sake of Countess Philine--what has
that to do with our friendship?
AMADEUS
That's beyond contradiction. Nevertheless, I hadn't expected--in fact,
I think it nothing less than admirable--your ability to adjust yourself
to everything--your way of remaining perfectly calm in the midst of any
new experiences or expectations.
CECILIA
Calm...? Here I am ... by our fireplace ... taking tea in your company.
Here I can and shall always be calm. That's the significance of our
whole life in common. Whatever may be my destiny in the world at large
will slip off me when I enter here. All the storms are on the outside.
AMADEUS
That's more than you can be sure of, Cecilia. Things might happen that
would weigh more heavily on you than you can imagine at this moment.
CECILIA
I shall always have the strength to throw off things according to my
will before I come to you. And if that strength should ever fail me, I
shall come to the door and no farther.
AMADEUS
Oh, no, you mustn't! That would not be in keeping with our agreement.
It is just when life grows heavy that I'll be here to help you bear it.
CECILIA
Who knows whether you will always be ready to do so?
AMADEUS
Always--on my oath! No matter what befall you, whether it be sad or
wretched, you can always find refuge and sympathy with me. But with all
my heart I wish you may be spared most of those things.
CECILIA
That I be spared...? No, Amadeus, a wish like that I can't accept.
Hitherto--I have lived so little hitherto. And I am longing for it. I
long for all that's sad and sweet in life, for all that's beautiful and
all that's pitiful. I long for storms, for perils--for worse than that,
perhaps.
AMADEUS
No, Cecilia, that's nothing but imagination!
CECILIA
Oh, no!
AMADEUS
Certainly, Cecilia. You don't know very much as yet, and you imagine
many things simpler and cleaner than they are. But there are things you
couldn't stand, and others of which you are not capable.--I know you,
Cecilia.
CECILIA
You know me?--You know only what I have been to you--what I have been
as your beloved and your wife. And as you used to mean the whole world
to me--as all my longing, all my tenderness, was bounded by you--we
could never guess in those days what might prove my destiny when the
real world was thrown open to me.--Even to-day, Amadeus, I am no longer
the same as before.... Or perhaps I have always been the same as I am
now, but didn't
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