font, I believe it, because you say it, because I
wish it. But do not let us detain each other any longer! I will go and
finish my letter. And you will let me read yours, will you not, after I
have shown you mine?

MELLEFONT.

Each word shall be submitted to your judgment; except what I must say
in your defence, for I know you do not think yourself so innocent as
you are. (_Accompanies Sara to the back of the stage_.)

Scene II.

MELLEFONT (_after walking up and down several times in thought_).

What a riddle I am to myself! What shall I think myself? A fool? Or a
knave? Heart, what a villain thou art! I love the angel, however much
of a devil I may be. I love her! Yes, certainly! certainly I love her.
I feel I would sacrifice a thousand lives for her, for her who
sacrificed her virtue for me; I would do so,--this very moment without
hesitation would I do so. And yet, yet--I am afraid to say it to
myself--and yet--how shall I explain it? And yet I fear the moment
which will make her mine for ever before the world. It cannot be
avoided now, for her father is reconciled. Nor shall I be able to put
it off for long. The delay has already drawn down painful reproaches
enough upon me. But painful as they were, they were still more
supportable to me than the melancholy thought of being fettered for
life. But am I not so already? Certainly,--and with pleasure! Certainly
I am already her prisoner. What is it I want, then? At present I am a
prisoner, who is allowed to go about on parole; that is flattering! Why
cannot the matter rest there? Why must I be put in chains and thus lack
even the pitiable shadow of freedom? In chains? Quite so! Sara Sampson,
my beloved! What bliss lies in these words! Sara Sampson, my wife! The
half of the bliss is gone! and the other half--will go! Monster that I
am! And with such thoughts shall I write to her father? Yet these are
not my real thoughts, they are fancies! Cursed fancies, which have
become natural to me through my dissolute life! I will free myself from
them, or live no more.

Scene III.

Norton, Mellefont.

MELLEFONT.

You disturb me, Norton!

NORTON.

I beg your pardon, Sir (_withdrawing again_).

MELLEFONT.

No, no! Stay! It is just as well that you s