VON WEHRHAHN,Justice.
KRUEGER,Capitalist in a small way.
PHILIP,his son.
MRS. WOLFF,Washerwoman.
JULIUS WOLFF,her husband.
LEONTINE, ADELAIDE,her daughters.
WULKOW,Lighterman.
GLASENAPP,Clerk in the Justice's court.
MITTELDORF,Constable.
A small, blue-tinted kitchen with low ceiling; a window at the left; at the right a door of rough boards leading out into the open; in the rear mall an empty casing from which the door has been lifted.—In the left corner a flat oven, above which hang kitchen utensils in a wooden frame; in the right corner oars and other boating implements. Rough, stubby pieces of hewn wood lie in a heap under the window. An old kitchen bench, several stools, etc.—Through the empty casing in the rear a second room is visible. In it stands a high, neatly, made bed; above it hang cheap photographs in still cheaper frames, small chromolithographs, etc. A chair of soft mood stands with its back against the bed.—It is winter and moonlight. On the oven a tallow-candle is burning in a candle-stick of tin. LEONTINE WOLFF has fallen asleep on a stool by the oven and rests her head and arms on it. She is a pretty, fair girl of seventeen in the working garb of a domestic servant. A woolen shawl is tied over her cotton jacket.—For several seconds there is silence. Then someone is heard trying to unlock the door from without. But the key is in the lock and a knocking follows.
[Unseen, from without.] Adelaide! Adelaide! [There is no answer and a loud knocking is heard at the window.] Are you goin' to open or not?
[Drowsily.] No, no, I'm not goin' to be abused that way!
Open, girl, or I'll come in through the window!
[She raps violently at the panes.
[Waking up.] Oh, it's you, mama! I'm coming now!
[She unlocks the door from within.
[Without laying down a sack which she carries over her shoulder.] What areyoudoin' here?
[Sleepily.] Evenin', mama.
How did you get in here, eh?
Well, wasn't the key lyin' on the goat shed?
But what do you want here at home?
[Awkwardly affected and aggrieved.] So you don't want me to come no more at all?
Aw, you just go ahead and put on that way! I'm so fond o' that! [She lets the sack drop from her shoulder.] You don't know nothin', I s'ppose, about how late it's gettin'? You hurry and go back to your mistress.
It matters a whole lot, don't it, if I get back there a little too late?
You want to be lookin' out, y'understand? You see to it that you go, or you'll catch it!
[Tearfully and defiantly.] I ain't goin' back to them people no more, mama!
[Astonished.] Not goin'?… [Ironically.] Oh, no! That's somethin' quite new!
Well, I don'thaveto let myself be abused that way!
[Busy extracting a piece of venison from the sack.] So the Kruegers abuse you, do they? Aw, the poor child that you are!—Don't you come round me with such fool talk! A wench like a dragoon…! Here, lend a hand with this sack, at the bottom. You can't act more like a fool, eh? You won't get no good out o' me that way! You can't learn lazyin' around, here, at all. [They hang up the venison on the door.] Now I tell you for the last time….
I ain't goin' back to them people, I tell you. I'd jump in the river first!
See that you don't catch a cold doin' it.
I'll jump in the river!
Go ahead. Let me know about it and I'll give you a shove so you don't miss it.
[Screaming.] Do I have to stand for that, that I gotta drag in two loads o' wood at night!
[In mock astonishment.] Well, now, that's pretty awful, ain't it? You gotta drag in wood? Such people, I tell you!
… An' I gets twenty crowns for the whole year. I'm to get my hands frost-bitten for that, am I? An' not enough potatoes and herring to go round!
You needn't go fussin' about that, you silly girl. Here's the key; go, cut yourself some bread. An' when you've had enough, go your way, y'understand? The plum butter's in the top cupboard.
[Takes a large loaf of bread from a drawer and cuts some slices.] An' Juste gets forty crowns a year from the Schulze's an'….
Don't you try to be goin' too fast.—You ain't goin' to stay with them people always; you ain't hired out to 'em forever.—Leave 'em on the first of April, for all I care.—But up to then, you sticks to your place.—Now that you got your Christmas present in your pocket, you want to run away, do you? That's no way. I have dealin's with them people, an' I ain't goin' to have that kind o' thing held against me.
These bits o' rag that I got on here?
You're forgettin' the cash you got?
Yes! Six shillin's. That was a whole lot!
Cash is cash! You needn't kick.
But if I can go an' make more?
Yes, talkin'!
No, sewin'! I can go in to Berlin and sew cloaks. Emily Stechow's been doin' that ever since New Year.
Don't come tellin' me about that slattern! I'd like to get my hands on her, that's all. I'd give that crittur a piece o' my mind! You'd like to be promoted into her class, would you? To go sportin' all night with the fellows? Just to be thinkin' o' that makes me feel that I'd like to beat you so you can't hardly stand up.—Now papa's comin' an' you'd better look out!
If papa thrashes me, I'll run away. I'll see how I can get along!
Shut up now! Go an' feed the goats. They ain't been milked yet to-night neither. An' give the rabbits a handful o' hay.
LEONTINE tries to make her escape. In the door, however, she runs into her father, but slips quickly by him with a perfunctoryEvenin'.
JULIUS WOLFF, the father, is a shipwright. A tall man, with dull eyes and slothful gestures, about forty-three years old.—He places two long oars, which he has brought in across his shoulder in a corner and silently throws down his shipwright's tools.
Did you meet Emil?
JULIUSgrowls.
Can't you talk? Yes or no? Is he goin' to come around, eh?
[Irritated.] Go right ahead! Scream all you want to!
You're a fine, brave fellow, ain't you? An' all the while you forget to shut the door.
[Closes the door.] What's up again with Leontine?
Aw, nothin'.—What kind of a load did Emil have?
Bricks again. What d'you suppose he took in?—But what's up with that girl again?
Did he have half a load or a whole load?
[Flying into a rage.] What's up with the wench, I asks you?
[Outdoing him in violence.] An' I want to know how big a load Emil had—a half or a whole boat full?
That's right! Go on! The whole thing full.
Sst! Julius!
[Suddenly frightened she shoots the window latch.
[Scared and staring at her, is silent. After a few moments, softly.] It's a young forester from Rixdorf.
Go an' creep under the bed, Julius. [After a pause.] If only you wasn't such an awful fool. You don't open your mouth but what you act like a regular tramp. You don't understand nothin' o' such things, if you want to know it. You let me look out for the girls. That ain't no part o' your concern. That's a part of my concern. With boys that'd be a different thing. I wouldn't so much as give you advice. But everybody's got their own concerns.
Then don't let her come runnin' straight across my way.
I guess you want to beat her till she can't walk. Don't you take nothin' like that into your head. Don't you think I'm goin' to allow anythin' like that! I let her be beaten black an' blue? We c'n make our fortune with that girl. I wish you had sense about some things!
Well, then let her go an' see how she gets along!
Nobody needn't be scared about that, Julius. I ain't sayin' but what you'll live to see things. That girl will be livin' up on the first floor some day and we'll be glad to have her condescend to know us. What is it the doctor said to me? Your daughter, he says, is a handsome girl; she'd make a stir on the stage.
Then let her see about gettin' there.
You got no education, Julius. Yon ain't got a trace of it. Lord, if it hadn't been for me! What would ha' become o' those girls! I brought 'em up to be educated, y'understand? Education is the main thing these days. But things don't come off all of a sudden. One thing after another—step by step. Now she's in service an' that'll learn her somethin'. Then maybe, for my part, she can go into Berlin. She's much too young for the stage yet.
[During MRS. WOLFF'S speech repeated knocking has been heard. Now ADELAIDE'S voice comes in.Mama! Mama! Please, do open!MRS. WOLFF opens the door, ADELAIDE comes in. She is a somewhat overgrown schoolgirl of fourteen with a pretty, child-like face. The expression of her eyes, however, betrays premature corruption.
Why didn't you open the door, mama? I nearly got my hands and feet frozen!
Don't stand there jabberin' nonsense. Light a fire in the oven and you'll soon be warm. Where've you been all this long time, anyhow?
Why, didn't I have to go and fetch the boots for father?
An' you staid out two hours doin' it!
Well, I didn't start to go till seven.
Oh, you went at seven, did you? It's half past ten now. You don't know that, eh? So you've been gone three hours an' a half. That ain't much. Oh, no. Well now you just listen good to what I've got to tell you. If you go an' stay that long again, and specially with that lousy cobbler of a Fielitz—then watch out an' see! That's all I says.
Oh, I guess I ain't to do nothin' except just mope around at home.
Now you keep still an' don't let me hear no more.
An' even if I do go over to Fielitz's sometime….
Are you goin' to keep still, I'd like to know? You teach me to know Fielitz! He needn't be putting on's far as I know. He's got another trade exceptin' just repairin' shoes. When a man's been twice in the penitentiary….
That ain't true at all…. That's all just a set o' lies. He told me all about it himself, mama!
As if the whole village didn't know, you fool girl! That man! I know what he is. He's a pi—
Oh, but he's friends even with the justice!
I don't doubt it. He's a spy. And what's more, he's a _dee_nouncer!
What's that—a _dee_nouncer?
[From the next room, into which he has gone.] I'm just waitin' to hear two words more.
[ADELAIDE turns pale and at once and silently she sets about building a fire in the oven.
LEONTINE comes in.
[Has opened the stag. She takes out the heart, liver, etc, and hands them to LEONTINE.] There, hurry, wash that off. An' keep still, or somethin'll happen yet.
[LEONTINE, obviously intimidated, goes at her task. The girls whisper together.
Say, Julius. What are you doin' in there? I guess you'll go an' forget again. Didn't I tell you this mornin' about the board that's come loose?
What kind o' board?
You don't know, eh? Behind there, by the goat-shed. The wind loosened it las' night. You better get out there an' drive a few nails in, y'understand?
Aw, to-morrow mornin'll be another day, too.
Oh, no. Don't take to thinkin' that way. We ain't goin' to make that kind of a start—not we. [JULIUS comes into the room growling.] There, take, the hammer! Here's your nails! Now hurry an' get it done.
You're a bit off' your head.
[Calling out after him.] When Wulkow comes what d'you want me to ask?
About twelve shillin's sure.
[Exit.
[Contemptuously.] Aw, twelve shillin's. [A pause.] Now you just hurry so that papa gets his supper.
[A brief pause.
[Looking at the stag.] What's that anyhow, mama?
A stork.
[Both girls laugh.
A stork, eh? A stork ain't got horns. I know what that is—that's a stag!
Well, if you know why d'you go an' ask?
Did papa shoot it, mama?
That's right! Go and scream it through the village: Papa's shot a stag!
I'll take mighty good care not to. That'd mean the cop!
Aw, I ain't scared o' policeman Schulz. He chucked me under the chin onct.
He c'n come anyhow. We ain't doin' nothin' wrong. If a stag's full o' lead and lays there dyin' an' nobody finds it, what happens? The ravens eat it. Well now, if the ravens eat it or we eat it, it's goin' to be eaten anyhow. [A brief pause.] Well now, tell me: You was axed to carry wood in?
Yes, in this frost! Two loads o' regular clumps! An' that when a person is tired as a dog, at half past nine in the evenin'!
An' now I suppose that wood is lyin' there in the street?
It's lyin' in front o' the garden gate. That's all I know.
Well now, but supposin' somebody goes and steals that wood? What's goin' to happen in the mornin' then?
I ain't goin' there no more!
Are those clumps green or dry?
They're fine, dry ones! [She yawns again and again.] Oh, mama, I'm that tired! I've just had to work myself to pieces.
[She sits down with every sign of utter exhaustion.
[After a brief silence.] You c'n stay at home tonight for all I care. I've thought it all out a bit different. An' to-morrow mornin' we c'n see.
I've just got as thin as can be, mama! My clothes is just hangin' on to me.
You hurry now and go in to bed or papa'll raise a row yet. He ain't got no understandin' for things like that.
Papa always speaks so uneducated!
Well, he didn't learn to have no education. An' that'd be just the same thing with you if I hadn't brought you up to be educated. [Holding a saucepan over the oven: to LEONTINE:] Come now, put it in! [LEONTINE places the pieces of washed venison into the sauce-pan.] So, now go to bed.
[Goes into the next room. While she is still visible, she says:] Oh, mama, Motes has moved away from Krueger.
I guess he didn't pay no rent.
It was just like pullin' a tooth every time, Mr. Krueger says, but he paid. Anyhow, he says, he had to kick him out. He's such a lyin' loudmouthed fellow, and always so high and mighty toward Mr. Krueger.
If I had been in Mr. Krueger's place I wouldn't ha' kept him that long.
Because Mr. Krueger used to be a carpenter onct, that's why Motes always acts so contemptuous. And then, too, he quarrelled with Dr. Fleischer.
Well, anybody that'll quarrel withhim…! I ain't sayin' anythin', but them people wouldn't harm a fly!
They won't let him come to the Fleischers no more.
If you could get a chanct to work for them people some day!
They treat the girls like they was their own children.
And his brother in Berlin, he's cashier in a theatre.
[Has knocked at the door repeatedly and now calls out in a hoarse voice.] Ain't you goin' to have the kindness to let me in.
Well, I should say! Why not! Walk right in!
[Comes in. He is a lighterman on the Spree river, near sixty years old, bent, with a greyish-yellow beard that frames his head from ear to ear but leaves his weather-beaten face free.] I wish you a very good evenin'.
Look at him comin' along again to take in a woman a little bit.
I've give up tryin' that this long while!
Maybe, but that's the way it's goin' to be anyhow.
T'other way roun', you mean.
What'll it be next?—Here it's hangin'! A grand feller, eh?
I tell you, Julius ought to be lookin' out sharp. They's gettin' to be pretty keen again.
What are you goin' to give us for it, that's the main thing. What's the use o' jabberin'?
Well, I'm tellin' you. I'm straight from Gruenau. An' there I heard it for certain. They shot Fritz Weber. They just about filled his breeches with lead.
What are you goin' to give? That's the main thing.
[Feeling the stag.] The trouble is I got four o' them bucks lyin' at home now.
That ain't goin' to make your boat sink.
An' I don't want her to do that. That wouldn't be no joke. But what's the good if I get stuck with the things here. I've gotta get 'em in to Berlin. It's been hard enough work on the river all day, an' if it goes on freezin' this way, there'll be no gettin' along to-morrow. Then I c'n sit in the ice with my boat, an' then I've got these things for fun.
[Apparently changing her mind.] Girl, you run down to Schulze. Say how-dee-do an' he's to come up a while, cause mother has somethin' to sell.
Did I say as I wasn't goin' to buy it?
It's all the same to me who buys it.
Well, I'm willin' to.
Any one that don't want it can let it be.
I'll buy this feller! What's he worth?
[Touching the venison.] This here piece weighs a good thirty pounds. Every bit of it, I c'n tell you. Well, Adelaide! You was here. We could hardly lift it up.
[Who had not been present at all.] I pretty near sprained myself liftin' it.
Thirteen shillin's will pay for it, then. An' I won't be makin' ten pence on that bargain!
[Acts amazed. She busies herself at the oven as though she had forgotten WULKOW'S presence. Then, as though suddenly becoming aware of it again, she says:] I wish you a very pleasant trip.
Well. I can't give more than thirteen!
That's right. Let it alone.
I'm just buyin' it for the sake o' your custom. God strike me dead, but it's as true as I'm standin' here. I don't makethatmuch with the whole business. An' even if I was wantin' to say: fourteen, I'd be puttin' up money, I'd be out one shillin'. But I ain't goin' to let that stand between us. Just so you see my good intentions, I'll say fourteen….
I can't give no more. I'm tellin' you facts.
That's all right! That's all right! We c'n get rid o' this stag. We won't have to keep it till morning.
Yes, if only nobody don't see it hangin' here. Money wouldn't do no good then.
This stag here, we found it dead.
Yes, in a trap. I believe you.
You needn't try to get around us that way. That ain't goin' to donogood! You want to gobble up everythin' for nothin'! We works till we got no breath. Hours an' hours soakin' in the snow, not to speak o' the risk, there in the pitch dark. That's no joke, I tell you.
The only trouble is that I got four of 'em already. Or I'd say fifteen shillin's quick enough.
No, Wulkow, we can't do business together today. You c'n be easy an' go a door further. We just dragged ourselves across the lake … a hairbreadth an' we would've been stuck in the ice. We couldn't get forward an' we couldn't get backward. You can't give away somethin' you got so hard.
Well, what do I get out of it all, I want to know! This here lighter business ain't a natural thing. An' poachin', that's a bad job. If you all get nabbed, I'd be the first one to fly in. I been worryin' along these forty years. What've I got to-day? The rheumatiz—that's what! When I get up o' mornin's early, I gotta whine like a puppy dog. Years an' years I been wantin' to buy myself a fur-coat. That's what all doctors has advised me to do, because I'm that sensitive. But I ain't been able to buy me none. Not to this day. An' that's as true as I'm standin' here.
[To her mother.] Did you hear what Leontine said?
But anyhow. Let it go. I'll say sixteen.
No, it's no good. Eighteen! [To ADELAIDE.] What's that you was talkin' about?
Mrs. Krueger has bought a fur-coat that cost pretty near a hundred crowns. It's a beaver coat.
A beaver coat?
Whobought it?
Why, Mrs. Krueger, I tell you, as a Christmas present for Mr. Krueger.
Is that girl in service with the Kruegers?
Not me, but my sister, I ain't goin' in service like that at all.
Well now, if I could have somethin' like that! That's the kind o' thing I been tryin' to get hold of all this time. I'd gladly be givin' sixty crowns for it. All this money that goes to doctors and druggists, I'd much rather spend it for furs. I'd get some pleasure out of that at least.
All you gotta do is to go there, Wulkow. Maybe Kruger'll make you a present of the coat.
I don't suppose he'd do it kindly. But's I said: I'm interested in that sort o' thing.
I believes you. I wouldn't mind havin' a thing like that myself.
How do we stand now? Sixteen?
Nothin' less'n eighteen'll do. Not under eighteen—that's what Julius said. I wouldn't dare show up with sixteen. No, sir. When that man takes somethin' like that into his head! [JULIUS comes in.] Well, Julius, you said eighteen shillin's, didn't you?
What's that I said?
Are you hard o' hearin' again for a change? You said yourself: not under eighteen. You told me not to sell the stag for less.
I said?… Oh, yes, that there piece o' venison! That's right. H-m. An' that ain't a bit too much; either.
[Taking' out money and counting it.] We'll make an end o' this. Seventeen shillin's. Is it a bargain?
You're a great feller, you are! That's what I said exactly: he don't hardly have to come in the door but a person is taken in!
[Has unrolled a sack which had been hidden about his person.] Now help me shoot it right in here. [MRS. WOLFF helps him place the venison in the sack.] An' if by some chanst you should come to hear o' somethin' like that—what I means is, just f'r instance—a—fur coat like that, f'r instance. Say, sixty or seventy crowns. I could raise that, an' I wouldn't mind investin' it.
I guess you ain't right in your head…! How shouldwecome by a coat like that?
[Calls from without.] Mrs. Wolff! Oh, Mrs. Wolff! Are you still up?
[Sharing the consternation of the others, rapidly, tensely.] Slip it in! Slip it in! And get in the other room!
[She crowds them all into the rear room and locks the door.
Mrs. Wolff! Oh, Mrs. Wolff! Have you gone to bed?
MRS. WOLFF extinguishes the light.
Mrs. Wolff! Mrs. Wolff! Are you still up? [The voice recedes singing:]
"Morningre-ed, morningre-ed,Thou wilt shine when I am dea-ead!"
Aw, that's only old "Morningred," mama!
[Listens for a while, opens the door softly and listens again. When she is satisfied she closes the door and lights the candle. Thereupon she admits the others again.] 'Twas only the constable Mitteldorf.
The devil, you say. That's nice acquaintances for you to have.
Go on about your way now! Hurry!
Mama, Mino has been barkin'.
Hurry, hurry, Wulkow! Get out now! An' the back way through the vegetable garden! Julius will open for you. Go on, Julius, an' open the gate.
An's I said, if somethin' like such a beaver coatwasto turn up, why—
Sure. Just make haste now.
If the Spree don't freeze over, I'll be gettin' back in, say, three or four days from Berlin. An' I'll be lyin' with my boat down there.
By the big bridge?
Where I always lies. Well, Julius, toddle ahead!
[Exit.
Mama, Mino has been barkin' again.
[At the oven.] Oh, let him bark!
[A long-drawn call is heard in the distance."Ferry over!"]
Somebody wants to get across the river, mama!
Well, go'n tell papa. He's down there by the river.—["Ferry over!"] An' take him his oars. But he ought to let Wulkow get a bit of a start first.
ADELAIDE goes out with the oars. For a little while MRS. WOLFF is alone. She marks energetically. Then ADELAIDE returns.
Papa's got his oars down in the boat.
Who wants to get across the river this time o' night?
I believe, mama, it's that stoopid Motes!
What? Who is't you say?
I think the voice was Motes's voice.
[Vehemently.] Go down! Ran! Tell papa to come up! That fool Motes can stay on the other side. He don't need to come sniffin' around in the house here.
ADELAIDE exits. MRS. WOLFF hides and clears away everything that could in any degree suggest the episode of the stag. She covers the sauce-pan with an apron. ADELAIDE comes back.
Mama, I got down there too late. I hear 'em talkin' a'ready.
Well, who is it then?
I've been tellin' you: Motes.
MR. and MRS. MOTES appear in turn in the doorway. Both are of medium height. She is an alert young woman of about thirty, modestly and neatly dressed. He wears a green forester's overcoat; his face is healthy but insignificant; his left eye is concealed by a black bandage.
[Calls in.] We nearly got our noses frozen, Mrs. Wolff.
Why do you go walkin' at night. You got time enough when it's bright day.
It's nice and warm here.—Who's that who has time by day?
Why, you!
I suppose you think I live on my fortune.
I don't know; I ain't sayin' what you live on.
Heavens, you needn't be so cross. We simply wanted to ask about our bill.
You've asked about that a good deal more'n once.
Very well. So we're asking again. Anything wrong with that? We have to pay sometime, you know?
[Astonished.] You wants to pay?
Of course, we do. Naturally.
You act as if you were quite overwhelmed. Did you think we'd run off without paying?
I ain't given to thinkin' such things. If you want to be so good then. Here, we can arrange right now. The amount is eleven shillin's, six pence.
Oh, yes. Mrs. Wolff. We're going to get money. The people around here will open their eyes wide.
There's a smell of roasted hare here.
Burned hair! That'd be more likely.
Let's take a look and see.
[He is about to take the cover from the sauce-pan.
[Prevents him.] No sniffin' 'round in my pots.
[Who has observed everything distrustfully.] Mrs. Wolff, we've found something, too.
I ain't lost nothin'.
There, look at these.
[She shows her several wire snares.
[Without losing her equanimity in the slightest.] I suppose them are snares?
We found them quite in the neighbourhood here! Scarcely twenty paces from your garden.
Lord love you! The amount of poachin' that's done here!
If you were to keep a sharp lookout, you might actually catch the poacher some day.
Aw, such things is no concern o' mine.
If I could just get hold of a rascal like that. First, I'd give him something to remember me by, and then I'd mercilessly turn him over to the police.
Mrs. Wolff have you got a few fresh eggs?
Now, in the middle of winter? They're pretty scarce!
[To JULIUS, who has just come in.] Forester Seidel has nabbed a poacher again. He'll be taken to the detention prison to-morrow. There's an officer with style about him. If I hadn't had my misfortune, I could have been a head forester to-day. I'd go after those dogs even more energetically.
There's many a one has had to pay for doin' that!
Yes, if he's afraid. I'm not! I've denounced quite a few already. [Fixing his gaze keenly on MRS. WOLFF and her husband in turn.] And there are a few others whose time is coming. They'll run straight into my grip some day. These setters of snares needn't think that I don't know them. I know them very well.
Have you been baking, perhaps, Mrs. Wolff? We're so tired of baker's bread.
I thought you was goin' to square your account.
On Saturday, as I've told you, Mrs. Wolff. My husband has been appointed editor of the magazine "Chase and Forest."
Aha, yes. I know what that means.
But if I assure you, Mrs. Wolff! We've moved away from the Kruegers already.
Yes, you moved because you had to.
We had to? Hubby, listen to this!—[She gives a forced laugh.]—Mrs.Wolff says that we had to move from Kruegers.
[Crimson with rage.] The reason why I moved away from that place? You'll find it out some day. The man is a usurer and a cutthroat!
I don't know nothin' about that; I can't say nothin' about that.
I'm just waiting to get hold of positive proof. That, man had better be careful where I'm concerned—he and his bosom friend, Dr. Fleischer. The latter more especially. If I just wanted to say it—one word and that man would be under lock and key.
[From the beginning of his speech on he has gradually withdrawn and speaks the last words from without.
I suppose the men got to quarrelin' again?
[Apparently confidential.] There's no jesting with my husband. If he determines on anything, he doesn't let go till it's done. And he stands very well with the justice.—But how about the eggs and the bread?
[Reluctantly.] Well, I happen to have five eggs lyin' here. An' a piece o' bread. [MRS. MOTES puts the eggs and the half of a loaf into her basket.] Are you satisfied now?
Certainly; of course. I suppose the eggs are fresh?
As fresh as my chickens can lay 'em.
[Hastening in order to catch up with her husband.] Well, good-night. You'll get your money next Saturday.
[Exit.
All right; that'll be all right enough! [She closes the door and speaks softly to herself.] Get outta here, you! Got nothin' but debts with everybody around. [Over her sauce-pan.] What business o' theirs is it what we eat? Let 'em spy into their own affairs. Go to bed, child!
Good night, mama.
[She kisses her.
Well, ain't you goin' to kiss papa good-night?
Good night, papa.
[She kisses him, at which he growls. ADELAIDE, exit.
You always gotta say that to her special!
[A pause.
Why do'you go an' give the eggs to them people?
I suppose you want me to make an enemy o' that feller? You just go ahead an' get him down on you! I tell you, that's a dangerous feller. He ain't got nothin' to do except spy on people. Come. Sit down. Eat. Here's a fork for you. You don't understand much about such things. You take care o' the things that belongs to you! Did you have to go an' lay the snares right behind the garden? They was yours, wasn't they?
JULIUS [Annoyed.] Go right ahead!
An', o' course, that fool of a Motes had to find 'em first thing. Here near the house you ain't goin' to lay no more snares at all! Y'understan'? Next thing'll be that people say we laid 'em.
Aw, you stop your jawin'.
[Both eat.
Look here, Julius, we're out of wood, too.
An' you want me to go this minute, I suppose?
It'd be best if we got busy right off.
I don't feel my own bones no more. Anybody that wants to go c'n go. I ain't.
You men folks always does a whole lot o' talkin', an' when it comes to the point, you can't do nothin'. I'd work enough to put the crowd of you in a hole and drag you out again too. If you ain't willin' to go to-night by no means, why, you've got to go to-morrow anyhow. So what good is it? How are the climbin' irons? Sharp?
I loaned 'em to Karl Machnow.
[After a pause.] If only you wasn't such a coward!—We might get a few loads o' wood in a hurry, an' we wouldn't have to work ourselves blue in the face neither.—No, nor we wouldn't have to go very far for 'em.
Aw, let me eat a bite, will you?
[Punches his head amicably.] Don't always be so rough, I'm goin' to be good to you now for onct. You watch. [Fetching a bottle of whiskey and showing it to him.] Here! See? I brought that for you. Now you c'n make a friendly face, all right.
[She fills a glass for her husband.
[Drinks.] That's fine—in this cold weather—fine.
Well, you see? Don't I take care o' you?
That was pretty good, pretty good all right.
[He fills the glass anew and drinks.
[After a pause. She is splitting kindling wood and eating a bite now and then.] Wulkow—that feller—he's a regular rascal—. He always—acts—as if he was hard up.
Aw, he'd better shut up—he with his trade!
You heard that about the beaver coat, didn't you?
Naw, I didn't hear nothin'.
[With assumed carelessness.] Didn't you hear the girl tell how Mrs. Krueger has given Krueger a fur coat?
Well, them people has the money.
That's true. An' then Wulkow was sayin' … you musta heard … that if he could get hold of a coat like that some day, he'd give as much as a seventy crowns for it.
You just let him go and get into trouble his own self.
[After a pause, refilling her husband's glass.] Come now, you c'n stand another.
Well, go ahead, go ahead! What in…!
MRS. WOLFF gets out a little note book and turns over the leaves.
How much is it we put aside since July?
About thirty crowns has been paid off.
An' that'll leave … leave …
That'll still leave seventy. You don't get along very fast this way. Fifty, sixty crowns—all in a lump; if you could add that onct! Then the lot would be paid for all right. Then maybe we could borrow a couple o' hundred and build up a few pretty rooms. We can't take no summer boarders like this an' it's the summer boarders what brings the money.
Well, go ahead! What are you …
[Resolutely.] My, but you're a slow crittur, Julius! Wouldyou'vegone an' bought that lot? An' if we wanted to go an' sell it now, we could be gettin' twice over what we paid for it! I got a different kind of a nature! Lord, if you had one like it!
I'm workin' all right. What's the good o' all that?
You ain't goin' to get very far with all your work.
Well, I can't steal. I can't go an' get into trouble!
You're just stoopid, an' that's the way you'll always be. Nobody here ain't been talkin' o' stealin'. But if you don't risk nothin', you don't get nothin'. An' when onct you're rich, Julius, an' c'n go and sit in your own carridge, there ain't nobody what's goin' to ask where you got it! Sure, if we was to take it from poor people! But now suppose really—suppose we went over to the Kruegers and put the two loads o' wood on a sleigh an' took 'em into our shed—them people ain't no poorer on that account!
Wood? What you startin' after again now with wood?
Now that shows how you don't take notice o' nothin'! They c'n work your daughter till she drops; they c'n try an' make her drag in wood at ten o'clock in the evenin'. That's why she run away. An' you take that kind o' thing an' say thank you. Maybe you'd give the child a hidin' and send her back to the people.
Sure!—That's what!—What d'you think …
Things like that hadn't ought to go unpunished. If anybody hits me, I'll hit him back. That's what I says.
Well, did they go an' hit the girl?
Why should she be runnin' away, Julius? But no, there ain't no use tryin' to do anything with you. Now the wood is lyin' out there in the alley. An' if I was to say: all right, you abuse my children, I'll take your wood—a nice face you'd make.
I wouldn't do no such thing … I don't give a—! I c'n do more'n eat, too. I'd like to see! I wouldn't stand for nothin' like that. Beatin'!
Well, then, don't talk so much. Go an' get your cord. Show them people that you got some cuteness! The whole thing will be over in an hour. Then we c'n go to bed an' it's all right. An' you don't have to go out in the woods to-morrow. We'll have more fuel than we need.
Well, if it leaks out, it'll be all the same to me.
There ain't no reason why it should. But don't wake the girls.
[From without.] Mrs. Wolff! Mrs. Wolff! Are you still up?
Sure, Mitteldorf! Come right in!
[She opens the door.
[Enters. He has an overcoat over his shabby uniform. His face has a Mephistophelian cast. His nose betrays an alcoholic colouring. His demeanour is gentle, almost timid. His speech is slow and dragging and unaccompanied by any change in expression.] Good evenin', Mrs. Wolff.
I guess you mean to say: Good night!
I was around here once before a while ago. First I thought I saw a light, an' then, all of a sudden, it was dark again. Nobody didn't answer me neither. But this time there was a light an' no mistake; an' so I came back once more.
Well, what have you got for me now, Mitteldorf?
[Has taken a seat, thinks a while and then says:] That's what I came here for. I got a message for you from the justice's wife.
She ain't wantin' me to do washin'?
[Raises his eye-brows thoughtfully.] That she does.
An' when?
To-morrow.—To-morrow mornin'.
An' you come in tellin' me that twelve o'clock at night?
But to-morrow is the missis' wash day.
But a person ought to know that a few days ahead o' time.
That' a fac'. But don't go makin' a noise. I just plumb forgot all about it again. I got so many things to think of with my poor head, that sometimes I just naturally forgets things.
Well, Mitteldorf, I'll try an' arrange it. We always was good friends. You got enough on your shoulders, I suppose, with them twelve children o' yours at home, eh? You ain't got no call to make yourself out worse'n you are.
If you don't come in the mornin', I'll have a pretty tough time of it!
I'll come. You needn't go worryin'. There, take a drink. I guess you need it this weather. [She gives him a glass of toddy.] I just happened to have a bit o' hot water. You know, we gotta take a trip yet to-night—for fat geese over to Treptow. You don't get no time in the day. That can't be helped in this kind of a life. Poor people is got to work themselves sick day an' night, an' rich people lies in bed snorin'.
I been given notice. Did you know that? The justice has given me notice.I ain't keen enough after the people.
They wants you to be like an old watch dog, I suppose.
I'd rather not go home at all. When I gets there, it'll be nothin' but quarrelin'. She just drives me crazy with her reproaches.
Put your fingers in your ears!
An' then a man goes to the tavern a bit, so that the worries don't down him altogether; an' now he ain't to do that no more neither! He ain't to do nothin'. An' now I just come from a bit of a time there. A feller treated to a little keg.