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Haus.
Then you really don't know? Can't imagine? -- When you
speke of it yourself, just now?
Hein
Of what?
Haus.
Why didn't you tell me how it affected you, and you thought
your mother didn't see it?
Hein
What did she see?
Haus.
That her suffering upset you, that you couldn’t work,
that you were worried for fear it might be all up with
your art, that you -- you? -- were the tortured, the
martyred one -- she saw all that, and so – –
Hein.
And so --! But it is impossible!
Haus.
Impossible? She was your mother, that made it possible.
Hein.
No, Herr Hausdorfer, Your grief makes you imagine what could
not possibly be true. I grant that the condition of my
mind was no secret to my mother, I was so greatly distressed;
but that there could be any ground for --