Kellinghausen.
Herr Holtzmann, we were in the train together for hours. We drove together for miles. I have always treated you as a friend. Why did you never speak of this? (Holtzmannremains silent.) Let me tell you one thing: you can't put me off with a shrug. If you think you can, you don't know me.
Holtzmann.
I beg your pardon, Count Kellinghausen--but I must remind you that I am not in your service.
Kellinghausen.
My dear Herr Holtzmann, you are known as one of the most zealous supporters of our party. Probably you attach some importance to that fact. Your silence in this matter surprises me, and I shall not fail to draw my own conclusions.
Holtzmann(rising).
You must draw what conclusions you please, sir. Personally I have nothing to gain by serving your party. I might have a living at any moment, and if I have preferred, for the present, to devote myself to politics, it was only because I thought I could be of use to the cause.
Kellinghausen(after a pause).
I have offended you. You must make allowances for my excitement--this business has unnerved me. (Holds out his hand.) Sit down again and let me ask you a question. Has this Meixner any recognised standing in his party, or is he merely a hanger-on?
Holtzmann.
He must have a certain standing, since he is their candidate for the next election.
Kellinghausen.
Ha! ha! A nice lot they are! Well, the gentleman has given us his measure by sending copies of this paper to the wives of the men he attacks.
Holtzmann.
If he has done that, sir, can you guess his reasons?
Kellinghausen.
No. Can you?
Holtzmann.
Perhaps----
Kellinghausen.
Well----?
Holtzmann.
I'm sorry, sir--but I can't say anything more just now.
Kellinghausen(rising).
Good-day, then, Herr Holtzmann.
Holtzmann.
My respects to you, sir. (Goes out.)
Kellinghausen(giving way to his rage).
Hounds! Brigands! Damn them! All tarred with the same brush----
Beataenters.
Beata(quietly).
Flying into a passion won't mend matters, Michael.
Kellinghausen.
And I can't make you out, either. Here they are, throwing mud at us--calling you I won't say what--and you stand there like--like--Haven't you got any blood in your veins? Don't you realise what it all means?
Beata.
I haven't much strength to spare, and I have to economise my emotions.
Kellinghausen.
Good God--how white you are! Don't mind me--I'll pull myself together. We won't talk of the damned thing any more.
Beata.
It will be the first time in twenty years that we haven't talked over what you had on your mind.
Kellinghausen.
I wish to heaven I'd never told you of it. The devil take Leonie! She can't hold her cursed meddling tongue; Richard ought to muzzle her. By the way, it's strange he hasn't shown himself to-day.
Beata.
I have had a note from him. He asked me to tell you that he is deep in his speech. He is coming as soon as he has a moment to spare.
Kellinghausen.
There you are again! Just when the man needs a clear head for the great work that's before him, he finds himself involved in this filthy-- Ah, well, I'll have the dogs by the throat yet! I'll have them howling for mercy!
Beata.
Do calm yourself, Michael. Look--your face is all on fire. You know it's bad for you to excite yourself.
Kellinghausen.
There, there--I'm quiet again. Don't I always do what you tell me? Ah, if I hadn't hadyouall these years, the Lord knows what would have become of me!
Beata.
Then, on the whole, I've been--satisfactory?
Kellinghausen(laughing).
That sounds as if you were asking for a reference.
Beata.
Perhaps I am. I want to have one to show in case of need.
Kellinghausen.
And when do you expect to need it?
Beata.
Who knows?
EnterConrad.
Conrad(announcing).
Baron Brachtmann.
Kellinghausen(toBeata).
Do you wish to see him?
Beata.
Yes.
EnterBrachtmann.Conradgoes out.
Brachtmann.
(Bows toKellinghausenand kissesBeata'shand.) I am sorry we were not on our guard yesterday, Countess. Even if you had to know of this stupid business, you needn't have heard of it till it had blown over.
Beata.
Don't reproach yourself, Baron. I should have been sorry to miss such a chance of enlarging my knowledge of human nature.
Brachtmann.
Well, at all events, I beg of you both not to take it too seriously. And as for you, my dear Kellinghausen, I say again as I've said before: for God's sake, keep out of the courts.
Kellinghausen.
Ah----?
Brachtmann.
Why, my dear man, haven't I been accused of arson and forgery? Haven't I been charged with bribing my constituents to perjure themselves--not to speak of my dodging my taxes, and other sleight-of-hand performances? That's merely the political way of poking fun.
Kellinghausen.
H'm--your digestion must be stronger than mine. But those charges concerned no one but yourself; if I stood alone in this business, I might see the humour of it. But let them beware how they attack my family! Besides, I've taken steps already----
Brachtmann.
What have you done?
Kellinghausen.
I got hold of my counsel this morning. He has made out a retraction which the scoundrel is to sign. If he won't sign it, we'll take other means. He is to be at my lawyer's at three o'clock.
Beata(starting up).
What? To-day?
Kellinghausen.
To-day. The sooner the better. By the way, what time is it? I must be on hand myself. Brachtmann, will you come with me?
Brachtmann.
I was going to propose it. (WhileKellinghausenputs on his coat, he turns toBeata.) If you have any influence over him, for heaven's sake----
Beata(in a low voice).
I can do nothing.
Kellinghausen.
Well, dear, good-bye. If Richard turns up, be sure you make him wait. I shall be back in an hour. (KellinghausenandBrachtmanngo out.)
Beata.
(Closing her eyes, with a miserable smile.) In an hour!
EnterEllen.
Ellen(in the doorway).
Mother!
Beata.
Come in, dear child.
Ellen(kneeling down beside her).
Mother, mother dear, what has happened? What is it? Papa is so excited and talks to himself so strangely--and you--oh, mother!
Beata(smiling).
Well what have I done?
Ellen.
If I tell you, you won't--won't stay away? You'll come and lean over my bed every night--just as you've always done?
Beata(surprised).
Then you're awake--when I come?
Ellen.
Always, always. I never go to sleep till I've heard you.
Beata.
Dearest! And yet you never stirred!
Ellen.
Oh, I prided myself on that! But last night it was so hard to keep quiet. I could feel your tears on my face--oh, how you were crying! And I did so want to cry with you. But I held my breath and lay as still as I could.--Mother, what has happened? Won't you tell me? I'm not a child any longer.
Beata.
Listen, dear. I want to ask you a question. Is there any one in the world--besides your father and me--that you're very fond of?
Ellen(softly).
You know, mother. I don't have to tell you things----
Beata.
Some one you're so fond of that you could live for him--or even die for him?
Ellen.
There's nothing in the world I wouldn't do for him!
Beata.
(Softly stroking her hair and cheeks.) H'm----
EnterConrad.
Conrad(announcing).
Dr. Kahlenberg.
Beata(toEllen).
Go, dear. That is all I wanted to know.
Ellen.
Mother! (Goes out.)
EnterDr. Kahlenberg.Conradgoes out.
Dr. Kahlenberg.
You sent for me, Countess? Nothing wrong, I hope?
Beata.
Why, this is your hour for consultations, isn't it?
Dr. Kahlenberg.
Oh, there was no one there but two or three whining women. The kind that can be cured by the atmosphere of a fashionable doctor's waiting-room; so I'm letting them wait.
Beata.
(Listening, as though to make sure that they are alone.) I sha'n't keep you long. Doctor you know how often I have said to you: "My dear friend, I've got to live--I've simply got to live; show me how--" and how you've always answered: "The only way is to avoid excitement." Well--I've borne that in mind--I've schooled myself to look at life through a tombstone, as it were--my own tombstone, doctor! I've done that. But now--now there are storms ahead, perhaps disasters. If they come, my judgment and energy are equal to them--but my valves are not. I found that out last night--it was only those drops of yours that saved me. But I can't live on those drops--you've warned me not to take them too often. And I don't want to die of this. Doctor, you must help me!
Dr. Kahlenberg.
Why, what's the meaning of all this? H'm. You're right. Strophanthus and digitalis are not meant for human nature's daily food. Besides, the effect might wear off.--My dear Countess, take your courage in both hands and run away. Turn your back on all these emotions. Human life is simply a process of molecular adjustment complicated by moral idiosyncrasies.
Beata(laughing).
I'm so glad to know it, doctor. (Growing serious.) But there is no time to run away. The storm may break in an hour.
Dr. Kahlenberg.
Child, what has happened? Ah, well, I never ask questions.--In an hour?--I am going home to despatch my whining women, and then I'll drop in again and see what has happened in the interval.
Beata.
And if to-day is only the prelude?
Dr. Kahlenberg.
So much the better. Then we shall have time to look the thing in the face. Meanwhile I'll give you something new to take--something that your system hasn't got used to. We physicians have a supply of such remedies to tide us over bad places.
Beata.
Thank you.
Dr. Kahlenberg.
Give me both hands, Countess. You and I know death too well to be much afraid of it. But if you want to live I'll do my best to help you. And now I'll go and assure my other patients that they're really ill. Good-bye. (He goes out. In the hall he is heard greetingNorbert.)
EnterNorbert.
Norbert.
Aunt Beata, I'm so glad to see you looking so well. I was almost afraid----
Beata.
It always cheers me to see you, Norbert. And to-day especially----
Norbert.
To-day?
Beata.
'Sh--to-day is a lucky day.
Norbert.
Lucky? In what way?
Beata.
Wait and see! Wait and see!
Norbert.
I say, Aunt Beata, you're not making fun of me? I don't half like the way you're smiling to yourself.
Beata.
Well, you must make the best of it, dear boy!
Norbert.
Aunt Beata--you'renotthe same since yesterday. I knew it all along. What a beastly business life is! You--you--of all women!--that they should dare attack you! The scoundrels--the miserable sneaking scoundrels!
Beata.
Norbert, dear, you must see that this is a matter we can't discuss. Besides, I have something else to talk to you about. Can you tell me what time it is?
Norbert.
Half-past four.
Beata.
Will you ring for the lamps, please? Ring twice. (Norbertrings.) I have only a few minutes to spare, but it won't take long to-- (Conradbrings in two lamps, and draws the curtains) to tell you what I-- (She hesitates, constrained byConrad'spresence.) This is Miss Mansborough's afternoon. She has probably gone out. (Conradleaves the room.) You will find Ellen alone in her sitting-room--go and look for her--and when you find her, put your arms about her, and say to her, "I love you, and I shall always love you, in this world and the next"--provided there is any next!
Norbert.
Aunt Beata! (Falls on his knees before her and hides his face in her lap.)
Beata(struggling with her tears).
And then sit down in the twilight, you and Ellen, quietly, side by side, and talk of all the happiness that is coming to you and of all the good you mean to do. Let it be your hour of consecration. And I shall be with you all the while--feeling your happiness, thinking your thoughts--all through this next hour of my life.--Now go, Norbert. I hear some one coming--it must be your father. I will tell him--go, dear, go.
Norbert.
Aunt Beata! (Kisses her hand.)
Beata.
Your hour of consecration remember that, Norbert. (Norbertgoes out.)
EnterRichard.
Richard.
What has happened? You look radiant.
Beata.
(Taking his hand and holding it fast.) I have settled the future of our children. No matter what happens to us-- Why, Richard, aren't you the least bit pleased?--Oh, how ill you look!
Richard.
What sort of a night did you have, Beata?
Beata.
Not so bad.--And how goes the speech? Are you in sight of land?
Richard.
Beata--I don't know if I shall be able to speak to-morrow.
Beata(alarmed).
But you must. You must. They all count on you. Dear, youmust. Is it because of that wretched business last night?
Richard.
Partly, I suppose. This new danger has stirred up the whole past.
Beata.
And your conscience is bothering you again?
Richard.
You call it conscience, Beata; I call it consistency. How dare I speak on this bill, how dare I take such a stand before God and man, when my whole life gives me the lie?--Good God!--To stand up and talk about the sanctity of marriage--about the family life as the main support of society--to parade such an argument before the cynics of the Opposition, when with my own hands I have helped to tear down that very support--no, no, I can't justify myself without adopting their own cynical and materialistic creed. And not even then; for what I call God they call social expediency; and this new idol of theirs is more exacting than the Jehovah of the old dispensation. As to acknowledging that words are one thing and actions another--that the man in me is not accountable to the statesman--well, I haven't sunk as low as that--what I give I must give without an afterthought.--And so all my ideas crumble into dust, all my reasoning ends in contradiction--and I find myself powerless to plead the very cause I have at heart!
Beata.
But why, dearest, why?
Richard.
Forgive me. I am so tired; my mind is a blank. First that dreadful scene last night, when a moment's hesitation would have ruined us both. Then my long night at my desk--the superhuman effort of collecting my thoughts after all I'd been through. But as I worked, my subject took such hold of me that I've only just waked up to the question--how on earth is it all to end? (Beatais silent.) Oh, Beata, the truth, the truth! Oh, to be at one with one's self! To have the right to stand up openly for one's convictions! I would give everything for it--happiness, life itself, everything!
Beata.
And yet you love life.
Richard.
I? No--not now. Now that our falsehood is closing in on us, death would be--but don't be frightened; I shall do nothing foolish. There are two of us, and we must hold together. I am so used to sharing every thought with you.--What has happened since yesterday? I suppose Michael has given up the absurd idea of prosecuting the man.
Beata.
On the contrary.
Richard.
What?
Beata.
At this moment he has probably found out whatever your former secretary knows about us.
Richard.
What on earth do you mean?
Beata.
I haven't interrupted you, dear, because speaking seemed to clear your thoughts. But I haven't attempted to answer you, because every minute is precious.
Richard.
Hasn't Brachtmann been here?
Beata.
Brachtmann came too late.
Richard.
Then----?
Beata.
Even if he had come sooner he could not have prevented anything. Dearest, Michael may come back at any moment, and when he comes we must be ready----
Richard.
Don't go on, Beata. Let us suppose the worst: say that Meixner has unearthed a few suspicious circumstances--what use can he make of them? He can't produce any proofs.
Beata.
Who knows?
Richard.
Where are they to come from? The few letters we exchanged were burnt long ago. Copies are not admitted as evidence. He will not be allowed to testify on oath. We have only to keep ourselves in hand as well as we did yesterday, and the whole story will fall to the ground.
Beata.
And Michael?
Richard.
Michael?
Beata.
Suppose he questions you?
Richard.
There can be but one answer, I think.
Beata.
In our class there is something we call a "word of honour." If he asks you forthat--? You don't answer.
Richard(confused, breathing heavily).
We haven't reached that point yet, Beata--and if he does--why, we two are chained together by our past, we are answerable to no one but ourselves. That is all there is left to us.
Beata.
Is that your answer? You, who tell me you have wrestled with yourself all night because--Richard, I don't believe you!
Richard.
Believe me or not, but be sure that, whatever happens, no suspicion shall fall on you--on either of us. And now I beg of you--let me see Michael alone.
Beata(smiling).
Alone?
Richard.
I----
Beata(still smiling).
Hush! Do you hear his latch-key?
Richard.
Beata, I implore you. You are not fit to bear what is coming! If you value your life, go----
Beata.
I value yours, and therefore I shall stay.
EnterKellinghausen.
Kellinghausen(very gravely).
Good-afternoon, Richard. (Shakes hands with him.)
Richard.
Good-afternoon, Michael.
Kellinghausen(toBeata).
Has any one been here?
Beata.
Norbert--and Dr. Kahlenberg. No one else.
Kellinghausen.
Kahlenberg? At this hour? Is any one ill?
Beata.
No. He merely came to see me. Shall I give you some tea?
Kellinghausen.
Thanks, no. Richard, you don't want any either? Then, if you'll come into my study----
Richard.
With pleasure.
Beata.
Michael, I don't understand you. You have never shut me out from your counsels. Hitherto, if I have taken part in your discussions, it was because you wished me to; to-day I have a right to be here.
Kellinghausen.
My dear child, don't you always have your way? If Richard doesn't object----
Richard.
Whatever you wish----
Beata.
But first I want to give you a piece of good news. Norbert and Ellen are engaged.
Kellinghausen(his face lighting up).
Ha? What? Those two children? I saw it coming, bless their hearts!--but I'd no notion--where are they, Beata? (Goes to door, left.)
Richard(in a low tone, toBeata).
He knows nothing.
Beata(with an effort).
Michael--never mind--don't speak to them now! To-morrow Norbert will---- (She breathes painfully.Richardmakes a startled movement.)
Kellinghausen.
What is it? Are you ill?