Beata.
No--no, it's nothing. But happiness reverberates so! Norbert is coming back to-morrow. He wishes to tell his mother first.
Kellinghausen.
Ah, that's thoughtful of him. I had forgotten about his mother. Well, shake hands, old man. Confound it--I'm ashamed to look you in the face with this cursed thing hanging over us. And to think how happy we three might be--oh, that hound, that vile infamous hound!
Richard.
Tell me what happened, Michael.
Kellinghausen.
There isn't much to tell. My lawyer had a talk with him. He says his only object is to bring out the facts.
Richard(after a short pause).
Well--let him bring them out.
Kellinghausen.
Let him? You should have heard Brachtmann. The man was beside himself. He began with the old story of the Frenchman who said that if he were accused of stealing the towers of Notre Dame he would take the first train for the frontier. "No matter how blameless you all are, the lie will stick to you," he said. "It will stick to you and to your children and to your party." I had to give him my word of honour that, whatever happens, I will do nothing to bring scandal on the party.
Richard.
But you haven't stuck to your resolve?
Kellinghausen.
How could I? We can't wring the scoundrel's neck without landing ourselves in prison. Norbert was right yesterday. In such cases we have no refuge left but the courts. There is more in that boy's ideas than I was willing to admit at the time. Well--meanwhile I've agreed to think the matter over for twenty-four hours. A mere formality, of course--and yet not quite, after all. The fact is, I wanted to talk it out with you.
Richard.
Very well.
Kellinghausen.
Beata--Richard--I don't need to be told that there's nothing wrong in this house--nothing wrong between you two, to put it plainly. I can see that for myself. But in such a dirty business the most harmless fact may be used against you; and you won't misunderstand me if I ask you--both-- You see, you two have always been in such close sympathy--I don't say that to reproach you--God forbid! It was natural enough--you're both so much cleverer than I am--but I ask you, for all our sakes, to look back and try to remember if you've ever written each other any letters that might--might seem--to an outsider--a little too friendly? Good heavens!Ishould understand it if you had! Or--or--have you ever written anything aboutme? Anything that might--? There are plenty of things to criticise about me. But I must know the truth. There must not be the least pretext for this attack. I ask you to stop and consider.
Richard.
There is nothing to consider, my dear Michael.
Kellinghausen.
Not so fast, my dear fellow! Take time. Think the matter over.
Richard.
There is nothing to think over.
Kellinghausen.
Beata----?
Beata.
My answer is the same as Richard's, of course.
Kellinghausen.
Richard, our fate is in your hands. Do you advise me to bring suit?
Richard.
Oh--if you ask my advice----
Kellinghausen.
I don't ask your advice but your assurance. I have pledged myself not to endanger the party. Give me your word of honour that I can bring suit without doing so.
Richard(straightening himself).
I give you my word of honour that--you---- (Beatagives a suppressed cry.)
Kellinghausen.
What is the matter? What ails you?
Beata(looking atRichard).
He will give you his word of honour, and then he will go home and blow his brains out. Don't you see it in his face?
Kellinghausen.
What do you mean?
Richard.
Kellinghausen, ask your wife to leave the room, and I will----
Beata.
Richard, for fifteen years we have shared all our joys and sorrows. We must share this too.
Kellinghausen.
(Half strangled, tearing his collar open, and then throwing himself onRichard.) You--you--you!
Richard(seizing both his hands).
Michael, take care! This must be between ourselves. Remember that.
Kellinghausen.
Yes--yes--yes; I pledged my word--I remember--I--oh, you--you---- (He sinks down in a chair near the table, and hides his face with tearless sobs.)
Beata(approaching him after a pause).
Dear Michael, Richard and I conquered our feelings long ago. That is why we are so calm now. What happened between us happened years ago, and we are ready to pay the cost, whatever it is.
Kellinghausen.
Oh, as far as he's concerned, it's simple enough. He and I can soon settle our account.
Richard.
Yes.
Kellinghausen.
But you--you--how can you justify yourself? How have you reconciled it to your conscience to live beside me half a lifetime with this thing between us? Why didn't you come and ask me to set you free?
Beata.
Yes--that was whathewanted--he has such a sense of honour! And to this day he has never understood why I wouldn't. I loved him too well to ruin his life--that's all. Even if he could have got a divorce and married me, such a marriage would have been his ruin. I should simply have finished the work that Leonie had begun. But what I wanted was to save him. And so all these years I have lied for him----
Kellinghausen.
And what have you done forme? Or didn't I enter into your calculations?
Beata.
Michael, you must see that we can't discuss that now. It would be laughable if I were to try to explain to you----
Kellinghausen.
Ha! Ha! Lies and deception! Wife--friend--everything! Everything! (ToRichard.) Why do you stand there as if you were struck dumb? Why don'tyoutry and whitewash yourself too?
Richard.
You said just now that our account was easy to settle.
Beata.
He sees things differently. I speak for myself. He looks at things as you do.
Kellinghausen.
And yet----
Beata.
Wait, please! I have one word more to say, I have staked everything and lost--it's all over for us, all three of us. If I had spoken years ago, the same thing would have happened. You told me just now that I had made you happy. Well, that is what my lie has done. It has made you happy for fifteen years. Blame me for it--but don't forget it----
Kellinghausen.
And God--and retribution? Do you never think of such things? No repentance--no remorse? Nothing? Nothing?
Richard.
Spare her, Michael. Let me answer for her. (Kellinghausenadvances toward him with clenched fist.)
Beata.
You have questionedme, Michael; let me question you. Must every natural instinct end in remorse and repentance? Sin? I am not conscious of sinning. I did the best that it was in me to do. I simply refused to be crushed by your social laws. I asserted my right to live; my right to self-preservation. Perhaps it was another way of suicide--that's no matter. You know what my life has been--how I've had to buy it, hour by hour and drop by drop, at the nearest chemist's--well, wretched as it is, I've loved it too dearly to disown it now! Yes, I've loved it--I've loved everything--everything around me--you too, Michael--ah, don't laugh--yes, you too--even if I've--ah-- (Her breath comes in long gasps and she reels and clutches a chair, closing her eyes as she leans against it. Then she opens them again.) Which one of you will--help me to the door? (Richardmakes a movement, and then draws back.)
Kellinghausen.
Beata, from now on there will be no one to help you.
Beata.
Thank you. (With an intense effort, she walks out of the room.)
Kellinghausen(toRichard).
And now----?
Richard.
Do what you like. Say what you like. Curse me--shoot me. I sha'n't defend myself.
Kellinghausen.
You admit that one of us must die?
Richard.
No; I don't admit it; but I am at your orders.
Kellinghausen.
A duel between us is impossible----
Richard.
Impossible----
Kellinghausen.
I don't mean on account of the children.That'sall at an end.
Richard.
Why must it be at an end if one of us dies? But I am at your orders.
Kellinghausen.
I have pledged my word not to bring any scandal on the party. You are under the same obligation.
Richard.
Yes.
Kellinghausen.
So that the only thing left----
Richard.
Before you go any further, let me tell you that I decline to go through the farce of an American duel.
Kellinghausen.
You decline--? Perhaps you want to sneak out of the whole business?
Richard.
You don't believe that!
Kellinghausen.
Well--what other way is there?
Richard.
I know a way--but---- (Norbert'svoice is heard outside, speaking withConrad.)
Kellinghausen.
(With sudden decision, opening the door.) Norbert!
Richard(following him).
For God's sake, Michael--do you want to disgrace my whole house?
Kellinghausen(opening the door).
You shall see.--Norbert! Come in, my boy--come!
Norbertenters.
Norbert.
Uncle Michael, what is the matter with Aunt Beata? The doctor is with her, and Ellen has been called----
Kellinghausen.
Nothing serious. Don't be alarmed. (Takes his hand.) Norbert, your father and I were just talking of last evening. You remember that stupid business interrupted our talk, and we never heard the end of your argument. Let us have it now. Sit down--sit down, Richard. (They all seat themselves.) There was one phrase of yours that struck me. You said--you said--that if----
Richard.
You said that if a man of honour has injured another and is called on to atone for it, he is the best judge of his own punishment.
Norbert(laughing).
Did I? Very likely--but my head is so full of other things just now that I couldn't swear to it.
Kellinghausen.
That was not quite what I meant; but no matter. Suppose we take such a case. If the injured person says: "One of us two must die"--what ought the other to answer?
Norbert.
Why, Uncle Michael, I should say that depended on the nature of the injury--doesn't it?
Richard.
Let us say, for the sake of argument, that the wrong is the gravest that one man can do another; let us say he has seduced his friend's wife. Has the husband a right to the other man's life?
Norbert.
Why, father--there can be but one answer to that. And if the other man is a man of honour--though I don't see how he could be, do you?--he would be more eager to give his life than the husband could possibly be to take it.
Richard.
H'm. Perhaps you're right. Thank you, my boy.
Norbert.
Uncle Michael, at what time to-morrow may I see you?
Kellinghausen.
I'll send you word, Norbert.
Norbert.
Thanks. Don't make it too late, will you? Don't keep me waiting too long. Good-bye. Good-bye, father. (Goes out.)
Richard.
Well--are you satisfied?
Kellinghausen.
You put the question in a way that suggests suicide. That was not----
Richard.
It is your own choice. All I ask is two days' respite. You won't refuse it? (Kellinghausenshrugs his shoulders.) Good-bye. (Goes out.)
A study in the house ofRichard Völkerlingk.Doors on the right and left, at the back. A fireplace in the middle background, the rest of the wall hidden by book-cases, which frame the fireplace and doors. In the foreground, to the left, a window. To the right of it, a writing-table. In the centre a table covered with periodicals and books. On the right a leather sofa and arm-chairs. Behind these a door. Rich and sombre decorations, old pictures, armour, etc. A hanging-lamp with a green shade, another lamp on a table, both lit. Through the window one sees the twilight.Holtzmannis seated at the centre-table, reading.
EnterGeorge.
George.
Herr Holtzmann, some one is asking for the Baron.
Holtzmann.
Why, you know the Baron is at the Reichstag.
George.
He says it's important that the Baron should see him. He wants to know when he can call again.
Holtzmann.
Do you know who it is?
George.
Well--not exactly a gentleman. What shall I tell him?
Holtzmann.
The Baron speaks this afternoon. He will not leave till the House rises. Tell the man to come back in an hour. (Georgegoes out.)
Norbertenters.
Norbert(greatly excited).
Herr Holtzmann--haven't you been at the Reichstag? (Holtzmannshakes his head without speaking.) Then you haven't heard? My father has had the most wonderful triumph--they say there has never been anything like it.
Holtzmann.
Ah?
Norbert.
I wish I could give you an idea of it! Look at me--I'm shaking all over! If you could have heard the way the words rushed out, the way the thoughts trod on each other's heels! He began by sketching the psychology of the modern man, and from that he developed a theory of marriage, with its outward obligations and inner ideals--the marriage of to-day in its highest, noblest sense--but you'll read what he said; you'll see if I'm exaggerating. Then he went on to the practical application of his theory. In this unsettled age, when parents are losing their control over their children, and the state its hold over the citizen, when even God and His priests see the soul of man slipping away from them--at such a time we must do all we can to strengthen the only tie that holds humanity together--the only tie that gives youth the shelter of the family life till habit becomes duty, and duty the law of being, and through obedience to that law a strong and enduring national soul is created. Isn't that beautiful, Herr Holtzmann? Isn't that a glorious idea?
Holtzmann.
Very fine, very fine. But doesn't such an argument lead back to the standpoint of the Church, which----
Norbert.
When marriage is a mockery, he said, the state may intervene and dissolve it. That was all. Never in my life have I heard such a scathing denunciation of infidelity!
Holtzmann.
Ah? Indeed?
Norbert.
There was such terrible menace in his words that I--oh, well, I can't explain it--but I began to feel afraid--of I don't know what----
Holtzmann(half to himself).
This will explain----
Norbert.
Explain what? What do you mean?
Georgeenters.
George(urgently).
Herr Holtzmann!
Holtzmann(toNorbert).
One moment, please. (He goes up toGeorge.)
George(in a whisper).
The man is here again, and asking to see you. He is waiting in the café across the street.
Holtzmann.
Doesn't he give his name?
George.
Yes. Something like Meister or Meissner.
Holtzmann(startled, in a whisper).
Meixner?
George.
That's it.
Holtzmann(turning toNorbert).
Will you excuse me? Some one has sent for me.
Norbert.
Don't let me keep you. (HoltzmannandGeorgego out.Norbertgoes to the window, his hand shading his eyes, and gazes out eagerly.Richardcomes in quietly and lays his portfolio on the writing-table.)
Norbert(turning toward him).
Father! Father! (He throws himself inRichard'sarms.Richardthanks him with a smile.)
Norbert.
Mother sends you her love and is sorry she can't be here to congratulate you. She's in waiting on the Princess this evening.
Richard.
Ah? (He moves about the room.)
Norbert.
Oh, father, how happy you must be! How they cheered, how they fought to get near you and shake your hand! Oh, if only I could have one such hour in my life!
Richard(laying a hand on his shoulder).
If you do, my son, may you pay for it less dearly!
Norbert.
What do you mean?
Richard.
Listen, Norbert.--Have you heard anything of Aunt Beata?
Norbert.
I went there, but they told me she wouldn't see any one.
Richard(musingly).
H'm.
Norbert.
The fact is, I wanted to see Uncle Michael.
Richard.
(Who has walked toward the window.) Uncle Michael? That reminds me that I wanted to tell you-- How the sunset shines on the house-tops over there! Everything is in a glow--we shall have glorious winter weather soon----
Norbert.
You said you had something to tell me, father.
Richard.
Yes, yes; to be sure. But first, haven't you something to tellme?
Norbert(with an embarrassed smile).
Yes; but not to-day--when you're so----
Richard.
The very day, dear boy! To-morrow I may but there's nothing to tell, after all. Aunt Beata and I have seen this coming and it has made us very happy.
Norbert.
(Flinging his arms about his father.) Father! Father!
Richard.
Norbert! My dear lad! But we don't yet know what Uncle Michael will say----
Norbert.
Uncle Michael? When I'myourson? Father, you've heard something. You wouldn't frighten me for nothing.
Richard.
I have heard nothing. But, Norbert, listen. Whatever comes to you in after days, I want you to remember one thing: it doesn't matter whether we succeed or not. What we need is the guiding note of a voice that seems the echo of our best hopes. It doesn't matter whether we are mistaken in the voice or not--the great thing is to hear it. And the worst thing is not to feel the need of it.
Norbert.
Thank you, father. I'm not sure I understand--but you may be sure I shall listen for the voice.
Richard.
And one thing more. Uncle Michael is very busy just now. Leave him alone for a day or two--even if you have the chance of speaking. And let me see you to-morrow morning early. I may have to go on a long journey--and before I start----
Norbert.
On a journey? Now? Just as you----
Richard(nods).
This is between ourselves. But meanwhile, try to see Aunt Beata for a moment. I want you to tell her--but stay, I'll write. (He seats himself at the writing-table and begins to write.)
EnterGeorge.
George.
His Excellency Baron Ludwig von Völkerlingk.
EnterBaron Ludwig.Richardstarts up, pleased and surprised.
George.
The evening papers, your Excellency. (He puts them down and goes out.)
Richard.
Ludwig! It's a long time since you've given me this pleasure.
Baron Ludwig.
Thank you, Richard.
Richard.
Will you excuse me a moment? I am finishing a letter. (He folds the letter, puts it into an envelope and writes the address, whileNorbertandBaron Ludwigare greeting each other.) There!
Norbert(taking the letter).
An answer, father?
Richard.
As soon as possible. (Norbertgoes out.)
Baron Ludwig.
My dear Richard--we're quite alone, I suppose? (Richardnods.) Forgive the suggestion, but-- (he glances about the room) Leonie sometimes overhears----
Richard.
Leonie is out.
Baron Ludwig.
So much the better. But first let me tell you with what admiration I listened to you just now--what breathless admiration! (Richardmakes a gesture of thanks.) Still, I confess that your having to speak on such a subject just at present made me--er--a little nervous----
Richard.
Why so?
Baron Ludwig.
I was almost afraid--but we'll go into that presently.--Well, at all events, if nothing goes wrong, you may look upon this as the starting-point of a career that any man living might envy you.