That's better already!—That's good!—[Apparently unintentionally and as if merely to hold the cup, he puts his own hands upon ROSE'S which support it. His mouth at the rim he lowers himself more and more—until he kneels on one knee.] So! Thank you, Rosie! Now you can let me go.
[Making gentle efforts to disengage herself.] Oh, no! Do let me be, Mr. Flamm!
Is that so? You think, then, that I ought to let you be? Now, when at last I've succeeded in catching you! No, lassie,'tis not so easy as that. It won't do and you needn't ask it of me. You needn't wear yourself out! You can't escape me! First of all, look me square in the eyes once more! I haven't changed! I know; I know about—everything! I've had 'a talk with the magistrate Steckel about your having agreed to everything now. I thank God that I'm no longer the official who attends to the matchmaking! Another man takes care of the man-traps now. I even know the date of the funeral … I'll be … I meant the wedding, of course. And in addition, I've talked to myself, too. Rose, 'tis a hard nut! I hope we won't break our teeth on it!
I dare not stand this way with you here.
You must. Whether you may or not—I don't care! In fact I don't give a tinker's damn! If this thing is really decreed in the council of God, as the song has it—I want a dismissal in all due form: I refuse to be just coolly shunted off.—Rose, is there anything in the past for which I need to ask your forgiveness?
[Touched, shakes her head with energy.] Nothin', nothin' at all, Mr. Flamm.
No? Is that honest? [ROSE nods a hearty affirmation.] Well, I'm glad of that, at least! I hoped it would be so. Then at least we can keep something that's harmonious in our memories. Ah, Rose, it was a good, good time….
An' you must go back to your wife….
A good time! And it rushes past … past! And what do we keep of it?
You must be kind, very kind to your wife, Mr. Flamm. She's an angel; 'tis she that saved me!
Come, let's sit down under the pear tree! Very well. But why talk of it? I'm always kind to my wife. Our relations are the very friendliest. Come, Rose! Tell me all about that. What d'you mean by that? Saved? What did she save you from, Rose? I'd naturally like to know that! What was the matter with you? Mother did drop all sorts of hints; but I was no wiser for them.
Mr. Christopher … Mr. Flamm! I can't sit down here. An' it don't matter! It can't lead to anythin'. 'Tis all over an' past now—well—'tis all dead an' gone. I know God will forgive me the sin. An' He won't lay it up against the poor, innocent child neither. He's too merciful to do that!
[Alluding to the hum of the threshing machine which grows louder and louder.] That confounded buzzing all the time!—What did you say, Rose? Sit down just a moment. I won't harm you; I won't even touch you! I give you my word, Rose. Have some confidence in me! I want you to speak out—to tell what's on your heart!
I don't know … there's … there's just nothin' more to say! When once I'm married, you can go an' ask the good missis. Maybe she'll tell you then what was the trouble with me. I haven't told August nothin' either. I know he's good. I'm not afraid o' that. He's soft o' heart an' a good Christian man. An' now: Good-bye, Christie—keep well.—We've a long life ahead of us now an', maybe, we can be reel faithful an' do penance an' work hard an' pay off the debt.
[Holding ROSE'S hand fast in his.] Rose, stay one moment. It's all right and I must be satisfied. I'm not coming to your wedding, God knows! But even if I don't come to your wedding, still I admit that you're right.—But, oh, lass, I've loved you so truly, so honestly…. I can never tell you how much! And it's been, upon my word, as far back as I can think.—You had crept into my heart even in the old days when you were a child and were always so honest … so frank about a thousand little things—so straight and true, however things were. No sneakiness, no subterfuge—whatever the consequences. I've known women enough in Tarant and in Eberswalde at the agricultural college and in the army, and I was usually lucky with them—ridiculously so. And yet I never knew true happiness except through you.
Oh, Christie, I've loved you too!
Why you've been in love with me ever since you were a little thing! Why you used to make eyes at me…. Do you believe you'll ever think of it? And think of the mad, old sinner Flamm?
That I will. I have a pledge….
You mean the ring with the bit of stone? And won't you come to our house some time?
No, that can't be. That would cut a body too sorely to the heart. That wouldn't be nothin' but double sufferin' an' misery! There's got to be an end to it all. I'll bury myself in the house! There's work an' moil enough for two! 'Tis a new life that's beginnin' an' we mustn't look back on the old life. There's nothin' but sorrow an' heart's need on this earth; we has to wait for a better place.
And so this is to be our last farewell, Rose?
Father an' August will be wonderin' now.
And if the little fishes in the river were to stand on their tails in wonderment and the bitterns on the trees did the same—I wouldn't lose one second—now! So it's to be all, all over and done with? And you won't even come to see mother?
[Shaking her head.] I can't look her in the face no more! Maybe some day! Maybe in ten years or so! Maybe all this'll be conquered then. Good-bye, Mr. Christie! Good-bye, Mr. Flamm!
So be it. But, lass, I tell you, if it weren't for mother … now … even now … I wouldn't fool around much … I wouldn't give you much time….
Yes, if it wasn't for that little word "if"! If August wasn't livin', an' father wasn't—who knows what I'd do. I'd like to go out into the wide world.
And I with you, Rose! Well, then we know what's in our hearts.—And now you might give me your hand once more…. [He presses her hand and their glances melt hotly into each other in this last farewell.] So it is. What was to be, must be! I suppose we must leave each other now.
[He turns resolutely and walks away with firm steps and without looking back.
ROSE [Looking after him, mastering herself, with tense volition:] What must be, must be!—'tis well now!—
[She put back the can into her basket and is about to walk in the opposite direction.
STRECKMANN appears.
[With pale, contorted face, creeping and basely hesitant in demeanour.] Rose! Rose Bernd! D'you hear? That was that rascally Flamm again! If ever I gets my hand on him … I'll smash every bone in his carcase!—What's up? What did he want again! But I'm tellin' you this: things don't go that way! I won't bear it! One man is as good as another! I won't let nobody turn me off this way!
What d'you say? Who are you anyhow?
Who am I? Damn it, you know that well enough!
Who are you? Where did I ever see you?
Me? Where you saw me?You?You can look for somebody else to play your monkey tricks on!
What do you want? What are you? What business has you with me?
What business? What I wants? Nothin' much, y'understand? God … don't scream so!
I'll call for all the world to come if you don't get out o' my way this minute!
Think o' the cherry tree! Think o' the crucifix….
Who are you! Lies! Lies! What do you want with me? Either you get away from here straightway … or I'll cry out for some one to come an' help me!
Girl, you've lost your senses!
Then I won't have to drag 'em around with me no longer! Who are you! Lies! You've seen nothin'! I'll cry out! I'll shriek as long as I has breath in my body, if you don't go this very second.
[Frightened.] I'm goin', Rosie. It's all right.
But now! This minute! Y'understand!
Right away! For all I care! An' why not? [He makes a farcical gesture as though avoiding a shower of rain.]
[Half-mad with rage and scorn.] There he runs! The vile scoundrel! When you see a fellow like that from behind, you see the best side o' him! Fy, I says! He's all smooth an' spruce on the outside, an' his innards rotten as dirt. A body could die o' disgust!
[Turns, pale and sinister.] Ah …! An' is that so indeed! You don't never mean it!… 'Tis not very appetisin' the way you makes it out. Why was you so hot after it, then?
I? Hot after you?
Maybe you've forgotten already?
Scoundrel!
Maybe I am.
Scoundrel! Ruffian! Why do you go sniffin' around me now! Who are you? What has I done? You stuck to my heels! You followed me an' baited me an' snapped at me … Rascal … worse'n a dog …
'Twas you that ran after me!
What …?
You came to my house an' made things hot for me!
An' you …
Well, what?
An' you? An' you?
Well, I don't refuse a good thing that's offered.
Streckmann! You has to die some day! D'you hear? Think o' your last hour! You has to stand before your Judge some day! I ran to you in the awful terror o' my heart! An' I begged you for the love o' God not to put nothin' between me an' August. I crept on my knees before you—an' you say, you, I ran after you! What was it truly? You committed a crime—a crime against me! An' that's worse'n a scoundrel's trick! 'Twas a crime—doubly and trebly! An' the Lord'll bring it home to you!
Listen to that! I'll take my chances!
Is that what you say? You'll take your chances in that court? Then a person can spit in your face!
Think o' the cherry tree! Think o' the crucifix!
An' you swore to me that you'd never mention it again! You swore by all that's holy. You put that hand o' yours on the cross, an' by the cross you swore—an' now you're beginnin' to persecute me again! What do you want?
I'm as good as Flamm. An' I don't want no more goin's on between you an' him!
I'll jump into his bed, scoundrel! An' it wouldn't concern you that much!
Well, we'll see what'll be the end of all that!
What? 'Tis violence that you did to me! You confused me! You broke me down! You pounced on me like a wild beast! I know! I tried to get out by the door! An' you took hold an' you rent my bodice an' my skirt! I bled! I might ha' gotten out by the door! Then you shot the latch! That's a crime, a crime! An' I'll denounce….
BERND and AUGUST appear on the scene. After them KLEINERT and GOLISCH and the other field hands.
[Close to STRECKMANN.] What's all this? What did you do to my lass?
[Pulls BERND back and thrusts himself forward.] 'Tis my place, father. What did you do to Rosie?
Nothin'!
[Coming forward again.] What did you do to the lass?
Nothin'!
[Approaching STRECKMANN once more.] You'll tell us now what you did to her!
Nothin'! The devil! I say nothin'!
You'll either be tellin' us now what you did to her—or …
Or? Well, what? What about "or"?—Hands off!… Take your hands from my throat!!
[Trying to separate them.] Hold on, now.
Hands off, I tell you!
You'll have to take the consequences now! Either …
What did you do to the girl?
[Backing, in sudden fright, toward the pear tree, cries out:] Help!
What did you do to the girl? Answer me that! I got to know that!
[He has freed himself and faces STRECKMANN.
[Lifts his arm and strikes AUGUST full in the face.] There's my answer! That's what I did!
Streckmann!
Catch hold o' August! He's fallin'!
[Supports the falling man.] August!
[Paying no attention to AUGUST, but addressing STRECKMANN:] You'll have to account for this! It'll be brought home to you!
What? On account o' that there wench that's common to anybody as wants her….
[Withdraws.
What was that he said …?
[Who is helping the MAID, HAHN, GOLISCH and MRS. GOLISCH support AUGUST.] His eye is out!
Father Bernd, August didn't fare so very well this time….
'Tis an evil wooin' that he has!
What? How? Christ In Heaven! [He goes to him.] August!
My left eye hurts that bad!
Rose, bring some water!
'Tis a misfortune.
Rose, fetch some water! D'you hear me?
That'll mean a good year o' prison!
[Suddenly awakening from a dazed condition.] He says … he says … What's the meanin' o' … Didn't I get a doll o' Christmas….
[To ROSE.] Are you asleep?
… There's no tellin' what … No, lass: it can't be done! Such things don't come to good! … Mebbe a girl can't do without a mother.
The same room in FLAMM'S house as in the second act. It is a Saturday afternoon toward the beginning of September. FLAMM is sitting over his accounts at the roller-top desk. Not far from the door to the hall stands STRECKMANN.
According to this there is due you the sum of twelve pounds, ten shillings, sixpence.
Yes, Mr. Flamm.
What was wrong with the machine? You stopped working one forenoon?
I had a summons to appear in the county court that day. There wasn't nothin' wrong with the machine.
Was that in connection with the trouble about … Keil?
Yes. An' besides that Bernd sued me for slanderin' his daughter.
[Has taken money from a special pigeon hole and counts it out on the large table.] Here are twelve pounds and eleven shillings. So you owe me sixpence.
[Pockets the money and gives FLAMM a small coin.] An' so I'm to tell the head bailiff that by the end o' December you'll be ready for me again.
Yes, I want you for two days. Say, by the beginning of December. I'd like to empty the big barn at that time.
By the beginnin' o' December. All right, Mr. Flamm. Good-bye.
Good-bye, Streckmann. Tell me, though, what's going to be the outcome of that affair?
[Stops and shrugs his shoulders.] It isn't goin' to be much of an outcome for me!
Why?
I suppose I'll have to suffer for it.
What consequences a little thing will sometimes have!—How did it happen that you quarreled?
I can't say as I can remember clearly. That day—I must ha' been off my head—but the truth is I just can't get it straight how it did happen.
The bookbinder is known to be a very peaceable man.
An' yet he's always quarrelin' with me! But the thing's just gone from me.—All I know is that they fell on me just like hungry wolves! I thought they was tryin' to kill me right there! If I hadn't been thinkin' that, my hand wouldn't ha' slipped the way it did.
And the man's eye couldn't—be saved?
No, an' it makes a feller feel sorry. But … there's nothin' to be done.The misfortune isn't on my conscience.
A thing of that kind is bad enough in itself. And when the courts take a hand in it, that only makes it worse. I'm especially sorry for the girl.
Yes; I'm thin an' wasted with the misery of it. It's gone straight to my heart. I tell you, your honour, I don't know what it is to sleep no more. I haven't got nothin' against August really. But, as I said, I just can't account for it.
You ought to go over and see Bernd some day. If you insulted his daughter and weren't in a clear state of mind, you could simply retract what you said.
That's none o' my business. That's his'n. Of course, if he knew what'll come out—he'd take back his accusation. Somebody else ought to tell him. He's not doin' the girl no service by it. That's how things is. Good-bye, your honour.
Good-bye.
STRECKMANN leaves the room.
FLAMM [Excitedly, to himself.] If one could only get at the throat of a creature like that!
MRS. FLAMM is wheeled in by a maid from FLAMM'S den.
What are you muttering about again?—[At a gesture from her the maid retires.]—Did you have any annoyance?
Oh, yes; a little.
Wasn't that Streckmann?
The handsome Streckmann. Yes, that was the handsome Streckmann.
How is that affair getting on now, Christie? Did you talk about Keil?
[Scribbling.] Oh, pshaw! My head is full of figures.
Do I disturb you, Christie?
No; only you must keep quiet.
If I can't do anything else—you can be sure I can do that.
[Silence.]
[Bursting out.] I'll be damned and double damned! There are times when one would like to take a gun and simply shoot down a scoundrel like that! There'd be no trouble about taking that on one's conscience.
But, Christie, you really frighten me.
It isn't my fault! I'm frightened myself!—I tell you, mother, that man is so low, so rotten with evil … I tell you … at least he has spells when he's that way … that a man like myself, who is no saint either, feels as if his very bowels were turning in him! There's no end to that kind of corruption. A man may think he knows life inside out, that he's digested some pretty tough bits himself—but things like that—crimes—I tell you, one never gets beyond the elements in that kind of knowledge!
What has roused you so again?
[Writing again.] Oh, I'm only speaking in general.
I thought it was somehow connected with Streckmann. Because, Christie, I can't rid myself of the thought of that affair. And when it's convenient to you some day, I'd like to have a good talk with you about it!
With me? How does Streckmann concern me?
Not Streckmann exactly—not the man. But surely old Bernd and Rose. As far as the girl is concerned, 'tis bitter earnest for her—the whole thing! And if I weren't tied down here as I am, I would have gone over to see her long ago. She's never seen here any more.
You … you want to go and see Rose? What do you want of her?
But, don't you see, Christie—you understand that—she isn't exactly the first comer! I ought to see about setting her affairs to rights a bit!
Ah well, mother! Do what you think is your duty. I hardly think that you'll accomplish much for the girl.
How is that, Christie? What do you mean?
One shouldn't mix up into other people's affairs. All you get for your pains is ingratitude and worry.
Even so! We can bear the worry, an' ingratitude—that's what you expect in this world. An' as far as Rose Bernd is concerned, I always felt as if she were more than half my own child. You see, Christie, as far as I can think back—when father was still chief forester—her mother already came to wash for us. Afterward, in the churchyard, at our little Kurt's grave—I see the girl standin' as clear as if it was to-day, even though I was myself more dead than alive. Except you an' me, I can tell you that, nobody was as inconsolable as the girl.
Do as you please, as far as I'm concerned! But what are your intentions exactly? I can't think what you're after, child!
First, I'm going to be real curious now.
What about?
Oh, about nothing you can describe exactly! You know, usually, I don't interfere in your affairs. But now … I'd like real well to know … what's come over you this while past?
Over me? I thought you were talking about Rose Bernd.
But now I'm talking about you, you see.
You can spare yourself the trouble, mother. My affairs are no concern of yours.
You say that! 'Tis easily said. But if a person sits still as I have to do and sees a man growing more an' more restless, an' unable to sleep o' nights, an' hears him sighin' an' sighin', and that man happens to be your own husband—why, you have all kinds of thoughts come over you!
Now, mother, you've gone off your head entirely. You seem to want to make me look utterly foolish!Isigh! Am I such an imbecile? I'm not a lovelorn swain.
No, Christie, you can't escape me that way!
Mother, what are you trying to do? Do you want, simply, to be tiresome, to bore me? Eh? Or make the house too disagreeable to stay in? Is that your intention? If so, you're going about it the best way possible.
I don't care what you say; you're keeping something secret!
[Shrugging his shoulders.] Do you think so?—Well, perhaps Iamkeeping something from you! Suppose it is so, mother…. You know me…. You know my nature in that respect…. The whole world could turn upside down and not get that much [he snaps his fingers] out of me! As for annoyance … everyone has his share of it in this world! Yesterday I had to dismiss one of the brewers; day before yesterday I had to send a distiller to the devil. And, all in all, apart from such incidents, the kind of life one has to live here is really flat and unprofitable enough to make any decent individual as cross as two sticks.
Why don't you seek company? Drive in to town!
Oh, yes, to sit in the inn playing at cards with a crowd of Philistines or to be stilted with his honour, the prefect of the county! God forbid! I have enough of that nonsense! It couldn't tempt me out of the house! If it weren't for the bit of hunting a man could do—if one couldn't shoulder one's gun occasionally, one would be tempted to run away to sea.
Well, you see! There you are! That's what I say! You've just changed entirely! Till two, three months ago, you was as merry as the day's long; you shot birds an' stuffed them, increased your botanical collection, hunted birds' eggs—and sang the livelong day! 'Twas a joy to see you! An' now, suddenly, you're like another person.
If only we had been able to keep Kurt!
How would it be if we adopted a child?
All of a sudden? No, mother. I don't care about it now. Before, you couldn't make up your mind to it; now I've passed that stage too.
'Tis easily said: Take a child into the house! First of all it seemed to me like betraying Kurt … yes, like a regular betrayal … that's what the very thought of It seemed to me. I felt—how shall I say it?—as if we were putting the child away from us utterly—out of the house, out of his little room an' his little bed, an', last of all, out of our hearts.—But the main thing was this: Where can you get a child in whom you can hope to have some joy?—But let that rest where it is. Let's go back to Rose once more!—Do you know how it is with her, Christopher?
Oh, well! Of course; why not? Streckmann has cast a slur upon her conduct and old Bernd won't suffer that! 'Tis folly, to be sure, to bring suit in such a matter.—Because it is the woman who has to bear the brunt of it in the end.
I wrote a couple of letters to Rose and asked the lass to come here. In her situation, Christopher, she may really not know what to do nor where to turn.
Why do you think so?
Because Streckmann is right!
[Taken aback and with a show of stupidity.] What, mother? You must express yourself more clearly.
Now, Christie, don't let your temper get the better of you again! I've kept the truth from you till now because I know you're a bit harsh in such matters. You remember the little maid that you put straight out o' the house, and the trunk-maker to whom you gave a beating! Now this lass o' ours made a confession to me long ago—maybe eight weeks. An' we have to consider that 'tis not only Rose that's to be considered now, but … a second being … the one that's on the way. Did you understand me? Did you?
[With self-repression.] No! Not entirely, mother, I must say frankly. I've got a kind of a … just to-day … it comes over me … the blood, you know … it seems to go to my head suddenly, once in a while. It's like a … it's horrible, too … like an attack of dizziness! I suppose I'll have to … at least, I think I'll have to take the air a bit. But it's nothing of importance, mother. So don't worry.
[Looking at him through her spectacles.] And where do you want to go with your cartridge belt?
Nowhere! What did I want to do with the cartridge belt? [He hurls the belt aside which he has involuntarily picked up.] One learns nothing … is kept in the dark about everything! And then a point comes where one suddenly feels blind and stupid … and a stranger … an utter stranger in this world.
[Suspiciously.] Will you tell me, Christie, the meanin' of all this?
It hasn't any, mother—not the slightest … none at all, in fact. And I'm quite clear in my head again, too—quite! Only now and then a feeling comes over me, a kind of terror, all of a sudden, I don't know how … and I feel as if there were no solid footing under me any longer, and as if I were going to crash through and break my neck.
'Tis strange things you are saying to-day, Christie. [A knocking is heard at the door.] Who's knocking there? Come in!
[Still behind the scenes.] 'Tis only me, Mrs. Flamm.
FLAMM withdraws rapidly into his den.
Oh, 'tis you, Mr. Keil. Just step right in.
AUGUST KEIL appears on the scene. He is paler than formerly, more emaciated and wears dark glasses. His left eye is hidden by a black patch.
I have come, Mrs. Flamm, to bring Rose's excuses to you. Good-day, Mrs.Flamm.
Good-day to you, Mr. Keil.
My betrothed had to go to the county court to-day, or she would ha' come herself. But she'll be comin' in this evenin'.
I'm real pleased to get a chance to see you. How are you getting on? Sit down.
God's ways are mysterious! An' when His hand rests heavy on us, we mustn't complain. On the contrary, we must rejoice. An' I tell you, Mrs. Flamm, that's almost the way I'm feelin' nowadays. I'm content. The worse things gets, the gladder I am. 'Tis layin' up more an' more treasures in heaven.
[Taking a deep and difficult breath.] I trust you are right, Mr. Keil.—Did Rose get my letters?
She gave them to me to read. An' I told her, it wouldn't do—that she'd have to go to see you now.
I must tell you, Keil, I'm surprised that, after all these recent happenin's, she never once found her way here. She knows that she'll find sympathy here.
She's been reel afraid o' people recently. An', Mrs. Flamm, if you'll permit me to say so, you mustn't take it ill. First of all she had her hands full with tendin' to me. I was so in need o' care—an' she did a good work by me! An' then, since that man slandered her so terrible, she scarce dared go out o' the room.
I don't take offence, Keil. Oh, no! But how is she otherwise? An' what does she do?
'Tis hard to say, that's certain. To-day, for instance, when she had to go to court at eleven o'clock—'twas a regular dance she led us! She talked so strange, Mrs. Flamm, 'twas enough to scare a body out o' his wits.—First of all she didn't want to be goin' at all; next she thought she wanted to take me with her. In the end she was gone like a flash an' cried out to me that I wasn't to follow. Times she kept weepin' all day!—Naturally, a man has his thoughts.
What kind o' thoughts?
About several things.—Firstly, this mishap that came to me! She spoke of it to me many a time. That's cut her straight to the heart! An' about father Bernd an' that he has taken that business o' Streckmann so serious.
We're all alone here, Mr. Keil. Why shouldn't we speak openly for once. Did it never occur to you … I mean about this Streckmann matter … to you or, maybe to father Bernd—that there might be some truth in it?
I don't let myself have no thoughts about that.
That's right! I don't blame you for that in the least. There are times in life when one can't do better than stick one's head in the sand like an ostrich. But that isn't right for a father!
Well, Mrs. Flamm, as far as old Bernd goes, his mind is as far as the sky from any suspicion that somethin' mightn't be quite right. His conviction's as firm as a rock. He'd let you chop off his hands for it. Nobody wouldn't believe how strictly he thinks about things o' that kind. His honour was there too an' tried to persuade him to withdraw his charge….
[Excitedly.] Who was there?
His honour, Mr. Flamm.
My husband?
Yes! He talked to him a long time. You see, as for me—I've lost an eye, to be sure—but I don't care to have Streckmann punished. Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. But father—he can't be persuaded to think peaceably about this matter. Ask anythin' o' me, says he, but not that!
You say my husband went to see old Bernd?
Yes, that time he got the summons.
What kind o' summons was that?
To appear before the examining magistrate.
[With growing excitement.] Who? Old Bernd?
No; Mr. Flamm.
Was my husband examined too? What did he have to do with the affair?
Yes, he was examined too.
[Deeply affected.] Is that so? That's news to me! I didn't know about that. Nor that Christie went to see old Bernd!… I wonder where my smellin' bottle is?—No, August, you might as well go home now. I'm a bit … I don't know what to call it! An' any special advice I can't give you, the way it all turns out. There's something that's gone through an' through me. Go home an' wait to see how everything goes. But if you love the lass truly, then … look at me: I could tell you a tale! If a body is made that way: whether 'tis a man that the women run after, or a woman that all the men are mad about—then there's nothin' to do but just to suffer an' suffer and be patient!—I've lived that way twelve long years. [She pats her hand to her eyes and peers through her fingers.] An' if I want to see things at all, I have to see them from behind my hands.
I can't never believe that, Mrs. Flamm.
Whether you believe me or not. Life don't ask us if we want to believe things. An' I feel exactly like you: I can't hardly realise it either. But we have to see how we can reconcile ourselves to it—I made a promise to Rose! 'Tis easy promisin' an' hard keepin' the promise sometimes in this world. But I'll do the best in my power.—Good-bye—I can't expect you to … God must take pity on us. That's all.
AUGUST, deeply moved, grasps the hand which MRS. FLAMM offers him and withdraws in silence.
MRS. FLAMM leans her head far back and, lost in thought, looks up. She sighs twice deeply and with difficulty. FLAMM enters, very pale, looks sidewise at his wife and begins to whistle softly. He opens the book case and pretends to be eagerly hunting for something._
Yes, yes; there it is—you whistle everything down the wind! But this … this … I wouldn't ha' thought you capable of.
FLAMM swings around, falls silent, and looks straight at her. He lifts both hands slightly and shrugs his shoulders very high. Then, he relaxes all his muscles and gazes simply and without embarrassment—thoughtfully rather than shamefacedly—at the floor.
You men take these things very lightly! What's to happen now?
[Repeating the same gesture but less pronouncedly.] That's what I don't know.—I want to be quite calm now. I should like to tell you how that came about. It may be that you will be able to judge me less harshly then. If not … why, then I should be very sorry for myself.
I don't see how a body can fail to judge such recklessness harshly.
Recklessness? I don't think that it was mere recklessness. What would you rather have it be, mother—recklessness, or something more serious?
To destroy the future of just this girl, for whom we have to bear all the responsibility! We made her come to the house! An' she an' her people had blind confidence in us! 'Tis enough to make one perish o' shame! It looks as if one had … that … in view!
Are you done, mother?
Far from it!
Well, then I'll have to wait a bit longer.
Christie, what did I tell you that day when you out with it an' said you wanted to marry me?
What was it?
I'm much too old for you. A woman can be sixteen years younger than her husband, but not three or four years older. I wish you had listened to me then!
Isn't it real idle to dish up those old stories now? Haven't we something more important to do?—I may be wrong, but it seems to me that we have, mother.—I've had no notion until to-day of what Rose means to me. Otherwise I'd have acted very differently, of course. Now it's got to be seen if there's anything that can be retrieved. And for that very reason, mother, I was going to beg you not to be petty, and I wanted first of all to try to see whether you could gain some comprehension of what really happened. Up to the moment when it was agreed that that tottery manikin was to marry Rose—our relations were strictly honourable. But when that marriage was determined on—it was all over.—It may be that my ideas are becoming confused. I had seen the girl grow up … some of our love for little Kurt clung to her. First of all I wanted to protect her from misfortune, and finally, one day, all of a sudden, the way such things happen … even old Plato has described that correctly in the passage in Phaedrus about the two horses:—the bad horse ran away with me and then … then the sea burst in and the dykes crashed down.
'Tis a real interesting story that you've told me, an' even tricked out with learned allusions. An' when you men do that—you think there's no more to say. A poor woman can look out then to see how to get even! Maybe you did it all just to make Rose happy, an' sacrificed yourself into the bargain … There's no excuse for such things!
Very well, mother. Then we'll adjourn the session. Remember though, that when Kurt died, I couldn't bear to see the girl around the house. Who kept her and persuaded her to come back?
Because I didn't want life to become so dead around us. I didn't keep her for my sake.
And I have said nothing for your sake.
Every tear is wasted that one might shed for you an' your kind. But you can spare me your speeches, Flamm.
The MAID brings in the afternoon coffee.
Rose Bernd's out in the kitchen.
Come, girl! Wheel me out! [To FLAMM.] You can help shove me aside. Somewhere in the world there'll be a little room for me! I won't be in the way. You can call her in when I'm gone.
[Sternly, to the MAID.] Tell the girl to wait for a moment. [The MAID leaves the room.] Mother, you have to say a word to her! I can't…. My hands are tied.
An' what am I to say to her, Flamm?
Mother, you know that better than I! You know very well … you spoke of it yourself…. For heaven's sake, don't be petty at this moment! She mustn't go from our door in any such fashion!
I can't clean her boots, Flamm!
And I don't want you to! It isn't a question of that! But you sent for her yourself.—You can't change so completely in a moment as to forget all compassion and sympathy. What did you say to me a while ago? And if the lass goes to the devil … you know I'm not such a scoundrel that I'd care to drag out my life any longer. It's one thing or the other—don't forget that!
Well, Christie … you men are not worth it, to be sure. An' yet, in the end, what is a body to do?—The heart bleeds! 'Tis our own fault. Why does a woman deceive herself again an' again, when she's old enough an' sensible enough to know better! An' don't deceive yourself about this thing either, Christie…. I'm willin'! I can do it! I'll talk to her! Not for your sake, but because it's right. But don't imagine that I can make whole what you've broken.—You men are like children in that respect!
The MAID comes back.
She don't want to wait no more!
Send her in!
The MAID withdraws again.
Be sensible, mother! On my word of honour….
You needn't give it! You needn't break it!
FLAMM leaves the room. MRS. FLAMM sighs and picks up her crochet work again. Thereupon ROSE BERND enters.
[Showily dressed in her Sunday clothes. Her features are peaked and there is a feverish gleam in her eyes.] Good-day, madam.
Good-day! Sit down. Well, Rose, I've asked you to come here … I suppose you've kept in mind what we talked about that time. There's many a thing that's changed since then!… In many respects, anyhow! But that made me want to talk to you all the more. That day, to be sure, you said I couldn't help you, that you wanted to fight it all out alone! An' to-day a good bit has grown clear to me—your strange behaviour that time, an' your unwillingness to let me help you.—But I don't see how you're goin' to get along all alone. Come, drink a cup o' coffee. [ROSE sits down on the edge of a chair by the table.] August was here to see me a while ago. If I had been in your shoes, lass, I'd have risked it long ago an' told him the truth. [Looking sharply at her.] But now, the way things has gone—I can't even advise you to do it! Isn't that true?
Oh, but why, madam?
'Tis true, the older a person gets, the less can she understand mankind an' their ways. We've all come into the world the same way, but there's no mention to be made o' that! From the Emperor an' the archbishop down to the stable boy—they've all gotten their bit o' life one way … one way … an' 'tis the one thing they can't besmirch enough. An' if the stork but flies past the chimney-top—the confusion of people is great. Then they run away in every direction. A guest like that is never welcome!
Oh, madam, all that would ha' been straightened up this long time, if it hadn't ha' been for this criminal an' scoundrel here … this liar … this Streckmann …
No, girl. I don't understand that. How can you bear to say that the man lies? 'Tis your shape that almost tells the story now!
He lies! He lies! That's all I know.
But in what respect does he lie?
In every respeck an' in every way!
I don't believe you've really thought it all out! Do you remember who I am? Think, lass, think! In the first place you confessed it all to me, and furthermore, I know more than what you said: I know all that you didn't say.
[Shivering with nervousness but obdurate.] An' if you was to kill me, I couldn't say what I don't know.
Is that so? Oh! Is that your policy now? I must say I didn't take you for a girl of that kind! It comes over me unexpectedly! I hope you talked a little plainer than that when you were questioned in court.
I said just the same thing there that I'm tellin' you.
Girl, come to your senses! You're talking dreadful folly! People don't lie that way before the Judge! Listen to what I'm tellin' you! Drink a bit o' coffee, an' don't be frightened! Nobody's pursuing you, an' I won't eat you up either!—You haven't acted very well toward me: no one could say that you had! You might at least have told me the truth that day; maybe an easier way out could ha' been found. 'Tis a hard matter now! An' yet, we won't be idle, an' even to-day, maybe, some way o' savin' you can be found! Some way it may be possible yet! Well then!… An' especially … this much is certain … an' you can trust to that surely … you shan't, either of you, ever suffer any need in this world! Even if your father abandons you and August, maybe, goes his own way, I'll provide for you an' for your child.
I don't hardly know what you mean, madam!
Well, girl, then I'll tell you straight out! If you don't know that an' have forgotten it, then it's simply because you have a bad conscience! Then you've been guilty of something else! An', if youhasanother secret, it's connected with nobody but with Streckmann. Then, he's the fellow that's bringin' trouble upon you!
[Violently.] No, how can you think such a thing o' me! You say that … oh, for the good Lord's sake … how has I deserved it o' you!… If only my little Kurt … my dear little fellow …
[She wrings her hands hysterically in front of the child's picture.
Rose, let that be, I beg o' you! It may be that you've deserved well o' me in other days. We're not arguin' about that now! But you're so changed, so … I can never understand how you've come to change so!
Why didn't my little mother take me to herself! She said she would when she died.
Come to your senses, lass. You're alive. What is your trouble?
It has nothin' to do with Streckmann! That man has lied his soul black.
What did he lie about? Did he make his statements under oath?
Oath or no oath! I says he lies, lies …
An' did you have to take an oath too?
I don't know.—I'm not such a wicked lass … If that was true,'twould be a bitter crime!… An' that August lost his eye … it wasn't I that was the cause o' it. The pains that poor man had to suffer … they follows me day an' night. An' he might well despise me if they didn't. But you try an' work an' pray to save somethin' from the flames o' the world … an' men comes an' they breaks your strength.
FLAMM enters in intense excitement.
Who is breaking your strength? Look at mother here! On the contrary, we want to save you!
'Tis too late now! It can't be done no more.
What does that mean?
Nothin'!—I can't wait no longer. Good-bye, I'll go my ways.
Here you stay! Don't move from this spot! I was at the door and heard everything, and now I want to know the whole truth.
But I'm tellin' you the truth!
About Streckmann too?
There wasn't nothin' between us. He lies!
Does he say that there was something between you?
I say nothin' but that he lies!
Did he swear to that lie?
ROSE is silent.
[Regards ROSE long and searchingly. Then:] Well, mother, think as charitably of me as you can. Try to forgive me as much as possible. I know with the utmost certainty that that matter doesn't concern me in the least any longer! I simply laugh at it! I snap my fingers at it.
[To ROSE.] Did you deny everything?
…
I spoke the truth in court, of course. Streckmann doesn't lie at such times neither. Perjury is a penitentiary crime—a man doesn't lie under such circumstances!
An' didn't you tell the truth, girl? You lied when you were under oath, maybe?—Haven't you any idea what that means an' what you've done? How did you happen to do that? How could you think o' such a thing?
[Cries out brokenly.] I was so ashamed!
But Rose …
Every word is wasted! Why did you lie to the judge?
I was ashamed, I tell ye!… I was ashamed!
And I? And mother? And August? Why did you cheat us all? And you probably cheated Streckmann in the end too? And I wonder with whom else you carried on!… Yes, oh, yes; you have a very honest face. But you did right to be ashamed!
He baited me an' he hunted me down like a dog!
[Laughing.] Oh, well, that's what you women make of us—dogs. This man to-day; that man to-morrow! 'Tis bitter enough to think! You can do what you please now; follow what ways you want to!—If I so much as raise a finger in this affair again, it'll be to take a rope and beat it about my ass's ears until I can't see out of my eyes!
ROSE stares at FLAMM in wide-eyed horror.
What I said, Rose, stands for all that! You two'll always be provided for.
[Whispering mechanically.] I was so ashamed! I was so ashamed!
Do you hear what I say, Rose?—[ROSEhurries out.] The girl's gone!—'Tis enough to make one pray for an angel to come down….
[Stricken to the heart, breaks out in repressed sobbing.] God forgive me, mother, but … I can't help it.