I'm sorry, Faust. I'm so sorry for not telling you, but you never asked. Margaret was bearing your child, but she killed your offspring after slowly losing her mind, and now is agonizing in her cell. She's constatly calling your name, she laments about being abandoned by the only man who can save her.
Don't blame me. Don't blame me for the horrible things you did. SHUT UP. Are you done talking? What do you want to do?
She is saved Faust. You shouldn't worry anymore.
But her soul was taken from the angels and went right into my hands, and now I'm looking after her and she's looking after me. You don't know how overwhelming her presence is, Faust, you don't know how painfully her gaze presses against my back, but she's nowhere to be seen, and now that some weeks have passed by I'm so scared because I noticed that that Margaret's hatred might be insatiable and I don't know how much time it will pass until she's finally satisfied with your sorrow. I don't know how much time it will pass until I start to break down.
But there's no need to mourn because now I know that this would happen one way or another, sooner or later, because if it hasn't been for my hate for you it would have been for my greed and lust, because, oh Faust you don't know how big and pure her soul is. And when I meet her in her prison cell she made me shake in excitement when she asked me for help.