Love
is sought by every miserable rhymester who cannot live without being
idolized by some one. Love is sought by the peasant who yokes his wife
together with his ox to his plow. Love is a refuge for molly-coddles
and cowards!--In the great world in which I live everybody is
recognized for what he is actually worth. If two join together, they
know exactly what to think of one another and need no love for it.

HELEN (once more in a pleading tone). Will you not introduce me into
that great world of yours!

GERARDO. Helen--would you sacrifice your own happiness and that of your
family for a fleeting pleasure!

HELEN. No.

GERARDO. Do you promise me to return to your family without show of
reluctance!

HELEN. Yes.

GERARDO. And that you will not die, not even as one might die of some
ailment!

HELEN. Yes.

GERARDO. Do you really promise me!

HELEN. Yes.

GERARDO. That you will be true to your duties as a mother--and as a
wife!

HELEN. Yes.

GERARDO. Helen!

HELEN. Yes!--What more do you want!--I promise you.

GERARDO. That I may leave town without fear!

HELEN (rising). Yes.

GERARDO. Now shall we kiss each other once more!

HELEN. Yes--yes--yes--yes--yes--yes ...

GERARDO (after kissing her in a perfunctory manner). A year from now,
Helen, I shall sing again in this town.

HELEN. A year from now!--Yes, to be sure.

GERARDO (affectedly sentimental). Helen! (HELEN presses his hand, takes
her muff from the chair, pulls from it a revolver, shoots herself in
the head and sinks to the floor.) Helen! (He totters forward