Same setting. Above the centre table a lighted hanging-lamp. Another lamp on table, L. The glass doors to garden are open. Full moonshine falls partly into the room. At rise of curtain, at table, L., areBrauer,Mrs. BrauerandPastor.At centre table,GertrudeandGeorge.It is evening.
Now, then, tell Marie to bring the bowl!
Ah! you are going to have a bowl?
Why, of course, Pastor. This is St. John's Eve. The villagers will set off tar-barrels and bonfires, and we will celebrate it with a bowl.
[Mischievously.] But perhaps this festival is too heathenish for the clergy----
Bless you, that all depends. If you have not the clergy's sanction, then it is wicked and heathenish----
But if they are invited, then it is Christianly and good? Ha, ha----!
Well, I did not say that. You had better apply to the consistory, they are better able to decide that point.
Ah, Pastor, you are a diplomat. Well, what are you two doing over there? You are not saying a word.
George is too lazy. He is drawing little men, and I am writing.
In his place I think I would prefer to draw little women. Eh, Pastor?
Just as you say, uncle!
[Aside.] What the devil is the matter with him to-day? Come, children, be jolly, this is St. John's Eve! Ah, here is the punch! Now, then, Gertrude, lend a hand!
[Mariehas entered with the bowl and glasses.]
Yes, papa.
[Drinks.] Excellent, Marie! Superb! I tell you, Pastor, whoever gets her for a wife will be a lucky man indeed.
[With a glass toGeorge,who has gone back and is looking out.] Don't you want some, George?
[Caressing her, with a shy glance atMarie.] Why, yes, little one, thank you! Look, how bright and beautiful the moon shines to-night! Everything wrapped as in silvery spider web! How beautiful!
[Oppressed.] They will soon set off the bonfires.
See, see--at last you have spoken; I feared you had lost your tongue. Come here, my child. Get your glasses, all of you---- Your health! The Pastor shall give us a toast; yes, yes, Pastor!--a genuine pagan toast, well suited to this night! Now, tell me, my child, are you obliged to go to the city again to-night?
Yes, papa dear.
But if I will not allow it?
You gave your permission quite two weeks ago, papa dear!
But not to go in the middle of the night!
I must go, papa. The men are to be there at seven in the morning, and if I am not there to give instructions the house will never be finished in time.
Never mind, Henry, there is no help for it.
But look at her!
Why, papa, there is nothing the matter with me. I am well and merry----
You are merry, eh? Let me hear you laugh!
[Tries to laugh.] Ha, ha, ha----!
[Imitating her.] Yes, yes--ha, ha, ha----!
Come here, my child. [Strokes her hair.] Did you sleep well last night?
Yes, mama.
But if this stranger should attack you again?
Pardon me, but what do I hear?
Oh, nothing of importance, Pastor. [ToMarie.] You will take the one o'clock train----
Yes, papa.
There is another--at four--t'will be daylight then----
But I would not reach the city in time.
Very well, you needn't go to bed, then. George can take you to the depot.
[Startled.] George?
[Startled and simultaneously.] What--I?
Certainly! Why not?
Pray do not think me obtrusive; but I am at your service.
No, no, thank you. Pastor; your time will come some other day. [Aside.] It will at least give him something to do. [MeaningGeorge.]
I want to go too, papa! I love moonshine promenades.
No, no, my pet. In the first place, it is very improper for lovers to be out so late at night, without a chaperon.
I would much prefer to go alone. I am not at all afraid--and I do not wish to trouble George--or any one else----
Any one else is out of the question, for in this house every one rises at five in the morning. [ToGeorge.] Now, then, what excuse have you to offer?
Excuse? I? Why, none at all, except that she does not want me to go. You heard it yourself!
Have you two been quarreling again?
Don't insist, Henry, if they don't want to----
By the way, send for Mr. Paul--I wish to speak to him. Pastor, your health! [Drinks.]
[At thisMarieandGertrudego to door C., and speak to some one outside in pantomime. A voice is heard.]
Mr. Paul! Mr. Paul!
[From behind scene.] I am coming in one moment! [Short pause. He enters.] Here I am!
Ah, there you are! Give him a glass of punch!
Thank you, I have just had a glass of beer.
Very well! Now, don't let us disturb you, children! Pastor, this is the time to prepare your toast. [Aside toPaul.] Well, have you learned anything of this stranger?
Not a sign of one, excepting two tramps at the inn, the gendarme placed under arrest; but that was the day before yesterday.
H'm! If I had ever had the slightest reason to doubt her word---- Marie, my child, come here to me.
Yes, papa!
[Looks at her sharply.] Never mind, now.
[Aside toBrauer.] By the way, I saw the old woman again!
Sh! not so loud! Where?
She had money, too----
I wonder where she stole it?
I wonder! The innkeeper said she had a gold piece. But don't you worry, Mr. Brauer. She will soon give us cause to have her locked up again. She is incorrigible!
Does she sleep at the inn?
No, sir! At night she leaves there, only to reappear in the morning.
H'm! that would almost be sufficient reason---- George!
Uncle?
I have changed my mind. You must accompany Marie!
Just as you say, uncle!
And no quarreling this time, Marie!
Yes, papa.
[On the veranda.] There, there, look! The first bonfire!!
[Singing and laughter is heard in distance. A red glow is seen.]
Have you taken care, Mr. Paul, to keep them far enough away from the sheds?
Yes, Mrs. Brauer!
For you must know. Pastor, last year the sparks came very near setting fire to the straw roofs.
There is a second one now, and there on the hill, another. See, George, see! How beautiful!
Yes, yes, darling, I see!
[Pulls him forward softly.] Why do you call me darling to-day?
Well, shan't I?
Oh, of course; but do you love me more to-day?
I love you always, my pet!
[Softly and with emotion.] But you usually call me "little one," and to-day nothing but "darling."
Now, then, Pastor, we are ready for the toast! Take up your glass, and fire away!
I am afraid it will be hardly as wicked and heathenish as you seem to expect.
Come, come, Pastor, don't keep us waiting!
Well, what shall I say? I am not going to preach you a sermon!
No, no, Pastor; we are content to wait for that till Sunday.
Well, then, you see, on a beautiful and dreamy night like this--may I say dreamy?
You may, Pastor, you may!
For we all dream at times, more or less, both young and old!
Ah, yes! that is a failing we all have!!!
On such a dreamy night, different emotions are aroused within us. We seem to be able to look into the future, and imagine ourselves able to fathom all mystery and heal all wounds. The common becomes elevated, our wishes become fate; and now we ask ourselves: What is it that causes all this within us--all these desires and wishes? It islove, brotherly love, that has been planted in our souls, that fills our lives; and, it is life itself. Am I not right? And now, with one bound, I will come to the point. In the revelation you will find: "God is love." Yes, God is love; and that is the most beautiful trait of our religion--that the best, the most beautiful within us, has been granted us byHimabove. Then how could I, this very evening, so overcome with feeling for my fellow-man--how could I passHimby? Therefore, Mr. Brauer, no matter, whether pastor or layman, I must confess my inability to grant your wish, and decline to give you a genuine pagan toast----
[Grasps his hand.] That was well spoken, Pastor! Pardon me, I was only jesting!
No, no, dear uncle, not altogether. There I must defend you against yourself. A devout and pious man like yourself, t'was not entire wantonness, your desire to hear something other than religious, and since the Pastor has so eloquently withdrawn, I will give you a toast. For, you see, my dear Pastor, something of the old pagan, a spark of heathenism, is still glowing somewhere within us all. It has outlived century after century, from the time of the old Teutons. Once every year that spark is fanned into flame--it flames up high, and then it is called "The Fires of St. John." Once every year we have "free night." Then the witches ride upon their brooms--the same brooms with which their witchcraft was once driven out of them--with scornful laughter the wild hordes sweep across the tree-tops, up, up, high upon the Blocksberg! Then it is, when in our hearts awake those wild desires which our fates could not fulfill--and, understand me well, dared not fulfill--then, no matter what may be the name of the law that governs the world on that day, in order that that one single wish may become a reality, by whose grace we prolong our miserable existence, thousand others must miserably perish. Part because they were never attainable; but the others, yes, the others, because we allowed them to escape us like wild birds, which, though already in our hands, but too listless to profit by opportunity, we failed to grasp at the right moment. But no matter. Once every year we have "free night." And yonder tongues of fire shooting up towards the heavens--do you know what they are? They are the spirits of our dead and perished wishes! That is the red plumage of our birds of paradise we might have petted and nursed through our entire lives, but have escaped us! That is the old chaos, the heathenism within us; and though we be happy in sunshine and according to law, to-night is St. John's night. To its ancient pagan fires I empty this glass. To-night they shall burn and flame up high--high--and again high! Will no one drink to my toast?
[Pause.]
[Trembling.] I will!
[They look into each other's eyes and clink glasses.]
[Hesitatingly.] I, too, George!
[Stroking her hair sadly, patronizing.] Yes, yes; you, too.
[Suddenly bursting out.] You--you idiots! What do you know about it, anyway? I--I didn't understand it myself, but I have a presentiment there is something sinful about it all!
My dear Mr. von Harten, above all your heathenism watches our good old God, our Father, and therefore I fearlessly drink to your toast.
Well, well, I'll not be the only exception. [Drinks also. A glow much nearer, behind the trees. Louder yelling and laughter.] Well, what is it now?
They are dangerously near the sheds now.
Didn't I tell you to take the proper precautions?
I did. They had only three tar-barrels early this evening. Where they got the fourth from, I don't know.
I'll wager they found the barrel of axle-grease! Why didn't you lock it up?
You know yourself, on this day no lock or key is of any avail.
Don't talk nonsense, but see what's to be done. I will be there myself, presently. Be quick! [Paulexits.] I can't depend on anybody these days! Where is my hat? [Mariegets it.]
Can't we go, too, papa?
Will you come, wife?
Yes, gladly, but stop scolding. There isn't a breath of air stirring, and therefore no danger.
Come along, Pastor!
[ExitBrauer,George,GertrudeandMrs. Brauer.]
Won't you accompany us, Miss Marie?
No, thank you, Pastor!
Then may I remain with you for a while?
[Outside, calling.] Pastor, Pastor!
[Speaks through door.] I will be with you in a moment! [ToMarie.] Well, may I!
Why, certainly, if it gives you pleasure!
Pleasure is hardly the proper word. I wanted to thank you for insisting upon my writing the bridal-poem. It has been a work of pleasure, I assure you. Do you like it?
It is very nice. Pastor!
Have you memorized it already?
I think so!
Then would you mind reciting it for me? Come, I will assist you: "The flowers, the beautiful blossoms"---- Well?---- "are a maiden's----"
No, Pastor!
You are acting so strangely to-day! You are so shy--so----
The St. John's night oppresses me!
That will soon be over.
Would that it were over now!
Perhaps the thought of traveling alone at night has something to do with it?
Oh! [Recovering herself--lightly.] You are right, Pastor; but it can't be helped!
Shall I come with you? Oh, I'll find something to be done in the city. I won't even have to ask permission. Anyway, I am longing for a glimpse of the good old town. I will inform the old pastor--I don't think he has retired as yet----
Then please tell him---- I usually visit him myself every day, but now, just before the wedding, it's impossible for me to call. Will you please tell him that? I am so fond of him! Tell him that, and in thought I kiss his hand.
Certainly. And may I accompany you!
No, thank you. Pastor!
Now let us speak openly, Miss Marie. I have been watching you all the evening. You appear to me--what shall I call it--like a mouse before a cat! You need a protector; some one in whom you can confide, some one----
And so you would like to be my father confessor! Eh, Pastor?
You know very well we do not have that institution in the Protestant Church, though at times it might prove a blessing----
[Mischievously.] And then again it might not?
You are quite right. We should all rely more upon ourselves----
[With emphasis.] I do that, Pastor, I do!
Yes, my dear Marie--pardon me, I should not have said that--and yet I must speak frankly with you; you seem to have a fear--a dread----
Of the cat?
I wish I knew!!!
But supposing I were the cat, who would then be the mouse?
That would be sinful and wicked in you!!!
But one cannot be the cat and the mouse at the same time?
Yes, one can! But he who does, plays with his own destruction!
And if one destroys one's self, who cares?
You should not talk like that, Miss Marie.
Oh, it is all nonsense, all nonsense, for to-night is St. John's night. Do you see that fire yonder. Pastor? They had to put it out! But there, on the hill--look, there, there! How beautiful! How wild!
Yes, and when you look closely, it is nothing more than a mass of dirty lumber.
For shame, Pastor!
Like everything that blazes, except the sun----
You should not have said that, Pastor--you should not. I don't want it! I will not have you slander my St. John's fires! I want to enjoy it once--only once--then nevermore!!!
[Disturbed.] My dear Miss Marie, I do not understand the reason for your agitation, and I will not question you! But of your struggles--you shall know that you have a friend near you, on whom you can rely, now and for all time to come. Marie, I don't know how to express myself; but I desire to shield and protect you all your life--I will worship you----
Pastor, do you know who and what I am?
I do!
And who my mother is?
I know all!
Pastor, how am I to understand this?
Marie, I know I should not have spoken, at least not now. I should have waited--it was stupid of me, I know; but I have such a fear--a fear for you. You are going to the city to-night and I don't know what may happen! But you shall know before you go, where you belong and that your future is assured!
[With a sigh of relief--almost a sob.] Ah--ah--ah----!
Marie, I do not want an answer now. Besides, I must first notify my father. Though he is but a simple farmer, he shall not be slighted-- Marie----