for it with my own blood? That I have thrown myself into mud and stepped on myself, that I have been smiting my own face, that I have slandered myself, in order to save him—for his mother?
Votava (surprised).—But, Miss
Maya.—
And look, I must not even cry. Although I would so much, so much like to cry. But he must not see that it has hurt me. Do you think that his was the greatest sacrifice?
Vatova (taking her hand).—I understand you, and I admire you.
Maya (rises).—Even that is not necessary, doctor. Am I not a comedian?
Votava.—But, say
Maya.—Yes, and this was a desperate comedy—the worst comedy of my life. Now, the curtain has fallen. And we will go.
Kocianova (coming out of the parsonage).
Votava (to Kocianova).—Well, did I not tell you, Mrs. Kocianova? What unnecessary worries you have again caused yourself.
Kocianova (hurrying to Maya).—Is it possible, Miss? May God Almighty reward you.
Maya.—Everything is possible, Mrs. Kocianova, if we have a will.
Kocianova (looks at her but does not understand).
Maya (quickly).—And those that have no will should not attempt anything. (Kissing her.) May God preserve you. Good by. And may you all be as happy as you were heretofore. Give my regards to the reverend father. I will not be able to see him any more.
Kocianova (crying).—My dear soul, my golden soul.
Maya (to Votava).—Let’s be off. (Wants to go.)
Votava.—And are you not going to say good by to Mr. Petr? (He calls into the hall.) Mr. Petr, come here to say good by.
Petr (comes on the threshold).
Maya (gives him her hand).—Good by, Mr. Petr, and may you be well and happy.
Votava.—And say I will come to see you again next year.
Maya.—No, no, Mr. Petr—good by for good—forever. (She goes quickly toward the gate.)
Kocianova (escorts her).
