it would be quite a different matter. I
would take the letter from your hands with pleasure, would admire in it
the strength of the fatherly love, and, not to abuse this love, I would
throw myself at his feet a repentant and obedient daughter. But can I
do that? I shall be obliged to make use of his permission, regardless
of the price this permission has cost him. And then, when I feel most
happy, it will suddenly occur to me that he only outwardly appears to
share my happiness and that inwardly he is sighing--in short, that he
has made me happy by the renunciation of his own happiness. And to wish
to be happy in this way,--do you expect that of me, Waitwell?

WAITWELL.

I truly do not know what answer to give to that.

SARA.

There is no answer to it. So take your letter back! If my father must
be unhappy through me, I will myself remain unhappy also. To be quite
alone in unhappiness is that for which I now pray Heaven every hour,
but to be quite alone in my happiness--of that I will not hear.

WAITWELL (_aside_).

I really think I shall have to employ deception with this good child to
get her to read the letter.

SARA.

What are you saying to yourself?

WAITWELL.

I was saying to myself that the idea I had hit on to get you to read
this letter all the quicker was a very clumsy one.

SARA.

How so?

WAITWELL.

I could not look far enough. Of course you see more deeply into things
than such as I. I did not wish to frighten you; the letter is perhaps
only too hard; and when I said that it contained nothing but love and
forgiveness, I ought to have said that I wished it might not contain
anything else.

SARA.

Is that true? Give it me then! I will read it. If one has been
unfortunate enough to deserve the anger of one's father, one should at
least have enough respect for it to submit to the expression of it on
his part. To try to frustrate it means to heap contempt on insult. I
shall feel his anger in all its strength. You see I tremble already.
But I must tremble; and I will rather tremble than weep (_opens the
letter_). Now it is opened! I sink! But what do I see? (_she reads_)
"My only, dearest daughter"--ah, you old deceiver, is that the language
of a