[Bringing in a lighted lamp.] Miss Marie! Miss Marie!--What is she staring at all the time? Miss Marie!
[From the window.] What do you want?
Shall I lay the supper?
Not yet.
It's half-past seven.
And he left at half-past six. The performance must have been over long ago. She will not come.
Who? Is any one coming to supper?
No, no, no. [AsTheresais going.] Theresa! do you suppose you could pick a couple of bouquets in the garden?
I might try, but I couldn't tell what I was getting. It's almost pitch dark.
Yes, yes. You may go.
Shall I try to pick the flowers, or--
No--thank you, no.
[Aside.] What is the matter with her?
[Exit.
EnterMrs. Schwartze.
Well, Marie, whatever happens I've put on my other cap,--the one with the ribbons. Is it straight?
Yes, mamma dear, very nice.
Hasn't Aunt Frankie come up yet?
No.
Heavens! I forgot the two gentlemen entirely. And papa has locked himself up, and will hear nothing and see nothing. Oh, if the General should be offended! It is our most aristocratic connection. That would be a misfortune indeed.
Oh, mamma dear, when he hears what is the matter!
Yes, yes, I know. And the pastor has not come either. Marie, one minute. If she should ask you--
Who?
Why, Magda.
Magda!
What am I to you, Marie? They call it stepmother. I'm more than that, am I not?
Certainly, mamma dear.
You see, then I could not get used to having two such big daughters. But it's all right now? [Marienods.] And we do love each other?
Very much, mamma dear. [She kisses her.]EnterFranziska.
[Irritably.] One's always disturbing these affecting tableaux!
What did the General say?
The General? H'm, he was angry enough. "To leave us alone for an hour and a half, that's nice courtesy," he said. And I think myself--
[ToMarie,very sadly.] There, what did I tell you?
Well, this time I smoothed the thing over, so that the gentlemen went away in a good humor.
Really! Oh, I thank you, Frankie, a thousand times.
Yes, I'm good enough to run errands and play the scullery-maid; but when it comes to being one of the family, an old aunt with her heart full of love--
Who has offended you, Aunt Frankie?
Yes, that's very fine. But a little while ago, when I was so upset, no one troubled himself about me one bit. To guarantee an income so that our little miss can be married, I am--
Aunt Frankie!
But as long as I live--
What are you talking about?
We know, we two. And to-day. Who brought back your daughter to you?
But she hasn't yet--
I brought back your daughter to you. And who thanks me for it? And who recognizes that I have pardoned her? For I have pardoned her [weeping] everything!
EnterTheresa,in great excitement.
What is it, Theresa?
I am so frightened--
What's the matter?
The carriage--
What carriage?
The same as last night.
Is it there? Is it there? [Runs to the window.] Mamma, mamma, come, she's there--the carriage--
Why, thereisa carriage.
[Beating on the door at the left.] Papa, papa! Come quickly, be merciful, come quickly!
[ExitTheresaat a sign fromFranziska.]EnterSchwartze.
What's the matter?
Magda--the carriage!
Good God! [Hurries to the window.]
Look--look! She's standing up! She's trying to look into the windows. [Clapping her hands.] Papa! papa!
What is it you have to say?
[Frightened.] I? Nothing.
Perhaps you were going to say, "She stood before your door and you would not open it." Eh?
Yes, yes.
Do you hear, wife? She stands before our door. Shall we--in spite of our pride--shall we call her in?
Oh, Leopold, since everybody thinks so much of her--
Ah! She's driving away!
No, no, she's not. Come, we will bring her to you.
Yes, yes, bring her to me, too.
[ExitSchwartzeandMrs. Schwartze.
She's sitting back again! If only the carriage doesn't-- What a long time they are! They must have got downstairs. [Frightened, almost beside herself.] There--there--oh, don't go away! Magda! Magda!
Don't scream so! What's the matter?
She's looking round. She's seen them. She's stopping. She's bursting open the door. She's jumped out! Now! Now! She's in father's arms! [Covers her face and sobs.] Oh, Aunt Frankie! Aunt Frankie!
What else could a father do? Since I have forgiven her, he could not--he could not hold out--
She's between father and mother. Oh, how grand she is! She's coming--she's coming. What a homely little thing I shall seem beside her! Oh, I am so frightened! [Leans against the wall, left. A pause. Voices ofMagdaand her parents are heard outside.]
EnterMagda,brilliantly dressed, with a large mantle, and a Spanish veil on her head. She embracesMarie.
My puss! My little one! How my little one has grown! My pet--my--[kissing her passionately]. But what's the matter? You're dizzy. Come, sit down. No, no, please sit down. Now. Yes, you must. [PlacesMariein an arm-chair.] Dear little hands, dear little hands! [Kneels before her, kissing and stroking her hands.] But they're rough and red, and my darling is pale. There are rings round her eyes.
[Lays his hand lightly on her shoulder.] Magda, we are here too.
Yes, yes--I'm entirely--[Standing up, affectionately.] Dear old papa! How white you have become! Dear papa! [Taking his hand.] But what's the matter with your hand? It's trembling.
Nothing, my child. Don't ask about it.
H'm--and you've grown handsomer with the years. I can't look at you enough. I shall be very proud with such a handsome papa. But she must get better [indicatingMarie]. She's as white as milk. Do you take iron? Eh? You must take iron? [tenderly]. Just to think that I am at home! It seems like a fairy tale. It was a capital idea of yours to call me back without any explanations--senza complimenti--for we've outgrown those silly misunderstandings long ago.
Misunderstandings!
I came near driving away. Would not that have been bad of me? But you must acknowledge, I have scratched at the door--very quietly, very modestly--like Lady when she had run away. Where is Lady? Her place is empty. [Whistles.]
Why, she's been dead seven years!
Ah,povera bestia--yes, I forgot. And, mamma!--yes, mamma! I haven't looked at you yet. How pretty you've grown! You used to have an air of belated youth about you that was not becoming. But now you're a dear, old little mother. One wants to lay one's head quietly in your lap. I will, too. It'll do me good. Ah, what fine quarrels we used to have! I was a contrary little beast. And you held up your end. But now we'll smoke the pipe of peace, sha'n't we?
You're joking with me, Magda.
Sha'n't I? Mayn't I? There, there,--pure love, pure love. We will have nothing but love. We shall be the best of friends.
[Who has for a long time tried to attract attention.] And we also, eh, my dear Magda?
Tiens, tiens! [Examines her critically through her lorgnette.] Same as ever. Always active? Always, as of old, the centre of the family?
Oh--
Well, give us your hand! There. I never could bear you, and shall never learn, I'm afraid. That runs in the blood, doesn't it?
I have already forgiven you.
Really! Such magnanimity! I hardly-- Do you really forgive everything? From top to bottom? Even that you stirred up my mother against me before she ever came into the house? That you made my father--[Puts her hand to her lips.]Meglio tacere! Meglio tacere!
[Interrupting.] For Heaven's sake, Magda!
Yes, my darling--nothing, not a word.
She has a fine presence!
And now let me look about me! Ah, everything's just the same. Not a speck of dust has moved.
I hope, Magda, that you won't find any specks of dust.
I'm sure of that,mammina. That wasn't what I meant. Twelve years! Without a trace! Have I dreamed all that comes between?
You will have a great deal to tell us, Magda.
[Starting.] What? Well, we will see, we will see. Now I should like-- What would I like? I must sit still for a moment. It all comes over me so. When I think-- From that door to the window, from this table to the old bureau,--that was once my world.
A world, my child, which one never outgrows, which one never should outgrow--you have always held to that?
What do you mean? And what a face you make over it! Yes, yes, though--that question came at the right time. I have been a fool! I have been a fool! My dear old papa, this happiness will be short.
Why?
What do you think of me? Do you think I am as free as I appear? I'm a weary, worn-out drudge who is only fortunate when the lash is on her back.
Whose drudge? What lash?
That I can't explain, dear father. You don't know my life. You probably wouldn't understand it, either. Every day, every hour has its work laid out. Ah, well, now I must go back to the hotel.
No, Magda, no.
Yes, puss, yes. There have been six or seven men there for ever so long, waiting for an audience. But I tell you what, I must have you to-night. Can't you sleep with me?
Of course. That is--what do you mean--sleep where?
At the hotel.
What? You won't stay! You'll put such an affront on us?
What are you thinking of? I have a whole retinue with me.
Your father's house is the place for this retinue.
I don't know. It is rather lively. First, there's Bobo, my parrot, a darling,--he wouldn't be bad; then my pet maid, Giulietta, a little demon,--I can't live without her; then my courier,--he's a tyrant, and the terror of landlords; and then we mustn't forget my teacher.
He's a very old man, I hope.
No, he's a very young man.
[After a silence.] Then you must have forgotten your--yourdame d'honneur.
Whatdame d'honneur?
You can't travel about from country to country with a young man without--
Ah! does that disquiet you? I can,--be quite easy,--I can. In my world we don't trouble ourselves about such things.
What world is that?
The world I rule, father dear. I have no other. There, whatever I do is right because I do it.
That is an enviable position. But you are still young. There must be cases when some direction--in short, whose advice do you follow in your transactions?
There is no one who has the right to advise me, papa dear.
Well, my child, from this hour your old father claims that right. Theresa! [Theresaanswers from outside.] Go to the German House and bring the baggage--
[Entreatingly.] Pardon, father dear, you forget that my orders are necessary.
What?--Yes, yes, I forgot. Do what you will, my daughter.
Magda--oh, Magda!
[Taking her mantle.] Be patient, darling. We'll have a talk soon all to our two selves. And you'll all come to breakfast with me, won't you? We can have a good chat and love each other!--so much!
We--breakfast with you?
I want to have you all under my roof.
The roof of a hotel?
Yes, papa dear, I have no other home.
And this?
Don't you see how you've hurt him?
Enter thePastor.He stops, and seems to control strong emotion.Magdaexamines him with her lorgnette.
He too! Let me see.
Just think. She is going away again!
I don't know whether I am known to the lady.
[Mockingly.] You're too modest, Pastor. And now since I have seen you all--[Puts on her mantle.]
[Quickly, aside.] You must keep her.
I? If you are powerless, how can I--
Try!
[Constraining himself, with embarrassment.] Pardon me, madam, it seems very officious of me--if I--will you give me a few moments' interview?
What have we two to say to each other, my dear pastor?
Oh, do, please! He knows best about everything.
[Ironically.] Indeed!
I may never ask you for anything again, but do this one thing for my sake!
[Patting her and looking from one to the other.] Well, the child asks so prettily. Pastor, I am at your service. [Mariethanks her silently.]
[Aside toMrs. Schwartze.] Now he'll give her a lecture. Come.
You were once the cause of my sending her from my home. To-day you must see to it that she remains. [Heffterdingtexpresses doubt.]
Marie!
Yes, papa.
[ExitSchwartze,Mrs. Schwartze,Franziska,andMarie.
[Sits down and examines him through her lorgnette.] So this is the man who undertakes by a five minutes' interview entirely and absolutely to break my will. That they believe in your ability to do it shows me that you are a king in your own dominions. I make obeisance. And now let me see you ply your arts.
I understand no arts, madam, and would avail myself of none. If they put some trust in me here, it is because they know that I seek nothing for myself.
[Ironically.] That has always been the case?
No, madam. I had, once in my life, a strong, an intense desire. It was to have you for my wife. I need only look at you to see that I was presumptuous. Since then I have put the wish away from me.
Ah, Pastor, I believe you're paying court to me now.
Madam, if it were not discourteous--
Oh, then even a shepherd of souls may be discourteous!
I should commiserate you on the atmosphere which has surrounded you.
[With mocking superiority.] Really? What do you know about my atmosphere?
It seems to me that it has made you forget that serious men are to be taken seriously.
Ah! [Rising.] Well, then I will take you seriously; and I will tell you that you have always been unbearable to me, with your well-acted simplicity, your droning mildness, your-- Since, however, you condescended to cast your eyes on my worthlessness and drove me from home with your suit,--since then, I have hated you.
It seems to me that according to this I was the foundation of your greatness.
You're right there. Here I was parched and stifled. No, no, I don't hate you. Why should I hate you so much? It's all so far, so very far, behind me. If you only knew how far! You have sat here day after day in this heavy close air, reeking of lavender, tobacco, and cough mixture, while I have felt the storm breaking about my head. Pastor, if you had a suspicion of what life really is,--of the trial of strength, of the taste of guilt, of conquest, and of pleasure,--you would find yourself very comical with your clerical shop-talk. Ha, ha, ha! Pardon me, I don't believe such a laugh has rung through this respectable house for twelve years; for there's no one here who knows how to laugh. Is there, eh?
No, I fear not.
Fear, you say. That sounds as though you deprecated it. But don't you hate laughter?
Most of us cannot laugh, madam.
And to those who could, laughter is sin. You might laugh yourself. What have you to be solemn about? You need not look at the world with this funereal mien. Surely you have a little blond wife at home who knits industriously, and half a dozen curly heads around her, of course. It's always so in parsonages.
I have remained single, madam.