George.--Jozwowicz, I am choking with wrath and pain. Drahomir avoids
me.
Doctor.--But you do not suspect him.
George.--I swear to you that I have defended myself from suspicions as
a man dying on the steppe defends himself from the crows--that I have
bitten my hands with pain and despair--that I still defend myself.
But I cannot any more. I cannot. The evidence pounds on my brain. He
avoids me. He tells me that I have become an idiot--that I have become
a madman, because--
Doctor.--Keep your temper. Even if he were in love with the princess,
nobody rules his own heart.
George.--Enough! You were right when you coupled his name with hers.
At that moment I repulsed the thought, but it was there just the same
(he strikes his breast). The fruit is ripened. Oh, what a ridiculous
and dreadful part I am playing here--
Doctor.--But he saved your life.
George.--In order to take it when it began to have a certain value.
His service is paid with torture, with a slain happiness, with a
broken hope, with destroyed faith in myself, in him and in her.
Doctor.--Be easy.
George.--I loved that man. Tell me that I am a madman and I shall be
calmed. How dreadful to think that it is he! Forgive me everything I
said to you before and help me. Evil thoughts are rushing through my
head.
Doctor.--Be calm--you are mistaken.
George.--Prove to me that I am mistaken and I will kneel before you.
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