Richard.
What do you mean?
Baron Ludwig.
A certain personage was heard to say after your speech:That is the man I need. Don't look as if you saw a ghost. You deserve it all, my dear Richard.
Richard.
(Walks up and down in agitated silence.) Ludwig--you have led me to the top of a high mountain and shown me the promised land in which I shall never set foot. Give me time to renounce the idea.
Baron Ludwig.
Why should you talk of renouncing it? But this brings me to the object of my visit. Richard, how long do you suppose your enemies will wait before making capital out of your speech?
Richard.
I'm ready for them, my dear fellow. I'll pay the shot--to the last penny!
Baron Ludwig(in a lower tone).
We are talking at cross-purposes. I referred to the insinuations of your former secretary.
Richard.
I understand.
Baron Ludwig.
You know there is nothing they are so eager to attack as our private life. Of course I don't for a moment imagine the man has anything to go on--but unless you can silence him he may make a scandal in which everything will go under--your name, your career--and other things besides.
Richard.
What can I do to prevent it?
Baron Ludwig.
For one thing, you might jump into a cab and hunt your man down with a big bribe in your pocket.
Richard.
Do you think that kind of man could be bribed?
Baron Ludwig.
My dear Richard, this is not merely a matter of life and death. Remember that. Of course you may be too late; but it's the only way I can suggest. (There is a knock on the door.)
Richard.
Come in.
EnterHoltzmann.
Holtzmann.
I beg your pardon, Baron. (In a low voice.) An important matter----
Richard.
You may speak before my brother. I have no secrets from him.
Holtzmann.
There is a man waiting in my room who wishes to speak to you. His name is Meixner. (The two brothers look at each other.)
Richard.
Thanks. Please tell Herr Meixner that I will see him in a moment. (Holtzmanngoes out.)
Baron Ludwig.
Well, this ends my mission. Good-bye, Richard. Your luck frightens me.
Richard(laughing bitterly).
My luck!
Baron Ludwig(pressing his hands).
Don't hang back now, my dear fellow. The way is open to you.
Richard.
Thank you. Good-bye. (Baron Ludwiggoes out.Richardrings.)
EnterGeorge.
Richard.
I will see the gentleman who is waiting. You will remain in the ante-room. Don't let in any one else. (Georgegoes out. After a short pauseMeixnerenters.)
Richard.
Herr Meixner, after what has happened, doesn't it strike you as rather a liberty that you should enter my house?
Meixner.
(Speaking in a hoarse voice, with an occasional cough.) May I take my muffler off? My lungs have gone wrong--makes it very hard for me to talk down my adversary in one of those crowded smoky halls.--But what's to be done about it?
Richard.
May I ask what you want of me?
Meixner.
Really, Baron, from the way you look at me I might almost ask what you want ofme. But I suppose it's my turn first.--I haven't come out of malice. You can safely offer me a chair.
Richard.
If you haven't come out of malice you probably won't stay long enough to need one.
Meixner.
Ah--thanks. Well, I'll take the hint and be brief. It was down at Lengenfeld, you know. Herr Holtzmann and I sat up a whole night arguing over the elections. Why not--two honourable antagonists, eh? Herr Holtzmann, as a good theologian, was all for the sanctity of the social order. I laughed at him--he's at the age when the disciple looks up to his master, and he brought you up as an example. I laughed at him again.--"If Baron Völkerlingk is not what I believe him to be," said he, "nothing is what I believe it to be, and I'll go over to your side." "Shake hands on that," said I; and we did. The next day, in my speech, I made that allusion--you know what I mean--and as no one took it up, and I began to be afraid it might hang fire, I sent about a few copies of the paper. That helped. I got my nomination the next day.
Richard.
Not in my district.
Meixner.
No matter. Well I found I'd made a stupid blunder. I'd meant to convert Holtzmann but I hadn't meant to ruinyou. Do you see? Then you made your speech to-day--and after that-- Well, I've been tramping the streets ever since, saying to myself: The man who could make that speech after what he's been through--well, he's suffered enough.--Baron Völkerlingk, here are two letters written to you by-- (he looks about him cautiously) by a lady I needn't name. Don't ask me how I got them. I didn't steal them; and here they are, if you'll give me your word that you'll put a stop to that libel-suit.
Richard.
I think the suit has already been stopped.
Meixner.
H'm--well, your thinking so is hardly sufficient.
Richard.
It will have to be stopped, even if you keep those letters.
Meixner(startled).
Even if--? H'm--do things look as badly as that for you?
Richard.
You will kindly leave me out of the question.
Meixner.
Ah--well--here are your letters. (Lays them on the table.)
Richard.
If you didn't wish to do me a public injury, why not have shown them privately to my secretary?
Meixner.
They might have been forgeries.
Richard.
They may be so still.
Meixner.
When I've taken the trouble to return them to you? Holtzmann doesn't think so. He's packing up already. Perhaps you'd like to see him before he leaves?
Richard.
No.
Meixner.
Baron Völkerlingk, if I have got you into trouble don't set it down to ill-feeling. Principle is principle, if we have to hang for it. Every man who has convictions must be prepared to go to the stake for them. Good-day to you, Baron Völkerlingk. (He goes out.)
Richard.
(Clutches the letters and strikes his clenched hand against his brow.) Oh, to live again to live, to live!
EnterNorbert.
Norbert.
Father----
Richard.
Well?
Norbert.
Aunt Beata was out.
Richard.
Out? At this hour? Why, she never goes out except for her morning drive. Where can she have gone?
Norbert.
No one knows.
Richard.
But she must have ordered the carriage?
Norbert.
It seems not.
Richard.
Well, thank you, my boy. What time is it?
Norbert.
Nearly seven.
Richard.
You had better dine without me. I shall go and enquire. She may have----
Norbert.
Is there anything I can do, father?
Richard.
No, no. Thanks, Norbert. (He gives him his hand.) Good-night, my lad.
Norbert.
Good-night, father. (Goes out.)
Richard(to himself).
My God! My God! (He hurries toward the door, and starts back amazed.)
EnterBeata,in hat and cloak, her face thickly veiled.
Richard.
Beata! (He closes the door.) Where have you come from? Tell me, for heaven's sake!
Beata.
Alive!
Richard.
Did any one see you except George?
Beata.
Alive--alive! (She sinks into a chair, trembling and hiding her face in her hands.)
Richard.
Good God, Beata, rouse yourself! What has happened? Don't keep me in suspense. What is it, dearest? Answer me.
Beata.
I'm so cold.
Richard(opening the door).
George! (Georgeenters.) Light the fire.
George(kneels down and lights it).
Yes, your Excellency.
Richard.
And see that no one interrupts us. I am engaged with Madame von Kellinghausen.
George.
Yes, your Excellency.
Richard.
If the Baroness comes in, say nothing, but let me know.
George.
Yes, your Excellency. (Goes out.)
Richard.
And now, come and sit by the fire. But take off your cloak first--there. And your hat and veil too?
Beata.
(Letting her arms sink down helplessly.) I can't.
Richard.
Wait, dear. (He loosens her veil.) How white you are! Come to the fire. (He leads her to the fireplace.) There! is that right?
Beata.
Everything is right as long as you're alive!
Richard.
Why, Beata, what put such an idea into your head?
Beata.
Hasn't it been inyoursever since yesterday?
Richard.
There will be no duel, I assure you.
Beata.
I have just read your speech. It was your goodbye to the world. Oh, don't laugh--don't deny it. I've felt death hanging over us ever since.
Richard.
And I swear to you that I've never loved life better, have never been more determined to live, than now that I've won back my place in the world.
Beata.
You swear that to me?
Richard.
I swear it.
Beata.
And yet you must die.
Richard.
So must we all. But I mean to put it off as long as possible, I promise you!
Beata(standing up).
Richard, for fifteen years we haven't kept a single thought from each other, yet now that the end has come you throw me over as if you were paying off a discarded mistress.
Richard(agitated).
Beata!
Beata.
Don't be afraid. I am not going to force your confidence. You would only repeat what Michael has already told me--that you are going to travel, to disappear for a while.--Is this the laugh with which we were to have greeted death? Often and often, at night, when I've lain in bed struggling for breath, I've said to myself that I should die before morning. What if it really happened to-night? You'd have to wait then--you'd have no right to follow me. Think how people would talk if you did! (With a sudden start.) The children, Richard--there must be no shadow on the children.
Richard.
Beata, don't talk so wildly. Do shake off such fancies.
Beata(musing).
Yes--yes.--You know you'll have a note from Michael in the morning.
Richard.
What do you mean?
Beata.
A note asking you to luncheon to-morrow to meet some friends. Nothing more.
Richard.
What is the object----
Beata.
It seems there has been some gossip at the clubs, and this is the shortest way of putting a stop to it. (Entreatingly.) You'll come, Richard, won't you?
Richard.
Beata! Why should we go through this new misery?
Beata(in wild anxiety).
Richard, youwillcome? You must come.
Richard.
I can't, Beata.
Beata.
It is the last thing I shall ever ask of you. Now you're smiling again--well, I'll believe anything you tell me--about your travelling, about your disappearing--I'll believe anything, if you'll only come. Richard, come for the children's sake. And if not for the children's sake, come for mine--or I shall die of it--I shall die of it, Richard, in the night----
Richard(overcome).
I will come.
Beata.
Give me your hand. (Richardgives it.Beatatakes his hand, and passes it over her eyes and cheeks.) There--I'm quite quiet again, you see. (Sits down.) I don't know if I told you that I'm going to Rossitsch to-morrow.
Richard.
For good?
Beata(nodding).
So that, unless you come and pay me a visit there----
Richard.
This is good-bye? For always. So you needn't keep yourself so frightfully in hand. (He looks at her doubtfully.) You needn't, really. (He falls on his knees before her and hides his face in her lap.)
Beata(stroking his hair).
"I knew a sad old tale of Tristram and Iseult"--How grey you've grown in these last few days! (She kisses his hair.) Don't get up yet--I want to look at you again--for the last time.--Only I can't see you--your face has been like a mask ever since yesterday.--Look at me just once as you used to--just once!
Richard(rising).
I've never changed to you.
Beata.
Haven't you?--Who knows?--We've grown old, you and I. There's a layer of ashes on our hearts--a layer of conventionality and good behaviour and weariness and disappointment.--Who knows what we were like before the fire went out? Not a trace is left to tell--not so much as a riband or a flower. The words are forgotten, the letters are destroyed, the emotions have faded. Here we sit like two ghosts on our own graves. (Passionately.) Oh, to go back just once to the old life, and then forget everything----
Richard.
Do you really want to?
Beata.
You can work wonders--but not that!
Richard.
(Draws out the letters, and opening one, begins to read it to her.) "Rossitsch, June 13th, 1881. Two o'clock in the morning."
Beata.
What is that?
Richard.
Listen. (Reading.) "I don't want to sleep, dearest. The night is too bright and my happiness too great. The moonlight lies on Likowa, and already the dawn shows red through the network of elms. The blood beats like a hammer in my temples--I scarcely know how I am going to bear the riches of my new life. Oh, how I pray God to let me live it out beside you--not as your wife, that would be too wild a dream!--but as an unseen influence at your side, faint as the moonlight which rests upon your sleep, or as the first glow of dawn that wakes you to new endeavour."
Beata.
I must have been listening to Wagner. Let me see; did I really write that? (She reads.) "For I mean to make you the greatest among men, you, my discoverer and my deliverer--" That's not so bad, you know. (Reads on.) "If only heaven would let me die, and give you my life to live as well as your own." (She rises suddenly with a strange look on her face.)
Richard.
This letter and another have just been brought to me by--Meixner. If he had come yesterday we should have been saved. Now it is too late.
Beata.
Too late?--Oh, Richard, how ungrateful I've been! Why, every prayer of my youth has been granted--the long sad sweet dream at your side-- (She breaks suddenly into laughter.)
Richard.
Why do you laugh?
Beata.
I laugh because in your speech this morning you disowned us both--disowned our long sad sweet dream. Oh, I don't blame you, Richard. It isn't your conscience that torments you, it's the conscience of the race. I'm only a woman--what do I care for the race? You felt that you were sinning--I felt that I had risen above myself, that I had attained the harmony nature meant me to attain. And because I feel that----
Richard.
You deny that we have sinned----?
Beata.
I deny nothing. I affirm nothing. I stand on the farther shore of life, and look over at you with a smile. Oh, Richard, Richard (she laughs), did you ever really think I had given you up? I never gave you up. I never ceased to long for you, passionately, feverishly, day and night, when you were away and when you were near me--always, always--and all the while I was playing the cool, quiet friend, biting my lips to keep the words back, and crushing down my rebellious heart--yes, and through it all I was so happy--so unspeakably, supremely happy----
Richard(going up to her).
Take care, dear. You mustn't excite yourself. I shall have to send you home.
Beata.
(Letting her head sink on his breast with a happy smile.) Home? This is home.
Richard.
They will be wondering where you are. They may send here to find you.
Beata(mysteriously, urgently).
No, no--not yet! I have so much to say to you. There are so many secrets I must tell you. Everything has grown so clear to me--I wish I--Richard, you will surely come to-morrow? (Crying out suddenly.) I want to stay with you. I am afraid of to-night!
Richard.
Beata, do try to control yourself.
Beata.
Yes, yes--I'll control myself.-- (She stands motionless, benumbed.) Give me my hat. (He brings her the hat and veil.) And my veil. (Fervently.) You still love your life, Richard? You still want to live?
Richard.
Haven't I told you so? Ever since----
Beata.
Never fear, dearest. Youshalllive.
Richard(with outstretched hands).
Beata, before we part----
Beata.
Don't thank me--don't kiss me. I--good-bye, Richard. (She goes out.)
Richard.
Beata!
The dining-room atCount Kellinghausen's.In the middle of the stage a table with six covers. On the right a sofa, table, and chairs. Sideboard on the left. In the centre at the back a wide door leading into the drawing-room. Door on the right into anteroom, door on the left into inner apartments. A window on the right, in the foreground. Grey light of a winter's day.Ellenis busy arranging the flowers on the table.Conradin the background. EnterBeatafrom the left.
Ellen.
Oh, mother, I'm so glad you've come. Will the flowers do?
Beata.
Beautifully, dear. (Conradgoes out.)
Ellen.
And the cards? Look--I've put you here, of course, with Baron Ludwig on your right, and Prince Usingen on your left.--Mother! You're not listening.
Beata.
Yes I am. But Brachtmann is older than the Prince. They must change places.
Ellen.
Very well. And this is Uncle Richard's seat, next to father's.
EnterKellinghausen.
Kellinghausen.
What about father?
Ellen.
I was only saying that I had put Uncle Richard next to you.
Kellinghausen.
Next to me?--Yes, yes; of course. Quite right. (He pets her.) Now, you monkey, be off!
Beata.
I shall see you before luncheon, dear.
Ellen.
Yes, mother. (Goes out.)
Kellinghausen.
I came to speak to you about our arrangements. I have just received a telegram from Rossitsch. Your rooms are ready for you. To prevent any talk, I shall take you there and leave you. I suppose you are ready to start this evening?
Beata.
Whenever you please, dear Michael.
Kellinghausen.
You don't seem to have made any preparations.
Beata(smiling).
I have so few to make!
Kellinghausen.
I have no objection to Ellen's remaining with you till the spring. Then we can see about sending her to a boarding-school.
Beata.
I consent to that too.
Kellinghausen.
You could hardly expect your refusal to make much difference.
Beata(still smiling).
Don't be afraid. I understand my position.