v. Wolters.

Pardon me, my dear Countess, you were certainly his last--perhaps his only great love. But his life was varied--and if we were to open his desk now--I really don't know what we might find there.

The Lady.

You mean there would be letters from other----?

v. Wolters.

I must say no more.

The Lady.

Well, I'll shut my eyes. I'll only look for my own handwriting.

v. Wolters.

The will is to be opened in a few days, Countess. He has doubtless inserted a clause authorising me as executor to return certain papers to their owners--or destroy them.

The Lady.

Ah, I see you're a Puritan, after all.--No, no, I'll not trouble your conscience. This loyalty which you bear him to the very grave is so beautiful, so poetical, and I feel so near to you because of it--(_Putting her hand over her eyes._) Oh, those curtains in front of the mirrors! They make me feel as if I were dead myself, (v. Wolters _is about to tear them down._) No, no--don't. Thanks. Tell me, how long will it be before the will is opened?

v. Wolters.

Unfortunately, the day is not yet appointed.

The Lady.

I shall not sleep a moment until then. Not even my love, my grief, can outweigh this terrible fear. My honour, my future, my life--everything is at stake!

v. Wolters (_amazed_).

Countess!

The Lady.

Please stop calling me Countess.

v. Wolters.

Forgive me. What should I----?

The Lady.

Call me your friend. I want to be that. From this day you become closer to me than any other being in all the world. Are you not the legacy, as it were, that our dear dead has left me?--Ah, you and I must become like brother and sister, two beings who have--nothing--to conceal from one another. Herr von Wolters, will you be my guide, my confidant--my friend?

v. Wolters.

Countess! My dear, dear Countess!

The Lady (_softly_).

But you're not to----

v. Wolters.

Forgive me. Your kindness to me makes me feel so--confused--I----

The Lady.

Why should it? I feel certain that if he could see us at this moment, he himself would join our hands together.

v. Wolters.

Countess, if you ever need a man who would let himself be torn to pieces for you----

The Lady.

No, not that. I only want you to take this great weight from my soul.

v. Wolters.

Ah, Countess, I am a man of my word.

The Lady.

And that's what you call being torn to pieces for me?

v. Wolters (_trembling_).

Whether I can answer for this to him and to my own conscience--whether I can ever again think of him--without shame--will depend upon what we shall find in there.

The Lady.

But you will open it? (_A pause._) Herr von Wolters, you'll not let me die of fear and distraction?

v. Wolters.

I'll open it.

The Lady (_laying her hand on his arm_).

Thanks, thanks! Ah, you are good----

v. Wolters (_taking out the key_).

Don't thank me. I feel as if he could hear it in there.