Part 8 (1/2)

Beata.

Come! Come! No bragging--not even about persecution. It's intoxicating at first, but the after-taste is bitter.

Norbert.

Don't make fun of me, Aunt Beata.

Beata.

Heaven forbid! You know _I_ don't disapprove of your article.

Norbert.

How could you? Isn't it all yours?

Beata.

I don't understand anything about duelling.

Norbert.

No, but my ideas are yours--every one of them. All I've said about self-restraint--about striving toward an harmonious whole--about the Greek ideal of freedom--and how posterity will smile at our struggles--it's all yours, Aunt Beata, every word of it.

Beata.

Don't tell your father! And besides, it isn't. My ideas have got twisted in that wild young brain of yours. And it might annoy him to think that I had put them there----

Norbert.

Oh, Aunt Beata, _I_ know what you really think. But, of course, if you don't want me to, I----

_Enter_ Conrad.

Conrad (_announcing_).

Baron Volkerlingk.

_Enter_ Richard. Conrad _goes out_.

Richard.

Well, dear friend? What sort of a night have you had? Not good, I'm afraid.

Beata.

There's no use in trying to deceive you. Have you just come from your own house?

Richard.

Yes.