Chapter 24

Maia.

[In a fit of suppressed laughter.] Heavens, how solemn you look!

Professor Rubek.

[Suspiciously scrutinising her.] Yes, perhaps a little more solemn than necessary.

Maia.

How so——?

Professor Rubek.

Andthatis a very good thing for us both.

Maia.

You begin to make me feel curious, Rubek.

Professor Rubek.

Only curious? Not a little bit uneasy.

Maia.

[Shaking her head.] Not in the least.

Professor Rubek.

Good. Then listen.—You said that day down at the Baths that it seemed to you I had become very nervous of late——

Maia.

Yes, and you really have.

Professor Rubek.

And what do you think can be the reason ofthat?

Maia.

How can I tell——? [Quickly.] Perhaps you have grown weary of this constant companionship with me.

Professor Rubek.

Constant—? Why not say "everlasting"?

Maia.

Daily companionship, then. Here have we two solitary people lived down there for four or five mortal years, and scarcely been an hour away from each other.—We two all by ourselves.

Professor Rubek.

[With interest.] Well? And then——?

Maia.

[A little oppressed.] You are not a particularly sociable man, Rubek. You like to keep yourself to yourself and think your own thoughts. And of course I can’t talk properly toyouaboutyouraffairs. I know nothing about art and that sort of thing—[With an impatient gesture.] And care very little either, for that matter!

Professor Rubek.

Well, well; and that’s why we generally sit by the fireside, and chat ofyouraffairs.

Maia.

Oh, good gracious—I have no affairs to chat about.

Professor Rubek.

Well, they are trifles, perhaps; but at any rate the time passes for us in that way as well as another, Maia.

Maia.

Yes, you are right. Time passes. It is passing away from you, Rubek.—And I suppose it is reallythatthat makes you so uneasy——

Professor Rubek.

[Nods vehemently.] And so restless! [Writhing in his seat.] No, I shall soon not be able to endure this pitiful life any longer.

Maia.

[Rises and stands for a moment looking at him.] If you want to get rid of me, you have only to say so.

Professor Rubek.

Whywillyou use such phrases? Get rid of you?

Maia.

Yes, if you want to have done with me, please say so right out. And I will go that instant.

Professor Rubek.

[With an almost imperceptible smile.] Do you intend that as a threat, Maia?

Maia.

There can be no threat for you in what I said.

Professor Rubek.

[Rising.] No, I confess you are right there. [Adds after a pause.] You and I cannot possibly go on living together like this——

Maia.

Well? And then——?

Professor Rubek.

There is no “then” about it. [With emphasis on his words.] Because we two cannot go on living togetheralone—it does not necessarily follow that we must part.

Maia.

[Smiles scornfully.] Only draw away from each other a little, you mean?

Professor Rubek.

[Shakes his head.] Even that is not necessary.

Maia.

Well then? Come out with what you want to do with me.

Professor Rubek.

[With some hesitation.] What I now feel so keenly—and so painfully—that I require, is to have some one about me who really and truly stands close to me——

Maia.

[Interrupts him anxiously.] Don’tIdo that, Rubek?

Professor Rubek.

[Waving her aside.] Not in that sense. What I need is the companionship of another person who can, as it were, complete me—supply what is wanting in me—beonewith me in all my striving.

Maia.

[Slowly.] It’s true that things like that are a great deal too hard for me.

Professor Rubek.

Oh no, they are not at all in your line, Maia.

Maia.

[With an outburst.] And heaven knows I don’t want them to be, either!

Professor Rubek.

I know that very well.—And it was with no idea of finding any such help in my life-work that I married you.

Maia.

[Observing him closely.] I can see in your face that you are thinking of some one else.

Professor Rubek.

Indeed? I have never noticed before that you were a thought-reader. But you can seethat, can you?

Maia.

Yes, I can. Oh, I know you so well, so well, Rubek.

Professor Rubek.

Then perhaps you can also seewhoit is I am thinking of?

Maia.

Yes, indeed I can.

Professor Rubek.

Well? Have the goodness to——?

Maia.

You are thinking of that—that model you once used for—[Suddenly letting slip the train of thought.] Do you know, the people down at the hotel think she’s mad.

Professor Rubek.

Indeed? And pray what do the people down at the hotel think of you and the bear-killer?

Maia.

That has nothing to do with the matter. [Continuing the former train of thought.] But it was this pale lady you were thinking of.

Professor Rubek.

[Calmly.] Precisely, of her.—When I had no more use for her—and when, besides, she went away from me—vanished without a word——

Maia.

Then you accepted me as a sort of makeshift, I suppose?

Professor Rubek.

[More unfeelingly.] Something of the sort, to tell the truth, little Maia. For a year or a year and a half I had lived there lonely and brooding, and had put the last touch—the very last touch, to my work. “The Resurrection Day” went out over the world and brought me fame—and everything else that heart could desire. [With greater warmth.] But I no longer loved my own work. Men’s laurels and incense nauseated me, till I could have rushed away in despair and hidden myself in the depths of the woods. [Looking at her.] You, who are a thought-reader—can you guess what then occurred to me?

Maia.

[Lightly.] Yes, it occurred to you to make portrait-busts of gentlemen and ladies.

Professor Rubek.

[Nods.] To order, yes. With animals’ faces behind the masks.TheseI threw in gratis—into the bargain, you understand. [Smiling.] But that was not precisely what I had in my mind.

Maia.

What, then?

Professor Rubek.

[Again serious.] It wasthis, that all the talk about the artist’s vocation and the artist’s mission, and so forth, began to strike me as being very empty, and hollow, and meaningless at bottom.

Maia.

Then what would you put in its place?

Professor Rubek.

Life, Maia.

Maia.

Life?

Professor Rubek.

Yes, is not life in sunshine and in beauty a hundred times better worth while than to hang about to the end of your days in a raw, damp hole, and wear yourself out in a perpetual struggle with lumps of clay and blocks of stone?

Maia.

[With a little sigh.] Yes, I have always thought so, certainly.

Professor Rubek.

And then I had become rich enough to live in luxury and in indolent, quivering sunshine. I was able to build myself the villa on the Lake of Taunitz, and the palazzo in the capital,—and all the rest of it.

Maia.

[Taking up his tone.] And last but not least, you could afford to treat yourself to me, too. And you gave me leave to share in all your treasures.

Professor Rubek.

[Jesting, so as to turn the conversation.] Did I not promise to take you up with me to a high mountain and show you all the glory of the world?

Maia.

[With a gentle expression.] You have perhaps taken me up with you to a high enough mountain, Rubek—but you have not shown me all the glory of the world.

Professor Rubek.

[With a laugh of irritation.] How insatiable you are, Maia! Absolutely insatiable! [With a vehement outburst.] But do you know what is the most hopeless thing of all, Maia? Can you guess that?

Maia.

[With quiet defiance.] Yes, I suppose it is that you have gone and tied yourself to me—for life.

Professor Rubek.

I would not have expressed myself so heartlessly.

Maia.

But you would have meant it just as heartlessly.

Professor Rubek.

You have no clear idea of the inner workings of an artist’s nature.

Maia.

[Smiling and shaking her head.] Good heavens, I haven’t even a clear idea of the inner workings of my own nature.

Professor Rubek.

[Continuing undisturbed.] I live at such high speed, Maia. We live so, we artists. I, for my part, have lived through a whole lifetime in the few years we two have known each other. I have come to realise that I am not at all adapted for seeking happiness in indolent enjoyment. Life does not shape itself that way for me and those like me. I must go on working—producing one work after another—right up to my dying day. [Forcing himself to continue.] That is why I cannot get on with you any longer, Maia—not with you alone.

Maia.

[Quietly.] Does that mean, in plain language, that you have grown tired of me?

Professor Rubek.

[Bursts forth.] Yes, that is what it means! I have grown tired—intolerably tired and fretted and unstrung—in this life with you! Now you know it. [Controlling himself.] These are hard, ugly words I am using. I know that very well. And you are not all to blame in this matter;—that I willingly admit. It is simply and solely I myself, who have once more undergone a revolution—[Half to himself]—an awakening to my real life.

Maia.

[Involuntarily folding her hands.] Why in all the world should we not part then?

Professor Rubek.

[Looks at her in astonishment.] Should you be willing to?

Maia.

[Shrugging her shoulders.] Oh yes—if there’s nothing else for it, then——

Professor Rubek.

[Eagerly.] But there is something else for it. Thereisan alternative——

Maia.

[Holding up her forefinger.] Now you are thinking of the pale lady again!

Professor Rubek.

Yes, to tell the truth, I cannot help constantly thinking of her. Ever since I met her again. [A step nearer her.] For now I will tell you a secret, Maia.

Maia.

Well?

Professor Rubek.

[Touching his own breast.] In here, you see—in here I have a little bramah-locked casket. And in that casket all my sculptor’s visions are stored up. But when she disappeared and left no trace, the lock of the casket snapped to. And she had the key—and she took it away with her.—You, little Maia, you had no key; so all that the casket contains must lie unused. And the years pass! And I have no means of getting at the treasure.

Maia.

[Trying to repress a subtle smile.] Then get her to turn the key for you again——

Professor Rubek.

[Not understanding.] Maia——?

Maia.

—for here she is, you see. And no doubt it’s on account of this casket that she has come.

Professor Rubek.

I have not said a single word to her on this subject!

Maia.

[Looks innocently at him.] My dear Rubek—is it worth while to make all this fuss and commotion about so simple a matter?

Professor Rubek.

Do you think this matter is so absolutely simple?

Maia.

Yes, certainly I think so. Do you attach yourself to whoever you most require. [Nods to him.] I shall always manage to find a place for myself.

Professor Rubek.

Where do you mean?

Maia.

[Unconcerned, evasively.] Well—I need only take myself off to the villa, if it should be necessary. But it won’t be; for in town—in all that great house of ours—there must surely, with a little good will, be room enough for three.

Professor Rubek.

[Uncertainly.] And do you thinkthatwould work in the long run?

Maia.

[In a light tone.] Very well, then—if it won’t work, it won’t. It is no good talking about it.

Professor Rubek.

And what shall we do then, Maia—if it doesnotwork?

Maia.

[Untroubled.] Then we two will simply get out of each other’s way—part entirely. I shall always find something new for myself, somewhere in the world. Something free! Free! Free!—No need to be anxious aboutthat, Professor Rubek! [Suddenly points off to the right.] Lookthere! There we have her.

Professor Rubek.

[Turning.] Where?

Maia.

Out on the plain. Striding—like a marble statue. She is coming this way.

Professor Rubek.

[Stands gazing with his hand over his eyes.] Does not she look like the Resurrection incarnate? [To himself.] AndherI could displace—and move into the shade! Remodel her—. Fool that I was!

Maia.

What do you mean by that?

Professor Rubek.

[Putting the question aside.] Nothing. Nothing that you would understand.

[Ireneadvances from the right over the upland. The children at their play have already caught sight of her and run to meet her. She is now surrounded by them; some appear confident and at ease, others uneasy and timid. She talks low to them and indicates that they are to go down to the hotel; she herself will rest a little beside the brook. The children run down over the slope to the left, half way to the back.Irenegoes up to the wall of rock, and lets the rillets of the cascade flow over her hands, cooling them.

Maia.

[In a low voice.] Go down and speak to her alone, Rubek.

Professor Rubek.

And where willyougo in the meantime?

Maia.

[Looking significantly at him.] Henceforth I shall go my own ways.

[She descends from the hillock and leaps over the brook, by aid of her alpenstock. She stops besideIrene.

Maia.

Professor Rubek is up there, waiting for you, madam.

Irene.

What does he want?

Maia.

He wants you to help him to open a casket that has snapped to.

Irene.

Can I help him in that?

Maia.

He says you are the only person that can.

Irene.

Then I must try.

Maia.

Yes, you really must, madam.

[She goes down by the path to the hotel.

[In a little whileProfessor Rubekcomes down toIrene, but stops with the brook between them.

Irene.

[After a short pause.] She—the other one—said that you had been waiting for me.

Professor Rubek.

I have waited for you year after year—without myself knowing it.

Irene.

I could not come to you, Arnold. I was lying down there, sleeping the long, deep, dreamful sleep.

Professor Rubek.

But now you have awakened, Irene!

Irene.

[Shakes her head.] I have the heavy, deep sleep still in my eyes.

Professor Rubek.

You shall see that day will dawn and lighten for us both.

Irene.

Do not believe that.

Professor Rubek.

[Urgently.] I do believe it! And I know it! Now that I have found you again——

Irene.

Risen from the grave.

Professor Rubek.

Transfigured!

Irene.

Only risen, Arnold. Not transfigured.

[He crosses over to her by means of stepping-stones below the cascade.

Professor Rubek.

Where have you been all day, Irene?

Irene.

[Pointing.] Far, far over there, on the great dead waste——

Professor Rubek.

[Turning the conversation.] You have not your—your friend with you to-day, I see.

Irene.

[Smiling.] My friend is keeping a close watch on me, none the less.

Professor Rubek.

Can she?

Irene.

[Glancing furtively around.] You may be sure she can—wherever I may go. She never loses sight of me—[Whispering.] Until one fine sunny morning, I shall kill her.

Professor Rubek.

Would you do that?

Irene.

With the utmost delight—if only I could manage it.

Professor Rubek.

Why do you want to?

Irene.

Because she deals in witchcraft. [Mysteriously.] Only think, Arnold—she has changed herself into my shadow.

Professor Rubek.

[Trying to calm her.] Well, well, well—a shadow we must all have.

Irene.

I am my own shadow. [With an outburst.] Do you not understand that!

Professor Rubek.

[Sadly.] Yes, yes, Irene, I understand it.

[He seats himself on a stone beside the brook. She stands behind him, leaning against the wall of rock.

Irene.

[After a pause.] Why do you sit there turning your eyes away from me?

Professor Rubek.

[Softly, shaking his head.] I dare not—I dare not look at you.

Irene.

Why dare you not look at me any more?

Professor Rubek.

Youhave a shadow that tortures me. AndIhave the crushing weight of my conscience.

Irene.

[With a glad cry of deliverance.] At last!

Professor Rubek.

[Springs up.] Irene—what is it!

Irene.

[Motioning him off.] Keep still, still, still! [Draws a deep breath and says, as though relieved of a burden.] There! Now they let me go. For this time.—Now we can sit down and talk as we used to—when I was alive.

Professor Rubek.

Oh, if only we could talk as we used to.

Irene.

Sit there, where you were sitting. I will sit here beside you.

[He sits down again. She seats herself on another stone, close to him.

Irene.

[After a short interval of silence.] Now I have come back to you from the uttermost regions, Arnold.

Professor Rubek.

Aye, truly, from an endless journey.

Irene.

Come home to my lord and master——

Professor Rubek.

To our home;—to our own home, Irene.

Irene.

Have you looked for my coming every single day?

Professor Rubek.

How dared I look for you?

Irene.

[With a sidelong glance.] No, I suppose you dared not. For you understood nothing.

Professor Rubek.

Was it really not for the sake of some one else that you all of a sudden disappeared from me in that way?

Irene.

Might it not quite well be foryoursake, Arnold?

Professor Rubek.

[Looks doubtfully at her.] I don’t understand you——?

Irene.

When I had served you with my soul and with my body—when the statue stood there finished—our child as you called it—then I laid at your feet the most precious sacrifice of all—by effacing myself for all time.

Professor Rubek.

[Bows his head.] And laying my life waste.

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