Margaret.
[Hesitating.] If I could only tell you something,
Otto——
Otto.
One word, yes or no, that's all I ask. He is nothing
to you, and you are nothing to him, isn't that so?
Speak! Why don't you speak? Is it because you
can't?
Margaret.
[Drawing herself up.] It is because I won't.
Otto.
Then it must be as Fritz said, only worse—a
thousand times worse. When he found you out,
and brought the police to frighten you, you sold
your honour to save your life.
Margaret.
[Almost sobbing.] And you say that to your own
sister?
Otto.
You are no sister of mine, and no daughter of my
father either, or you wouldn't have believed the story
you've told me—that he was a renegade who gave
up his country for the sake of his bread——
Margaret.
[As before.] His children's bread—yours and mine,
Otto.
Otto.
It's a lie—just as much a lie as the story you've
told me about yourself. [Raging round the room.]
Where's my cap?
