Don't weigh every word I say--just look into my wicked heart. Your conscience has nothing to do with that! And if you're fond of Michael--if we're both fond of him--and why shouldn't we both be fond of him--that dear, good, cheery Michael of ours?--why, that needn't make you probe the depths of your soul for fresh wickedness. I tell you we've paid for everything, even to the uttermost farthing!

Richard.

Do you think so? It seems to me that when a man and a woman have found everything in each other, as we have, when they have been to each other the strength and the meaning and the object of life--when they've resolved to die fighting back to back, together to the last, as you used to say it seems to me that in such a case there isn't much room for expiation. If Purgatory is like that it must be fairly habitable.

(Beata _laughs_.) Ah, now you are flippant.

Beata.

Be thankful that one of us is, dear!

Richard.

I remember when I lost my seat, six years ago--it was a hard knock, I can tell you--everything went under at once--well, I said to myself: This is my punishment. And the idea never left me. While I was wandering about the world, or vegetating down in the country, I actually used to get a kind of comfort out of it. And now? Do you know, I sometimes fancy you wouldn't be altogether sorry if I lost my election again.

Beata (_laughingly_).

Really? Do you think that?

Richard.

In fact I'm not at all sure you hold with the party any longer.

Beata.

What--I, its Egeria? An elderly party-nymph gone wrong? What a shocking idea!

Richard.

I'm sure of one thing you enjoy looking over our heads.

Beata.

Don't say _our_ heads--don't include yourself with the rest. You think of your duty; they think of their rights. You use the ma.s.ses in order to serve them. The others think only of power.

Richard.

Oh, as to that--we all want power.

Beata.

Yes: the question is, for whose benefit?--Ah, well, I see I shall have to tell you--you ought to know--the sooner the better, I suppose!

Richard.

Tell me what?

Beata.

Dear--did you really think it was Michael's fondest wish to resign his seat in Parliament, and live only for his horses?

Richard.

I've heard him say so often enough.

Beata.

And so you leaped into the breach--in the interests of the party?

Richard (_hesitating_).

And because--(_suddenly_) Beata--there's been some deception? (Beata _nods_.) Some one has been working against me----?

Beata.

Or for you--as you please.--Sit down beside me, dear; give me both your hands--so! And now listen. I couldn't bear to see your disappointment--your suffering--I suffered with you too intensely! And so--don't look so startled, or I shall lose heart and be afraid to go on.--How shall I tell you?--It's taken me a year a whole year's work.

By degrees I persuaded him that he was unsuited to Parliamentary life--gradually I turned him against the pottering routine-work which is the only thing he can do--little by little I made him see what a boon it would be for the country and the party if he would only let you take his place. Till at last he did----

Richard (_rising_).

Ah----

Beata.

Can you say _now_ that I didn't want you elected? (Richard _is silent_.) I should never have told you this if I hadn't known that his pride in his heroic feat would make him betray himself sooner or later.

(_A pause_.) After all, think how little he's given up! To him it was only a--pastime--to you it is life. I had no choice, had I? You do see that, don't you? (_A pause_.) Richard, I may be a very wicked woman, but at least I deserve one look from you!

Richard.

Beata! Beata! What can I say? What can I say? You know how I've always tried to keep our feeling for each other within the bounds--the bounds of-- You know how it was twelve years ago--when I found myself gradually slipping into intimacy with him, I came to you and said: "Either this thing ends here, or I tell him everything. I won't take his hand and play the sneak. If I do, we shall lose our respect for each other as well as our self-respect." And then we hit on this friendship as a way out of it--a way of not losing each other altogether. It wasn't a very honourable solution--but this--this new sacrifice--if I accept this--G.o.d! If Holtzmann were to come in now and tell me the other man has won, what a load he would take off my mind!

Beata.

Richard--how can you?

Richard.

Think of it: To-morrow I shall have to make that speech. My position, my convictions, compel me to appear as the spokesman of the highest ideals--and all the while I shall owe my seat to the friend whose holiest ties I have trampled on----

Beata.

And if they were not the holiest----?

Richard (_startled_).

Beata!

Beata.

Don't turn from me. I've loved you so long!