Brendel.
Bien! Then take a Beispiel by your ancient teacher. Rub out all that he once imprinted on your mind. Build not thy house on shifting sand. And look ahead—and feel your way—before you build on this exquisite creature, who here lends sweetness to your life.
Rebecca. Is it me you mean?
Brendel. Yes, my fascinating mermaid.
Rebecca. Why am I not to be built on?
Brendel.
[Comes a step nearer.] I gather that my former pupil has a great cause to carry forward to victory.
Rebecca. What then?
Brendel.
Victory is assured. But—mark me well—on one indispensable condition.
Rebecca.
Which is?
Brendel.
[Takes her gently by the wrist.] That the woman who loves him shall gladly go out into the kitchen and hack off her tender, rosy-white little finger—here—just here at the middle joint. Item, that the aforesaid loving woman—again gladly—shall
