i SIX DRAMAS ILLUSTRATIVE OF GERMAN LIFE, dfrom tf)e (Original PRINCESS AMALIE OF SAXONY. LONDON: JOHN W. PARKER, WEST STRAND. MDCCCXLVIII. CONTENTS. PAGE THE UNINFORMED GIRL 1 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK 59 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN 119 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD 163 THE SON'S RETURN 223 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY . . . 277 PREFACE. THE following plays are translated from the German of the Princess Amalie, of Saxony, a writer whose works, though popular in her own country, are so little known in England, (except through Mrs. Jameson's very limited selection published some years back,) that" a short account of her life may not be wholly out of place here. This accomplished authoress was born in 1794. Her father, Prince Maximilian, was the younger brother of Frederick Augustus, King of Saxony, chiefly remembered in history for his faithful and devoted adherence to Napoleon in his most adverse fortunes. Having early lost her mother, her education was carried on by her two aunts, the Queen of Saxony, and the Princess Marie Therese. She and her sisters were brought up with great strictness ; as an instance of this, Mrs. Jameson, to whose interesting account of Amalie of Saxony we are very much indebted, relates, that on the removal of these \ oppressive formalities, " one of the young princesses requested, as an especial favour, to be allowed to cross on foot the beautiful bridge over the Elbe, on which I Vi PREFACE. she had looked daily from her palace windows, for twenty years of her life." Before the princess had attained her twelfth year, the troubles of her country had compelled the whole royal family to go into exile; and it was not till 1815 that they were able to return to Dresden. During this in- terval, Prague was their principal residence, but little is known of the mode of life of the princess and her illus- trious relatives there. It was probably at this period that she gained that intimate knowledge of the details of social and domestic life, so uncommon in one of her rank, which appears in her dramas. After the restora- tion of the royal family, the Princess Amalie visited, at different times, both Italy and Spain, in company with her father ; two of her sisters having been married, one to the present, the other to the late grand Duke of Tuscany, and a third to King Ferdinand the Seventh of Spain, by whom she herself had in the first instance been addressed. She has, however, constantly rejected all proposals of marriage. In 1833, she sent her first drama, "Falsehood and Truth," (Luge und Wahrheit,) to the chief theatre in Berlin, under the name of Amelia Heiter. It was not till the next year, however, that it was acted, but it soon became generally popular. Her latest dramas were pub- lished in 1842, and most of her works have been col- lected under the title of " Essays for the German Stage," and were published for the benefit of a charitable insti- tution in Dresden. In her power of delineating character and describing PREFACE. Vll scenes of common life, Princess Amalie greatly re- sembles our own eminent novelist, Miss Austen. She has perhaps more variety in her descriptions than the English writer, who lived in a narrower circle, and whose sphere of observation is limited chiefly to country life among the gentry of England at the beginning of the pre- sent century ; while the Princess takes in a wider range, extending from the nobleman's chateau and the scenes of the gay capital, to the homelier life of the substantial burgher, or of the retired soldier ending his days in his native village. But, though differing in details, both are essentially true in their views of human nature. We have no violent contrasts or highly-coloured descriptions no startling or romantic incidents, and but little of what is generally called broad humour; hence, those whose taste is for stimulants of this kind, are apt to find both the English novelist and the German dramatist insipid ; but we have in both the same minute and accu- rate portrait-painting, the same nice discrimination of the finer shades of character, and the same quiet humour, shown in a thousand delicate touches, which would escape a careless observer. The plots of both writers are naturally and easily contrived ; scarcely any event takes place which might not happen any day in common life, and yet the denoue- ment seldom fails to take the reader by surprise. This power of preventing the end of the story from being foreseen, is one which very few writers of fiction possess. In tales which end tragically it is perhaps of little im- portance, the pathos of a tragedy being sometimes even Vlll PREFACE. increased, as an able writer has well remarked, by our foreseeing the destruction in which the characters will be involved ; but, in a tale, whether dramatic or other- wise, which is intended to end happily, it is most im- portant that the conclusion should be concealed, if pos- sible, from the reader : and this power is possessed most eminently by the two writers in question. But the most important merit, both of Princess Amalie and Miss Austen, is the pure tone of morality which pervades their works. Neither of them has openly in- troduced religious topics ; yet the high motives incul- cated, and the unworldly spirit of those characters which are held up for imitation, would seem to imply that they were themselves under the influence of Christian prin- ciples. The Princess's careful avoidance of those irre- verent and profane exclamations which are so common in France and Germany, springs, we must believe, from the same source ; and there is a peculiar satisfaction in presenting to the English public works so free, not only from these, but from deeper and more serious blemishes from the perverted religion and false mo- rality which deform the productions of too many popular writers, both in England and on the Continent. THE UNINFORMED GIRL, 3 Drama, IN FOUK ACTS. DRAMATIS PERSONS. HERR VON PLEISSNER. SOPHIE VON GULDENRINO, his Ward. BARON VON SOMMERFELS, disguised as a Huntsman under the name of SPRINGER. COUNTESS VON KRONSTEIN, his widowed Sister. HERR VON THURNECK, Heir von Pleissner's Guest. MADAME KURT, Pleissner's Housekeeper. LAUBEB, an Old Peasant. HERR VON GROSS, \ FRAU VON GRAUNER, ^Visitors. FRAULEIN VON STRUBEL, VON LEHMANN, Forest Inspector. I Other Ladies and Gentlemen, Servants, Peasants, fyc. The Scene is on an Estate of Sophie's. THE play of Die Unbelesene literally, The Woman who has read no Books I have translated under the title of TJie Uninformed Girl. It was pub- lished some time about 1838 or 1839. There are but few peculiarities of manners to notice in this drama. Thurneck, the Gelehrter, (Learned Man,) is thoroughly German, both in profession and character. A learned man, by profession, is considered in Germany as some- thing rather apart from ordinary mortals, be his birth what it may, and accordingly the Baron considers his profession a sufficient reason against sending him a challenge. The term Jdger, which I have translated Huntsman, seems at first rather unsuitable to a domestic servant. But it is common in German families of some pretension to keep an upper servant, who is dressed in hunting costume, and called a Jdger. Sophie, being of good birth, is constantly addressed by those about her as Fraulein. It would be impossible to use our word Miss in this manner. I have therefore retained the German title, as having no English equivalent. B2 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. ACT I. SCENE I. A Room, in the Manor House. Enter BARON VON SOMMERFELS, dressed as a huntsman, and carrying a couple of boxes under his arm, which he throws down as he enters. Baron. Uf! I must own, a servant's work is extremely tiresome. I should never have supposed it so hard. " Springer here, Springer there ! Carry that out bring that here f and p if one begs the person to wait on himself, that is considered ( impertinent. Well, my servants shall be satisfied with me, when once I have them again ; no one shall be obliged to get up before ten in the morning, and I will be punctual, that they may not have to wait for me, and gentle as a lamb, and courteous as a suppliant, for doesn't the proverb say, " Take the will for the deed ?" and would not they be barons if they could, and have money if they could 1 So it follows that SCENE II. Enter MADAME KURT. Madame Kurt. Sir ! my lord Baron ! Bar. Who calls me Baron ? Ah ! it is you, dear Kurt. Mad. K. Do you know that to-day is our master's birthday ? Bar. I do. A very old birthday. Mad. K. And that he has invited guests for this evening ; do you know that, too ? Bar. Christian has just told me so. Mad. K. Such generosity quite frightens me. 6 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. Bar. And me too ; for it might very well be a sign of your master's approaching death. Mad. K. Heaven forbid ! ah, no ! misers don't die. A miser never dies, for the very sake of his money; but when he gives a feast, one may be sure that he is going to do some- thing silly. Bar. But what in the world could Herr von Pleissner Mad. K. Why, he means to declare his marriage with Sophie. Bar. You think so ? Mad. K. He would not have coffee on any less occasion. Very well thought of very well calculated ; the girl is still stupid enough to answer a proposal with a curtsey, and " as you please." In a couple of months she might become too clever. Bar. She is that already, I would wager; for she is in love with me. Mad. K. Are you sure of that ? Bar. As sure as I live. To be sure I have hitherto done nothing to. her in the way of attentions, except sigh; but she understood my sighs, for she returned them, and looked at me compassionately. Mad.K. Really? Bar. She has for the last two days lost her usual village appetite, and sits gazing with eyes wide open instead of eating. At last, yesterday, she came up to me, and asked if anything was the matter with me ? " Everything," replied I. " Perhaps I may be able to help you," whispered she, and disappeared. Mad: K. That sounds promising ; and I must own, too, 'that she has seemed to me of late thoughtful and absent, and when I wished to know what was the matter, she would not answer me. Bar. You brought her up, did you not? Mad. K. What can you think of me? Bar. As far as I can judge, I think everything that is good of you. THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 7 Mad. K. If / had brought her up, she would not have been what she is now. I know very well what is required in education-^-my father was a dancing-master but nothing was to be taught to Fraiilein Sophie nothing at all; and when she was fifteen, my master sent her to her old nurse's at Barenwald, for the sake of the pure mountain air, as he said. Oh ! how often I have quarrelled with him about it ! Bar. Well, the nurse is dead now. Mad. K. Yes, luckily she died four weeks ago. But what has been lost in three years cannot be recovered in one month. Bar. What do you want to recover 1 A girl need not re- cover anything, for she need not know anything ; her most dangerous charms consist in a sweet naivete and good-humoured ignorance. Mad. K. And two unencumbered estates into the bargain, when they can be had. Bar. Who is thinking of estates? A man of my rank Mad. K. Men of your rank always want money. Ah, my dear sir, sometimes I am tormented by scruples of conscience serious scruples, and I should doubt whether I ought to bring about your marriage, if it were not that the poor lamb must at any rate be freed from that old tyrant; and if you were not such an amiable gentleman and and the six thousand dollars you promised me you will keep to your bargain, won't you 1 Bar. Upon my word of honour. Mad. K. I should be glad, when it is convenient, to have a line from your own hand to that effect. Bar. Is it not enough, when I swear Mad. K. I hold to black and white. Writing is an art which does man great honour, which most distinguishes him from the brutes for look you, Herr Baron, a starling can swear, but it cannot write. Bar. Well, I will write what you wish. Mad. K. And to-day, if possible; the request must not 8 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. alarm you, and if I don't trust you, you must not take it ill, for I trust no one. In my youth yes, in my youth, I had a child-like mind a wonderfully child-like miud. 1 Bar. That time is long .past. Mad. K. Ah, yes ! sorrow matured my mind beyond its years. If I were to tell you all that has happened to me in my life - Bar. Oh, don't renew your grief by speaking of it. Madame Kurt! Mad. K. Herr Baron! Bar. What was I going to askl Oh! does Herr von Thurneck stay here much longer ? Mad. K. I hear he goes to-morrow. Bar. Time he should. What has he to do here 1 Mad. K. Oh, he is a studious man, who is writing a great book of history; and he is looking for references, as he calls them, in our late master's library. Our old gentleman lets him stay indeed, he insisted on his coming here, for Herr von Thurneck is rich, and could well buy the library, and I wish he may, for then we could use the room above, to stow away the dry vegetables. Bar. A good arrangement. Mad. K. Heir von Thurneck at least will not stand in your light. He is a woman-hater, and a regular bear. Bar. Oh, I do not fear his attractions, but only his recol- lection of me. He has met me in town, and might easily recognise and betray me. Mad. K. Ah, he will never recognise you; he knows no- thing of what goes on before his eyes ; he has no sense ; why, he is a learned man ! SCENE III. 4 Enter SOPHIE. Sophie. My guardian wishes to know if the bandboxes for him are arrived from town? Bar. Here they are. THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 9 Soph. Good morning, Madame Kurt; good morning, Herr Springer. How is your health to-day ? Bar. Ah ! I still suffer much, and shall continue to do so, Fraiilein Sophie, till you fulfil your promise. Soph. I? . Bar. Did you not promise me assistance, yesterday before dinner? Oh, remember. Soph. I had nearly forgotten, though I hunted through my whole medicine chest this morning for you. (She draws out a bottle.) There, my good Herr Springer, take a table-spoonful of this at noon and in the evening that will relieve you. Bar. (Astonished.) From what 1 Soph. Why, from your sighing. Bar. Indeed ! Soph. For it must come from oppression of the chest. Why do you laugh, Madame Kurt ? Mad. K. (Laughing still.) Oh, it is nothing. Soph. Have not you observed that he is always sighing 1 Mad. K. (Smiling.) Yes, that he certainly is. Bar. But I cannot be cured by medicine. Soph. So Agnes said, and old Jacob ; but I said to them, "Take some to try just to try;" and they took it. The first day it was all the same ; the next they were better ; the day after better still ; till at last Bar. (Annoyed.) I will take the boxes to my master. \He takes them up, and goes out hastily. SCENE IV. 7 SOPHIE. MADAME KURT. Soph. See now, dear Kurt, how childish the man is. He runs away tbecause he is afraid of the medicine. Mad. K. Why should he take it? He is perfectly well. Soph. Well? Mad. K. In body, I mean ; it is in mind that he suffers. Soph. In mind ! B3 10 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. Mad. K. Take my word for it, that man is oppressed by a secret sorrow. Soph. And yet I heard him laughing heartily this morning. Mad. K. That was a laugh of despair, no doubt ; for look at him, his face and air, he was not born for a servant ; and then his education Soph. Is he educated, then 7 Oh, the happy man ! In spite of his poverty, I would willingly change with him. Mad. K. With your guardian's huntsman ? Soph. Ah, dear Kurt, I have been very low for the last two days, since Herr von Thurneck has been with us. Mad. K. He is certainly a very rude man. Soph. Rude ? Oh, no ! He greets me every time he comes in very politely. No, he is not rude; but at dinner he talks of things which open to me a new world, of which I never had an idea before. I cannot eat ; I listen quite breathless ; I long to ask him about this and that, which I don't under- stand ; but I cannot get out a word, and I am so ashamed of my ignorance ! Mad. K. A woman does not require to be learned. Soph. Learned 1 No, certainly ; but I am sure very few of my rank are as ignorant and stupid as I am. What must Herr von Thurneck think of me ? And yet it is not my fault that I know nothing. Mad.K. Nor mine either. I could have told you about Africa, and emperors, and kings but did I dare ? could I venture 1 Soph. Is it true, Madame Kurt, that the library here belongs to met Mad. K. Your father bought it. Soph. Oh, that was good of him ! Mad. K. I think he might have spent his money better ; and I am glad it will soon find a purchaser. Soph. (Alarmed.) A purchaser? Will my guardian sell it, then? THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 11 Mad. K. What can he or you want with dirty books ? They are all full of dust. I wanted to have them dusted yesterday, but Herr von Thurneck has one of the library keys, and the other 1 have never been able to find. Soph. (Aside.) If she only does not find out that I have it! Mad. K. What have you been doing this morning ? Soph. I was in the dairy, at the churning, and there I was very much vexed. Mad. K. With the maids? Soph. No, but with some of our peasants, who were speaking in the court-yard very disrespectfully of my guardian. Mad. K. Indeed ! what did they say of him? Soph. They said he would ruin them all, and they wished to be rid of him; but that would never happen, they said, because he would force me to marry him ; and more nonsense of that kind they said. Oh, they ought to know Herr von Pleissner better ! When I am once his wife, I will send away all the people who take the liberty of doing this and that in his name, and life here shall be a paradise. Mad. K. (Aside.) I have made her too stupid, and now how shall I make her sensible again without compromising myself? SCENE V. Ent&r PLEISSNER. Pleissner. (In a friendly tone.) Good morning, Madame Kurt; good morning, my dear little Sophie. Soph. Herr von Pleissner, I wish you joy. Pleis. So you know that to-day is my birthday ! Well, now, that touches me that touches me deeply, upon my honour. Soph. You look very good-natured this morning. Pleis. I am always good-natured. Soph. May be so, but one does not always observe it. 2 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. Pleis. To-day I am particularly pleased, certainly. I have received two bandboxes from town. * Soph, I know it. Pleis. But do you know what they contain ? Grand things superb things, and all for Sophie all for my little Sophie. Soph. For me ! Pleis. You shall see directly. Where are the bandboxes, then ? Soph. Herr Springer carried them out. Pleis. Stupid man ! Springer ! Springer ! SCENE VI. Enter BABON VON SOMMERFELS as SPRINGER. Baron. Sir ! , Pleis. Bring the boxes ! (BARON goes out.) Make room, Madame Kurt ; and you (to SOPHIE) open your eyes. [The BARON re-enters with the boxes, and throws them roughly on the ground. Pleis. Take care ! take care ! (To MADAME KURT.) That man is dreadfully awkward ; if he had not asked such small wages, I would give him warning. (To the BARON.) You move as if you were carrying the earth on your shoulders. [SOPHIE threatens the BARON, smiling. Pleis. (To SOPHIE.) Why do you threaten him 1 Soph. (Making a significant sign to the BARON.) He knows what I mean. Pleis. (To the BARON.) Are the boxes opened? (BARON makes a sign in the affirmative.) Then go your way. Bar. (Aside.) I certainly please her very much. [Goes out. SCENE VII. PLEISSNER, SOPHIE, and MADAME KURT. Pleis. Now, my little Sophie, look ! Soph. With your permission. (She draws out of one of the boxes a silk dress.) Goodness ! what is that '? THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 13 Pleis. A silk dress costs one thaler four groschen the ell ; so you may see how fond I am of you. Soph. Dear sir, I cannot wear this. Pleis. You must wear it. Soph. It is too pretty for me. Pleis. Too pretty for little Sophie Guldenring ; but such a dress is proper for Frau von Pleissner. And look here, too, (opens the other box,") the bonnet and plumes, the shawl, the white gloves. Soph. Then I shall look like the Countess Kronstein. Pleis. So you shall so you shall ! They have sent me a heathenish reckoning for all this, but for your sake I would not grudge the last heller. Soph. (Somewhat sorrowfully.) All this goodness is ill-be- stowed on me, for ornaments cannot make me pretty. Pleis. Pretty ! No, to be sure ; but imposing ; and it is by making a figure that one gets on in the world best. [SOPHIE kneels before the boxes, and looks at the ornaments with increasing pleasure. Mad. K. (In a low voice, to PLEISSNER.) You have delighted her greatly. Pleis. She must make herself smart to-day, that people may see that I treat her well ; and also that she may be joyful, and so it may not be said that she gives me her hand on compulsion. Mad. K. They do say very odd things of you. Pleis. I know it, and it is that torments me. Mad. K. So I thought you would perhaps postpone your marriage till people begin to talk of something else. Pleis. Or till a suitor has been found for Sophie 1 No, Madame, I am not so stupid as that. Mad. K. No one will propose for Sophie, for no one knows her. Pleis. But her money they know very well, and I cannot make a Spanish wall round her estates. If you lock up an 14 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. heiress in a cellar, no one will see her indeed, but her full purse will clink, and the hard dollars will cry out, " Here I am take me !" till at last some adventurer jumps down through the cellar-hole. No, Madame Kurt, this evening I present Sophie to the neighbourhood as my bride, and in a fortnight we are married. Mad. K. (Crossly.) In a fortnight ! Well, that is going quickly to work. You will keep me in your service, sir, will you not 1 Pleis. Why not? Oh yes! out of gratitude; for otherwise Sophie understands the management of the house and estate as well as you do. Mad. K. (Aside.) Old Hanna did that for me! Pleis. Now, if you please, leave me alone with the girl. I will announce to her what is to happen to-day. Mad. K. You are right do so. (Aside.) The Baron must declare himself before the evening. [Goes out. SCENE VIII. SOPHIE. PLEISSNEB. Pleis. (Aside.) That old woman is odious to me! (Aloud.) Sophie ! Soph. Sir! Pleis. Leave the ornaments just now, I want to speak to you. Soph. What do you wish? Pleis. You know what are my feelings towards you. Soph. I do. Pleis. That I mean to marry you? Soph. I do, sir. Pleis. And you are glad of that, are you not? Soph. I shall thus fulfil my mother's wishes. Pleis. Your good mother ! She had a great friendship for me, so her last wishes were sacred to me. What matches have been proposed to me brilliant matches! but no! my little Sophie, or no one, that was always my answer. THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 15 Soph. (Artlessly.) Then perhaps you have injured your own happiness for my sake. Pleis. Oh no, not so for I like you, because I know your disposition and mind. You would not please the town gentle- men, who merely look to beauty. Soph. Am I then really not at all pretty? For just now, as I was trying on the bonnet with plumes, it did almost seem to me as if Pleis. 0, my dear child, these are vain, blameable thoughts, which you must guard against, particularly when you go into company, for then people will say, " The charming girl ! How beautiful she is !" But don't believe it don't believe it ; that is said to everybody, and yet it is not true. Men generally praise only what they cannot get, and thence it comes, that the girls who are most admired are left old maids. Soph. And is that a misfortune, then 1 ? Pleis. The greatest in the world. The girl who gets no hus- band is to be pitied beyond measure. Soph. Indeed! Pleis. She is neither esteemed nor loved, but is betrayed and cheated by every one. Soph. I should never have thought of that. Pleis. And it cannot be otherwise; for you are all simple by nature, and if you have not a husband by your side, you do not know how to take counsel, or help yourselves. (SOPHIE looks at him with astonishment.) Does that make you thoughtful and sad? Cheer up, my child, you will never be without support, for I am going to marry you, and to-day, this very evening, we will have our betrothal. Soph. (Alarmed.) How! This evening! Pleis. (Concealing his confusion under a smile.) Yes, yes, yes! Soph. Impossible ! no, that would never do. Pleis. Why not ? Soph. A betrothal ! And we have nothing but roast veal in the house ! 16 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. Pleis. (Taking breath.) Is that all ? Don't make yourself uneasy, we will have tea served. Fashionable ladies, now- a-days, live on warm water. But you must put on the silk dress and the hat and plumes, and be very merry, and laugh as much as you can, to show people that you chose me of your own free will. Soph. Yes, that will be necessary, for many people won't be lieve it. Pleis. Believe what ? Soph. That I have a free will, and that you don't force me. Pleis. You see how malicious people are. Soph. Yes, they speak very ill-naturedly among themselves. Pleis. So the wisest course is to avoid them. For what does one gain by their conversation ? Nothing but provocation ! Talk to me, Sophie my child to me only, and you will never hear anything silly. Soph. Here comes Herr von Thurneck. [She is going. Pleis. Stay, I will present you to him as my bride. Soph. Oh don't do that. %$? Pleis. Now, don't be childish. SCENE IX. Enter HERR VON THURNECK. [SOPHIE, as soon as she has greeted THURNECK, draws back softly to the side door, where she remains during the first part oftJie scene. Thurneck. With your kind permission I have chosen a sixth book from your library, which I wish to take with the others. Pleis. Pray make use of them as you please. If the books were mine, I would make a present of them all to you; but the property of a ward you know what it is. Should you, how- ever, like to buy them, we might come to some agreement about price. Thur. Then you don't read? THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 17 Pleis. Not even the newspapers; for what is the Pacha of Egypt, or Canada, to me? At most, I only look now and then at the weekly paper. Thurn. And the young lady, I suppose, reads still less. Pleis. The household bills, and nothing more as is proper in a well-conducted woman. And so you leave us to- morrow? Thurn. I have been too long in your way already. Soph. (From behind the door.) Oh, he must be tired of us. Pleis. I have company this evening, whom I hope you will honour with your presence. Thurn. Oh, certainly, if you wish it; but I am so little agreeable Soph. (Aside.) How can he say so ! Pleis. D,o not be uneasy about that, everything you say will be thought excellent. Our ladies consider it an honour when they can boast that they have exchanged a word with a learned man. Thurn. I a learned man! Pleis. Why, what else are you ? You write ! Thurn. Then every one here is considered a learned man who understands and writes German ? Pleis. No false modesty: there is a difference between one man's writing and another's. But, Herr von Thurneck, it would vex me if you were not present at a fete which I may consider as one in honour of myself. Thurn. Do you celebrate your jubilee to-day? Pleis. Heaven forbid! my betrothal. p Thurn. Your betrothal! You are going to be married? [SOPHIE, during this conversation, has slept behind the door, and has closed it; but, from time to time, she half opens it, so that it can be seen she hears all that is passing. Pleis. Yes., Where is the wonder? Thurn. Oh, I wonder at nothing in the world. 18 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. Pleis. I wish, at last, to enjoy a domestic life. Thurn. Such a thing as that, I think, should not be done at last, but at first, or else let alone altogether. Pleis. {Glancing round to convince himself that SOPHIE is no longer present.) Let alone? There spoke the old bachelor. It is a shame for you Thurn. Shame! why 1 ? Pleis. You are rich ; you might make a girl happy. Thurn. And myself unhappy ! My philanthropy does not go far enough for that. Pleis. Unhappy from love? Thurn. Yes ; who would love me ? Pleis. Plenty might be found. Thurn. Not for me, I feel sure; and still fewer for you. So do me the favour of remaining single. Pleis. Speak low, for Heaven's sake ! Thurn. You are an old man of sixty. Whoever accepts you, will only do so in hopes of your dying soon. Do not be offended with me ; I say this for your good. Pleis. But it sounds very unpleasant. Thurn. On whom, in the world, have you cast your eyes? Pleis. On whom, but on my Sophie ! Thurn. On that beautiful young girl? Soph. (From behind the door.) Beautiful ! Pleis. (With an air of indifference.) Do you think her beautiful? Thurn. (Quietly, but decidedly.) I know few lovelier women ; but, be at ease, she would not suit me. Pleis. True, she knows nothing of the world, and is dread- fully bornee; she would not suit a man like you. But I don't hold much to sense, in women ; and then, her attachment to me, it would be wrong if I did not repay it. Thurn. (Aside.) I believe the man is mad. Pleis. Will you see how high she rates her guardian? (Goes to the door.) Just come out a moment, my little Sophie. THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 19 SOPHIE enters. Sophie. What do you wish, Herr von Pleissner? Pleis. I have been informing Herr von Thurneck of our plans, ^,nd he sympathizes in our happiness, like a friend. [SOPHIE courtsies silently. Thurn. So you are going to marry your old guardian? {Pleissner winces.} and marry him willingly? [SOPHIE silently nods. Pleis. Dear child, you are very shy. (To THURNECK.) Encourage her, congratulate her. Thurn. Fralilein, I (Aside) No, I cannot do it. Pleis. What is the matter? Why do you not speak? Thurn. L cannot say what I do not think. Pleis. (Taking his arm.) Then come to dinner, Herr von Thurneck ! Soph. It will not be ready yet. Pleis. Never mind, come away! (Aside.) Or else some mischief will be cooked up instead of the soup. [He drags THURNECK out with him. Soph. (Alone, after a pause.} Beautiful ! he said. Ah, I did fancy so, and he may be right. But how does beauty help me? how can it help me? [She goes out. ACT II. SCENE I. A Library. HERR VON THURNECK enters, and shuts the door after him, but Jirst speaks in the door-way to some one outside: Frederick, tell no one that I am here ; I wish to be undis- turbed. He locks the door and puts up the key. Herr von Thurneck. I observed a manuscript here which I must look through before I return home. (He goes to one of 20 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. the book-cases.) Right, there it is. (He takes it out.) A poem in the old German dialect, quite new to me, in monkish hand- writing. What a pity this library should be in such hands ! I really must buy it to preserve it from destruction. The good old Guldenring, that worthy learned man, what would he say if he could come into the world again, and see his tenants ill- used, and his daughter brought up like a maid-servant ? I cannot bear it any longer, and I only regret that I cannot hinder the betrothal to-day. [He seats himself at a table, and becomes gradually absorbed in the reading of the MS. ; meanwhile a key is heard turning in the lock, and SOPHIE enters. SCENE II. THURNECK. SOPHIE. Sophie. ( Without observing THURNECK.) Madame Kurt is in the kitchen ; my guardian, with his steward, Herr von Thur- neck, in his room, and I am undisturbed. How my heart beats ! that is, because I am doing something secretly, but yet I really am not doing anything wrong. I only wish to read to inform myself to escape from the ignorance which so humiliates me. (She goes to the book-case opposite tJte table where Thurneck is sitting.) Ah, how many books are here, and how shall I find one to suit me? (Reads the titles.) " Ci-Ci- Cicero de Senectute!" (Shakes her head.) " Qui-Quintus Horatius Flaccus!" Ah, that is all French, up there I see German letters; yes, if one could but get up to them. (She sees a small ladder near the book-case.) So that will do. [SJie pushes the ladder to the book-case, and mounts it; the noise she makes rouses THURNECK, and he looks at her in silence, with surprise and interest. Thurn. Fraulein Sophie, you will fall. Soph. Who speaks there 1 (S/te looks round ashamed.) Herr von Thurneck ? I am ready to sink into the earth. THE UNINFORMED GIEL. 2] Thiirn. Pray come down ! What are you looking for there ? Soph. (Steps down.) I am looking for a book. Thurn. Tell me which, and I will give it you. Soph. Ah, I don't know which. Thurn. (Smiling.) You don't know? then, indeed, it will be difficult to find. Soph. For me, certainly ; but for you for you it would be easy. Thum. What would 1 Soph. To look me out a book, and tell me what I should read. Thurn. Then you are looking for a book to read ? Soph. Why, that is what the books are there for. Thurn. But what kind of a book do you wish to read 1 Soph. I wish to know something about the world, about old times, about foreign countries. Oh, I see, you are laughing at me. Thurn. Upon my honour I am not, but I am surprised. How did it come into your head to wish to read 1 Soph. It was you, yourself, who gave me that wish. Thurn. 11 Soph. Yes. When you talked at dinner of the books you were writing, and the works you had found here, and I heard of the many nations that there are, and that there were, before our times, it vexed me so that I had learned nothing of all this my head seemed to me so hollow and empty ; and I felt a curiosity, a desire to know more, which led me at last to steal the key here. Thurn. That was very wrong. Soph. Wrong ? Do you think so ? Thurn. A young girl should only read what her guardians put into her hands. Soph. But mine give me nothing at all. Thurn. To be sure that is true. (Aside.) It is provoking. Soph. And must I, then, remain ignorant all my life ? Thurn. Oh! no not so that would be too great a pity. Soph. Would it not ? Oh! if you were to stay longer with 22 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. us, I should have no need of books, for as I see you are indulgent and do not laugh at me, I should ask you when I do not understand a thing, and then you would explain it to me, and I should keep it in mind and at last hut you are going, and now I shall hear nothing again spoken of, hut the house hold and the market. TJturn. Then you are sorry that I am going ? Soph. Oh, very sorry, for you have brought ideas into my head, which will only serve to torment me when you are far off. Thurn. (Aside.) It would be a pleasure to form the mind of that girl. Soph. And when do you go 1 Thurn. To-morrow, or the day after, or Saturday. To- morrow yes, by the way, to-morrow, as you are going to be betrothed this evening. Soph. To be sure, so I am. I had quite forgotten that. But what has my betrothal to do with your journey 1 Thurn. Why, I suppose all this would be quite indifferent to you as soon as you are betrothed. Frau von Pleissner will not care to study. Soph. Why not 1 Why do you give me such a searching look? Thurn. Fraulein Sophie, do not take it amiss if I ask you a question. Do you know what an important step you are going to take 1 Soph. (Looks at him with surprise.) An important step ! Thurn. In marrying you decide on the fate of your whole life. Soph. (Calmly.') A girl has nothing to decide upon. We only do what must be done. Thurn. Even if it is likely to prove your destruction 1 Soph. Nothing can be our destruction but what is wrong. Thurn. (Looks at her with amazement : then; after a short pause.) Many things, which are not exactly wrong, may prove, nevertheless, very unfortunate. Soph. Certainly. THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 23 Thurn Then, Fraiilein Sophie, do not be betrothed to-day. Ask for delay. Soph. What are you thinking of? The party is already invited. Thurn. Would you run the risk of unhappiness for the sake of a tea party? Soph. Unhappiness ! I shall not be unhappy. Thurn. No? Soph. Certainly not, for I shall be fulfilling my mother's wishes. Thurn. (Greatly struck.) Fraiilein ! Soph. And then I shall labour hard to do a great deal of good to the poor ; with all this, one can't be unhappy. (TnuR- NECK turns away.) What is the matter, Herr von Thurneck ? Thurn. (Aside.) We seek philosophy in books, but where can we find any holier and purer than this 1 Soph. Herr Von Thurneck, what ails you ? Thurn. Noble, excellent creature! (Aside.} Thurneck, is P not this maiden becoming dangerous to you? Soph. There are many abuses here to repair many evils to overcome many wrongs to set right. My guardian knows but little of all this men seldom do find out these things; but as soon as I am mistress in this house, I will take care that no one oppresses our tenants, and also, that no one injures the honour of my husband. Thurn. I call that very right and well thought. Soph. Yes; I will always endeavour to think and act rightly; and then, Herr Von Thurneck, will not my vocation be a noble and useful one 1 ? Thurn. You will diffuse happiness wherever fate shall call you. In every situation of life, you will be the guardian angel of all around you; but it does grieve me to the heart it does pain me I cannot bear that Soph. What? Thurn. (Aside.) Thurneck, this girl is dangerous to you. f 24 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. (Aloud.) I must have the honour of wishing you a good morning. [Goes out hastily. Soph. (Alone.) What is the matter with him? I said no- thing that could offend him, yet he breaks off in the midst of his speech, and runs away. Learned men are certainly very different from other people. When my guardian storms out of the room, and bangs the door behind him, one knows each time why he does it; but now and yet I feel more courage with Herr von Thurneck than with my guardian. Ah, learned men have a great deal of good about them ! SCENE III. SOPHIE. The BARON VON SOMMERFELS. Baron. I have to announce to Herr von Thurneck What do I see you here, Fraiilein Sophie? Soph. (Anxiously.) Has Madame Kurt missed me.? Bar. I have not seen the old lady; and now, I thank my fate that it has thrown me alone with you. Soph. Have you anything to ask of me? Bar. The most important thing in the world: but before I say it, allow me one question. Is it true that you are to be betrothed this evening! Soph. Yes; did you not know that? Bar. The news overwhelms me, and defeats all my hopes. Soph. How so, Herr Springer? I will not dismiss you from my guardian's service, I assure you. Bar. The dismissal he might give me is not the one I fear, it is your dismissal only which would make me unhappy. Soph. Well, but I shall not dismiss you. Bar. In no case? Soph. Only in case of your turning out a careless servant. Bar. (Sentimentally.) That will never never happen to me, as long as you suffer me to remain in your service. Soph. Well, then, all is right. THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 25 Bar. Right! Oh, no; nothing has been right for a long time past. Soph. I think you are ill, Herr Springer. Why did you not take the medicine ? Ba/r. Because neither drops nor powders can save me no- thing but a word from your mouth. Soph. A word? Bar. When I sighed, and you looked sorrowfully at me, I thought you felt compassion for my sufferings. Soph. So I did, really. Bar. Oh, no; you did not understand me. Soph. How could I understand you? You said nothing. Bar. But my looks, and tears, and my palpitating heart, spoke. Soph. Then you have palpitations, too? (Aside.) I begin to feel afraid of this man. (Aloud.) I am wanted below, good morning, Herr Springer. [She is going. Bar. Oh, stay! If this moment is lost, it may never re- turn. Fraulein, you are about to sacrifice yourself to a man whom you cannot love, and who does not love you. A man who does not care for your heavenly beauty, but thinks only ;, of your fortune; who will always treat you as a ward who ^ means to make a dependent of you. While another, free from all interested motives, sees in you the angel of his life, his ideal of loveliness would make your wishes his laws, and would hang upon your every glance. Soph. What does all this mean ? Bar. The coat I wear, forbids me to speak more openly; but I will throw it off as soon as you desire it. Soph. The hunter's coat? Bar. Yes; it is a mask, under which love to you has con- (* cealed me. I am the Baron von Sommerfels. Soph. (Frightened.) Oh, don't fancy that ! Bar. I am the Baron von Sommerfels, and I adore you ! Soph. For shame, you should not say that. c 26 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. Bar. Do not be alarmed ; my love is as respectful as it is honourable. I seek your hand, Sophie, and lay at your feet all that I have. Speak one friendly word to me, to keep me from despair. Soph. (Drawing back.) Well, but what am I to say? (Aside.) He is mad ! Bar. That you do not hate me. Soph. (As before.) Well, I do not hate you. Bar. That I may hope Soph. (Getting still more terrified.) Hope, then, in Heaven's name! Bar. (TJirowing himself on his knees.) Enchanting creature ! Let me hear that word once more. Soph. Now, you might have broken your knee-joints. Bar. I care not for them I care not for my life. (Kissing her hand.) I am happy I am blest Sophie does not repulse me Sophie has allowed me to hope ! Oh, joyful feelings, which thrill me ! Oh, enchantment, which seizes me ! Soph. (Aside.) Now I will run off, and send for the doctor. [She pulls away her hand, and slips off, shutting the door behind her. Bar. (After a pause of astonishment.) She is gone! \He rises, and goes out. SCENE IV. Scene changes to a Room in the Castle. Enter MADAME KURT. Mad. K. She is nowhere to be found, and yet the Baron must speak to her before evening. If she is once betrothed to Herr von Pleissner, all is lost, for she will never, in any case, break her word. I know her well, and this just shows how stupid she is. THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 27 SCENE V. Enter the COUNTESS KRONSTEIN. Countess. I am glad to find you here, my dear Madame Kurt. I got out of my carriage at the garden- door, to escape the lynx eyes of your old gentleman. Mad. K. Welcome, a thousand times, my lady ! Do you know all? Countess. The projected betrothal? To be sure, I have been invited, as a neighbour, to the fete. How could my brother suffer things to go so far? Mad. K. He knew no more than I did yesterday what my master had had in his mind. Countess. That comes of these romantic doings, which I never approved of. If he had come here as a Baron ! Mad. K. Her guardian would rather have shut up the young lady in the dovecote than have let her be seen by him. Countess. Where is the use of seeing? It does not appear that he has done much with his seeing. Mad. K. Oh, I beg your pardon! the young lady's attention is already caught by him; and let him only have another coat on, I will wager that she will be over head and ears in love with him. He is an elegant gentleman so noble, so gene- rous! He has promised me six thousand thalers if I bring about his marriage, and given me the promise in writing, for I would not leave him before he had done so. This attention moved me to tears. Countess. It is a very refined attention, certainly. Where is my brother now? Mad. K. He went to look for the young lady, to whom he means now to discover himself. Countess. That is right. If the little thing says " yes," I will venture on a decisive stroke to day. Mad. K. What does your ladyship think of doing? c2 28 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. Countess. Did you ever hear of the Gordian knot? Mad.K. No. Countess. There was once a knot which was to be untied, but as no one could succeed in doing it, a certain Alexander took his sword and cut through it. Madame Kurt, I will act the part of Alexander. (A. knock is heard.) Who is there? SCENE VI. Enter LAUBER, the Old Peasant. Mad. Kurt. What do you want here, Lauber? What makes you force your way in upon us in this manner without being announced ! Lauber. Would to Heaven the gentry had never forced themselves on me, and then my property would not have been sold by auction. Can you tell me where I may find Heir von Thurneck? Mad. K. In the room above. What do you want of him 1 Laub. I want to tell him how shamefully I have been treated by your master. Herr von Thurneck is a worthy man, and one who is used to writing; perhaps he may be able to help me better than an advocate, and if he can't, I will beg him to write something about the matter, with plenty of abuse in' it, as learned men understand doing, and then I will have it put into the newspapers; and so I shall have some satisfaction. Countess. (To MADAME KUBT.) What has happened to the man? Mad. K. A bad turn of our old gentleman's. Countess. Perhaps a weapon in our hands! (To LAUBER) My friend Mad.K. Not now, for I hear some one coming up stairs. (To LAUBER, drawing him to the side door.) Go this way, then turn up the staircase, and you are at Herr von Thurneck's room. Laub. Much obliged, ma'am. Yes, he shall write, and if it THE UNINFORMED GIEL. 29 were two pages full, I would pay for it. I would not spare my last heller* to get the business done. [Goes hastily to the door. MADAME KURT pushes him out. COUXTESS goes to the middle door. Countess. Who is coming there? SCENE VI. SOPHIE enters hurriedl yand agitated through the middle door, seeing the COUNTESS. Sophie. I beg your ladyship's pardon. (To MADAME KURT.) Dear Kurt, where is my guardian? Mad. K. I don't know. Soph. I must speak to him directly. A misfortune has happened. Countess. A misfortune? Soph. Yes, I cannot get over the fright I have had. Our new huntsman, Springer Countess. Well? Soph. He has lost his senses ! Countess. (Laughing.} Impossible? Soph. Don't laugh, for he really is mad. Countess. Where did you see him? Soph. In the library. I had taken possession of the key, which was still in the door. It was wrong, but I am punished. For just imagine ! he threw himself on his knees, talked about admiration and despair, and fancies himself a Baron. Countess. My dear child, make yourself easy, your hunts- man is in his right senses. He only spoke a language which you do not yet understand; and he really is a Baron. Soph. Springer? Countess. He is the Baron von Sommerfels, my brother. Soph. Good Heavens! But why is he a servant, then? Countess. That he may be near you; from love to you. Soph. From love to me ! * Farthing. 30 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. Countess. The fame of your beauty drew him hither, and the sight of you has enchained his heart for ever. Soph. (Anxiously.) Ah, dear Kurt! aud am I really, then, beautiful? Mad. K. I only told you otherwise, for fear of making youvaiu. Soph. And Baron von Sommerfels? Countess. Is desperately in love with you. Soph. (Alarmed.} Ah, Countess! what do you tell me ! In love, and disguised in this house, without the knowledge of my guardian ! That will never do ; I must tell it to Herr von Pleissner. Countess. If you do that, the happiness of your life is destroyed. Soph. The happiness of my life ! Countess. Yes,Fraiilein Sophie, my brother, a young, amiable, gallant man, seeks your hand. Soph. But I am going to be married to my guardian. i Mad. K. Oh ! really, now, he is quite unworthy of you. Soph. (Astonished.) Madame Kurt, do you say that? Mad. K. I speak as I think. Soph. Then you did not say what you thought, when you used to praise his character to me, when you assured me that to him alone I could safely trust my future life. So either you de- ceived me then, or you are deceiving me now. (She sinks into deep thought.) Mad. K. I am an honest woman, and I speak always as cir- cumstances require. Soph. My mother intended me for Herr von Pleissner. Countess. Oh, don't believe that; your mother was too wise for that! Soph. (Turning a searching look on MADAME KURT.) Ma- dame Kurt! Mad. K. Her ladyship the Countess is right. I don't see why I should tell lies any longer for your guardian's sake. Soph. (In a tone of sorrow.) Oh, whom shall I trust ! THE UNINFORMED GIRT.. 31 Countess. Leave, my dear young lady, your unjust, avari- cious guardian, and receive the addresses of my good Oscar; no force shall oppress you, no agitating scenes shall frighten you. My carriage is at the garden door; speak but a word, and you shall be carried off ! Soph. (With alarm). Carried off! No; I would rather die! Countess. Carried off by me by a lady ! Soph. It comes to the same thing. There is something in the idea of being carried off which goes against my better feel- ings. Why is a girl carried off, if it be not to withdraw her from those who have the care of her] That is wrong, and must be wrong; my mother would not have approved it, nor my old Hanna neither. Mad. K. (To the COUNTESS.) Dear me ! there comes my master ! Countess. This is a blow ! SCENE VIII. Enter HERR VON PLEISSNER. Pleissner. (To MADAME KURT.) Do tell me, what in the world that old Lauber is here for 1 ? Send him out of the house out of the house this moment! Ah, my little Sophie, are you there? and your ladyship, too 1 ? Countess. I fear I am come too early, my dear sir ; the lovely afternoon enticed me. Pleis. 0, I am delighted, quite delighted. (Aside.) The woman bores me very much. Soph. Heir von Pleissner Pleis. What is it, my child? [The COUNTESS and MADAME KURT make signs to SOPHIE to be silent. Soph. (Timidly.) Nothing. p Pleis. But you look pale frightened! Sophie, my dear what in the world has happened to you? 34 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. alone binds her to her guardian, and she must be attacked on the side of honour. SCENE II. The COUNTESS. SOPHIE. Sophie. I beg your pardon. (On seeing the COUNTESS she is about to go.) Countess. Where are you going, Fraiilein Sophie? Are you afraid of me 1 ? Soph. No, not that but when I catch your eye I lose all courage. Countess. Is it on account of my proposal to you? Did it hurt your feelings so deeply? That is childish, my love! Soph. Childish! Countess. Yes, I call it childish to hold so strictly to forms, when one is transgressing actual duties. Soph. Duties ! What duties do I transgress? Countess. Your duty towards your tenants in uniting your- self to your guardian. Soph. What do you say? Countess. I have just been speaking with a countryman here; his name is Lauber; he is from this neighbourhood, and is the father of a family. Herr-von Pleissner set him against a neighbour of his, led him into a law-suit, advanced money for it, and now that the man is ruined, he, as the only creditor, has had his little property sold by auction, in order to obtain it for himself at a low price. Soph. It is impossible ! Countess. Ask Heir von Thurneck, if you will not believe me. Soph. Does he know what has happened? Countess. The peasant has been with him this hour past. You are bewildered, silent you had no idea of your guardian's conduct till now ! Oh, Herr von Pleissner is a bad man ! and would you give such a master to your tenants ? Soph, Oh, stop! THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 85 Countess. Would not all the wrongs which he has the power of inflicting, lie on your conscience if you were to give him your hand ? Soph. But I had not even thought of myself; and am I after all, doing wrong? Countess. Wrong! without doubt, and you will only have the reproaches of your conscience, in return for the severe sacrifice you are making. Soph. The severe sacrifice? Ah, it does almost seem tome as if it were a sacrifice! Countess. To be sure, is it not? I will not sound my brother's praises, but surely he is a pleasanter man than Herr von Pleissner. Soph. (Politely, but in an absent tone.) Oh, no doubt ! Countess. And to be beloved, is worth something in life. Soph. (Earnestly.) That I feel. Countess. Then I will leave you to your reflections, and as * soon as you want me, come to me. (Aside.) Now is the time ; now I will send Oscar to her. [Goes out. Soph. (Alone. After a pause.) She has interested motives. Madame Kurt does not speak truth. My good Hanna is in her grave. (Looks towards heaven.) Oh, my mother ! Of whom shall I ask advice? [She sinks on a chair, and covers Jier face with her hands. SCENE III. SOPHIE and VON THURNECK. Thurneck. (To himself, witJiout seeing SOPHIE.) I will seek her, I must speak once more to her the good innocent girl, who approached me so confidingly. She is going straight to her ruin. It would be cowardice not to warn her. I will warn her, I will open her eyes perhaps I may succeed in saving her. Soph. (Looking up.) Ah ! Herr von Thurneck. 34 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. alone binds her to her guardian, and she must be attacked on the side of honour. SCENE II. The COUNTESS. SOPHIE. Sophie. I beg your pardon. (On seeing the COUNTESS she is about to go.) Countess. Where are you going, Fraiilein Sophie? Are you afraid of me? Soph. No, not that but when I catch your eye I lose all courage. Countess. Is it on account of my proposal to you? Did it hurt your feelings so deeply? That is childish, my love! Soph. Childish! Countess. Yes, I call it childish to hold so strictly to forms, when one is transgressing actual duties. Soph. Duties ! What duties do I transgress? Countess. Your duty towards your tenants in uniting your- self to your guardian. Soph. What do you say? Countess. I have just been speaking with a countryman here; his name is Lauber; he is from this neighbourhood, and is the father of a family. Heir von Pleissner set him against a neighbour of his, led him into a law-suit, advanced money for it, and now that the man is ruined, he, as the only creditor, has had his little property sold by auction, in order to obtain it for himself at a low price. Soph. It is impossible ! Countess. Ask Herr von Thurneck, if you will not believe me. Soph. Does he know what has happened? Countess. The peasant has been with him this hour past. You are bewildered, silent you had no idea of your guardian's conduct till now ! Oh, Herr von Pleissner is a bad man ! and would you give such a master to your tenants ? Soph. Oh, stop! THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 85 Countess. Would not all the wrongs which he has the power of inflicting, lie on your conscience if you were to give him your hand 1 Soph. But I had not even thought of myself; and am I after all, doing wrong? Countess. Wrong! without doubt, and you will only have the reproaches of your conscience, in return for the severe sacrifice you are making. Soph. The severe sacrifice? Ah, it does almost seem to me as if it were a sacrifice ! Countess. To be sure, is it not? I will not sound my brother's praises, but surely he is a pleasanter man than Herr von Pleissner. Soph. (Politely, but in an absent tone.) Oh, no doubt ! Countess. And to be beloved, is worth something in life. Soph. (Earnestly.} That I feel. Countess. Then I will leave you to your reflections, and as soon as you want me, come to me. (Aside.) Now is the time ; now I will send Oscar to her. [Goes out. Soph. (Alone. After a pause.) She has interested motives. Madame Kurt does not speak truth. My good Hanna is in her grave. (Looks towards heaven) Oh, my mother ! Of whom shall I ask advice? [She sinks on a chair, and covers lier face with her hands. SCENE III. SOPHIE and VON THURNECK. Thurneck. (To himself, witJwut seeing SOPHIE.) I will seek her, I must speak once more to her the good innocent girl, who approached me so confidingly. She is going straight to her ruin. It would be cowardice not to warn her. I will warn her, I will open her eyes perhaps I may succeed in saving her. Soph. (Looking up.) Ah ! Herr von Thurneck. .36 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. Tlmrn. My dear young lady, I ain here on your account ; I have much to say to you. Soph. Then you are no longer angry? Thurn. Angry! why] Soph. I don't know why, but you left me to-day quite in a flurry. Thurn. That was from a particular cause for but never mind that now. Why do you look at me so thoughtfully? Soph. I was just thinking. (Resolutely.) Yes; you are the person my mother has sent me, to give me advice. Thurn. I was just looking for you, that I might give you some good advice. Soph. Now how curiously that happens! Herr von Thur- neck, the Countess Kronstein has made me very uneasy, for she has told me a great deal of harm of my guardian. Thurn. Indeed, there is not much good to be said of him. Soph. Then you too are of this opinion? Thurn. I dare not deceive you. Soph. Was a countryman named Lauber with you lately? Thurn. He was. Soph. And did he tell you? Thurn. All. Herr von Pleissner has behaved shamefully towards that man. Soph. And you are convinced that no calumny Thurn. Perfectly convinced. For, I am sorry to say, the conduct of your guardian towards Lauber is not the only proof of his hard-heartedness and avarice. The whole country round knows that he shrinks from no means of enriching himself, and deep sorrow has been spread everywhere by the news of your betrothal. Soph. Ah, yes; so it seemed to me. I was lately in the garden they were hanging garlands and coloured lamps, but they were all so silent, so sullen; and when I addressed them they hardly thanked me. Oh, I understand, they are angry with me because I am going to give them a bad master. THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 37 Thurn. Don't do it don't marry Herr von Pleissner ! Soph. Madame Kurt now indeed, denies that my mother in- tended me for him. Thy,. You must doubt either your mother's sense or heart, if you could think her capable of such an error. Soph. But, dear me! it is five o'clock, and the guests are expected at six. Thurn. An hour's perplexity is easier to bear than a life full of care. Soph. Then, too, I am sorry for my guardian, whom I esteemed so highly till to-day. Thurn. Spare his feelings, but refuse to marry him. Soph. Kefuse to marry him ! how shall I manage that? Thurn. I really cannot exactly tell you. I have no expe- rience in such matters. Soph. And yet I must do so must I not? Thurn. It is your duty. Soph. My duty, do you think? Yes, I feel it is my duty, and this thought dispels all my doubts I can venture every- thing for that. It is only when duties clash, and doubts trouble one, that one feels worldly and fearful; but to discharge a clear, definite duty, nobody ever wanted courage for that. SCENE II. Enter BARON. Baron. Fraiilein, a repentant sinner (Sees THURNECK, and adds, aside) What does the bookworm want here? Thurn. (To SOPHIE.) Who is that gentleman? Bar. Baron von Sommerfels; don't you know me? Thurn. Sommerfels! Sommerfels! Yes, true; I had the honour, in town. I suppose Herr von Pleissner invited you to the fete? Bar. Yes; and he begs you will take the trouble of joining him in the garden. He says he has something important to 38 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. say to you probably about his library and is expecting you. Thurn. I will go (aside) and speak to his conscience. Soph. (To THURNECK.) You are going? Thurn. (In a low voice.) For your good. (Aside.) Should that girl fall to the lot of rhe old usurer? No, rather (hastily interrupting himself, and turning to SOPHIE.) For your good, Fraiilein Sophie. [Goes out. SCENE V. BARON. SOPHIE. Bar. {Aside.) He is got rid of; he may now run after the old gentleman, and find him if he can. Sophie. (Aside.) Now he leaves me alone with that man. Bar. (To SOPHIE.) Fraiilein, a repentant sinner stands be- fore you. I have frightened you shamefully. In the dress I wore, you must have considered my declaration a proof of madness. Soph. Yes, that really was the case. Bar. But now you know who I am. My sister has told you everything, and has assured you that you are loved as no woman on earth ever was before. Now I wait from your lips the decision of my fate life or death decide it ! Soph. (Aside.) Life or death! how exaggerated that sounds. Bar. You are silent you turn from me! And yet a few hours ago you told me I might hope. The word was spoken in haste, it is true, to quiet a madman : for the anticipation of such happiness did almost turn me from a rational being into a madman. But will you now withdraw it will you close to me the heaven into which you have given me a glimpse? You blush, Sophie; you cast down your eyes. (He seizes her hand.) Your hand trembles in mine ! Oh, no ! you are not cruel you are not insensible as I thought. Confound him, here comes the guardian ! THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 39 SCENE VI. Enter PLEISSNEB. Pleiss. Don't be alarmed ! never mind, don't disturb your- self; go on pay court to my Sophie as much as you like you won't turn her head. Bar. Herr von Pleissner? Pleis. You have left town renounced your conquests slipped into this house worn a livery; but in vain, all in vain! my little Sophie is a discreet person, who knows very well that old men are the only honourable ones, and therefore the only ones who deserve to be loved. Isn't it so, my angel 1 ? That is what you think, is it not? Soph. (With confusion.) I really never thought much about it. Pleis. That does not signify. Thinking is not fit for you girls; but you are quick-sighted, and can distinguish a flatterer from a true lover. You cast down your eyes you tremble ! why so? I am not angry or jealous either. As you have yourself disclosed to me this gentleman's views, it would be very wrong of me not to trust you. Now go and put on the pretty gown I gave you, for it is time the guests were come. Soph. (Terrified.) Oh, dear! is it so late? Pleis. Five o'clock, my dear child past five ! Soph. Then I must no longer delay I must tell you quickly. Pleis. (Alarmed.) What? Soph. That I do not think as I did this morning that my f mind is changed. Pleis. Impossible. Bar. (Aside.) This scene is capital ! Soph. Oh, don't think me ungrateful ! I know all I owe you and it is not on my own account but, I cannot marry you. Bar. (Aside.) Delicious! Pleis. (Turning pale.) Sophie, my child ! this is a joke, is f it not? 40 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. Soph. A joke ! and I am struggling with anguish while I speak to you. Pleis. Recollect yourself, my child recollect yourself! Go into your room make your toilette and as soon as you be- gin to put on the new gown, you will be sure to recover yourself. Go, Sophie ! (More irfipatiently.) You have given me your word you cannot draw back now. Soph. (Calmly, but decidedly.} I am not yet your bride, and retreat is still open to me. Pleis. The whole country knows our plans. Soph. I am sorry for it. Pleis. If you change your mind, the whole country will censure you. Soph. I must not care for that. Bar. (Aside.} This becomes touching, upon my honour ! Pleis. But what induces you to do this? Soph. That shall never, never pass my lips. Only, so much you may know. I have been entrusted to your care, by my mother. I will fulfil every duty of obedience towards you I will bear your ill-temper and severity, without murmuring; but your wife I will not be. If you were to drag me to the altar, I would not be your wife. [Site goes out. SCENE VII. BARON. PLEISSNER. Baron. That was plainly spoken. Pleis. But very unfortunately! Why do you look at me so? Why do you smile so mockingly? Bar. Only from natural good humour. Pleis. Which I will soon drive out of you, Herr Baron, Bar. That would be difficult for I am loved, after all. Pleis. Great skill, indeed, to win a girl's heart! As if it required anything more than a few sweet words, some debts, and a pair of moustaches. THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 41 Bar. Well, but you might have tried all these things. Pleis. No wit, now; for heaven's sake, no wit ! You have made a fool of the girl you have come round her. But if she persists in refusing me if I don't have her, you shall not either. If I am not to be a bridegroom, I am still a guardian. The law is on my side. Sophie cannot marry without my consent, and before I sign her contract, I will cut off my hand. Bar. Well, we shall see how that will be ! SCENE VIII. Enter MADAME KURT. Mad. K. John has just announced that an elegant car- Pleis. You are just come in time, Madame Kurt just in time. There, place yourself there, and let yourself be looked at. Mad. K. That will not give you much pleasure. Pleis. I don't want to look at you for my pleasure, but to work myself quietly up into a passion. (Looks at her.) That is the countenance of an old woman. Mad. K. Herr von Pleissner ! Pleis. Of a cunning, artful woman. Mad. K. You hurt my feelings. Pleis. And you have hurt your own character for duty, fidelity, and conscientiousness; you have sold yourself to your master's enemies, and murdered your benefactor. Like that man yes, Brutus was his name my anger makes me remem- ber my history again. Mad. K. If Brutus, whom I know perfectly well, was treated as I have been, I excuse him. Pleis. Dishonest woman! Mad. K. Dishonest ! Can you utter that word without blushing? Do you forget what you promised me, and never thought of performing? (To the BARON.) I was to be richly 42 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. rewarded, and remain mistress of this house, if I brought up the young lady as a silly girl. Well, she was such a simple- ton, that it did one's heart good to see her; but after the mar- riage, Madame Kurt, instead of her reward, was to get her discharge. (To PLEISSNER.) Do you be silent; don't deny it; I know all. John betrayed it to me yes, John ! SCENE IX. Enter the COUNTESS. Countess. Do tell me what in the world is going on here? It is really scandalous, the way you are screaming. Pleis. Here comes the lady, too. Are you not ashamed of yourself in my presence? Countess. I at least am not ashamed; and as for my brother Oscar, thank Herr von Pleissner, for he gives you his ward. Pleis. Yes, when I lose my senses. Countess. As soon as you come to your senses. Bar. Sophie has rejected Herr von Pleissner's hand. Countess. (To PLEISSNER.) Really? And your guests are assembling, the betrothal is about to be celebrated, you want a bridegroom; it is really a piece of good fortune that my brother has declared himself. Pleis. I will have gates and doors fastened; but first I will send Sophie into the Stift.* Countess. And where will the world send your good name to-morrow? Pleis. Your ladyship is enough to set one against a good name. Countess. Be reasonable, now: I really wish you well; Sophie is lost to you; then give her a husband who will not look into your accounts. Pleis. I will give her to no one to no one. She shall be * Stift, an institution for young ladies of noble birth, who answer nearly to the French Chanoinesses. See " The Heir of Scharfeneck." THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 43 a Stiftsdame. Those who cheat me shall find they have cheated themselves. Would you ruin me? Ruin me, then! Would you take away my reputation 1 There it is, tear it; but your undertaking shall not bear golden fruits, and you shall go off poor and in debt as you came: good day to you. What do you say? (All are silent.} What? Your obedient humble servant. [Goes. ACT IY. SCENE I. In a Garden. PLEISSNER, alone. Pleissner. I am thunderstruck I am half dead ; I have no strength left to be angry : and that is very unfortunate, for anger is a feeling which keeps a man up in life, and as soon as it goes, care and anxiety come in its place. That was a glo- rious moment just now, when I spoke out my mind to the Baron, and his sister, and old Kurt. A glorious moment? Ah no ! It was a stupid moment, for what now is to be done? Kurt and the Countess, Sophie and the Baron two mis- chievous women and two lovers are enough to set the world on fire, and for all I care, they might; but my honour ! that would blaze up and consume my bank-notes? SCENE II. Enter HER VON GROSS. Gross. Do I find you at last, my dear Herr von Pleissner ! I am punctual quite punctual, am I not? Pleis. More than punctual as it seems to me. (Aside.) Such a visitation was all that was wanting to me ! Gross. (Looks at his watch.) A quarter past six. I promised Frau von Grauner to be on the spot a quarter of an hour be- 44 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. fore her, to try the road for her. She is very timid Frau von Grauner is. Pleis. (Aside.) The chatterer drives me mad. Gross. And it is particularly pleasant to be able to speak a few words to you before we are disturbed by the others. My good friend, do tell me what is going on. I cannot really un- derstand all I hear. Pleis. (Alarmed.) Not understand 1 ? How so? Gross. What are we all invited here for? Pleis. To take a cup of tea, and enjoy the fine weather. Gross. And help to celebrate your betrothal day. So you wrote to me, at. least; and just now I met Fraiilein Sophie, congratulated her, as was proper, and she told me she did not know what I meant, that no betrothal, and above all, none be- tween yourself and her, was to take place at all. Pleis. Not just now. Gross. (Looks earnestly at him.) Your face, and then the face of the young lady! My dear friend, now I understand all. Pleis. The young lady? Gross. Looks only as a girl in love looks. The servants speak of a disguised lover of the Baron von Sommerfels. Ah, my poor friend Pleissner ! a woman's cunning exceeds all cunning; even you, such a sensible, shrewd man, have been taken in have suffered yourself to be cheated. Pleis. You think so? Gross. Or, perhaps, you were in the lover's secret? Oh, my little Pleissner, that was clever of you very clever ! I pull off my hat to you. For, look you, when two people love each other, one must just let them marry. If they are happy, one rejoices in their happiness; if they are unhappy, one rejoices in their repentance ; and in neither case is one made out to be a fool. But I must go back now to the road to meet Frau von Grauner. We will speak further of this, man so we will ! [Goes out. THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 45 SCENE III. PLEISSNER, alone. Pleissner. Mercy on me, it is enough to drive one mad ! I wish though I had not brought all that noise upon myself half an hour ago ; for think as I will, there seems to remain no course open to me, if I wish to preserve my honour and my money without compromising myself, but to let the Baron have his own way. Sophie is stubborn, like all people who seldom have a will of their own. She might expose me before all my guests ; and if I don't give her to-day to the Baron, she will, as soon as she becomes of age, choose the first man she can, and one who, perhaps, may find a good many things to criticise in my management and conduct as a guardian. SCENE IV. Enter BARON. Bar. Dear Herr von Pleissner Pleis. What is it? (Looks around.) What do you want here? Bar. I beg you to pardon my sister's improper conduct. Pleis. (Aside.) Aha! (Aloud.) Her ladyship your sister has, indeed, deeply offended me; but you you, Baron, have done so, too. Bar. I am in love. Pleis. Well, we know that love and rudeness often go together. Bar. And my sister is an original. Pleis. Which I should not wish to see often copied. But I could even pardon her if she had not said that about the accounts -i only that one thing. Bar. But you quite misunderstood that, Herr von Pleissner. Pleis. I don't understand jokes upon a point of honour. I can prove, in black and white, exactly how my ward's income has been managed. 46 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. Bar. Natalie only meant to tell you, that my blind con- fidence in your conscientiousness would make me consider the inspection of your books as needless 1 Pleis. Indeed? Really? Ah, that alters the case; and I excuse the anger I showed. My unfortunate delicacy, and then my hot blood. Bcvr. I will remember your expressions no longer. Pleis. Well, that is good that is right; for I have been considering the matter, and your sufferings begin to touch me. Bar. Oh, you noble, compassionate man ! Pleis. Compassionate! yes, that I am, and noble, too! I have always sown and planted for others, and sacrificed my- self for others. And a lover! don't laugh at me but I really can hardly look at a lover without tears in my eyes. Bar. Then I may hope Pleis. Well, who knows what I may do? Those who show me courtesy and confidence may expect anything from me. Now go, if you please, and leave me alone. Bar. Must I go before I know ! Pleis. Before the fete begins, we will speak further of this. Bar. Then I will wait for you in my room. Pleis. Do so; I will soon join you. Bar. One embrace before I go. [He embraces him. Pleis. My wig ! pray ! Bar. Au revoir, you incomparable guardian ! [Goes out. Pleis. (Alone.) Odious man! And I must spare him, while I am ready to burst with anger. (The rattling of a carriage is heard.) Another of these detestable carriages ! Every time I hear one, I feel as if I were going to be driven over. (A pause.) Here comes Sophie, looking melancholy quite ab- sorbed in thought. Can she be repenting? Ah, no! she is sighing for her Oscar. Oscar ! what a name ! [Steps aside. THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 47 SCENE V. PLEISSNEJI. SOPHIE, coming from another part of the garden. Sophie. (Without observing PLEISSNER.) Oh, how the free air revives me ! if it could but give me strength to stand the con- test which awaits me ! The fete is not put off, the guests are coming. What shall I say to them? What can be done? (She sits down on a garden bench.) Here I sat yesterday just at this time yesterday and it seems as if I had lived a whole life since ! Pleis. (Steps forward.) My little Sophie ! Soph. Ah, sir, what do you want of me? Pleis. Not to torment you not to reproach you; only to speak with you of your happiness. Soph. Is there still happiness for me? Pleis. Certainly certainly ; even if you will no longer find it in this faithful heart. Soph. You are very gentle and kind to me. Pleis. I would always have been as gentle and kind, if you would have been my dear wife. Soph. (Almost mournfully.) Your wife I will never be! Pleis. (In a tone of affected sweetness.) I know that I know that, my child. You told me so before. I need not hear it again ; but it is a pity though. Soph. Believe me, it was not caprice, but reasons of the greatest importance, that induced me to oppose your wishes. Pleis. Your reasons, child, I know perfectly. Soph. You know them ! Pleis. How could I be ignorant of them? You love another ! Soph. (Frightened.) I love! Pleis. Why, yes. See how red you turn. Soph. I love, do you say? Pleis. Make no excuses, but confess it. 48 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. Soph. Oh, Herr von Pleissner, how you have frightened me ! Can it be possible ! can it really be possible ! I never thought of it the idea never came in my head; but you are more sharp-sighted than I am, and so you may be right. Yes, there is a man who is a good deal in my mind, whom I esteem above all others. Pleis. Well, and so it comes out at last. Soph. What, my dear sir? Pleis. The acknowledgment of your inclination. Soph. Of my inclination? Oh, how strange that sounds to me ! how odd and yet, it is true ah, yes, I feel it ! I really am inclined to him, but don't let any one know of it. Pleis. Why not, my little Sophie why not? Soph. (Gazes at him with surprise.) Has he spoken to you? I know he went to look for you. Pleis. Yes, he has just spoken to me. Well, why are you so disturbed? It is only between you and your good Pleissner your old, well-meaning guardian. Soph. What I feel is not to be described. Pleis. Why not? I can describe it very clearly to you in two words. Your mother intended you for me. You were willing to marry me good. Well, now you wish for another "good likewise. I will not stand in the way of your happiness. Soph. What do you say? Pleis. I loved you truly. But if you cannot love me in return, choose whoever you please. You will not cast your eyes upon any bad man. Soph. Oh, no! You know him we were speaking of, the only one in whom I could place confidence and he Pleis. Hush ! hush ! I will hear no further. You need not name him, my love. It is enough that he pleases you enough, that you hope to live happily with him. And there were all the good-for-nothing men crying out upon me for a selfish wretch, who only reared and tended your youth, to enjoy your riches afterwards ! Now, see if I am selfish, and THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 49 if I have an eye to your money ! I have your welfare alone at heart, and the only reward I ask is, that our guests should learn this.. I am going now to look for a friend do you understand me? for a friend. When I ask you this evening what your wishes are, just speak out from your heart, and without fear and aloud, so that people may hear it. Good bye, Sophie good bye ; we shall soon see each other again. (Aside, as fie is going.") A sour apple, of which I must take a bite. [Goes out. SCENE II. SOPHIE. Afterwards THURNECK. Sophie. Where is he going, and what will he do? And how could I acknowledge to him what I did not myself 'know ? He was very gentle, very calm, very good natured, and that is Thurneck's work Thurneck who has spoken to him but what can he have said to him, and how will all this end? Thurneck. (Aside.} The Baron has misled me. I can't find the old man. (Aloud, seeing SOPHIE.) Ah, Fraiilein Sophie! Soph. (Aside.} Heavens! there he is! Thurn. Your guardian is not in the garden. Soph. He has only just left me to look for you. Thurn. For me ! Soph. I understood so. Thurn. Have you spoken to him, and declared your inten- tions ? Soph. I have spoken to him. Thum. Really? Soph. Ah, it was very difficult for me but you yourself advised me. Thurn. I did without interested motives, without selfish- ness, and I thank you for having followed my advice. But how did Herr von Pleissner behave when he heard it? Soph. Ah, I was prepared for his anger, but his kindness quite grieved me. D 50 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. TJmrn. He was kind then? Soph. Not a single hard word, not a reproach passed his lips ; and I may thank you for that. TJiurn. (Astonished.) Me ? Soph. You must have spoken very earnestly and convincingly in my favour. Thurn. I, my dear young lady? I have not spoken a word to him, for I have not yet seen him. Soph. (Startled.} No?. Yet he told me Thurn. What did he tell you ? Soph. That he was going to speak with some one that I might myself decide on my future lot. Thurn. On your future lot ! What does he mean ? SopH. Oh, that he gives me up that he no longer lays claim to my hand. Thurn. So that you may marry whom you will ? (SOPHIE gives a sign of assent, but with some confusion.} Did he, indeed, say so ? Soph. ( Wit/unit looking at him.) Yes, Herr von Thurneck yes, he did say so. Thurn. And whom do you think of marrying? Soph. Oh, don't ask such Thurn. In this neighbourhood there are not many fitting persons to be found. You must therefore take some gentle- man from the city and the gentlemen from the city Soph. Don't suit me. Thurn. Fraiilein Sophie ! Soph. Heir von Thurneck ! Thurn. You must marry some one. So, if you don't know whom to choose but mind, only in that case be so kind as to choose me. Soph. (Breathlessly.) You? Thurn. Yes I am not fashionable nor are you I am honourable and open-hearted so are you. Till now I have never thought of any woman, you are the first with me. THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 51 Hitherto you have never thought of any man, let me then be the first with you. Soph. . Oh, my heart is so full I cannot speak ! Thurn. Compose yourself, and decide, but don't be too long in considering. As I have appeared to you, Fraiilein, that I am, and you already know what may be expected from me. Soph. (Much moved, but without looking at him.) Ah, yes ! I do know, indeed and I feel esteem confidence Tliurn. Do you 1 Then consent, Fraiilein Sophie. Do you know, I meant to live only for my books, but you have con- vinced me that there is something nobler on earth than dead learning. Learning ! If you refuse me it will all be over with my studies too, I could never enter a library again, for I should always see you standing on the ladder, as you were to-day. Soph. (Suddenly frightened on seeing the BARON.) Oh, hush, for Heaven's sake, the Baron the Baron ! \Sheflies off to the oilier side. BARON enters from the back- ground. SCENE VII. HERR VON THURNECK. BARON VON SOMMERFELS. Thurneck. (Calling after her.) Fraiilein ! Baron. (Doing tfie same.) Fraiilein Sophie ! Where are you going 1 ? (He comes forward.) Why does she run away now, when I come'? Ah, is it you, Herr von Thurneck? I am so glad; that sets me at ease. (Playfully.) I should have been unwilling to find any but a learned man in confidential dis- course with my bride. Thurn. With your bride ? Who is this bride 1 ? Bar. Fraiilein Sophie. The old miser gives her to me; I have come to an agreement with him. Thurn. Come to an agreement! And I, who gave the unworthy man credit for Then the young lady is to be sold? D 2 52 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. Bar. Ransomed, Herr von Thurneck, and that by the man whom she loves. Thurn. The man she loves ! How could you fancy Bar. Fancy ! If what I affirm is fancy only, then no one in the world can ever be certain of anything. Thurn. I think you are dreaming Fraiilein Sophie Bar. Has broken off with Pleissner on my proposing to her. Thurn. On your proposing to her? Bar. Yes, she did it in my presence; and afterwards con- fessed openly to her guardian the inclination she felt towards me. Well, is that enough, or do you ask more? Thurn. It is. (Aside.) Then I have deceived myself fright- fully? Bar. What do you say? Thurn. It is enough. At least I have had enough of it. Bar. Really! Thurn. Yes; but I don't understand Bar. (Laughing.) How she can prefer me to old Pleissner ! Thurn. Old Pleissner is not a fitting husband for the young lady; but you I must speak the truth you are, I may al- most say, still less suited to her. He would have buried her money, you will squander it; he would have tyrannized over her, you will abandon her; and in short, to speak plainly, with him there would have been the hope that he would soon die, which is not the case with you. I must speak the truth, you know. Bar. So I see, sir. (Aside.) If this were not a learned man I must have fought him. SCENE VIII. Enter MADAKE KURT. Madame Kurt. A thousand congratulations, my dear Lord Baron ! I have just met Fraiilein Sophie as red as a flame, a little confused, but evidently sparkling with joy. All then is THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 53 settled decided in your favour; it could not, indeed, be other- wise, for when I undertake a thing I always carry it to a happy end. Thurn. (To MADAME KURT.) Then you brought about the match ! Bar. (To MADAME KURT, laughing.] The match does not seem quite to Herr von Thurneck's taste. Mad. K. Not to his taste ! Why, what would he have wished 1 Thurn. To write books, and nothing else. (Aside.) And would to Heaven I had remained faithful to that ! Mad. K. Here comes the Countess. Thurn. (Aside.} A good company together, and I must stay; what a plague ! SCENE IX. Ent&r the COUNTESS. Countess. The guests are already come, and the old gentle- man will be here presently. Well, brother, my advice was not so bad, was it? and you are happy in having followed it. Ah, good evening, Herr von Thurneck ! Thurn. Good evening, your ladyship! (Aside.) That was self-command ! SCENE X. Enter HERR VON GROSS, FRAU VON GRAUNER, FRAULEIN VON STRUBEL, FORSTMEISTER* VON LEHMANN, and other guests. Gross. (Leading FRAU VON GRAUNER.) Well, my dear madam, you are in harbour at last; the road was not so bad was it? Fr. v. Grauner. Not bad ! Had not the spirit of my John supported me, I should have fallen into the pit, and not a bone of me would have been left. Fr. v. Strubel. (To the FORSTMEISTER.) Then the old man marries his ward ? * A forest-inspector. See " The Irresolute Man." 54 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. Forstmdster. As I told you, it will be declared to-day; I am provoked. Fr. v. Strub. So am I. The man of sixty years, and the young girl ! Forst. He force's her into it. Fr. v. Strub. No doubt. Bar. (To the FORSTMEISTER.) Good evening. (To tfa young lady.) Good evening, Fraiilein; of what were you speaking? Forst. Of to-day's fete. Bar. And with gloomy faces? Forst. None but a hypocrite could laugh in such a case. Ba/r. A hypocrite? What in the world do you think is about to be celebrated? Fr. v. Strub. Herr von Pleissner's betrothal. Bar. Heaven forbid! Forst. No? Bar. The betrothal of Fraiilein Sophie, but not with Herr" von Pleissner. Fr. v. Strub. How? Bar. Herr von Pleissner has listened to reason, but reason came to him by the way of his purse, and he has come to the knowledge that sixty and eighteen do not suit each other. So he gives up his ward, and she marries one, I will not name him, but he is young, elegant, and the lady likes him. Forst. Is he also a worthy man? Bar. Of course. Forst. Otherwise the poor child might fall out of the fry- ing-pan into the fire. Fr. v. Grau. ( Who IMS approacJted them, speaks in a low voice to the FORSTMEISTER.) Hush, Herr Forstmeister; he is A himself the bridegroom. Forst. Who? Fr. v. Grau. The Baron. Forst. Who sdys so? THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 55 Fr. v. Grau. The Countess von Kronstein told me in '' : confidence. Forst. The Baron ! That light-minded man deeply in debt, too ! . He will manage her property finely ! But how came the old man to consent? Fr. v. Grau. I believe they bribed him. Forst. Bribed ! that would be a shameful business. Fr. v. Grau. Nothing better could be expected from Herr von Pleissner. SCENE XL Enter PLEISSNER and SOPHIE. Pleissner. Good evening, good evening, ladies and gentlemen; many thanks for the honour you have shown my house, and as a reward, you shall hear a piece of news, an astonishing piece of news. The Guests. Indeed ! really ! Countess. (To the BARON.) The old man looks wretchedly. Bar. (To the COUNTESS.) I never saw him look otherwise. Thurn. (Aside.) I can hardly bear it any longer. Pleis. Be still a moment, if you please ; my ward, my Sophie, has something to say to you ? Sophie. (Alarmed.) I? Pleis. Who else, my angel ? (To the Company.) The dear little soul is ashamed, my friends. She has, as you know, an excellent heart, and as I had faithfully watched and tended her youth, and carefully guarded her property, she thought of rewarding all this, by granting her hand to her loving guardian. I must say it to her credit, she wished throughout to marry me ; but I heaven forbid ! eighteen and fifty-seven brown hair and grey ! Well, I believe you all know me. So I then I persuaded her myself to choose a young man to her taste. And now speak, my Sophie name your bridegroom. Soph. Name him? No, that I cannot do, I do not feel able. 56 THE UNINFORMED GIRL. Pleis. You must do it, that the present company may be convinced that you follow your own wishes. (To the Guests.) I said to her, " Take any one you will, that is, among men of worth and suitable rank," and she confessed to me Mad. K. ( Who has come up to SOPHIE.) Come, speak out, your guardian has made it easy enough for you, I think. Countess. Speak, then your choice need not make you ashamed. (\ Soph. (liaising /ter head.) Ashamed ! I feel rather that it does me honour. Bar. Why should you torment Fraiilein Sophie's sweet bashfulness any longer ? Sophie, you need no words to pro- ' claim your choice, if you will allow me by a look, a sign, to declare to your friends that / am the happy object of it. Soph. You, Herr Baron you ! No, it is not you. Bar. (Dismayed.) Not I ! Pleis. (The same, but aside.) Not he! (All the others mur- mur among themselves.) Not he ! Thum. Not he! Bar. Who then? Tliurn. (Hastily stepping forward.) Might it be I? Soph. It is you, and you alone. Thum. Oh, happy that I am ! Oh, my beloved Fraiilein ! Bar. The learned man ! That will be the death of me ! Countess. (Drawing him away.) Come with me; you will expose yourself. [As they go out, MADAME KURT approaches tJte BARON. Bar. (To MADAME KURT.) Leave me in peace! [He goes out with the COUNTESS, MADAME KURT follows them, wringing her hands. Soph. (To the Company.) My guardian knew all, and I am acting with his approbation. Fr. v. Strub. Heir von Pleissner, that does you honour. Forst. It raises you in the opinion of all. Gross. Such an excellent choice such a steady young man ! THE UNINFORMED GIRL. 57 Fr. v. Grau. Bravo ! Herr von Pleissner, this is the way to punish calumniators. Forstm. Long live the pearl of all guardians ! The, others. Hurra ! Pleis. (Struggling to compose himself.) Much obliged much obliged ! I am glad you acknowledge that Herr von Thurneck, and Sophie and my duty well performed and my virtue is come to light. But all this overpowers me ; for look you, I am human; so go on rejoicing among yourselves till morning, if it amuses you. But now I bid you a good evening. (Aside as he goes.) If I stay longer I shall choke. Soph. Why does he go away when we are all rejoicing? Thurn. Do not ask, pure soul ; but thank Him whose Pro- vidence has shown to-day that uprightness and straightforward dealing succeed better than the most subtle intrigues, and who has led you safely from the midst of the avaricious and deceit- ful to the arms of a true-hearted friend. D 3 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK, & SDramn, FOUR ACTS. DRAMATIS PERSONS. COUNT VON LAUERFELD. BERTHA, his Daughter. FRAULEIN THERESE VON MINDEN, her Companion. COUNT PAUL VON SCHARFENECK, ^ j- Cousins. COUNT LEO VON SCHARFENECK, J JOACHIM, Groom ) }- To the Count von Lauerfeld. LORENZ, Footman J JUSTINE, Bertha's Maid. BARMANN, Servant to Count Paul. DAME MARTHA, Landlady of a Country Inn. LENA, her Daughter. The Scene is laid at a Country Inn during the First Act, and at the Castle of the Count von Lauerfeld during the three others. THIS drama was first published in 1839, and is one of the most popular of the Princess Amalie's plays. The title is difficult to translate. The term Majorats erbe, properly means the heir to the property of a noble family, but it also refers to a particular kind of entail, to explain -which, it would be necessary to understand more of German law than we can pretend to. THE HEIR OF SCHAKFENECK. ACT I. SCENE I. Room in a Country Inn. DAME MARTHA, alone. Martha. (Speaking towards the door.) That will do, Lena, you need not hurry yourself. I will just look after the weather. (Goes to the window.) A real deluge, indeed ! and the sky gives no hope of its getting better, (Turning again to the door.) Lena ! you may let the hen live; if any guests should come, which is against all likelihood, we can make yesterday's roast mutton into a ragout. A landlady in the country has certainly a poor business now-a-days. When first I took to inn-keeping, this place swarmed with strangers, for the walk to the Mill- valley was then all the fashion. But now that those meddling English have made the road to the stone-quarry passable, and have given fine Latin names to the rocks, the quality seldom come this way, and oftener than not we are obliged to eat the dinner which was prepared for them ourselves. A new law is much to be wished for yes, indeed, a new law in which all travellers should be charged to keep properly on the high road. SCENE II. MARTHA. BERTHA. JOACHIM. Joachim. A chair, Mrs. Landlady a chair, and then a glass of vinegar and water ! Bertha. Nothing of the sort, for I am neither lame nor sick; only if I might ask for a change of clothes. 64 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. Joach. The Countess has fallen from her horse. Mar. A Countess! only see now that is quite pleasant to me. Some dry clothes for your ladyship? I will fetch my daughter's Sunday suit. Ber. Do so, but make haste; pray, make haste. Mar. My daughter has only worn it three times. Ber. I dare say. Mar. At Easter at the consecration of the church and then, and then I cannot, just now, recollect when the third time was, but the dress is quite clean; your ladyship may put it on without any hesitation. [She goes out. Ber. (To JOACHIM, who stands as if reflecting.} Joachim, what are you thinking of? Joach. Of my lord, your father. Ber. He must not know of this fall. Joach. He knows everything, for he is all day at the window. Ber. He had desired me not to ride out to-day. Joach. I know that. Ber. But what is done, is done; therefore do you ride to Zahrenberg, and send me the carriage. Joach. Must I ride to Zahrenberg without your ladyship? Ber. I cannot walk home by the high-road, like a peasant girl. Joach. But if I meet my lord, your father? Ber. Then lay all the blame on me. Joach. Plenty of time he will leave me for that ! (Aside.) Gentlemen's service is hard enough, but ladies' service! that was to much for Riibezahl himself.* [lie goes out. Ber. (Alone.) Papa will be angry yes, yes! he did not want to let me go out of the house to-day. For the last fortnight he has been quite changed; and finds first this, and then the other to blame in me. Can it be Therese who has set him against me? or has he got some odd plan for me in Biibezabl (in English, " Number Nip,") is well known as the spirit of the Riesen Gebirge, or Giant Mountains, and is the hero of innumerable German legends. THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 65 his head] I have never before seen him so captious. The other day he was grumbling at my careless dress: as if I wanted the help of the toilette, at nineteen, and pretty, as I am ! Oh, my good papa ! you do not understand these things ! If I did not please in a cotton gown, I should not please at all. And if I thought I had to thank a lace veil, or a bonnet and feathers, for the homage of gentlemen, truly, I would enter a Stift.* SCENE III. BERTHA. MARTHA. ( With a peasant's dress in her hand.) Mar. Here, my gracious countess, here is what you want. Can I assist you in dressing? Ber. Thank you, I am much obliged; but I am accustomed to dress myself. If you will permit, I will shut myself in here. [Opening a door to the right. Mar. As you command. Your ladyship is laughing? (BERTHA takes the dress, smiling.) That dress was made in the town. Ber. In such a dress at the festival of the church conse- cration, I should captivate both the schoolmaster and the mayor. [She goes out. Mar. People of quality are always too fond of a joke. (A post horn is heard.) What is that? SCENE IV. MARTHA. Enter LENA. Lena. Company ! gentlemen ! two postchaises full ! [She runs out again. Mar. (At the window.) Two postchaises? two chaises with * Stifts are endowed institutions for ladies of noble family, who receive an allowance for life, or until they marry. There are many of these in- stitutions in Germany, some Protestant, and some Catholic, they are, in fact, lay convents, but they impose no vows on their members, and even constant residence is not obligatory. 66 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. extra post horses! a groom and a valet on the box brr ! Heaven be thanked, they stop ! Who would have thought that the great nobility were to crowd in upon me so to-day ? SCENE V. MARTHA. BARMANN. Barm. Are you the hostess ? Mar. For these twenty years, sir ! What can I do to serve you ? Barm. A room for a gentleman and then does a smith live here? Mar. A smith live here? (Aside.) The smith was my first love. Barm. Send for the man immediately, my master's carriage is broken. Mar. (Hopefully.) Quite to pieces? Barm. You would be glad if it were? Mar. Nay, I wouldn't say that. SCENE V. TJte same. Enter PAUL and LEO. Paul. A horrid step at the door quite a horrid step and a heat here in the room I cannot stop here, Leo, I cannot stop here. Barmann, open the window. Leo. But it will rain in. Paul. Never mind that! I had rather be wet through than stifled. Now, one can breathe ! [BARMANN opens the window. Leo. (Aside. Shaking himself with cold.) I have made up my mind to submit to be over-ruled in everything. Patience ! I must not get tired yet. Paul. Barmann, get me a cup of broth. Martha. You shall be served immediately. Would your lordship command anything to eat? Beef? ragout? a roast? I can serve you with all. THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 67 Paul. Roast for me. Martha. Roast? roast fowl? a roast chicken 1 ? It shall be on the table in two minutes. (She goes out.) Leo. But, Paul, the carriage will be ready in half-an-hour. Paul. I shall not stay. Barmann, bring me my travelling case, and I want also the almanack which is in the carriage- pocket. Do you understand? Barm. Yes, sir. Paul. My violin, Barmann. I hope no harm has happened to it? Barm. Not the slightest. (Aside.') Would it were in frag- ments ! [He goes. Paul. Listen to me, Leo; I am vexed. Leo. That I perceive. Paul. Not quite in the right mood for paying court to a lady; I fear that I shall not be very agreeable at Zahrenberg. But you do not cheer me the least; you have been in a bad humour all the journey, and I had thought to give you pleasure by taking you with me. Leo. I followed you out of obedience to your father, and complaisance to yourself. As for pastime, nothing in the Avorld is less amusing than to be a spectator when other people are making love. Paul. Do you think so? I, for my part, have great plea- sure in seeing a pair of lovers two happy persons, that is. You, however, the young German knight,* may well think differently. Leo. (Bitterly.) The German knight ! Paul. Why, have you not the promise? Leo. Just so; the destitute burgher may make use of the powers of his head or hand, and his industry may bring him what fortune denies ; but the destitute knight is not permitted, * " Deutscher Herr," that is, one of the Teutonic knights of Malta. The events of this play must therefore be supposed to have taken place before the abolition of that order. 68 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. through the pride of his family, to earn his own happiness. He must endure and be quiet, till a knightly mantle is drawn over his throbbing heart. Paul. (Anxiously.) Leo, I believe that your stay at Carlsbad last year has injured you. You were much more cheerful before you went there. Leo. And yet I was merry enough in Carlsbad. Paul. Perhaps you were tired of your domain at Greifen- stein, where you spent the winter? Leo. I was useful there, and wherever a man is useful, there he feels himself happy. Paul. You went often to Briinn, I hear. Leo. I have a faithful friend at Briinn. Captain Miihlen- berg [Somebody is heard in the court-yard, calling, "Chick, chick, chick. ?" Paul. What is going on out there? Leo. (Looking out of window.) Our hostess is hunting the hen which she is going to roast for you. Paul. An excellent service. Leo. Poor Paul, you will be obliged to travel on without breakfast. Paul. You think so? No, no, friend, that must not be; who knows how late they may dine yonder. SCENE VII. The same. Enter BARMANN and another servant, bringing a travelling-case. Bdrmann. (Pointing to the side-door.) Now, in there in there ! [Goes with t/te servant. Leo. What in the world is in that package ; do you intend to stay here for a fortnight? Paul. I wish to dress. Leo. At what time does your future father-in-law expect you? Paul. About twelve o'clock. THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 69 Leo. It is now going to strike one. Paul. I cannot help that. Leo. Have you, then, no anxiety to see your bride. Paul. Anxiety ! Oh, yes ; I have, certainly ; but the bride will not run away from me. I shall find her in two or three hours, or to-morrow morning at latest, in her father's house. However, Leo, as the old Count von Lauerfeld is very proud I hear, and might take offence at my long delay, it would, perhaps, be best, if you who sit there as neat as if you were going to a ball if you but only if it does not inconvenience you at all were to ride on to Zahrenberg to apologize for me. Leo. I! Paul. Yes, you; you knew my bride at Carlsbad. Pray, Leo, do me this favour. Leo. I am very willing. Paul. She is pretty, my bride is she not? Leo. One might rather call her beautiful. Paul. You must throw about fine speeches, right and left; you understand how to do that. You must tell her and her father that I, in spite of my great eagerness Barm. (Entering.) If it please your lordship Paul. Immediately, Barmann immediately. (To LEO.) You will manage it you will manage it ! [Goes with BARMANN. Leo. (Alone.) A thoroughly spoiled man! However, this journey may, perhaps, give some useful information. He thinks to take the Countess Bertha home as his wife. Poor Paul ! you are greatly mistaken; she will scarcely think you worth teasing! Paul. (Coming back with BARMANN.) Dear Barmann, among all the books which you have brought here, there is not the right one the almanack in which I had begun to read a story. Barm. Are you going to read now, sir? Paul. Only till the chicken is ready, Barmann. Go and 70 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. look once more in the carriage pockets in the right-hand pocket. I will comb my hair, meanwhile. Barm. (Amazed.) Your lordship cannot do that ! Paid. You shall see if I cannot. Barm. Well, as you command. (PAUL goes out.) (Aside.) He will arrange his hair so as to look like a forest demon, and yet I shall be obliged to praise it. Leo. Barmann, I pity you. Barm. Why so? Leo. You have a hard service. Barm. That only is hard, sir, which one feels to be hard. Leo. With your whimsical master. Barm. My whimsical master is a very good gentleman. (Warmly.) A very good gentleman, sir! Leo. Well, I don't deny it. Barm. It would be strange if you did, of whom he is so fond. Leo. Fond ! As a confidant I am certainly useful to him. Barm. I wish you were his friend. Leo. The friend who should wish to use the rights of friend- ship, and even for once to speak of his own affairs, would soon weary him. Barm. You judge him very hardly. Leo. Too hardly, perhaps, you would say, but the fact is, he has been put before me in everything, since I was a child, and the thought of being obliged all my life to be second to a man to whom I feel myself superior by many qualities of mind, is rather bitter to me, I confess, and I can never speak otherwise than as I think. Barm. I wish you thought differently. Leo. I am certainly not envious of him. Barm. I can believe that, for no one is envious. Envy is something so nasty that no one will touch it. People hate their neighbours from jealousy from a sense of honour from a consciousness of dependence it all comes to the same as envy. But envious, heaven forbid! no one is envious? THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 71 Leo. You talk offensively. Barm. Not so; for do you see, what I have just said, is not aimed at you. You belong to a particular class at this moment all lovers belong to a particular class. Leo. Lovers'? you do not mean Barm. That you are in love ! Truly, I do mean that; you will not deny it, for it is a regular thing once every year. Just now, indeed, it appears a little more serious than usual. Leo. Any one who heard you talk so Barm. Would perceive as I do, that it must be vexatious to a lover to accompany another to the altar, and then return home to become a German knight. Leo. Well, Barmann, I am going on to Zahrenberg. Barm. I wish you a pleasant ride. Leo. (Turning round.) Ah, Barmann! love is a bad thing ! Barm. Why do you say that, my good sir ? I am sixty years old, and it will be about a year at Michaelmas since I was last in love. [They go out. SCENE VIII. BERTHA. (Enters by the side-door, dressed in peasant costume.) Ber. They are gone! who can the people be? I could not help hearing much of what they said, and it would have been still harder to have kept myself from understanding it. One appears to be an unhappy lover, and the other a bride- groom but, good Heavens, what a bridegroom ! If I were to find no better, I would remain single. How carelessly he spoke of his bride ! " The bride will not run away from me." Poor girl! whoever she is, I pity her from my heart. And who knows whether she may not be the beloved of that senti- mental swain, who has just gone out? I must really find out the whole affair I will not stir from hence till I know all about it. 72 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. SCENE IX. BERTHA. Enter PAUL. (From his Room.) Paul. Barmann, Barmann! where can the man be? (To BERTHA.) Ma'mselle, have you seen my servant? Ber. Your servant! No. [PAUL goes back to his room. Ber. That is the bridegroom; I know him by his voice. Paid. (Enters dragging in a table on which stands his tra- velling case.) Ma'mselle, pray help me; I cannot bring this table forward all by myself. Ber. (Approaching him.) Where do you want to have the table? Paul. Make haste, for Heaven's sake ! here ! hold fast. [BERTHA takes one end of the table. Paul. I could not stay any longer in that room. Ear. Why not? Paul. Because it is so hot and because it smells of tallow candles. Barmann, Barmann ! He might have been back long ago. Ber. Be at ease there stands your table. Paul. A detestable inn a most detestable inn ! Is there not a room on that side? Ma'mselle, pray move my table in there. Ber. (Aside.) This scene must certainly go into my journal. [She draws the table to the door by which she had entered. Paul. Ah, it is very chilly here! I shall certainly catch cold. Ma'mselle ! Ber. Well; what is the matter now? Paul. Be so good as to shut the window. Ber. Very willingly. [Shuts the window. Paul. (Sits down, and draws his chair towards the fire.) Oh ! ah, Ma'mselle ! be good enough to push me a little nearer to the fire. Ber. Nay, do that yourself. THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 73 Paid. I am really too tired to get up again. Ber. You appear very much accustomed to be waited upon. Who are you, then? Paul. The Count von Scharfeneck. Ber. (Surprised.} The Count von Scharfeneck? Paul. Exactly so. Is it far from here to Zahrenberg? Ber. Have you business at Zahrenberg? Paul. I am to be married there. Ber. Married! to whom? Paul. To the daughter of Count von Lauerfeld. Ber. To the daughter Paul. Of Count von Lauerfeld. (Aside.} How she starts! There is really nothing more amusing than the moment in which one throws off the incognito. Ber. (Recovering herself.} Does the Count know of your plan? Paul. Of course; it is not a question of elopement. Do you know the Countess Bertha? Ber. A little, sir. Paul. What is she like? Bertha. I have never exactly looked at her face. Paul. Why not? Bertha. It was impossible for me to do so. Paul. Extraordinary timidity? But, Ma'mselle, can I not get anything to eat? Bertha. Can you be thinking of eating and drinking now? Paul. Do you think love takes away the appetite? It has not yet done that for me ! Bertha. That does not sound very nattering for the countess. Paul. Well, I cannot be enthusiastic about a person whom I have never seen. Bertha. If she heard you talk so, she would not have you. Paul. She is not absurdly unreasonable. Ber. On the contrary; she is esteemed and well thought of both by young and old. Paul. That rejoices me. 74 THE HEIR OF SCHAKFENECK. Ber. Therefore it is not every one who can please her. Paid. It is not every one who need please her. SCENE X. The same. Enter BARMANN, with a book in his hand. Barm. Is not this the book you wanted, sir? Paul. Ah, Barmann! is that you at last? I have been wait- ing for this half-hour, and, from ennui, have been chatting with the landlady's daughter. (Looks at the book.) Yes, this is the Almanack. (A clock strikes one.) What is it striking? Barm. One o'clock. Paid. One o'clock ! impossible ! already one o'clock ! We must not delay. The Countess Bertha will even now be feel- ing her heart beat quick. Ber. (Aside.) It does that now from anger. Paid. But Leo, he is long gone, is he not? Barm. I do, not see him anywhere. Paul. I am very glad that I have Leo with me, for he knows how to manage everything and then we love each other like brothers ; I never feel constrained with him. Barm. I believe that. Paul. But now we must go and dress. Have the people brought my violin here? Barm. I thought that in case the chicken did not come (Turning impatiently to BERTHA.) You do not trouble yourself much about it, Ma'mselle. You might, at least, go and hurry the people. Ber. I? Paul. Yes, you! If you only know how to chatter, you will not get on very well in your station ; and then how will you ever get a husband? Why, who will have you? (More gently.) Do not take it ill, that I say this it is for your good. Come, Barmann. (To BERTHA.) I say it for your good. [Goes out tcith BARMANN. THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 75 Ber. (After a pause.) I will not have him ! (She gives a glance towards tfie window?) Here comes the carriage I must not let it drive up to the door, and I must impose silence on the hostess. (Goes to the door.) I will not have him ! no, no, not him! [She goes out. ACT II. SCENE I. Hall in tlie Castle of Zahrenberg. Enter COUNT VON LAUEBFELD and THERESE. Count. Eidden out! my daughter! without my permis- sion? Therese. I did what I could to dissuade her. Count. Bidden out ! to-day ! when for the first time in her life I wanted her in the house ! And all alone with the groom was it not so? Ther. Joachim is an old servant. Count. Yes, an old servant, certainly. But the question is not of what is proper for her as a girl, but' what is proper for her as a Countess. Why, if you could not keep her at home, did you not accompany her? Ther. I had the headache. Count. A convenient malady is a headache ; it comes and goes just as one likes. Ther. There was a thunder-cloud in the sky, and horses attract the lightning. Count. Still you ought to have accompanied my daughter. Ther. And let myself be struck by the lightning? Count. The lightning may find you out here, too I shall go raving ! The Countess von Lauerfeld alone in a country inn! Ther. You may be very glad that she has not broken her E 2 76 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. neck ; and if you wish to lay claim to any feelings of humanity, spare mine, for I am already injured and unhappy enough. Count. You unhappy? I thought there was nothing the matter with you. Ther. I do not make a show of my grief, but it is not the less painful for that. Count. You have quarrelled with your lover, as I hear. It does not signify don't lament about it ; he will come back, or another will come in his stead. Ther. Oh, you are a heartless man ! Count. Not so ; but pardon me, I can at this moment only think of the Count von Scharfeneck, whom I am expecting. Ther. You are expecting the Count von Scharfeneck? Count. Certainly ; he is coming here to marry my daughter, and will be much disappointed if he does not find her in the house. Ther. The Count von Scharfeneck is to marry your daughter? Count. Yes, indeed, that is my will. But Fraiilein Therese, do not you set her against it, for my Bertha is wilful. She is quite capable of. playing me a trick, and drawing a stroke through the whole reckoning. Ther. You need not be uneasy on that point. Count. I know her. Ther. So do I ; and tell you that you have no cause to fear opposition in this instance. Count. Well, so much the better! SCENE II. The same. Enter LOBENZ. Lorenz. The Count von Scharfeneck, sir. Count. And Bertha not here? Now, Fraiilein Therese, I commend myself to your prudence. As soon as I have started the conversation with this gentleman, I shall turn him over to THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 77 you ; then do you talk to him amuse him tell lies do any- thing you like, only take care not to let him know of my daughter's riding excursion. [Goes with LORENZ. Ther. (Alone.} The Count von Scharfeneck Bertha's bride- groom ! Happy Bertha ! she will marry the man she loves ! SCENE III. THERESE. JUSTINE. Justine. Do you know, ma'am, that we have a visitor in the castle ? Ther. I know it. Just. And do you know who the visitor is 1 ? That nice Count Leo, from Carlsbad. I saw him when he was dismount- ing from his horse, and he greeted me so friendly just as he used to do. Ther. He is coming to be married to Bertha. Just. Really? Now, do you know that rejoices me, for seldom has any gentleman pleased me so much as Count Leo ; and he was in love with the Countess. I am sure he was the thing would go into a novel. I was always afraid that his poverty would be a hindrance. Ther. I also feared that, though the Count von Lauerfeld is quite rich enough to establish a son-in-law ; but, Justine, some people are the favourites of fortune, and have only to form a wish in order to have it granted. Just. The Countess Bertha seems to be such a one. Ther. I do not grudge it to her; and henceforth I will seek my happiness only in hers. Just. Only in hers ! But, my dear lady, is there, then, no happiness remaining for you on your own account 1 ? Ther. For myself, personally, there is none. Just. Should not the love of Captain von Miihlenberg Ther. Miihlenberg ! I beg you, Justine, never to speak to me of that faithless man. As a girl of eighteen, I loved a mere youth, and was deceived; that was a matter of course; but 78 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. that I, in my eight and twentieth year, should love a man of forty and be betrayed that is dreadful ! Just. The Captain then Ther. All Briinn is full of it. My friend, the widow von Korn, wrote to me about it. He loves another a stifts dame, Franziska von Geisdorf and he is irrevocably bound to her, if not actually married. Just. I can hardly believe that. T/ier. I myself hardly believed it at first, and had the folly to write a letter to the barbarian, and make known to him my jealousy and my suspicions. Just. And he ! Ther. He turned my suspicions into certainty, for his answer was mysterious and uncertain, contradicting the report, indeed, but giving no refutation of it, and referring me to time. Jus. Time ! that does not look much like love. TJter. Therefore, I did not admit the apology, and considered him as convicted. Jus. Which he surely is shameful, indeed ! SCENE IV. The same. Enter LORENZ. Lorenz. Ma'mselle Justine, quick ! my lady's cloak she is sitting there in the carriage, dressed like a peasant-girl, and she will not get out till she has her cloak. Jug. A peasant-girl? Lor. As I tell you, so bring the cloak quickly! It is a story to make one die with laughing, (JUSTINE goes,) Fraiilein Therese. [JUSTINE returns with die mantle. Lor. Go with it immediately, or she will be angry, (JUSTINE goes.) To make one die with laughing, as I tell you. Between ourselves, there is nothing in the world so absurd as rich people; what we call trouble they call pleasure, and what we call plea- sure they call weariness. It is like eating ammunition bread after cake, by way of dessert. THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 79 Ther. (Aside.) Oh, the man is right, and speaks truth in his simplicity. SCENE V.The same. Enter BERTHA in her cloak, and JUSTINE. Ber. (To LOKENZ.) My riding dress is left at the inn at Braiiningen; send there for it, without saying anything to any one here. [LORENZ goes. Ber. Justine, I must change my dress, put me out a nice gown. (JUSTINE goes.) Well, Therese, here I am; does papa know of my adventure? Ther. He knows all, and has been pouring out his ill humour on me. Ber. That grieves me, dear Therese; but, for all the world, I would not have it undone, for this ride ; and the fall from my horse, may have a great influence on my future fate. I was obliged to take refuge in a public house. Ther. So I heard. Ber. Oh, you cannot think how much of men and manners one may learn in a country inn ! Ther. Meanwhile, your bridegroom is come here. Ber. Impossible! he must have taken wings. My bride- groom! you know, then, who I am to marry? Ther. Yes; and I wish you joy, with all my heart. Ber. That joy does not seem to me a very tempting one, and I think of rejecting it. Ther. Rejecting it ! Ber. Yes, undoubtedly. I am rich and pretty, therefore no bad match, and if I resolve to take a husband, it must be one who can do me honour in the eyes of the world some one distingue a bright star so that every one may say, "the Countess Bertha has at last made her choice, and only such a man as this could find favour with her." Ther. Then Count Leo is not handsome or agreeable enough for you? 80 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. Ber. Leo! Do you mean him we met at Carlsbad 1 ? The question is not of him. Ther. Not ! and yet he is here in the Castle. Ber. Here in the Castle ! Count Leo ! Ther. As I tell you; Justine saw him. Ber. Then he must have been the unhappy lover, who first left the inn; and I now recollect that his voice struck me as familiar. TJter. An unhappy lover? Ber. Yes; he was lamenting his hard fate. He does, then, love me, and his cousin has managed very awkwardly in taking him as a companion on the bridal visit. Ther. His cousin? Ber. The heir to the estate, Count Paul von Scharfeneck, who thinks to take me hence as his wife and an ill-bred, in- supportable man he is. But let him come ! now that I know Count Leo accompanies him, I shall have double courage. A maiden is never so strong as in the presence of an admirer. Ther. I imagine you hope to persuade your father to make an exchange. Ber. I do not yet know what I wish or hope. I shall now go and dress; sometimes the toilette enlivens one's spirits, and one often has the wisest thoughts before the looking-glass. [S7te goes. Ther. She is light-hearted; but I would wager she feels more than she is herself aware of, and that Count Leo has really made an impression upon her, which she will not be able to laugh away. Count Leo! the much-to-be-pitied man! he loves her himself, and yet is obliged to come here in the train of a rival. Would that I might have the happiness of chang- ing his fate of helping him to obtain her he loves! He is Miihlenberg's friend how would Miihlenberg blush if he knew that that maiden, whose love he despised, employed the last powers of a broken heart in changing his friend's trouble into joy! THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 81 SCENE VI. THERESE. LEO. Leo. Fraulein Therese, my kind host has sent me to you. I am delighted to see you again. Ther. (With sorrowful emphasis.) Count Leo! ah, Count Leo! Leo. What are your commands? Ther. Do not look at me so ; it distresses me. Leo. Why so? Ther. You are grown thin. Leo. Do you think so? Ther. One may easily see that you have suffered much. Leo. You mean on the journey! Why, yes, the journey was not a pleasant one; but at my age Ther. One may defy bodily evils, when one is suffering under sorrows of the heart. Leo. Sorrows of the heart? (Aside.) I believe her brain is quite turned. Ther. You are silent? Have you, then, nothing absolutely nothing to tell me? , Leo. (Aside.) Ah! how could I have forgotten. (Aloud.) I bring you the compliments of Captain Miihlenberg. Ther. Much obliged. You are a friend of the captain's ? Leo. I confide in him as a brother. Ther. That does not injure you with me. Leo. I hoped it would have gained me your good-will. Ther. Then you do not know Leo. What? Ther. That I have been obliged to break with Captain Miihlenberg. Leo. Really? (Aside.) I am glad of that, for MUhlenberg's sake. T/ter. My feelings my honour demanded it. You are sur- prised shocked. Oh, be at ease; mean rancour is a stranger E 3 82 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. to my heart; and even if you have been a party to your friend's treachery, your secret is still in good hands with me. Leo. (AstonisJied.) My secret? Ther. You are not going to deny that you have a secret which oppresses you a weighty secret, which you have your own reasons for concealing 1 ? Leo. Fraulein Therese! Ther. It was a folly certainly, a great folly, to give yourself up to an inclination from which you could only expect sorrow; but who can command his heart who can struggle against his fate? Leo. (Aside.} She does really know all. Cursed indiscretion of Miihlenberg! Tfter. You are silent? Leo. Fraulein Therese, you are certainly in conjunction with fairies; I see that I must rely on your discretion. Ther. Your affairs are in bad trim, but do not give up all hope. Leo. That I certainly do not. Tlier. Perhaps, I may be able to forward your views. Leo. Oh, pray give yourself no trouble about it ! I only en- treat your silence. Tlter. Silence is the god of the happy, says Schiller; the un- happy can often only be assisted by speaking. [She goes out. Leo. Fraulein Therese! good heavens, she is gone! and with a determined will to mix herself up in my affairs! How shall I hinder her from it? Confounded activity of eccentric women ! who will endeavour to set other people's affairs in order after having mismanaged their own! i SCENE VII. LEO. Enter COUNT VON LAUERFELD and PAUL. Pood. You will be displeased with me, sir, for arriving so late; but, when you know the accident which befel me, here THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 83 stands my cousin as voucher, he can tell you that I was really prevented from proceeding for some time. Count. Count Leo has already explained. Leo. I have excused you to the Count. Count. How did you leave your father? Paul. I bring you a long letter from him, my letter of in- troduction. Count. You are already well introduced by your own ap- pearance. Paul. You are too kind too friendly! (Aside to LEO.) Leo, I have lost my pocket-book! Leo. (To him.) Never mind the pocket-book now. Count. Did you wish for anything? Paul. Nothing nothing in the world ! (Aside to LEO.) I have also lost my bonbonniere. Leo. (Aside to him.) Forget the bonbonniere now. Count. Will you be seated, gentlemen? Paul. No, if you will permit, I would rather stand, I have been sitting so long. Count. Just as you please. (Aside.) I am so tired I can scarcely keep on my feet ! Paul. When shall I have the honour of seeing your daughter? Count. As soon as she has completed her toilette. Paul. (To LEO.) Is not Bannann there? Leo. (To him.) Never mind Barmann now. Paul. (To the COUNT.) I am quite impatient to pay my respects to the Countess, your daughter. (Aside to LEO.) Leo, if you love me, do go see where Barmann is. Count. You appear uneasy, dear Count ; say plainly what you desire. Leo. My cousin only asked for his servant, who is not yet arrived. Count. If you require a servant, perhaps mine would Paul. Thank you, thank you a thousand times j but another 84 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. would not know would not understand. Give yourself no trouble on my account ; Barmann will not stay away long. If I might venture, while your daughter Count. My daughter? Here she comes. (Aside.) If this man pleases her, I shall think myself fortunate. SCENE VIII. The same. Enter BERTHA, elegantly dressed. Bertha. You have guests, I hear, my dear father? Count. And welcome guests; (Presenting PAUL.) Count Paul von Scharfeneck. Ber. The name seems familiar to me ; is not this the son of your early friend ? Count. The same, and a most hopeful young man. Paul. Who considers himself, beyond expression, fortunate in being permitted to make the acquaintance of the Countess Bertha. (Aside to the COUNT.) Your daughter, sir, is indeed wonderfully beautiful. (Aside.) I could almost fancy I had seen that face before. Leo. May I hope, gracious Countess, to be still remembered by you? Ber. Ah, is that you, Count Leo? Paul. My cousin had last year the happiness Ber. (To LEO.) Did the waters prove of service to you? Leo. You must ask my doctor that ; but I can myself assure you that I have not forgotten those delightful hours, which will brighten the remainder of my existence. Ber. Do you recollect our party to Ellenbogen? Leo. How could I forget it ! Ber. And the old Baroness von Hall, whose knight we called you? Leo. That was malicious. Ber. But very much to the purpose, for a future German knight must accommodate himself to the rules. THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. ' 85 Paul. (To the COUNT.) My cousin is at -present somewhat worldly in his way of thinking. Ber. (Aside to LEO.) Count Leo, pray is not that the cousin of whom you related to us so many anecdotes at Carlsbad? Leo. (Aside to her.) I implore you, Countess ! Ber. (As before.} Do not look at me to-day at dinner when I speak to you, or I shall laugh. Leo. (As before.} He is an original, but in other respects a very good man. Count. ( Who seems uneasy at observing them, turns to PAUL, smiling.} Apparently the whole society of Carlsbad is passing in review before them. My daughter is fond of laughing. Paul. (Seriously.} But not, I am sure, at the expense of others. (Aside to LEO.) Leo, do let me talk a little with her. Leo. (To PAUL.) Well, I am not hindering you. \He walks away from BERTHA. Paul. (To BERTHA.) You appear fond of society ? Ber. When the circle is select oh, yes ! Paul. I have been told that you have many delightful ac- complishments. Ber. In our station everything is called an accomplishment. Paul. No false modesty; I have my sptes, and know that you draw admirably and are a perfect musician. Ber. A perfect musician ! oh, do not say that ; I see before me an amateur to whom I am not worthy to hold a candle. Paul. You mean, why, certainly, I love music, and my masters were not dissatisfied with me; but you must not imagine Ber. You are, then, musical, also? Paul. Of whom are you speaking? Ber. Of Count Leo, who has often done me the honour of accompanying me. Paul. Yes, indeed; yes, he plays the flute. (Aside to LEO.) You might just go and see where Barmann is. Leo. I will go. (To the COUNTESS.) Will you permit? 86 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. Ber. What are you going for? Leo. Travelling affairs. [He kisses BERTHA'S hand. Ber. (Aside to him.) Why does not your cousin become a German knight? Leo. (Aside to her.) Because he is rich. [He goes out. Paul. (Aside.} Now I shall at last get a word with her. SCENE IX. COUNT VON LAUERFELD. PAUL. BERTHA. Count. Are you not yet tired of standing, my dear Count ? Paul. Not in the least. Ber. Well, if you are not, perhaps others are, so I think we had better sit down. Count. (Aside!) My daughter has certainly a great deal of sense. Paul. As you command. (Aside, while fetching a chair.} That face pleases me extremely, but I am sure I have already seen it somewhere. [They sit down. Ber. Had you a pleasant journey? Paul. Yes, and much diversion; in one place they made too much of me, and in another too little. In a village we passed through, the day before yesterday, they took me for the lord of the manor, on account of my postilions and out-riders ; and this morning at Brauningen, I appeared to the landlady's daughter not good enough to be a count. That girl was really a curiosity. [He stops abruptly, as if struck by a sudden thougfti, and gazes at BERTHA. Ber. Why do you look at me so? Paul. Gracious, Countess Ber. What is it 1 ? Are you, too, struck by the resemblance? Paul. What resemblance 1 Ber. Those of my acquaintance who have been at Brauningen assert that the landlady's daughter is the image of me. THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 87 Count. I never heard of it. Paul. Well, as other people have discovered it, I may also venture to confess that I see in your features but do not mis- take, me you are only like that girl as far as the noble can be like the mean ; the beautiful like the ugly. Ber. The ugly? Paul. And, perhaps, I should scarcely remark the likeness if I saw her again. Ber. She is clever, as I have heard. Paul. To me she only showed herself prying and a chatterer. One is amused by such a person, if one has nothing else to do, and then one thinks no more of her. But now, dear sir, will you permit me to ask you a somewhat rude question! At what hour are you accustomed to dine? Count. At two o'clock. Paul. So early ? Count. We have always dined at that hour in my family, and I thought that to-day, at least, it would be agreeable to you. Paul. I took something at Br'auningen. Count. If you wish, I can put it off till a later hour. Paul. It would be very agreeable to me, but only if it does not inconvenience you. Count. Oh, not at all. Paul. You see I use no ceremony with you. Count. I see it. Paul. But you would not wish it to be otherwise, would you ? Therefore'you will not take it ill, if I go to see after my servant ? Count. Pray do as if you were at home. Paul. (Aside to the COUNT.) Your daughter, my dear Count, pleases me extremely really beyond expression ; you see, I tell you what I think, quite plainly if I had not been pleased I should have told you just as plainly. [He goes out. 88 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. SCENE X. BERTHA. COUNT VON LAUERFELD. Count. (Aside.) If that man pleases my daughter, I may consider myself fortunate. (Aloud.) Well, Bertlia, the young man is not so bad, is he 1 Ber. I think him intolerable. Count. Intolerable ? You girls are always ready with that word but I tell you there is nothing intolerable, for every- thing can be endured when there is a necessity for it and your intolerable is a very stupid word. Ber. Well, I will give it up. Count. But to return to the Count von Scharfeneck he has a very pleasing countenance. Ber. Perhaps so if it pleases you. Count. And he has a good heart. Ber. All who have nothing else, are entrenched behind a good heart! Count. The only son of an ancient family. Ber. I pity the family for having no other. Count. He expressed himself in a most flattering manner concerning you. Ber. I don't exactly see what he could have found to blame in me. Count. I wish you would behave pleasantly to him. Ber. Why, so I think I do. Count. Your happiness may depend upon it. Ber. (With feigned surprise.} How so? Count. He would be a brilliant match for you. Ber. But not a suitable one. Count. The most suitable one that I know of. Ber. You are joking, dear father. Count. Not at all. Ber. You would not wish me to marry a man whom all the world laughs at / THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 89 Count. Where have you ever seen him laughed at ? Ber. At Carlsbad, and hy our whole society there, when Count Leo related to us his eccentricities. Count. Count Leo might have found something more sen- sible to relate. Ber. But nothing more diverting. SCENE XL The so/me. Re-enter PAUL. Paul. Dear sir, here I am again. My servant is not yet arrived. (Aside.) But I have found my bonbonniere. Count. I will now go and put off dinner till four o'clock. I leave you, meanwhile, with my daughter. (Aside to PAUL.) But for Heaven's sake do not mention the marriage. Paul. Why not? Count. Because she does not yet know of the plan, and I wish to inform her of it myself. (Aside.) Now, he may feel his way with her by degrees. SCENE XII. PAUL. BERTHA. Paul. (Aside.) Not speak to her of the marriage! of what else, then? (Aloud.) You have a great regard for my cousin have you not? Ber. I like him much. Paul. I am glad of that, do you know I am glad of that, for I love him as a brother. Ber. (Surprised.) What, Count Leo? Paul. Yes ; we have grown up together, and I confide every thought to him. Ber. Do you believe that you can do so without danger? Paul. Oh, I am as sure of him as of myself. Did he never speak of me to you ? Ber. Of you? very often. 90 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. Paid. Well, I was in good hands, was I notl Ber. (After a pause.) He is intended for a German knight. Paul. That is my father's view for him, as he has no fortune. Ber. Should not you, his richer friend, provide for him in some other way? Paul. Just now I have no means of providing for him, but it will be different when I am married; I shall then partake what I possess with Leo, if he is disinclined to enter the order. Ber. That is noble of you. Does he know of your intentions? Paul. He may guess them, for he knows me well, but I am unable to promise anything till I am married. Ber. True, and therefore he may yet have long to wait. Paul. Long? that is not my intention. Ber. You must first choose. Paul. But if I have already chosen ? Ber. You must then please also. Paul. Yes, yes that is true. Ber. Now, you see! Paul. (After a pause.") Are you a friend to country life? Ber. Why, half and half. Paul. I am very much in favour of country life, even in winter. Ber. In winter? Paul. Winter frightens you, but yet I would wager that if you lived on an estate of your own, you would not find winter in the country dull. There is a charm in being able to say " all that I see, is my property." Ber. But when one has said it to oneself two or three times, one would wish to say it to somebody else. Paul. Dear Countess, I am not supposing you to live alone on your estate. Ber. I might certainly invite guests. Paul. Guests! why not? but besides that if you had a husband who was dear to you, I think you would invite but few guests. THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 91 Ber. The man whom I could live with in winter, in the country, and without guests, must be uncommonly agreeable. \~PA.m.Jidgets his neckcloth. Ber.^ What is the matter 1 ? Paul. Nothing nothing in the world. [Fidgets again. Ber. Do you feel ill ? ' Paul. Oh, no ! but there is a terrible draught here would you allow me to shut the window? Ber. Do as you like. \He shuts tlie window. Ber. (Aside.) Pity for the young man ! he seems good- natured, but his manners Paul. (Coming from the window.") So, and now to return to our conversation about country life. Ber. (Trying to change t/ie conversation.) Last year there were inundations in your neighbourhood; did your property escape them? *" Paul. Oh, no ! On my father's estate, no less than three villages were under water. I was out in a boat for eight hours. Ber. (Smiling incredulously.) You? Paul. You smile ! you think that I should be little able to help the distressed people. It is true that I can neither row nor swim, but in the country the lord of the estate must be everywhere, or nothing goes on well. Ber. But you could not have undergone such danger as the Count von S , of whom I read in the newspapers? Paul. The Count von S ? Ber. Who saved a mother and three children, who were clinging to a tree. Paul. Did they put that stupid affair in the papers? Ber. Stupid affair ! the Count risked his life. Paul. (Speaking with effort.) It was not quite so bad as that. Ber. Do not put me out of conceit with so noble a deed. Paul. (Earnestly.) Dear Countess, no one can give you better information about that adventure than I for if you must know it / am Count S . 92 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. Ber. (Starting.) You! Count Paul? Paul. It vexes me when what is only duty in any of us, is recorded as a heroic deed it sounds as if it were an uncommon thing for one to do one's duty. SCENE XIII. The same. THERESE. Therese. The Count's servant is just come. Paul. What, Barmann ! Now, thank Heaven . Will you permit me to withdraw? Ber. Do not let me be any hinderance to you. Paul. (Aside to BERTHA.) At dinner I shall again have the honour, think a little, meanwhile, about country life, and about the husband with whom you should live on your estate. I do not say this at random I have my reasons for speaking so; believe me, I have my reasons. [He goes out. SCENE XIV. BERTHA. THERESE. Ther. I came to set you free. Ber. (Thoughtfully.) You did well Ther. Your father has selected a fine bridegroom for you the drollest stories are already in circulation about him. Ber. (Alarmed.) Stories! what? Ther. In his room he has turned everything upside down. The writing-table must not be so near the stove, the bed not opposite the looking-glass. The clock he has banished because it ticked too loud; and the portrait of your blessed great-uncle, because it made faces. Ber. Is it possible? Ther. He sent to the cook, to beg that he would not put onions or cheese into any of the dishes, because he could not endure the smell of either. Ber. In a strange house? THE HEJR OF S^CHARFENECK. 93 Tlier. He orders about our servants as if they were his own. Just now he had his luggage brought up, trunks and boxes without end a pair of fowling-pieces, two violins, and, lastly, two dog's baskets. Ber. So he has brought dogs with him? Ther. A Medor and an Azor, which bark at everybody and tear the carpets. Ber. (Aside.] Oh, I never could produce the man any- where ! Ther. I hope your father himself will soon be disgusted with his guest. Ber. Don't flatter yourself with that idea. Ther. Then you must yourself get rid of him. Ber. In what way? TJier. By coldness by indifference to himself. Oh, he is proud ! He ththks he is doing you the greatest honour in soliciting your hand. Ber. I will enlighten his darkness on that point. Ther. I should, indeed, be beside myself, if I saw you united to such a man. Ber. He is certainly Ther. He is thoroughly unworthy of you. Ber. (Half weeping.} And I will not have him I will not have him ! Ther. And what would your friends what would your ad- mirers say? (BERTHA bursts into tears.} Do not weep, my Bertha you shall yet be happy. Ber. Happy, when the whole world is against me ! Tlier. The world! Ber. (Somewhat bitterly.} Yes, the world, in which amiable men are so false, and worthy men so unamiable, that we are blamed if we choose the agreeable, and laughed at if we choose the good. Ther. I do not understand you. Ber. Don't you ? Well, then, you need not understand me ! 94 THE HEIR OF^ SCHARFENECK. ACT III. SCENE I. BARMANN, alone. Bdrmann. Oh, my poor master ! he is betrayed and deceived ; and that, too, by a relation with whom he has been brought up, and whom he so tenderly loved ! I could not remain any longer in the dining-room. Never did I before suspect Count Leo of being so bad to make himself merry with the bride at the expense of the bridegroom, and in his very presence ! But, Count Paul, why does he give occasion to bad tongues by his whims? If I had had the educating of him, he would have been fit to be worshipped. SCENE II. BARMANN. Enter PAUL, with a melancholy air. Paul. Barmann, the dinner has wearied me. Barm. And me also. Paul. You? Barm. Yes ; and made me angry, too. Paid. I am in a bad humour. Barm. And I am in a shocking one. Paul. Biirmann, I am not well used, am I? Barm. Miserably ; but, do not take it ill, dear sir, my heart is breaking, and I forget my respect why are you not like other people? Paid. Not like other people? What do you mean by that? Barm. Ask your Countess-bride, who saw you at Brauningen. Paul. At Brauningen? Barm. I know it all from the servants. She was thrown from her horse, and borrowed the dress of the landlady's daughter. THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 95 Paid. Good Heavens! the girl of the inn with whom I talked? Barm. That was the Countess Bertha. Paul. That is dreadful ! I was actually waited upon by her. Barm. Why does your lordship make every one wait upon you? Paul. In all respects, I believe that I appeared in a very unfavourable light at Brauningen. Barm. Why, yes, indeed ; you made quite a show of yourself? Paul. A show? I was only a little hasty. Barm. Honoured sir, if I might be pardoned for saying so you were intolerable ! Paul. Barmann, what do you mean ? Barm. Dear sir, I can no longer be silent, for your whole happiness is at stake, and if you were to lose it, you, so ex- cellent a gentleuaan, merely on account of some improprieties, it would be too sad. Paul. Hark you, my dear Barmann, no one ever spoke to me in this way before. Barm. That is just it, that is just the misfortune ! there- fore, I must be the first, I, your servant, in whom it is cer- tainly not very suitable. Paul. Do not trouble yourself on that account. (Aside.) The thing is really becoming ludicrous. Barm. Do you see, honoured sir, among us at home, every- thing you do is praised, for the sake of my Lord and Lady, your papa and mamma, and also because you are the heir; the tutor himself, in his time, did no better, and you think it all right, for which I do not blame you, as I should do the very same, if I were you; but now that you are come among strangers, to a Count who thinks himself also a grand person, and to an elegant Countess, and take the tone of a master, have the windows opened and shut, the furniture turned out of the room, and the servants ordered about hither and thither 9C THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. the dinner hour put off, and dogs brought into the house, it is no wonder that you are talked about. Paul. Barmann! Barm. Look at your cousin, Leo; he pleases every one, and well, I must not speak against him; I have seen him grow up also, but he is not worth you, dear sir ; he is not worth you. Paid. He is clever. Barm. It is only that he has learned three things, which each one of us has known from a boy : to bear, to bend, and to accommodate himself to circumstances. Paid. (After a pause.) Barmann, I know you love me. Barm. (ToucJied.) As a son : with all respect. \He rubs his brow. Paul. What is the matter? Barm. I cannot think how I came to say all that. Paul. Be at ease give me your hand; you see I am not angry, and now come in here with me. I heard them speak- ing about music for this evening, and I must try over that duet of Lafond's. Barm. You will not play in company here. Paul. Why should I not? Leo did the same last year. Barm. Yes; but Count Leo Paul. He does not play so well as I do, only ask the music- master, Rosen. Barm. Oh, I believe he said it. Paul. He reads the notes passably, my dear Barmann, but as for talent, you cannot judge of that. Come, we have not much time. Barm. Is nobody near? Paul. I believe you are afraid. [BARMANN goes to the side-door. Paul. What are you going to do there? Barm. Only to shut the window. THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 97 Paul. Leave it open leave it open ! An amateur must have courage. [Goes in at the side-door. Barm. (Following.} There now there is a new trouble ! SCENE III. BERTHA, from the Garden. Bertha. I am vexed, dissatisfied with myself, and really, irri- tated with Count Leo, the ungrateful man! How can he so ridicule his cousin, poor Paul, who loves him so truly 1 ? And what is most unpardonable of all, he constrains me to join in his unworthy laughter, and makes me ashamed of my sympathy for a generous man; but if I could only meet with him alone, there he is, as if I had called him. SCENE IV. The same, ^nter LEO, carrying a shawl. Leo. My gracious Countess, I bring you the shawl which you left in the dining-room. Ber. I thank you. Leo. Your father is walking in the garden with Fraiilein Therese and the rest of the company; but what is become of my poor cousin 1 Ber. I do not know. Leo. Perhaps he has found his Barmann, in whose company he is always best pleased. Ber. Count Leo, I am glad to meet you alone, in order to inform you, once for all, that I do noj wish to hear your cousin spoken of in that tone again. Leo. (Astonished.) Countess! Ber. Your cousin may have his peculiarities; but he is a good man, and loves you better than you deserve. Leo. Well, and I love him also. Ber. No, you do not love him, or you would not speak of him as you do. * F 98 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. Leo. I have said nothing bad of him. Ber. Because you could not, without being a calumniator; but you have made him ridiculous, and ridicule is worse than blame. Leo. What I said against him was only to amuse you, and was very innocent. I laugh at his whims ; let him laugh at mine, and so we are quit. [The sound of violins is heard from a room near. Ber. What is that? Leo. A musical practising of my good Paul's. He could not live four-and-twenty hours without playing on his violin. [During the following conversation, the music becomes gradually worse and worse; at last, the players get quite out of time. Ber. He does not play badly. Leo. The beginning is always tolerable. Ber. It is an innocent passion. (LEO laughs.) You laugh? Leo. I cannot help it. Ber. He does not seem to know that piece. Leo. I have heard him play it when we were at Vienna. Ber. (Angrily.) He is not a musician by profession! Leo. Certainly not. Ber. He does not want to earn his bread by bis skill. Leo. That is lucky for him. Ber. Pray look in the garden for my father, and tell him that I am going to my room, for I have got the head-ache. Leo. You are unwell? Ber. Very unwell. I do not think I shall appear at tea this evening. Leo. I will go. (Aside.) There is certainly a storm brew- ing; ladies do not have the head-ache without some reason. [Goes. Ber. Oh, how badly he plays poor Count Paul! I hope no one else hears him. ( Walks to the window.) Heavens ! there are my father and Therese, and all the company! They THE HEIR OF SCHARFEN 7 ECK. 99 wink at each other they laugh; my father alone endeavours to keep a serious countenance. There is no doubt, Count Paul is the butt of the whole party. And is that man to be my hus- band! no, no! never, never! SCENE V. BERTHA. PAUL and B ABM ANN (from the side door, which is open.) Paid. How in the world are you playing, Barmann? I have been ready this quarter of an hour, and you are still flourishing away with your bow in the air. Barmann. (A slieet of music in his hand.) Here it is written, five bars rest; and you, sir, only rested one bar. Paid. (Looks at the music.} Five bars? It is true, Barmann, you are right; but who could have observed that? Barm. I observed it long ago. Paid. Then we really were not playing together all these forty bars? Barm. Certainly not. I said so. [BERTHA approaches them. Paul. Barmann, if we practised that this evening. (Per- ceiving BERTHA.) Countess Bertha ! Barm. (Aside.) Now I must fly. \_He goes out. SCENE VI. PAUL. BERTHA. Bertha. You have been playing on the violin ? Paul. Oh, very badly ! Ber. From an amateur one must not expect too much. Paul. However, my playing has procured me one pleasure, which I desired in vain at dinner. Ber. What pleasure ? Paul. That of conversing with you. Ber. You did not appear to be inclined to talk at dinner you seemed to be out of sorts. F 2 100 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. Paul. I appeared what I was, and not without grounds. Countess, I can no longer use concealment. Be candid with me : do you know, or do you not know, why I am here ? Ber. That is a home question. Paul. Such an answer goes for Yes. You know, then, the delightful hope which brings me here ? Ber. Why, yes, I know it a family plan. Paul. It was, indeed, originally a family plan ; but since I have seen you, it has become a heart's plan. Ber. Since you have seen me 1 Oh, no ! Since you have known that I am Countess von Lauerfeld since I have shown myself to you in all the dignity of my station ! Paul. What do you mean ? Ber. The landlady's daughter of Brauningen was prying and chattering, and you had only hard words for her. Paul. Pardon me, Countess, if I had only been aware I never should have dreamed Ber. I may thank a fortunate chance for having discovered to me before marriage, what I should otherwise have found out to my sorrow after it. Paul. You saw me this morning wearied with a long jour- ney out of sorts every man has such moments ; and that I paid no attention to you, ought not to be a subject of reproach. Would you wish for a husband who did homage to every landlady's daughter he met ? Ber. That is not the question. Paul. It seems to me you were speaking of it. Ber. You mentioned me at Brauningen as your bride. Paul. Certainly. I was rejoicing in the hope of making your acquaintance. Ber. With very tranquil joy, for you said, remember, "I should not run away from you." Paul. Could I have said that ? Ber. You did say it. THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 101 Paul. That was stupid of me, but, dear Countess, what is not intended for the listener always sounds silly. Ber. The sense of your words hurt me more than the words themselves, for, do you see, Count Paul, you helieved that I was awaiting you, as if you Avere a sultan, who was to do his bride the highest honour in sharing his glory with her. Paul. What a representation ! Ber. The manner in which you have acted since your arrival has strengthened me in this opinion. Paul. I thought I came among friends. Ber. No, you thought you came among proteges, towards whom all consideration was unnecessary. You behaved rather like a master in our house than a modest suitor ; and yet, we are just what you are; as rich as you, as high-born as you, and as to marriage, it would be more difficult for you to find a suitable match than for me. Paul. (Somewhat vexed.) Oh, my gracious Countess! one can always find a match ! Ber. With your faults with your eccentricities ? Count Paul, I pity you. You have many noble qualities, but as you are now, you will never please women. Paul. That grieves me ! Ber. We wish for a husband not for home only. We wish for one with whom we can also appear with credit before the world and our friends. Nay, sometimes we would rather be unhappy and envied, than happy and pitied. Paul. Pitied my wife would never be. Ber. Pitied she will be, unless you alter your ways. Paul. She would never have cause to be ashamed on my account. Ber. Oh dear, Count ! ten times a day ! Paul. Enough, Countess Bertha; if faults which education has given me, if offences against form, are crimes in the eyes of the world, I am then a lost man, and dare not lay 102 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. claim to the hand of a lady like you. Pardon the freedom I have taken I thought that a sound heart a heart which was ready to love you which, perhaps, did already love you, might be sufficient to make you happy ; but it is not so : you cannot conceive happiness without fashion and elegance ; and these, I must acknowledge, I have not to offer. Therefore, farewell ! a hundred admirers will soon surround you. May you find amongst them a husband more polished than I am, and not less honourable. [He goes. Ber. Hear me, count! What shall I do? He is gone, and I am trembling all over; no one has ever affected me in this way before. But I certainly went too far; I wounded him too deeply, when I merely intended to punish his arrogance, and vex him a little; and that only to improve him. Im- prove! Do men wish to be improved? But, oh! I am vexed with him, vexed with myself, and here comes Therese ! I am, most of all, vexed with her. SCENE VII. BERTHA. THERESE. Therese. Count Leo has just told me that you are unwell, and I come Ber. Count Leo does not know what he is talking about. Ther. Your cheeks glow your eyes are full of tears, tell me, for Heaven's sake, what is the matter? Ber. (Impatiently.) Matter? nothing in the world; but whoever does not perceive that I am in a deeply painful state of mind must have neither feeling nor penetration. Ther. Well, I do perceive it. Ber. You perceive nothing at all. First, I think that I will have the count, then that I will not, now he is pleasing to me, now disagreeable. I cannot bear it any longer, and if you all go on vexing me, I shall end by going into a stift, in order to be at peace. [She goes. Ther. She is out of her senses she has really lost her THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 103 reason through Count Leo! One had only to see them at dinner to-day, to be quite clear as to the feelings of both. If I did but know how to help them ! I dare not speak to our count; a sudden thought, and perhaps not a bad one, strikes me; if I were to address myself to the bridegroom, and lay open the whole to him? He is disagreeable borne" but he seems to be a good-hearted man. Here is his room, and all the company are in the garden, yes ! [Knocks at PAUL'S door. Paul. (From within.") Who is there? [THERESE knocks again. SCENE VIII. Paul. (Coming out.) What is it? Ah! it is you, Fraiilein Therese ! _. Ther. Pardon me for having disturbed you, but I must speak with you about something important, really important, Count. Paul. What do you wish? Ther. The happiness of two persons is at stake I might say three, for I do not think you can be indifferent at the idea of being the cause of sorrow to others. Paul. You mean about the betrothal, my father wished it to take place and hers also and I hoped Ther. You really hoped to be able to inspire a young, rich, beautiful, and ardent girl with love ? Paul. Why, yes, till this morning I did not think so ill of myself, and I did not know how much ladies think of trifles. Ther. But now? Paul. Now I see it all plainly. The Countess Bertha has enlightened me. Ther. You know, then? Paul. I know all. Ther. Why she refuses you her hand? Paul. She has told me. 104 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 17ter. And also whom she loves ? Paid. Loves? the Countess Bertha loves another? Ther. She loves your cousin, Count Leo. Paul. Leo 1 ? I might have guessed that ! T/ier. And he is dying of love for her. Paul. Is it possible? (He reflects a moment.) Yes, it is so ; all is now accounted for ; his unwillingness to enter the Order; his dislike to the journey. Oh, my poor Leo! T/ier. Say now, is he not a man made on purpose for Bertha? Paul. Certainly; but I also, would gladly have had her very gladly. She pleased me beyond everything and ah ! I feel it,< I shall have difficulty in forgetting her? T/ier. You love her? Paul. I believe so almost. Tfter. If you love her, you must wish for her happiness. Paul. That I do indeed, I do wish for it, but how? Tfter. First, you must renounce her entirely ! Paul. (Sighing.) I have already renounced her. T/ter. Then speak with her father on your cousin's behalf. Paul. But my cousin is poor. Ther. Who ought in such a case to think of Mammon ? Paul. Yet money is a very necessary thing. Ther. Our Count does not want a rich son-in-law. Paul. He witt have one, however. Ther. Your generosity will teach him to be generous. Paul. Such things are not learned. Ther. There he comes as if called, try your luck ; remem- ber the happiness of your beloved of your friend is at stake! Paul. Well, I will try what I can do, however painful it may be to me. Ther. An undying fame will reward you. Paul. Ah ! fame does not signify much to me. THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 105 SCENE IX. The same. COUNT VON LAUERFELD. Count. At last I have found you, my dear Count. Why did you leave us? Paid. My presence did not appear to be particularly agree- able to the Countess, your daughter. Count. Paul, you are surely mistaken? Paid. Besides, I had much to think over. Count. To think over? What? Paul. As to whether I really am the man best suited to the Countess Bertha, and whether the faults which I am now fully aware of, are not such as to make it impossible that I should inspire jiny heart with love. Count. What do you mean? Paul. Such questions I have been asking myself all this afternoon, and my conscience has answered me strongly and clearly. Count. Eeally, I do not understand you. Paul. Oh, you must understand me, for you know your daughter and you must be aware that it would cost her a struggle to accompany me to the altar. Count. Such a man as you? Paul. Oh, I will not make myself worse than I am. I am an upright man, do you see that I feel. Kind-hearted, also : I could embrace the whole world with my love ; but I have been spoiled, as an only child usually is, and many awkward ways cling to me many improprieties which I have never got rid of. The world makes a great deal of such things. It punishes them more severely than crimes ; and, ah ! women only love and esteem those who obtain the world's applause. This I have bitterly learned to-day. Count. I hope my daughter has not vexed you? F 3 106 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. Paid. Oh, no ; but she cannot give me her heart, because her affections are fixed on another. Count. Another? Paid. Yes ; one who has all the qualifications in which I am deficient. Count. Count Paul ! Paul. And I find she is right ; for I myself love the man too much to be able to blame her. Count. Who is the man 1 ? Who can he be? Paul. My cousin Leo. Count. He? Ther. Yes, indeed ; she loves Leo, and has loved him ever since last year. Count. Since that cursed journey to Carlsbad? Ther. Oh, do not be angry ! Count. And you were her confidante a pretty history for me to hear ! Ther. It is fate that unites souls. Count. It is folly that does it, and not fate let fate alone. Paul. My cousin is a worthy man. Count. So much the better for him. Ther. He is truly attached to your daughter. Count. I never desired him to become attached to her. Paul. Kich he certainly is not. Count. Every one knows that, and you were a fool, Count Paul, to bring with you a man who openly ridicules you. Paul.. That is calumny ; Leo does not do that. Count. I heard it from my daughter. Paul. From your daughter? Count. That he showed off his wit at your expense, at Carlsbad, and made you the butt of the whole company. Paul. (Much pained.) Is it possible ? Count. All your little eccentricities, everything that could be blamed or criticised in you, were known to my daughter before your arrival. THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 107 Paul. Known through Leo 1 ? Count. Through him, and no one else my daughter herself told me so. Paul. Ah, that does grieve me ! Count. It was certainly ungrateful of the young man, who owes all to your father. Paid. ( With deep feeling.) How ungrateful he is, I alone know. Count. You perceive how little he deserves that you should interest yourself about him. Paul. Of me, sir, of me, he certainly does not deserve it. (After a short struggle.) Yet, permit me once more to entreat you in his behalf. Ther. Oh, you are a generous man! Count. (To JHERESE.) For heaven's sake, do you be silent, don't meddle in the affair at all. (To PAUL.) You pretend to say then that I ought to give him my daughter 1 Paul. I wish earnestly that you would. Count. I really do not know what to think of you. Paul. Think what you will, but attend to my request. Count. Listen to me, young man ; you will soon make me angiy. If you are not willing to marry my Bertha, I will not press her upon you, but your cousin is no match for the only daughter of the Count von Lauerfeld. Ther. Why not 1 if she loves him? Count. Romantic nonsense ! a poor youth who only lives by the kindness of his relations. Paul. But you are rich. Count. (Ironically.) Oh, no doubt, I ought to establish him, in order to have it said that I was obliged to buy a hus- band for my daughter. Paul. I can do nothing for him at present, but his future welfare will be my care rely upon it. Count. (As before.) Oh, I do not want to lay claim -to your property; I hope to find a son-in-law who does not need your 108 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. protection; he may be no Scharfeneck indeed, but there are other good families in Germany. . T/ter. But none whom you esteem so highly that you have often said. Count. I have said it, and it is true. I have rejected many honourable proposals for my daughter in order to reserve her for the heir of Scharfeneck ; but, understand me, only for the Heir. My Bertha shall not be second in any house. The Heir of Scharfeneck may address her, and I will not refuse him, but no other of that name shall ever be accepted by me, and that I swear. Paid. Oh, that is wrong! T/ier. Cruel father ! What hardness what tyranny ! Count. I have sworn it. TJwr. Does your heart say nothing 1 Count. Not the least thing. I have sworn it, therefore you may be at rest. [He goes; THERESE follows. Paul. (Alone.) Oh, the poor Countess ! and poor Leo ! then the Heir of Scharfeneck only, and no other of that name, can become the Count's son-in-law ! Why was not Leo's father born a year earlier than mine? then Leo would have been the heir, and I who please no one, whom no one can endure, should have become a German knight, and as a bachelor, should have tormented no one with my oddities. It would, perhaps, have been better so and I wish it were so. Yet might not an alteration be made in the arrangements, even now ? Does not the power of exchanging rest with me ? If I wrote to the Grand Master ! the place is bespoken for Leo; they will not refuse me in his stead. Ah! the sacrifice is not a light one, I feel it but it must be made. I am standing in the way of two persons' happiness. Away with me, then ! If I can make no one happy, either by my friend- ship, or by my love, I will, at least, have the satisfaction of feeling that I have injured no one. THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 109 SCENE X. PAUL. LEO. Leo.- Tell me, where have you been? and why will you not come into the garden ? Paul. Leo, look at me. Leo. What is the matter? you seem quite out of sorts. Paid. Out of sorts I am not but grieved I am, for I love you as a brother, and so I thought you loved me; it ought not to have been otherwise. Leo. Well! Paul. Well, I have just discovered that you do not love me at all not at all. Leo. What can you be thinking of] Paul. Oh, periiaps you are right, I may not be worthy of love; but Leo, if I had observed anything in you, that would have been better changed, I should have told it to you told you to your face but to other people, never, never. Leo. Paul! Paul. You have made me ridiculous; yes, yes, you have in- deed. I will believe that you did not mean anything unkind. I pardon you, too, for I know that I have laughable things about me; but yet, it has pained me. Leo. Who in the world has Paul. Oh, do not ask ! You shall never hear another word about it from me. At first, indeed, I did not mean to have mentioned it to you, but when I saw you, I could not be silent it weighed on my heart. Now, Leo, do not be uneasy; I have been your friend from childhood, and will never cease to be so; you may do what you like, and joke as you please, only be kinder in future. Leo. (Overcome.) Oh, my good Paul my poor Paul ! Paul. (Embracing him.) Ah, that comes from the heart, and now all is well. 110 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. Leo. Oh, I am ashamed of myself! Paid. Speak no more of it. Let us be cheerful, Leo ; you shall be made happy. Leo. Happy! I? Paid. Yes; your secret is known to me. Leo. My secret? Paul. I know all from Fraiilein Therese. Leo. She could not be silent then ! Paul. And she has done right. I shall now be able to bring all your affairs into the proper train. Leo. You! really? Paul. As I tell you. Leo. But your father? Paul. He will soon understand it all. Leo. I have not deserved such friendship from you. Paul. But you will deserve it in future. Only a little honest affection, that is all I want ; and your house will always be open to me, will it not? Leo. As my heart ! Paul. You will consider me as one of your family; I shall play with your children. Leo. They shall honour you as a father. Oh, Paul, if you knew the state of my heart this morning, and from what dis- tress you have relieved me, you would value your own gene- rosity. The bitterness which has so often appeared in me, was only the consequence of my situation. I shall be good, I feel it, as soon as I am in some degree happy. Paul. I will go and make the arrangements for your happiiMM. Leo. What arrangements? Paul. (Half playfully.) You concealed your secret from me, now you shall not discover mine. \_He again Jwlds out his arms to LEO. Leo. You look melancholy ? Paul. Why, yes, I confess it. We men are born selfish, THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 1]J and what I am going to do for you costs me some pain. But do you always live in peace and harmony with her, be true to her, and love her till death ; so that I may never have reason to think it might have been better otherwise. Look I am ready to make every sacrifice to you, even the greatest, joyfully; but if I ever have to repent it ! that that I could not endure ! {They go out. ACT IV. SCENE I. BERTHA. (Alone.) , BertJia. He will not, surely, go away? I shall see him again. But if I do, what shall I say to him? On no side can I find peace or content. I am dissatisfied with myself dissatisfied with the world. I should like to live among savages, for they would not think of forms, but would esteem the worthiest man the most highly. SCENE II. The same. Enter THERESE. Therese. (Dejectedly.) At last I have found you, my dear Bertha; I am come from your room. Ber. What were you doing there? Ther. I was looking for you to fulfil a melancholy duty to tell you something sorrowful. Ber. (Hastily.) Then it is true, what the servants say that Count Paul is going away? Ther. Would to Heaven it were nothing worse. No, Bertha, unknown to you, I have endeavoured to bring about your hap- piness. I have spoken with Count Paul. 112 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. Ber. Indeed! and in what way? Ther. Delicately cautiously, but clearly ; and he, oh, pity he should be so eccentric he really is a worthy man. Ber. Is he notl Ther. Only conceive, he is ready to give you up ! Ber. To give me up? How? Ther. In favour of his cousin. He spoke about it in my presence to your father, but he the proud man ! Ber. Well, what said my father? Ther. That Count Leo was too poor, and that only the heir of Scharfeneck should be your husband ? He swore it. Ber. (Taking breath.} And he never breaks an oath. Ther. Poor Bertha ! Ber. So he will compel me to take Count Paul? Ther. There yet remains the stift. Ber. What an idea! Ther. Rather than marry a man you do not love. Ber. I shall obey my father blindly obey him; and then, whether I am happy or not, I shall have the approbation of the world, and of my own conscience. SCENE III. The same. Enter COUNT VON LAUERFELD. Count. (Half vexed.) Bertha, I have given away your hand. Ber. My hand? Count. Yes. Count Paul has been with me. Ber. Indeed? Count. Fraiilein Therese has heard me swear that none but the Heir of Scharfeneck should be your husband. Well, he has proposed for you what do you say? Ber. That I honour your will. Count. Really? Ber. I have thought over it, and I see clearly that then THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 113 only can a daughter go to the altar with honour, when she is to- receive a husband from her father's hands. Count. Well said, well thought, dear Bertha; only I am afraid you will soon die, for your good sense comes too suddenly. Meanwhile, we will banish so melancholy a foreboding, and think rather of your marriage, which is to take place on Sunday. Ther. So soon ! Count. Yes; next Sunday. (To BERTHA.) If that suits you. Ber. Oh, everything suits me, that you command. Count. (Smiling.) Even if the Heir of Scharfeneck should turn out to be another than Count Paul? Ber. Another! how? Count. I meant to have kept behind the hill a little longer, and teased you awhile, as a punishment for having given away your heart without my knowledge, but your submission dis- arms me, and I cannot blame your taste, for Count Leo is cer- tainly more presentable than his cousin, by far. Be gay be joyful! you have nothing more to fear from Paul; he is to enter the Order, and Leo will take his place. Ber. What ! Count Paul become a German knight ? Ther. Oh, the dear man ! Count. (To BERTHA.) He hopes thus to secure your happi- ness, and that of his cousin. Ber. And you think of accepting such an offer? Count. He says he has always had a taste for seclusion, he feels himself little suited for domestic life, and it was only the wish of his family that induced him to become your suitor. Ber. I am, then, indifferent to him ? Count. You as much as any other. But still, what he has done on your account, is a very noble action, and I am anxious for you to perceive it. He is going away this very evening, but he wishes first to see you, and inform you himself of his resolution. Wait for me here; I am going to fetch him, and Count Leo also, who, as yet, knows nothing of the affair. Well, Bertha, what is the matter? 114 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. Ber. I am stupified. Count. She will soon come round ! You girls are a curious set, to pine for a man, you are not ashamed of that, but to rejoice when at last you have him, whew ! that is against all etiquette! \He goes. SCENE IV. BERTHA. THKRESE. Ther. Bertha ! dearest friend, I partake your raptures. Ber. (In a low voice) There is much for you to partake of! Ther. Be my own lot what it may, the thought that I have forwarded your happiness will support me under the storms of fate. Ber. Tell me, what evil spirit prompted you to meddle in my affairs? Ther. Without me, you were lost! Ber. But for you, my father would have insisted on my marrying Count Paul. Ther. Well yes. Ber. Well yes ! and that would have been quite right. Ther. Right! Ber. Ill-judged activity in you! ill-judged eagerness to perform services for other people which they do not want. One would often rather be neglected than obliged against one's will, recollect that ! Ther. Unthankfulness is the world's reward. Ber. And sometimes not unreasonably. Ther. I do not understand you. Do you not love Leo? Ber. I cannot endure him. Ther. A lover's quarrel, perhaps? Ber. A quarrel ! oh, yes. But there is no love in it. How could you suppose that false man could please me in the smallest degree? Ther. In Carlsbad you judged him more favourably. Ber. At a watering-place one prefers the best converser, as THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 115 at a ball the best dancer; but for a husband, one wishes for neither the one nor the other. Ther. But, good Heavens! what will be the consequence now? -. - Ber. The unhappiness of my whole life, and through your fault. Ther. But I do not yet understand you. You like neither Leo nor Paul, then? Ber. Paul, if you must know the truth Paul, I do like him. Ther. Is it possible? Ber. He is awkward, without tact he is laughable if you will j but he has a disposition which raises him far, far above the fine gentlemen who dare to despise him. He once risked his life for a family who were in distress ; he now sacrifices his happiness for me and his friend ! And this man was destined for me, and this man is lost to me through you ! Ther. You love him, then? Ber. Yes ; I know it now. If it is disgraceful to love him, then there is nothing in the world that one may love. Ther. I am beside myself! Ber. That does not help me. Ther. Why did you not tell me sooner? Ber. How could I tell what I did not know myself. Ther. Some one is coming; it is your father with the two cousins. Ber. I am ready to faint away ! Ther. Take courage, nothing is yet lost ; reveal all to your father. Ber. I cannot; it is too late now. Ther. What will you do, then? Ber. I have no will left. 116 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. SCENE V. The same. Enter COUNT VON LAUERFELD, PAUL and LEO. Count. Here, my daughter, I bring you two young gentle- men who have some important business to transact in your presence. [BERTHA curtsies silently. Leo. (To PAUL.) Tell me, what have you to explain 1 ? Paul. You shall hear. Leo, what would you say if it were suddenly discovered that your father was my father's elder brother, and that you were the Heir of Scharfeneck? Leo. Are you talking in a dream? Paul. Oh, no; I only ask what you would say? And you, also (to BERTHA), Countess, I ask what you would say? Ber. I do not understand you. Paul. Then I must speak plainer. The dispensations of Heaven cannot be altered by a man like me. But he can re- fuse the portion which the world adjudges him, for the sake of another. That he can and will do, when friendship and love demand it from him. Leo, you were to become a German knight ; you are not suited to that situation, leave it to me. Leo. To you? Paul. Yes. The letter to the Grand Master, in which I beg him to substitute my name for yours, is already written, and will be sent in an hour, if you will take upon you, with the inheritance, an obligation which still chains me to the world. Leo. Paul! Paul. The Countess Bertha was promised to me by her father; but no, not to me, to the heir of Scharfeneck. Give her your hand, therefore, and the inheritance is yours. Count. Do not trouble yourself, Count Leo, I have had an explanation with your cousin, and willingly accept you as a son-in-law. You are perplexed you do not speak ! Leo. But Paul! (Aside.) There is some mistake here. (Aloud.) Fraiilein Therese ! THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. 117 Ther. What do you want with me? Leo. That you should answer in my stead. Ther. I? . Leo. Yes you. You know my secret. Ther. Your secret? Leo. I admire the Countess Bertha, I esteem her highly, and once, indeed, her charms made a deep impression on me; but marry her I certainly cannot. Count. You cannot! Paul. Why not? Leo. Because I am already married. Count. (Hastily.] To my daughter? Leo. Oh, no ! to another, six weeks ago, in secret ; for she, too, is poor, and the discovery of our marriage would deprive her of her support. / Paul. Might one know her name? Leo. Certainly; it could not be long concealed. Speak, Fraiilein Therese ; you know all, through Miihlenberg. Tlier. Through Miihlenberg ! I know not a word of it. Leo. Franziska von Geisdorf. Paul. A member of a Stift? Leo. Yes. Ther. Von Geisdorf! then she is your wife? Leo. Did not Miihlenberg write that to you? he who was the confidant of my love? Ther. The confidant! Then he was only the confidant? and my suspicions oh, my poor Miihlenberg! by the next post he shall have a letter. Paul. (To LEO.) I will reconcile my father to you, and your welfare shall be cared for. (To BERTHA.) You see, Countess, I have done my best to satisfy you. Tlier. No, that you have not done; on the contrary, you have acted quite in opposition to her wishes. Paul. Could it be possible ! Ther. (To BERTHA.) And you do not pull me, do not 118 THE HEIR OF SCHARFENECK. elbow me, now I am happy, all the world must be so, too. (To PAUL.) You were on the point of destroying her. Paul. How so? Ther. If you wish to make her happy, you must do what you are now again in a condition to do. Paid. That is Ther. Marry her yourself. Paul. What do you say? Ther. Well, Bertha? Ber. (Aside.) I could sink into the earth ! Ther. (To PAUL.) Do not be disheartened by that indignant face ; for that she loves you I know from her own lips. Paul. What ! was I really born for such happiness ? Count. Fraiilein Therese, take care that you are not making more confusion there ! Ther. Look at her, how she blushes and trembles ! Count. Bertha, do you really love Count Paul? Ber. To say Yes, I have not courage to say No, would be false. Gourd. (To PAUL.) Then take her, with my blessing ! Paul. Oh, Bertha! Ber. Dear Count, we are two spoiled children, only in dif- ferent ways ; in future nothing will be wanting to us, for you shall become graceful like the elegant Bertha, and I will become good, like the noble, generous Heir of Scharfeneck ! THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. & Brama, IN FOUR ACTS. DRAMATIS PERSONS. FRAU VON DAHLEN. ASSESSOR VON DAHLEN, her Son. COL. TRAUNSFELD, her Brother. MARIANNE, his Daughter. BARONESS VON OELSNITZ. VON FERNAU, Forest Inspector. JACOB, the Assessor's Servant. REOINA, his Maid. A NOTARY. A HUNTSMAN. A WAITER. " DER UNENTSCHLOSSEXE" (the Irresolute Man) was first performed at Dresden, in 1836. Mrs. Jame- son, to whose interesting remarks on Princess Amalie s plays I am indebted for much valuable information, believes it to have been written for the celebrated actor, Devrient. The Assessor, as the hero is called, means a collector of taxes. The title, " Forst-meister," which I have rendered ' Forest Inspector," nearly answers to our term " Banger," except that it is a more subordinate office. All public woods in Germany are put under the administration of me government, and a forest-master is appointed to every district. The offices of forest- master and jager are now separate ; but at the time this play is supposed to have taken place, they were evi- dently united. The jager, with his under-keepers, looks after the game ; the forest-master, with his workmen and wood-police, after the state of the forest itself; Fernau, in the play before us, appears to hold both these offices. The importance attached to the ceremony of betrothal in Germany, is too well known to need further com- ments here. THE IRKESOLUTE MAN. ACT I. SCENE I. A Room in the ASSESSOR'S house. JACOB asleep on a chair. A bell is rung several times; at last, the ASSESSOR enters. Assessor. Jacob! Jacob! where is the man gone to 1 ? Good Heavens, if he is not sitting there asleep ! Jacob ! Jacob. (Awaking.) Ace of hearts ! Assessor. Ace of hearts! Come to yourself, I say. Jacob. What are your commands, sir? Assessor. I want my coffee. It is eight o'clock, and I have not yet breakfasted. Jacob. Coffee, sir? That is Kegina's business. Assessor. Then call Regina. Jacob. As you please, sir. (Going to the open door.) Regina! Assessor. Jacob is quite confused to-day. I suspect he was gaming last night, instead of sleeping; there was some such meaning in " the ace of hearts." That Jacob is a mauvais sujet; I shall discharge him at St. John's Day or at Michaelmas. Jacob. (Comes back.) Regina cannot find the coffee-mill, sir. Assessor* Cannot find it ! a fine household is this ! Jacob. Yes, Regina's head has been a little turned for some time past by the president's man, Florian. A ssessor. So while the maid is flirting and the valet gaming, the master may starve. Did you go to Hofrath Klausner's? How is his son? Jacob. Tolerably, sir. Assessor. Tolerably? so I might have guessed. The sick o2 124 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. people to whom I send you are always tolerably well till they are at their last gasp. (Aside.) I suspect he did not go there after all. (Aloud.) The physician has ordered young Klausner to drink Malaga; it is difficult to get the genuine sort; go down to the cellar and bring up a bottle. Jacob. There is none left, sir; you have drunk it all. Assessor. I do not remember that. Jacob. Oh, I remember it perfectly well during your illness. Assessor. While I was delirious 1 ? very likely! (Aside.) I suspect he has drunk it himself. SCENE II. Enter REGINA. Regina. How comes it, sir, that you wish for your coffee so early as eight o'clock this morning? Yesterday,~you did not order it till nine, so I had prepared to get breakfast ready by nine. Assessor. (In a severe tone.) Listen, Regina, and you too, Jacob : I think of discharging you both. Jacob. Indeed, sir! why? Assessor. Because I cannot bear with you any longer. Reg. Are you serious, sir? Assessor. Perfectly. Reg. Bless me ! Assessor. I have borne much too long with you. Jacob. (Makes a sign to REGINA, and assumes a melancholy tone.) Then farewell, sir! Assessor. Where are you going? Jacob. (In a whimpering tone.) To look for another place. Come, Regina ! [He goes to the door with REGINA. Assessor. Are you out of your senses? Stay ! Jacob. What for, sir, if you cannot endure us? Assessor. There is no hurry. We will speak about it another time. (He makes them a sign to go, and they move to tlie door, laughing aside.) Now, however, make me my coffee. Reg. ( Wiping Iter eyes.) You shall have it directly, sir. THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 125 SCENE III. Enter FOREST-!NSPECTOR VON FERNAU. Fernau. ( Who 1ms heard the last words.) There is no need for it.* (Exeunt JACOB and REGINA.) Your uncle's man, Chris- tian, has just come in to invite you to breakfast, at half-past eight precisely, with your mother. Assessor. Why to-day? Fern. From the same cause to which you owe the honour of my visit. To-day is your birthday. Assessor. Indeed ! I had not thought about it. Fern. And I bring you, as a birthday tribute, many com- pliments from a fair lady, your cousin CElsnitz, whom I met at Madame Moray's millinery establishment. Assessor. Is Madame CElsnitz in town? Fern. Only for a couple of days, she tells me, in order to speak to a lawyer. Poor lady ! I think she is beginning to grow anxious about the issue of her law-suit with Haller's heirs. Assessor. (Startled.) Indeed! Anxious! Fern. But who advised her to renounce that advantageous arrangement which was proposed to both you and her a month ago? You and your uncle, Traunsfeld, managed your affairs more wisely. Assessor. I? Fern. Yes, you. Did not you, as well as your uncle, accept those twenty thousand dollars as a compensation? Assessor. Twenty thousand dollars; just so, I received letters about it, I felt inclined I wrote to my agent at Maiiitz, with full powers to bring the affair to an issue. His letter I can send at any time. Fern. What in the world do you mean? That you have not sent it ? * In this, and in nil the other dramas in which intimate friends are in- troduced, they address each other by the familiar "Z>" (thou), for which it is impossible to find an equivalent in English. 126 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. A ssessor. The affair was so important a one, and whenever I went to the post-office I was thinking of sending my letter; it seemed as if something whispered to me, " consider it again." Fern. That voice was the voice of your evil genius, which will bring you to your ruin. Where is the letter ? Assessor. I have been carrying it in my pocket these four weeks. Fern. Give it to me, then ; this is post day ; I will send it myself. Assessor. (Searches in his pocket.) Well, if you think, if it must be so, wait a moment ; it is not here nor here. After all, I have lost it. Fern. Lost it ! look again. It must turn up. Assessor. Upon my honour, I have not got it. Fern. Then promise me to write another letter before this evening. Assessor. I will; I certainly will, but now, if you will allow me, I will go my own way. Fern. Certainly, you must go to your mother. Fraiilein Marianne, who lodges in the same house with her aunt, is, doubtless, invited too. Assessor. I suppose so. Fern. Off with you, you happy man it must be delightful to breakfast between one's mother and one's bride ! Assessor. Bride ! how can you speak so? Marianne is not my bride. Fern. I thought everything had been arranged between her and your uncle ? Assessor. Why, yes, in one sense; but as long as the marriage is not announced Fern. Well, when is it to be announced? Assessor. As soon as you are as impatient as if you were to be the bridegroom yourself. Fern. I cannot endure irresolution. Assessor. Irresolution? We were not speaking of irresolution. Fern. Why, of what else? Ah, Ludwig, I know you. THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 127 Assessor. You? I tell you, you do not know meat all. You take such fancies into your head about my disposition and habits. (After a pause.) Are you going back to Griinthal soon ? Fern. Next week. Assessor. If you will allow me, I will visit you there. Fern. It will be a great pleasure to me, if you will only keep your distance when we are out shooting. Assessor. Why? Fern. Because you only take aim, I have never yet seen you pull the trigger. Well, good-bye to you, you cautious man ! (TJie ASSESSOR is going.) Stay, come here. Let me just give you one piece of advice : nothing will ever come of your marriage with Marianne. Assessor. Why nothing? why should nothing come of it? Fern. Because, before you bring your lips to utter the necessary Yes, Marianne will have become an old maid. Had you not better cease to fetter the girl with assurances of love, and allow her to make some one else happy ? Assessor. Some one else? Fern. Yes; me, for example. Assessor. You! do you love Marianne? Fern. I like her I esteem her I have a regard for her. My ranger's lodge is beginning to grow too solitary. I wish for a domestic circle, and I know of no person to whom I could more readily entrust the happiness of my future life than to Marianne. Assessor. If you take Marianne from me, you will rend my heart! i Fern. Oho! Assessor. I am a lost man without Marianne. Fern. Don't be jealous. It was only an idea that came into my head. Take my word for it, I will never stand in your light ; but, if you really are so desperately in love, I do not understand why you do not marry the sooner for it. Assessor. I am quite prepared, for my part to-day, or on St. John's day, or when I return from Griinthal. (Aside.) A 128 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. plague upon restless spirits ! (Aloud.} Good-bye ; I am going to my mother. [He goes cut. Fern. He is incurable ! [He goes out slowly. SCENE IV. A room in FRAU VON DAHLEN'S fiouse. Enter FRAU VON DAHLEN and MARIANNE. Frau von Dahlen. He is not here either. Where can my son be? Marianne. Probably considering whether or not he will come. Fr. v. Dah. If he knew what is awaiting him here, he would not delay so long. Mar. I should advise him not, at least. Fr. v. Dah. You take up a very peculiar tone sometimes in speaking of my son. He is cautious, Marianne perhaps a little too cautious ; he has it from his father, who died before he could make up his mind whether he would send for a homoeopathic or an allopathic physician. But my son is not ill-bred that he is not and he was always very punctual. Mar. I was not calling that in question. Fr. v. Dah. After all, the cautiousness you laugh at is, in fact, a virtue. Mar. A virtue, aunt, which I shall try every possible means to overcome in my Ludwig. Believe me, there seldom comes any good of too much consideration, a man is never himself after the first moment of thought, therefore he will generally do best to decide at once. Fr. v. Dah. That principle just suits you, for you were always a rash and thoughtless girl. It is well for you that you will soon have a sensible husband, then you will grow steady. Mar. I am steady, aunt. Fr. v. Dah. I must say that sometimes you do not please me at all. Mar. I am sorry for that, dear aunt. As there are some people who like me, why should not you? THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 129 Fr. v. Dah. Because, I know what I mean. Mar. But I don't know. Fr. v. Dah. For instance, the day before yesterday, what happened between you and Ludwig? Mar. The day before yesterday? nothing at all. Fr. v. Dah. My son scarcely uttered a word. Mar. Ah, I remember; he was considering with himself whether he should go to the theatre or not. Fr. v. Dah. He could not have been so much annoyed about such a trifling thing. I dare say he was vexed at your in- cessant laughing with the Forest-Inspector with Fernau. Mar. The Inspector is my only consolation on such un- lucky days. Fr. v. Dah. Consolation, indeed ! a right-minded bride has no time to think of consolation when her bridegroom is melancholy. Mar. (Smiling.} Melancholy! Fr. v. Dah. And I wish you would make the Inspector keep his distance. Mar. The Inspector ! that would be a great pity. Fr. v. Dah. A woman who has made her choice ought not to regret dismissing a lover. Mar. Do you call the Inspector a lover? Fr. v. Dah. Why, what else would you call him? Mar. The friend of my intended husband, and my ally against Ludwig's whims. Fr. v. Dah. Your ally ! Ah, my dear child, that shows you have come into the world since the end of the war, else you would know how allies sometimes behave themselves in a friendly country. SCENE V. Enter COLONEL TRAUNSFELD. (He turns to his sister.) Traunsfeld. Good morning, Minny. (To MARIANNE.) Good morning, my child; is he not come yet? o3 130 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. Mar. Not yet. Traun. Breakfast is ready, the musicians have tuned their instruments, and the nosegays there have a perfume enough to make one faint. Well, so in an hour, Marianne, you will be a bride! What do you say to that? have I done right, eh? Mar. Oh, my dear good father ! Traun. I must own, that, much as I wished in my heart for your marriage with Ludwig, I was rather disposed to put it off till what shall I say ? till he should become a little more manly a little more decided ; but, if I were to wait for that, I might wait till doomsday. He will never mend as long as he lives ; so, as you like him, and he really possesses many good qualities, I thought to myself, he who cannot get what is best must be content with what is good, let us take him as he is. Fr. v. Dah. (A little annoyed.) There is no need, brother, for you to give your daughter to my son out of compassion and kindness. All people don't find fault with his ways, as you do; only six weeks ago a marriage was proposed to me for him, with a dowry of thirty thousand dollars. Traun. Why not with a hundred thousand? Fr. v. Dah. You do not believe it? Traun. No, indeed, I do not. Fr. v. Dah. You have no idea how the young ladies in town contend for my son. Traun. Then I am bound, I suppose, humbly to thank him for resolving to remain constant to my daughter? Fr. v. Dah. I do not say that, but it is flattering, at least, to you and Marianne. Traun. I know of old, that you bow down to your son. Fr. v. Dah. And you have always worshipped your daughter. Traun. But, for all that, Ludwig has his faults. Fr. v. DaJt. And Marianne has hers. Traun. A woman's education for a young man ! Fr. v. Dah. A man's education for a girl ! Traun. Mothers always play the adorer to their sons. Fr. v. Dah. And fathers the admirer to their daughters. THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 131 Mar. But, dear aunt ! dear father ! Traun. Why, you are not uneasy at our quarrelling, are you? You must be used to that, since it happens about every day. Though to-day, indeed, we ought to have made an exception to the rule. Fr. v. Dah. Who began? Traun. That can seldom be found out in any quarrel, and never in a quarrel between us, so let us make peace without any preliminaries ; for think what it would be, if Ludwig were to find us here at open war ! Come, give me your hand. Fr. v, Dah. Here it is. Traun. And now come into the parlour, and see my prepa- rations. I am as pleased as a child when I think of the next quarter of an hour. I will lay anything that your son does not guess that to-day is his birthday, and still less what we are preparing. Fr. v. Dak. He will be delighted. Trauri? Delighted ! I should think so. Fr. v. Dah. Marianne, let us know as soon as he comes. [CoL. TRAUNSFELD and FRAU VON DAHLEN go out. SCENE VI. MARIANNE, alone. Marianne. Quarrelling, and yet loving each other as my father and aunt do that is the way Ludwig and I shall go* on, when I am his wife. My good cousin loves me very sincerely; and I, too, love him with all my heart, and there- fore, as long as I live, I will think for him, and care for him. A husband, such as many women require, a man quite sufficient to himself, who would leave me nothing to find fault with, would never do for me. Enter the ASSESSOR VON DAHLEN. Assessor. You here already, my dearest Marianne? Mar. You are come late enough. I suppose you had some 132 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. important affairs at home to consider before you could think of breakfasting. Assessor. I have had trouble again with my servants, and Fernau has just been with me. Mar. Why did you not bring him with you? Assessor. My mother does not seem to like him. Mar. That is true and do you know why? She is jealous of him for her son, on my account. Assessor. Marianne! Mar. Just what I tell you. As if such an idea had ever entered either into the Inspector's head, or into mine? Assessor. You do, then, really love me? Mar. I nave told you so ten times already, and it would be superfluous to repeat it for the eleventh. Assessor. Ah ! you are a dear good girl, and as patient with me as an angel. Mar. I have courage, and courageous women are seldom wanting in patience; for impatience is, with us, generally a consequence of timidity. From this, my good cousin, arise your faults. Assessor. Oh, if I could only gain a little of your resolution ? Mar. It would certainly do you no harm. Meanwhile, if you are, at least, decided and resolute in your love for me Assessor. That I most certainly am. Mar. Then I will give you courage, if you waver in any other of your sentiments. Assessor. Oh, I see you will in time make quite a new man of me, and in the midst of the trouble which my disposition often brings upon me, I am sustained by the thought that I am destined one day to pass my life by your side. Mar. One day? [Music is heard in t/ie inner room. Assessor. What is that? Mar. Have you quite forgotten that to day is the 20th? Assessor. The 20th? Mar. Your highness's birthday, my dear cousin ; which our THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 133 family lias determined to celebrate with song and music, and, perhaps, with something besides. Meanwhile, accept this specimen of work from my ingenious needle. \S1ie goes to the table and presents him with an embroidered letter-case which lies upon it. Assessor. Kind Marianne! Mar. It is a good strong letter-case : I had plenty of leaves bound into it. You may now write all your deliberations on these leaves, and then shut up the case, and forget its contents for the sake of the covering, which will remind you of me. Assessor. I have not felt so happy for a long time. Indeed, I wish to-day were our betrothal, or better still, our wedding day ; for then I think I should be freed for ever from so many of the doubts which torment me. SCENE VII. Enter COL. TRAUNSFELD and FRAU VON DAHLEN. Traunsfeld. (Who has heard the last words.) Your be- trothal ! Come to my arms, my dearest son your betrothal shall take place to-day. Assessor. (Starting back.) You frightened me so, uncle I am trembling all over. Traun. Frightened! at what? Fr. v. Dah. (To Jier son.) My brother has been preparing you this surprise for some time past; all this has a meaning, and in an hour you will be betrothed to Marianne. Mar. Well! are you not pleased? Assessor. I? How can you doubt it? But I don't understand how it can be practicable. A betrothal requires preparations. Traun. Which are already completed. Assessor. The notary Traun. Will be here at ten o'clock precisely. Assessor. The contract? Traun. Is drawn up in the way we arranged. Assessor. The family? 134 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. Traun. Has been informed and invited. Assessor. (In a tone of forced composure.) Is nothing, then, wanting 1 Traun. Nothing but the signature of the bride and bride- groom. Ludwig ! it almost seems as if you were not glad ! Assessor. I ? oh ! Mar. Indeed, cousin, my father is quite right. You do not look at all like a bridegroom. Assessor. But still, for all that, I am glad. (Louder.) I am glad. Let us go to breakfast, if you please. [Gives his arm to MARIANNE. Fr. v. Dah. (Murmurs to Jterselfas she follows him.) Some- thing is the matter with him ! Mar. (Turning back to her.) No, no ! nothing. \TJiey go out. ACT II, SCENE I. A Boom in COL. TRAUNSFELD'S House. Enter the ASSESSOR VON DAHLEN, followed by JACOB. Jacob. Your neckcloth, sir your neckcloth does not sit well at all. Assessor. (Much agitated.) Well, set it to rights then; only make haste! Jacob. (Arranging it.) So, that's right; here are your gloves. Will you not just step to the looking-glass? Assessor. Let me go. Jacob. (Aside.) I never thought that anything would come of this marriage. It will make an end of me for Fraiilein Marianne will give me my discharge the day after the wedding, which my master would never have the courage to do. (He looks at tJi& ASSESSOR, wJw walks up and down in t/ie back- THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 135 ground.) He hears and sees nothing; he is in a state of anguish. I will make the water hotter for him. (Aloud.) Sir! Assessor. I should like to know what business you have to be meddling here ? Jacob. Pray, sir, will you allow a faithful servant to ask you a question? What in the world can have hurried your mar- riage so? This very morning you told me you thought of going to Griinthal next week ! Assessor. Can I not go to Griinthal (his voice suddenly sinking) when when I am married ? Jacob. Sir ! Assessor. (Sharply.) What is the matter? Jacob. You grieve my very soul. Assessor. Why! what for? Jacob. You are not happy. Assessor. Not happy! Who said I was not happy? I am happy. Jacob. Well, sir, if you please to say so, it is all the same to me. Assessor. Insufferable man! Jacob. To be sure I used to think that a happy man must always be in good humour, and when I saw you so out of temper, sir, I thought, "how do I know but my master's family have taken him by surprise, and bound him before he was aware." Assessor. (With a burst of anger.) Fellow ! If you don't hold your tongue, and make off this instant, your master may have a mind to throw you out of the window. Jacob. What the thousand !* I am going, sir; I am going. (Aside.) He never let out so much against me before. [Goes out. Assessor. (After a pause.) I am in a state which words cannot describe. A detestable plan this of my uncle's, to prepare a surprise for me, of all people I, who cannot endure surprises ! * A German ejaculation. 136 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. Who is that coining? It is only a quarter to ten, I thought I should still have had time to collect myself before the arrival of the company but the people here are in such a hurry ! SCENE II. Enter the BAROXESS VON (ELSNITZ. Baroness. I hope I am not late? Assessor. Too late ! No, indeed. Welcome to town, my honoured cousin! Bar. I congratulate you, my dear cousin bridegroom. So you have at length resolved to put an end to your long courtship ? Assessor. I have, as you perceive. Bar. I did not think you would have so far mastered your- self you are so cautious on small occasions, and marriage marriage certainly is no joking matter. Assessor. Certainly, it is no joking matter. Bar. I consider what you are about to do this day, as a miracle worked by Love. Do tell me how you feel about it? Assessor. I! Perfectly well that is to say miserably. I have a bad headache. Bar. I can easily believe that. The thought that you are to decide the fate of your whole life, by a single stroke of your pen, is an agitating one for the most resolute man. Assessor. (After standing terrified and silent for a moment.) Madame CElsnitz! Bar. Cousin von Dahlen ! Assessor. Marriage is a bold step is it not? Bar. A salto mortale ! Assessor. But if one has a perfect knowledge of the person's character? Bar. The wife has often quite a different character from the lady-love. Assessor. I don't believe that. Bar. The experience of all ages shows it to us. THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 187 Assessor. (With a forced smile.) You are enough to frighten an' honest bridegroom. Bar. Your fright would now come too late. Assessor. Too late? (Aside.) The woman drives me out of my senses ! Bar. What would you do now if a sudden fit of repentance should come over you? The notary is already in the parlour; yes, yes, he is there, I saw him myself. (She looks at the clock.) You are your own master for five minutes longer. Assessor. (Aside.) It is a fearful thought ! Bar. (Aside.) How the man amuses me. (Aloud.) The draw-bridge is raised behind you, so courage man yourself : " fortior est, qui se, quam qui fortissima vicit moenia." SCENE III. Enter tlie Forest Inspector, VON FERNAU. Fernau. ( Who has heard the last words.) The Baroness is speaking Latin. Bar. I am taking lessons from the pastor of my parish, and am already reading Cornelius Nepos. Fern. What in the world can have induced you to devote yourself to such a serious study? Bar. Do you ask what has induced me? simply motives of prudence. Without Latin one cannot possibly read the law papers of advocates and judges; and, as I have never been without a law-suit since I have been of age, I wish to be able to read and understand all that concerns my affairs. I have also studied law, that I might not be prevented from enjoying the few advantages which the laws allow to us women. Oh, if I had been a man, I should have been a lawyer! Fern. And the law-suit about your inheritance would, per- haps, now have been decided in your favour. Bar. No doubt it would. Meanwhile I have looked through the deeds; and I suggested plans to my advocate, when I was 138 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. in Maintz three months ago, which astonished him. He said he might take a lesson from me. SCENE IV. Enter COLONEL VON TRAUNSFELD, FRAU VON DAHLEN, and MARIANNE. Traunsfdd. (To the BARONESS.) Madame (Elsnitz, your most obedient! Frau von Dahlen. We are delighted that you are able to give us the pleasure of your company in the city. Traun. I hope you will not leave us soon. Bar. Ah, my dear cousin, I am only paying a flying visit at an hotel, for to-morrow I must return to the country to settle a dispute with my peasants. Traun. I am very sorry to hear that. (To the ASSESSOR.) Well, nephew, have you come to an end of the hundred things you had to settle before your betrothal, and are you for once at ease? Assessor. ( With violently forced smiles.) As if I had ever been uneasy ! Only just listen to my uncle, and yet he knows that I have long wished that I could imagine no greater happiness than Traun. Well, well. (To the others.) Now then, if you please, we will go. Assessor. (Alarmed.) Where? Traun. To the signing, for the notary has been waiting this half-hour. Assessor. To the signing ? oh, yes now then, to the sign- ing! (As if stunned.) Come, mamma! Traun. Oho! Wont you lead your bride in? Fern. (Aside.) He is out of his senses to-day. Assessor. The bride did you say ? yes, certainly, the bride! I beg your pardon, cousin. Marianne. You are a gallant bridegroom ! Any one who did not know you THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 139 Assessor. Any one who did not know me, ha, ha, ha! might think, as you say. (Pointing to the middle door.} Is that the way into the parlour? Mar. Do you not know our house? Assessor. Ah, I remember now ! [He goes out with MARIANNE. Traun. (Offering his arm to the BARONESS.) Baroness, will you allow me 1 Inspector, will you conduct my sister? [TRAUNSFELD and BARONESS go out. Fr. v. Dah. (To FERNAU.) I am not at all pleased with my son to-day. Fern. Indeed, no more am I! \They go out. SCENE V. Enter JACOB, alone. Jacob. They are gone; then it is really true my master is going to be married! If I had only had a suspicion this morning of such a detestable surprise, I could have managed him in such a way that the good relations, with all their cunning, should have taken in themselves only. Why did I give up the acquaintance of Frau von Dahlen's tall fair-haired chambermaid ? That is the way things always go ; if a man is unfaithful to love, love takes vengeance on him, though it be for the twentieth time. Now, I may look after another place. Another place, indeed ! Nobody who has once served Herr von Dahlen ought to think of serving any one else; he is turned out of the ranks of respectable servants, for every one knows what goes on in the Assessor's service. SCENE VI. Enter the ASSESSOR VON DAHLEN from the door by which fie had gone out. Assessor. (Speaking outside the door.) Don't be disturbed by my leaving you for a moment just a moment, I must ask my servant whether he has the ring for my bride. I am coming back, I am coming back directly. 140 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. Jacob. (Aside.} My master! what can this mean? Assessor. ( WitJwut remarking him.} I cannot! I cannot! I am not in a state for it. My head burns, my hands are icy cold, my limbs tremble. To make a decision for my whole life, after I rose this morning so calm, so cheerful; I cannot, I will not ; they may say what they will. It is too great an effort for me. Rather leave my country for ever rather be considered a madman by my friends and relations. And Marianne, why did she not prevent her father from thus taking me by surprise? (He throws himself on a cJtair near tlie table, seizes paper and pen, writes, and tears wJiat he has written.) That won't do. (He writes again, and tears it.) And that won't do either ! Jacob. (Aside.) He is out of his senses. Assessor. (Writes again.) That only, (He is going to tear it a third time, wJien Jte hears a sligM noi#e in tlve inner room; he starts up, and leaves tJte paper.) Heavens! they are coming ! Jacob ! Jacob ! Jacob. (Coming forward.) Sir! Assessor. Yes, I will do that. Jacob! Jacob ! Jacob. Your honour? Assessor. There, the fellow is gone ! Jacob! Jacob! Jacob. I am standing before you. Assessor. Ah, I see ! listen, Jacob, I find myself compelled to set off on a journey immediately. Jacob. Impossible! Assessor. As I tell you. Jacob. Have you signed the contract already, sir? Assessor. Not yet. The notary was dipping his pen in ink ; but that's of no consequence. No, it doesn't signify; I can do it afterwards. Jacob, I am going directly to the Golden Sun ; go there and order a chaise and pair. Jacob. A chaise? Assessor. As soon as it is ready, meet me at the inn. Jacob. I will not fail. Where are we going, sir, if I may ask ? THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 141 Assessor. Where? Jacob. Yes, where? Assessor: (Angrily.) Nowhere, if you provoke me ! (Aside.) It seems again as if I could not go. My heart draws me one way my head another. (Steps are lieard approaching.} Yes, if they will hurry me so give me no time to consider! (Aloud.) Jacob, we are going wherever Heaven wills! [He rushes out, JACOB follows him. SCENE VII. After a pause COL. TRAUNSFELD enters, then FRAU VON DAHLEN, and last of all the BARONESS. Traunsfeld. Nephew ! nephew ! Truly a strange thing to run away just when he should have signed the contract ! Fr. v. Dah. Ludwig ! Ludwig ! I suppose he is in the ante-room. [TRAUNSFELD goes out. Bar. My good cousin is in a very odd humour to-day, and poor dear Marianne must console herself with the proverb, " Post nubila Phoebus." Traun. (Comes back.) There is no one in the ante-room. Fr. v. Dah. How? no one? Bar. You look quite frightened, cousin. Traun. Frightened ! Heaven forbid ! only (in a whisper to FRAU VON DAHLEN) your son was quite bewildered to-day. Did you not observe the manner in which he rushed out of the room 1 ? Fr. v. Dah. (Aloud.) After all, he may be taken ill fainting! Traun. If it were only that ! Fr. v. Dah. (Offended.) What are you saying? only that ? Bar. Don't be uneasy. Very likely when he found that his servant had not the ring, he went home to fetch it ; and it will be the wisest plan for us to await his return patiently. Take my advice, let us seat ourselves. Traun. You must excuse me. 142 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. Fr. v. Dah. I really am not in a state Bar. Then allow me to take a seat, for really I am quite tired. (She seats herself near the table at which the ASSESSOR had been writing, leans her arm on it, and touclies tfw wet pen he had thrown down with her sleeve.) Oh, for shame, cousin ; in what a state you keep your writing table ! My sleeve has got an ink stain. Traun. (Looks at the table.) A newly-written paper. (To FBAU VON DAHLEN.) Minny ! that is your son's writing. Fr. v. DaJi. My son's writing ! give it to me. (TRAUNSFELD gives her the paper, which she reads to herself in a low tone, and at length exclaims aloud.') That is a misfortune it must be I shall die I am dead ! [She throios herself on a chair. Traun. A misfortune? (He takes the letter.) A fine note indeed, half the words scratched out. (Reads aloud.) "I implore you not to wait any longer for me. I love you I honour you ; but I must go why, I will explain to you here- after, for " He has stopped short in the midst of the sentence. Now I ask you what you think of this? Bar. That the bridegroom seems to have run away. Traun. Unheard of ! scandalous, and such a man pretends to a conscience and a sense of honour ! Bar. I don't know whether he does. Traun. What in the world could induce him to treat me and my daughter so shamefully? Bar. Compose yourself. Fortior est, qui se Traun. Pray, cousin, speak German. Compose myself! I neither can nor will compose myself. Such an offence to an old soldier's daughter! Bar. And the worst of it is, that you cannot even go to law about it. Traun. Do you suppose that I have a mind to make this disgraceful story a pastime for advocates and judges? Bar. Certainly, the story of a runaway bridegroom has, unfortunately, something laughable about it. THE IKRESOLUTE MAN. 143 Traun. Not at all, in my eyes. I am not disposed to laugh no more shall Ludwig, much longer, I promise him. Ban-. My. cousin was always an original. I wondered that you liked to give your daughter to him. Traun. At first, I assure you, I had no mind for it at all. But my sister there besieged me, and the girl was in love with her cousin for women, Madame (Elsnitz women always choose the worst for themselves. Fr. v. Dah. ( Who has been trying to speak for some time, starts up suddenly.) The worst ! what do you mean by that? Traun. I hope you will not take it ill if I break with your son. Fr. v. Dah. I am his mother, and I do take it ill. Traun. There is nothing more stubborn in the world than an old woman ! Fr. v. Dah. An old woman! I, an old woman? Traun. Nay, if you were a young woman, you could not have a son who has run away from his bride. Fr. v. Dah. My son is a man of honour, and a cautious man, who is quite certain to have done nothing without good reason. Just give me the letter again. (She takes it.) Has he not written down here distinctly, that he would explain all to us hereafter ? We must wait for the explanation, before we condemn him. Traun. I will send him an explanation. Fr. v. Dah. It is quite possible that it might not be a very pleasant one to you. Traun. To me! How? Fr. v. Dah. If your daughter must bear the blame of what has passed. Traun. My daughter ! Now, pray have done. Fr. v. Dah. What was I saying; what was I saying, this very morning? Traun. I really don't know. You say so much, that one half puts the other out of my head. Fr. v. Dah. I was saying to Marianne, " As you have a betrothed lover, child, let other suitors go their way. If you 144 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. wish to many my son," I said, " draw back from the In- spector." Traun, What has the Inspector to do with all this 1 Fr. v. Dah. Oh, you, with all your sharp-sightedness, were blind. Traun. And you, with all your knowledge of mankind, are silly after all. SCENE VIII. Enter MARIANNE. Marianne. For Heaven's sake, what has happened ? Traun. A mere trifle; your bridegroom has taken French leave. Mar. What! Traun. (Giving her the letter.) There! if you will not believe me; there are his parting words. [MARIANNE reads it in a low voice to Jierself. Tram. Well? Mar. This is too much ! [She throws the letter on the ground, and goes out quickly. The others follow. ACT III. SCENE I. A Room in COL. TRAUNSFELD'S House. Enter FOREST INSPECTOR VON FERNAU, and a HUNTSMAN. Fernau. Then you really have seen him? Huntsman. Yes, Heir Inspector. He is at this very moment in the Golden Sun. Fern. Keep an eye on the house. Take care that he does not slip from us, but do not tell any one of your discovery. THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 145 Huntsm. Very well, Heir Inspector. \_He goes out. Fern. That step of his shall not succeed. SCENE II. Enter COL. TRAUNSFELD. Traunsfeld. Are you still here, my good friend? Take my best thanks for the judicious way in which you managed my worthy relations this morning. You were the only person among us, whose head stood straight on his shoulders. That Ludwig! that good-for-nothing Ludwig! Oh, that I had never given in to his wishes ! Do you know, Herr Inspector, that he has disappeared? Fern. Disappeared! Traun. His note was so unintelligible, that I really thought, after my first anger was appeased, that he did not intend a formal rupture. So I sent to his house, but he has not been seen there since this morning, and no one knows what is be- come of him. Fern. He may have left town. Traun. That is what I imagine; but it is shameful! (Vehemently.} Confess that it is shameful. Fern. Disgraceful! Unheard of ! Traun. The fellow dangles about the girl for two years, languishes, and flirts, and makes love, and supplicates, and then, when I am about to give her to him, he leaves her in the lurch. Fern. You must take satisfaction. Traun. Certainly but how? If I had a son, he should fight him, though he were a thousand times his cousin. Fern. But as you have no son, our satisfaction must be of a different kind. Traun. Only don't let us have any paper-warfare, or med- dling of lawyers. Fern. Heaven forbid! That would be setting the bride- H J46 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. groom's worth at far too high a price. In order to punish his infidelity properly, you should show him that you do not care a pin for his flight. Traun. But how am I to show that? Fern. By fixing on another match for your daughter immediately. Traun. Who will be willing to marry her after a scene such as that of this morning] Do you see, Heir Inspector, it is this which weighs upon me not that the marriage is off Ludwig is the loser there but that the fellow has, perhaps, injured my daughter for life. Fern. Injured ! Any one who knows Fraulein Marianne Traun. Well! but who knows her? Fern. I know her, and am at your service as your son-in- law, if you like. Traun. You! Fern. I. But the contract must be signed to-day. Traun. To-day! Fern. Between ourselves only, of course. No one must be present except the necessary witnesses. Your family must be first invited to the wedding. Traun. Sir! Fern. You do not think, I hope, that I am in jest? I am quite serious. Traun. I hope so. I and my daughter are not fit subjects for a jest. Fern. Then decide on the thing. Traun. I should be very willing really I should but Marianne will make objections. Fern. Marianne is very angry with her cousin. Traun. Yes ; in the way that lovers are angry. Fern. But a father's authority Traun. Authority! oh, indeed! Out of vexation that she was a girl and not a boy, I have brought her up so like a man that I am scarcely a match for her. THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 147 Fern. Well, if you cannot determine her, perhaps I may be able. My powers of charming, you do not know what my powers can accomplish when I set to work. Traun. Here comes my daughter; try your luck with her. Fern. You must speak first. Traun. As you choose ; but you will see that we shall both be defeated. SCENE III. Enter MARIANNE. Marianne. Ah! are you there, father? Traun. Come here, Marianne, and tell me how you feel 1 Mar. I? quite well. Traun. Ludwig has probably by this time left town. Mar. (With some effort.) A pleasant journey to him ! Traun. Can you say that so calmly? Mar. You would not have me journey after him? Traun. Listen, Marianne! Ludwig left you at the very moment when you were about to be united ; left you, and that in the presence of your relations ! , Mar. I am fearfully angry with him. Traun. There is no use in mere anger; you must avenge yourself on him. Mar. That is my most earnest wish. Traun. You must forget him. Mar. Well? Traun. Yes, yes; you must, and take another husband as soon as possible. Mar. Another husband ? Traun. The Forest Inspector has been proposing for you. Mar. The Forest Inspector? Traun. Well; is he not a charming man? Mar. Dear father ! Traun. You must be betrothed to him to-day. He insists upon it. H2 148 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. Mar. It is a very bad schetde. Traun. You are a soldier's daughter, and must therefore be prompt in making up your mind. Mar. So I am, father, and I say, I will not marry the Forest Inspector. Traun. Not if I command you? Mar. You will not command me. Traun. (To FERNAU.) You hear what she says. Fern. Colonel, will you do me the favour of just stepping to the window? I should like to speak alone with Fraiilein von Traunsfeld. Traun. Speak to her as much as you will, it will do no good, my dear friend. (In a half whisper.) The girl is a match for both of us. [FERNAU leads MARIANNE to the oilier side of the room, and speaks to her in a whisper. Mar. Really! (FERNAU speaks again.) Is this wise? I must consider it. Traun. Well, is the conference at an end? Mar. Yes, dear father. Traun. And you persist in rejecting the Inspector's proposal ? Mar. No, dear father ; I am convinced that my first refusal was too hasty, and I feel myself almost disposed Traun. To agree to our friend's proposal? Mar. Give me a little time to reflect. Fern. Reflect! For what purpose? to hesitate about a mere form? This is no day for vain ceremony, Fraiilein Mari- anne, and if your heart has decided Mar. (After a pause.) It has decided. My honoured friend, I will trust my fate to you. [She gives him her hand. Fern. Now, Colonel, admire my powers of pleasing. Traun. I am quite at a loss, I don't know what to say. Fern. As we are agreed on the principal point, I will unfold to you the details of our plan of vengeance. The Assessor von Dahlen is still in town. THE IRRESOLUTE MAN 149 Mar. (Taking breath.) I thought as much. Fern. And I know where he is concealed. Traun, Keally? Fern. If you will allow me, I will go and look for him, and bring him here. He must be present at Marianne's second betrothal, and sign the contract as a witness. Traun. What are you thinking of? That might give rise to a very unpleasant scene. Fern. It is the only way in which you can obtain full satisfaction. Mar. Yes, yes, my dear father the Inspector is right; let him arrange it. Traun. (To FERNATJ.) You bewilder me so, that I don't know where my head is. Fern. If hearts be in peace together at last, Colonel, then it will not signify what becomes of heads. \_They all go out. SCENE IV. Scene changes. A room in the Golden Sun Inn. Doors which lead to tlie table-d'hote room. Enter the ASSESSOR VON DAHLEN from one of these doors. Assessor. (Alone.) Luckily for me this parlour is empty, so I can now slip away unperceived, and return to my own home. But now, why did I escape from my uncle's house? Why could I not resolve to sign the contract ? I love Marianne truly ; yet at the moment when the notary held out to me the pen which was to decide my fate, a sudden terror a feverish heat seized me. I really think if I had been threatened with all the tortures of the infernal regions, I could not have stayed. I felt as if I must be away, and in the fresh air. If I could only remember what I wrote upon that unlucky paper which I left in my uncle's room. It could scarcely have been anything very rational, I fear. my unfortunate disposition ! 150 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. It will destroy all my happiness in life, and my honour and good name into the bargain. SCENE V. Enter the BARONESS. Baroness. (Speaking outside the door.) I think the post must be come in ; if a letter should come for me a letter from Maintz bring it to me here directly. Assessor. (Looks round.) Who is that speaking? Bar. Whom do I see? My cousin? Assessor. The Baroness! (Aside.) I am a lost man! Bar. Tell me, pray, what are you doing at this hotel? Did you want me? Assessor. You? Bar. Why yes, I thought you might, as I lodge here. But I tell you candidly, no refuge will be found with me for a traitor like you. Assessor. Were you at Colonel Traunsfeld's when I when I Bar. When you ran away? Oh, yes. Did you not see me? Assessor. That is true; I remember. Bar. After all, why did you run away? Assessor. I was going I wished did I not say that I was going to return in a moment? Bar. Yes ; if you had not written the contrary of what you said. Assessor. (Alarmed.) Did I? Bar. You must know that best ! Assessor. Cousin, upon my honour, I do not know, and you would oblige me infinitely if you would have the goodness to inform me Bar. What your own note contained? Indeed, cousin, I did not learn it by heart. Assessor. My uncle, Baroness, I suppose my uncle is very angry with me? THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 151 Bar. He certainly cannot be much delighted with you. Assessor. And Marianne? Bas. It. is not easy to look into the heart of an offended woman, and therefore I am not clear how Marianne feels about it. Assessor. Was she very indignant in her manner? Bar. She seemed so. Assessor. What did she say? Bar. Very little. SCENE VI. Enter a WAITER with a letter. Waiter. Here is a letter for her ladyship, with the Maintz post mark. Bar. All right; thank you. (WAITER goes out.] A letter from my agent at Maintz. What would you say, cousin, if he should announce to me the success of my lawsuit? Assessor. (In a tone of indifference.) I should congratulate you. Bar. And would you not be somewhat vexed at having lost two-thirds of the inheritance through timidity? Believe me, cousin, the world belongs to the brave. I have brilliant anticipations; well, shall I read? Assessor. Just as you please. Bar. (Reads with great interest.) What is this? What do I see? He condoles! (In great indignation.) Then may that blind old Themis be flung down from her throne, and a money bag be put in her place, for this could not have happened without bribery! [/Site throws herself into a chair. Assessor. (Startled) What has happened, cousin ? (BARONESS signs to him with her hand to be silent.) Speak, I entreat you! Bar. Infandum Ludovice jubes renovare dolorem. Assessor. German, German, dear baroness! Bar. I have lost my lawsuit. Assessor. Then I am ruined. 152 THE IRRESOLUTE MAX. Bar. (Starting up.) Why how does it concern you? Assessor. A great deal, I assure you. Bar. Did you not accept a compensation? Assessor. Ah! if I had done so! Bar. There you did not ! Assessor. No, no! Bar. Well, do you know I am glad of it. Assessor. I am not, however. Bar. Then you are in the wrong. Assessor. Wrong? If I had gained 20,000 dollars- Bar. Glory, my dear Assessor, is worth more than money, and he who is ruined by a lawsuit in a good cause, is as great, in my eyes, as a soldier who dies on the bed of honour. Assessor. What an idea! Bar. You shall have one satisfaction, at least. I will have the history of our lawsuit printed, and the disputes and gripings of our opponents made known to the world, as soon as I have finished the contest with my peasants. Victrix causa diis placuit, sed victa Catoni. [She goes out. Assessor. (Alone.) There, again, lias my irresolution brought me into a most unfortunate scrape! Anything more vexatious than the loss of this lawsuit could not well have happened to me. With what face can I now appear before my uncle and Marianne? And the other witnesses of my folly this morning! if they hear of this catastrophe, they will be likely to suspect that pecuniary considerations are leading me back to my bride. SCENE VII. Enter the INSPECTOR VON FERNAU. Assessor. (Startled.) Fernau ! (Aside.) This alone was wanting ! Fernau. Ludwig, do tell me what in the world you have to do in this hotel? Assessor. What have you yourself to do here? Fern. I heard you were here, and came to seek you. THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 153 Assessor. (Striving to conceal his confusion.) Five minutes later you would not have found me here; I was on the point of returning home. Fern. Your uncle has sent me to you. Assessor. My uncle? fern. And Fraiilein Marianne. Assessor. Marianne! What are her commands? Fern. You shall hear ; but first look me in the face, and tell me what you see. Assessor. Leave off joking. I don't understand you. Fern. You see before you a pattern of friendship ; for know that I am sacrificing myself for you. Assessor. Sacrificing yourself! In what way? Fern. In order to free you from a stigma, I am going to marry your bride. Assessor. My bride? That I must prevent. Fern. There is nothing left for you to prevent. It is already settled with both father and daughter. Assessor. With Marianne? Impossible! Fern. I tell you it is true. Assessor. I must hear it from herself before I can believe it. Fern. She will tell it you herself, and what is more, she requires you to come and sign her contract. Assessor. (In a tone of grief !) Marianne! Fern. She makes this the condition of her forgiveness. Assessor. But in the name of goodness, what crime have I then committed? Fern. Do you still ask this question? Ludwig, I could pity you, if you did not provoke me so much. And that inheritance of the Haller family, too it is lost ! Assessor. How do you know that? Fern. Your mother had the news. Assessor. It is very very unfortunate. Fern. It will console your uncle ; for you would no longer be a brilliant match for Marianne. H3 154 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. Assessor. My uncle is a man of honour; he will keep his word with me. Fern. You have given him back his word. Assessor. Fernau ! listen to me, that is not true. Fern. Can you deny that you withdrew yourself from the signing of the contract ? Assessor. What do you call withdrawing myself? Fern. Why, that you wanted to make off. Assessor. Make off! when I tell you that I was on the point of returning to my own house 1 [A post-horn is heard, tlw ASSESSOR starts. Fern. What is the matter, Ludwig? What alarms you so suddenly 1 ? Assessor. (Aside.) If that is my post-chaise, I am done for! SCENE VIII. Enter JACOB. Jacob. The postchaise is ready, sir. The postilion only wishes to know where he is to drive to. Assessor. Fellow! you were born for my destruction. Fern. So you thought of returning home with post-horses? Assessor. It is a mistake it is a misunderstanding it is (turning angrily to JACOB) must a postchaise be got ready the moment it is ordered? Hang all the postilions and chaises in and out of Germany ! [He rushes out. The others follow. ACT IV. SCENE I. A Room in COL. TRAUNSFELD'S House. COL. TRAUNSFELD, alone. Traunsfeld. Deeply as I have been injured, and with all the reason I have to be offended, I still dread the next hour. I THE IREESOLUTE MAN. 155 feel that I loved that fickle Ludwig far better than I was my- self aware of; and my first meeting with my sister, too, will be painful to me beyond measure! And yet I have known people who have three or four daughters, marry them off with- out trouble why, then, should the marriage of my only one bring me into such distress? [Enter FRAU VON DAHLEN, slowly and sadly. She seats herself silently at the table, then after a side glance at for brother, speaks aloud, but as if to herself. Frau von Dahlen. Somebody must have been meddling with my work. Where are my scissors? I cannot find them. Dear brother, do you happen to have taken my scissors? Traun. (Starts on seeing her, and displays some emotion.) The scissors no ! Fr. v. Dah. I beg your pardon, here they are; here, in my bag. Ah, I have no head to-day ! Traun. (Hesitatingly.) You don't feel unwell, I hope? (She sliakes her head.} It would be no wonder, after all that has happened. Fr. v. Dah. (Bursting into tears.) Indeed it would be no wonder ! Traun. (Approaching her.) For Heaven's sake, Minny! Fr. v. Dah. Are you still angry? Traun. Angry! Fr. v. Dah. Yes; because I have been so rude to you. Traun. Don't let us speak of rudeness. I was rude, too. Fr. v. Dah. I have since perceived that I was wrong. Traun. A remarkable event! Fr. v. Dah. I am just come from my son. Traun. From your son where is he? Fr. v. Dah. In my room. Poor fellow ! if you were to see him, you would pity him. Traun. Hardly. Fr. v. Dah. He did not mean anything wrong by his escape this morning. 156 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. Traun. What does he allege in his excuse ? Fr. v. Dati. ( Weeping.) He says, he is a fool ! Traun. An important discovery. Fr. v. Dah. He will come to the betrothal, as your daughter insists upon it; and he has requested me to sign at it, too. Traun. Indeed! Fr. v. Dah. So you give your daughter to the Forest Inspector? Traun. Don't talk to me of it. Fr. v. Dah. How delightfully we had arranged it, to make but one family, and to end our days in the midst of our children and grandchildren! Traun. Do not torment me. After all, it is your sou who has deprived us of all this happiness. Your son, and your silly womanish bringing up. Fr. v. Dah. (In tears.) Ah, believe me, if my husband had lived longer, it would not have made much difference, for the poor dear man was very stupid. Give me your hand. Traun. Here it is. Fr. v. Dah. All our projects are melted away everything about us is changed, but we shall be the same to each other, shall we not? Traun. Till death! \_T1teyembrace. SCENE II. Enter MARIANNE, somewhat pale, but with a composed demeanour. Marianne. Good evening, dear father? Aunt, good evening! Traun. Ah, Marianne, is it you? Is the Inspector here? Mar. He is in the parlour, speaking to the Notary. Traun. (Sighing.) So the Notary is already in the house? Mar. It is just seven o'clock. Traun. Marianne, you are still resolved to give your haud to the Inspector? THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 157 Mar. I shall not withdraw my consent. Traun. Ludwig is here in this house. Mar. The more important to me then, that Traun. It seems, he still loves you. Mar. I don't in the least doubt that. Traun. And yet you wish Mar. To show him what an offended woman can do. Traun. Marianne, do not hastily take a step which you may repent of. Mar. I am only doing what you yourself advised me. 'Traun. I am an impetuous old man, and Fernau took me by surprise. Mar. He did not in the least surprise me. SCENE III. Enter the FOREST INSPECTOR FERNAU. Fernau. Well, my lovely bride, and you, my dear father-in- law, it has struck seven. Mar. Is Herr von Dahlen arrived yet? Fern. I have sent for him; and the reading of the articles may be going on till he comes. Mar. The reading! Traun. Custom requires that the contract should first be read. Mar. (In a whisper to FERNAU.) You have not forgotten what you promised me ? Fern. (In a whisper.) Make yourself quite easy about that. Mar. (Aloud.) Then do you go, dear father, with my aunt and the Inspector. It will be quite sufficient if you hear the articles. I will wait here till all is ready for the signing. Traun. As you please. (Aside to FERNAU.) Inspector, are you really and seriously willing to risk it with my daughter? Fern. Indeed I am. Traun. I fear, Ludwig is still at her heart. 158 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. Fern. That's of no consequence. Fr.v.Dah. Ah! Traun. Pray do not sigh, Minny. \_They all go out, excepting MARIANNE. SCENE IV. MARIANNE, alone. Mar. I am really a weak and childish creature. I know- that this is only a comedy to be acted, and yet the thought of the contract frightens me. That provoking creature, Ludwig ! My Justine tells me that he slipped into the house like a criminal; and if he comes before me, depressed and humiliated, I foresee I shall pity him but I must not let him find it out he must not find it out for only by a very severe lesson can he be cured; and such an opportunity of giving it him, as has occurred to-day, I cannot expect a second time. [Enter tine ASSESSOR VON DAHLEN. He is absorbed at first by his own feelings, then he suddenly perceives MARIANNE. Assessor. Whom do I see! Mar. (Aside.) It is he! Now I must command myself. Assessor. I come, Fraiilein, at your desire; but without such express injunctions, I should have spared you a meeting which can only be painful to you. Mar. You will be present, as witness, at my betrothal will you not? I thank you for showing to the world, in this manner at least, that you do not consider me unworthy of the hand of an honourable man. Assessor. I have offended you grievously, but the punish- ment you inflict on me is more grievous still. Mar. A lighter one would not be sufficient. Assessor. My meaning was not so bad as it appeared. Mar. Your note seemed to me clear enough, to remove from my mind every doubt as to your meaning. THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 159 Assessor. I swear to you that I remember nothing of what that note contained. MM. My credulity, Heir von Dahlen, has bounds. Assessor. What I have said might appear false to any one else; but to you, to you who know my mind have often thought for me when I Mar. When you were vacillating in trifles, or in money mat- ters. But he who can vacillate in love, cannot love truly, and a prudent woman will not venture to be his companion for life. Assessor. Then you marry the Inspector? Mar. In a few minutes I shall be his bride. Assessor. (With some bitterness.) He is now, certainly, a better match for you than I am. Mar. I look to the person, and not to the fortune. Assessor. I wish he may justify the good opinion you have formed of him, and not behave in love as he has done in friend- ship. [A pause. Mar. Assessor, you look ill. Don't you feel well? Assessor. I think of leaving town to-night. Mar. Where are you going? Assessor. I don't yet know. Mar. For how long? Assessor. As long as my leave of absence allows, and per- haps still longer, for I may possibly get my discharge, and go into foreign service. Mar. I should not advise you to do that. Assessor. Would it be agreeable to Frau von Fernau to know me in the neighbourhood? Mar. Why not? You are still my cousin. Besides, I was thinking of my aunt, your poor old mother. Assessor. You are right. [A pause. Mar. I have still some books of yours; shall I send them back to you? Assessor. I have still your album. Mar. Have you finished the drawing you promised me? 160 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. Assessor. (With tears in his eyes.) The drawing is bad, and I shall destroy it. Mar. (Overcome by her feelings.) Ludwig ! SCENE V. Enter INSPECTOR FERNAU, FRAU VON DAHLEN, COL. TRAUNS- FELD, and the NOTARY, with the contract. Fernau. Here he is, the Herr Assessor. (To the rest.) There you will find pens, ink, and everything we require. Mar. (In a whisper to FERNAU.) Will you really carry it so far as to make them sign? Fern. (In a whisper to her.) Yes; they shall sign. (Aloud to the ASSESSOR.) Then you are resolved to sign the young lady's contract 1 ? Assessor. Heaven help me! I can do no less for her. Mar. (Drawing FERNAU aside.) But, Heir Inspector, you hold to your promise? Fern. (In a whisper.) If you ask me that again, I will marry you in good earnest. Traunsfeld. (In a whisper to FRAU VON DAHLEN.) This is really a trying moment. Frau von Dahlen. (To him.) It makes me quite ill. Notary. (Laying the contract on the table.) Herr Inspector. (FERNAU signs.) Will the young lady now sign? Mar. (Looks at the ASSESSOR, then at FERNAU, and at last, as if resolved, speaks.) Well then! Notary. (To MARIANNE.) Here, if you please. (She signs.) Colonel von Traunsfeld! (TRAUNSFELD signs.) Frau von Dahlen ! (FRAU VON DAHLEN wipes her eyes.) Fr. v. Dah. If I can only see, if I can see at all. Fern. You see well enough ; only be quick! Notary. Herr Assessor von Dahlen ! [ASSESSOR starts, is about to speak, but commands himself, and moves to the table. THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. 161 Notary. (Pointing to the place.) There, sir, if you please. [The ASSESSOR signs. Fern. Good ! all have signed now, and I am married. My friend Ludwig, congratulate me. Assessor. Yes, you are married ! You have made use of my folly to obtain a happiness you had long, doubtless, envied ; yet do not triumph over me, you possess Marianne's hand, but I, her heart. You may be more esteemed more trusted than I, but what is that to the conviction which I shall carry into foreign lands, the conviction of being loved ! Fern. Ludwig, that is rather strong ! Mar. You have a good opinion of yourself, my dear cousin. So you mean to travel 1 ? Before your journey, I must give you a letter which I have been keeping for you. (She gives him a letter.) It is a little old, to be sure, but it is not the less valu- able for that ! There, take it! (The ASSESSOR takes it carelessly and is about to put it away.) Well, will you not read it? Assessor. (Glancing at the address.) FromMaintz! I know what the letter contains. Mar. You know, then, that your agent has concluded the arrangement with Mr. Haller's heirs? Assessor. How! concluded 1 ? (He opens the letter, reads it to himself, and then speaks.) This is unaccountable ! he says that he received my carte-blanche Mar. Which you lost in my room a month ago; and I, feeling sure of what you meant to do, sent it immediately to the post. Fr. v. Dah. That was well done ! Assessor. Then I am Mar. The possessor of twenty thousand dollars. Assessor. And you think that this can console me for your loss ? You would put riches in the place of love 1 I cast this miserable gold from me; I do not care to possess what I cannot share with you, Marianne. Mar. (With emotion.) Ludwig, this conduct wipes away all 162 THE IRRESOLUTE MAN. your faults. My pride is subdued ; I can no longer act a part, I remain constant to you. Your wife I will be, or no one's else. Assessor. (Astonished.) What would you say 1 ? Mar. It was in order to cure you, if possible, of a fault which clouds so many amiable qualities, that I undertook to try you so severely. Your friend, Fernau, was the inventor of the plot. Herr Inspector, I have held out bravely, but now be so good as to tear the contract. Fern. No such thing, my fair bride ; the contract has been drawn up with all the forms of law, and I declare that no one, in my lifetime, shall venture to set it aside. Mar. (Half frightened.) What can this mean? Traun. Herr Inspector ! Fr. v. Dali. Dear Herr Inspector ! Fern. (Giving MARIANNE the contract.) There, read it yourself. Mar. (Glancing at it.) Ah, I see! Fern. The contract is a legal one ; but a little mistake has been committed, for the name of Herr von Dahlen is put in the place of mine ; the notary had probably retained it in his pen since this morning. Assessor. How? Fern. Look yourself, there it is written; and you are Marianne's bridegroom, not I ! Fr. v. Dah. My son ! what a load is taken off my heart ! Traun. (To FERNAU.) My noble friend! Fern. I am only sorry for Ludwig, who is so unexpectedly cheated out of his liberty. Assessor. (Half frightened.) Ami? Am I indeed? (In a tone of relief.) I thank goodness that I am at last. Fern. You are married without having had the trouble of making a resolution about it. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. & I9ranta, IN FOUK ACTS. DRAMATIS PERSONS. HELEN, widowed Baroness of Rosbeck. BARON SIGISMUND, Brother to her deceased Husband. BARON ISIDOR, Cousin to her deceased Husband. FRAU VON STARKEN, Companion to HELEN. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. COUNSELLOR BRUNO. LANDLORD. His WIFE. FRANZ, Servant to BARON SIGISMUND. The Scene is first in a public garden, afterwards in the house of the Baroness. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. ACT I. SCENE I. A Public Garden, with a Coffee-House on one side; in the foreground are tables and benches. Enter CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Captain. Eight, this is the house ! there are even the old benches. Everything here brings remembrances to my mind : but what remembrances ! In that pavilion I once lost three hundred thalers, at this table I challenged Lieutenant Werner down yonder I helped to break the windows of that great house ; every tree every stone reminds me of some foolish freak. I was indeed a worthless fellow, and I never felt it so deeply as I do now, when I stand once more on the theatre of my follies. My friend Bruno says, that twelve years of re- pentance are sufficient to extinguish the errors of youth; I might then without shame declare myself, and it was my intention when I left India, but now I am become timid, and put off, from day to day, what I nevertheless wish earnestly to do. (After a pause.) Mr. Landlord ! or, Mrs. Landlady ! SCENE II. The same. Enter LANDLADY. Landlady. Did you call, sir? Copt. Heavens! is it you? What is your name' Landlady. Madame Wehring. 166 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Capt. Is not your Christian name Louise? Landlady. Yes, Louise Wehring. Capt. (Aside.) It is certainly she! another of my follies. I was once in love with her. Landlady. (Aside.) A curious gentleman ! (Aloud.) Would you wish to breakfast, sir? Capt. (Still looking at her.) Yes yes, Madame ! Landlady. Coffee? Cold meat? Rum? Capt. Rum ? no, I will have nothing more to do with that. Coffee, if you please, Mrs. Landlady. (She goes out.) I have sung serenades under that woman's window ; but her beauty is gone, like my voice, both have departed. Landlady. (Behind the scenes.) Hannah ! Hannah ! 'tis enough to drive one wild ; the door left open, and the cat at the cream! Capt. How that voice, too, has changed ! Landlady. (Behind the scenes.) And you will answer again, will you? excuse yourself! Oh, if my husband were only at home! Capt. His bass could hardly be so loud as her treble. Enter LANDLADY, with Coffee. Landlady. Pardon me, sir, if I have made you wait, but Capt. Do not trouble yourself! I know all about it. Landlady. After a week's service, a girl is so changed that one cannot know her again. Capt. (Aside.) So is a beauty after twelve years absence ! Landlady. The gentleman is a stranger here? Capt. I come from the East Indies. Landlady. What ! not from the savages? Capt. I am myself a savage. Landlady. Ah, good heavens! Capt. A savage, but one who understands German, you perceive, and who was formerly well acquainted with Europe, and even with this neighbourhood. Is old Siegfred alive still? CAPTAIN FIENEWALD. 167 Landlady. The usurer certainly, he is alive ; should such a one as lie die? He could not take his money with him. Copt. And the merry Conrad Flint? Landlady. The bully, he fell in a duel, two years ago. Copt. And Friedhelm's son, Louis? Landlady. The expelled student, he died in prison. Copt. And Herr von Baselov? Landlady. That gambler has been expelled the town. Were all these gentlemen known to you? Capt. Intimately ! Landlady. (Aside.) You kept good company, then. Capt. That house with the balcony, in the market-place, does it not belong to Miiller, the merchant. Landlady. Yes ; do you know the worthy man ? He lost a good deal lately by the Margraf speculation, and was on the point of failing, when, quite unexpectedly, a sum which he had lent years ago, and had given up for lost, was restored to him with all the interest. Capt. By whom? Landlady. He did not say ; but I know he was saved. Capt. That rejoices me greatly. SCENE III. The same. LANDLORD. Landlady. Are you there, at last? Capt. Is this your husband? Landlady. Yes, sir. Christian, the gentleman is an Indian. Capt. (Aside.) He at least is unchanged; the same simple face as ever. (To the LANDLORD.) Allow me to embrace you. Landlord. Command me. (CAPTAIN embraces him.) What procures me this honour? Capt. The want of something better! That embrace in- cluded the trees, houses, and even the church towers of this place, all in one. 168 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Landlord. (Opening his arms.) Do you desire it again ? Capt. I have had enough ; what is my bill ? Landlady. It is not worth speaking of. Capt. (Giving her money.} Then take this for the speaking. SCENE IV. The same. BARON ISIDOR. Iidor. (Singing.) " Oh, come, return To thy trne shepherd's heart !" Stupid song ! a true shepherd : that is to say, a fool. I agree with Don Caesar, in " Donna Diana," a great poet was Moreto, and well acquainted with human nature, to vanquish the pride of women by still greater pride that is true wisdom. Her windows are open ; she has already been looking out of window, doubtless, but I have not passed by, for I am sulking. What ! promise me the first waltz, the cotillon, and then stay away from the ball ! Such conduct I will not endure ; and she may now find out how to atone for it as she can. (To the LANDLORD.) Coffee ! Capt. Who is this original? Landlady. Baron von Rosbeck. Capt. Von Rosbeck? the son of the privy counsellor? Landlady. The same. Capt. His Christian name is Isidor? Landlady. Isidor, just so. Capt. He has become a very smart gentleman. Leave me with him a little while. Isi. (Approaching them.) I ordered coffee ! Landlady. It shall be served directly, sir. (To LANDLORD.) Come in, Christian, we are in the gentlemen's way. [She goes voith the LANDLORD into the Jtouse. Isi. (Seating himself, and singing.) " Oh, come, return To thy true shepherd's heart !" CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 169 Capt. You are a lover of music? Isi. A scholar of our first tenor. And you, sir 1 Capt. I come from a harder school, I am an officer. Isi. A stranger, as it seems ? Capt. You are right, a stranger. Isi. May I ask your name 1 ? Capt. Captain Firnewald in the English service. I come from the East Indies. Isi. (Indifferently.} Oh, indeed! LANDLADY comes with coffee. Capt. Mrs. Landlady! Landlady. Sir? Capt. Let me look at you again. Landlady. How? Capt. Thank you, that will do. (Aside.) She could not please me, now. Landlady. A curious gentleman ! [She goes. SCENE V. CAPTAIN. ISIDOB. [CAPTAIN sighs. Isidor. You are fond of sighing? Captain. Yes; I was thinking of the perishableness of earthly baubles. You, then, are the Baron von Rosbeck? Isi. You know me, then ! Singular ! every one knows me ! Capt. Really! Isi. Yes; and I do not know how I obtain such an honour; I observe nothing very striking about myself. Elegant I may be and I possess a few slight accomplishments. You are in the English service, and have seen much in the world. " Come sta, signore?" " Comment vous va?" " How do you do ?" You see, I speak all languages ! Capt. (Aside.) Ah! what a pity, he is silly! (Aloud.) I think we had better keep to German. You are called Ros- beck; have you many relations? i 170 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Isi. No, Heaven be thanked; they are all dead, or gone away, except one old cousin, Baron Sigismund. Copt. Sigismund! Is he alive? Isi. Yes. Do you know him? Capt. I wish to become acquainted with him. Isi. Get rid of the wish, then, for he is horrid. Capt. Oh! Isi. A hypocrite and a miser, and besides that, opposed to my happiness. Capt. To your promotion? Isi. Oh, no; I am not in the service. Capt. To your love, then? Isi. I am not exactly in love, for that is no longer the fashion; but I wish to marry. Capt. Indeed! might one ask the lady's name? Isi. She is a cousin, who has cast a favourable glance at me. Did you ever hear of the rich Baron Bernard von Rosbeck ? Capt. Oh, yes ! Isi. Well, it is his widow who is my choice. Capt. The widow of old Bernard? Isi. She may be a year or two older than I am. Capt. (Aside.} A year or two, does the man say! Isi. But she is not ugly, 'and has plenty of money. Capt. Money! Have you none? Isi. I have, and would willingly have more ! The wants of a rich man increase every year. If the poor knew what the rich require, they would cease to envy them. Capt. I rather doubt that. Isi. For instance, I now possess only a drosky, which is quite common; when I am married, I shall get a carriage. Capt. Then marry, by all means. Isi. My cousin Sigismund advises her against it. Capt. The affair is, then, doubtful? Isi. Instead of going to balls to meet her, he plays whist with her at home. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 171 Capt. He is right there; what should your lady cousin do at a ball 1 Isi. Dance. Capt. Dance! (Aside.) Then it is now the fashion for old women to dance. Isi. But I know very well why he keeps her away from me; he wants to get her fortune for himself. Capt. Nay, that should not be; introduce me to him, and I will soon set his head right. Isi. If you succeed in that, you will be cleverer than I am. Capt. But I should like to set your head right also. Isi. My head is in the right place. Capt. That is hardly the case with a single head in the world for we are all either rather simple, or rather mad. \A clock strikes. Isi. What is that striking? Capt. Ten o'clock. Isi. Then I must be off to my cousin I have been sulking, and want to see what the effect of it has been. Capt. Shall I see you again? Isi. This afternoon at Bernini's, if you go there, or to-mor- row at the races. You must take a look at them: Pretly, upon which so much has been betted, is mine. The English ambassador wished to buy him, but the horse is not to be sold, for it was he who brought me into fashion. [He goes out. Capt. He ! a horse ! I will not set myself up above that fellow I dare say he is not so bad as I was, but, certainly, I never owed my fame, good or bad, to a beast ! SCENE VI. Scene changes to an Apartment in the BARONESS HELEN'S House. SIGISMUND, alone. Sigismund. All is quiet here ! apparently she is still asleep. She came home late, no doubt amused herself well at the i 2 172 CAPTAIN FIRXEWALD. ball. (After a pause.) She will not surely marry again ! one would not willingly lose such a house as this, and eight thou- sand thalers a year! And I! should I advise her against it? That might seem interested, and make her obstinate. I say yes, to everything she proposes; but if she will only dance if she will only let herself be flattered ! In a ball-room Cupids sit upon every chandelier; and if they will but do their duty, I will give a helping hand. Here comes that goose Starken; I will ask her about it. SCENE VII. SIGISMUND. FRAU VON STARKEN. [FRAU VON STARKEN walks in, looking cross, without observing the BARON. Sits down to a work table; then gets up im- patiently, and opens a window. Frau von Starken. It is so hot here ! Suffocating ! Sigis. Well, Frau von Starken ! Fr. v. Star. Good morning to you, Baron. Sigis. So early on your feet? Fr. v. Star. It has just struck ten. Should I sleep twelve hours running? Sigis. Twelve hours ! Oh, don't be ashamed before me, I am tolerant. You went late to bed; I know all. I was awake till four o'clock, and the carriage had not then arrived. Fr. v. Star. I can believe that, for it stood the whole night in the coach-house. Sigis. How? Fr. v. Star. It was sent away just as we were going to get in. Sigis. Then you were not at the ball, last night? Fr. v. Star. No, I tell you. Sigis. But, in the name of wonder, why not? Fr. v. Star. The Baroness did not choose. Siffis. Yet she was dressed for the ball. Fr. v. Star. She undressed again. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 173 Sigis. That is astonishing! Fr. v. Star. Oh, we shall not stop here ! Pity that we have no desert islands hereabouts, or we should buy one, no doubt. But that is always the way; when people play whist, they be- come hypochondriacal and eccentric. Sigis. Eccentric ! Do you really think so 1 Fr. v. Star. Certainly; one cannot be thinking about tricks and honours for two hours together so one thinks of something else, and generally of something stupid. Sigis. Do you speak for yourself? Fr. v. Star. I am not talking of myself nor am I angry on my own account, for what should I do at a fete. Sigis. Yes, indeed; what should you do there? Fr. v. Star. I am weary of paying court to people. Sigis. That is quite natural. Fr. v. Star. But a woman's youth is short. Sigis. It may be prolonged. Fr. v. Star. One is almost old at thirty. Sigis. One often becomes younger after it. Fr. v. Star. And this is the last ball of the season. The Baroness is foolish to let it go unenjoyed. (She steps to the window.} Well, how does the cousin please you? Sigis. Oh, he's delicious! Fr. v. Star. (In a tone of vexation.) Fifteen degrees of heat ! Buds on the trees ! Spring is come ! Sigis. Yes, that it is. Fr. v. Star. And winter is gone ! Every one is going to the country there will be no more balls ! Sigis. If you look on the beauties of nature that way Fr. v. Star. Beauties of nature ! Do you forget that we lost the whole carnival? Sigis. The mourning Fr. v. Star. Was over in November. Sigis. My sister-in-law showed great respect for my brother's memory. 174 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Fr. v. Star. Yet there was nothing at all loveable in him. Sigis. ile made her rich, therefore she is right to honour his ashes. Fr. v. Star. Ashes ! Pray, don't talk to me about ashes. Artemisia acted most wisely about them: she drank her hus- band's ashes, and then she had done with them! Sigis. But, after all, our ordinary burying has the same result; and although a philosopher, I am of opinion that one should avoid exaggeration in all things. Fr. v. Star. That is just what I say. Sigis. My sister-in-law has lived in retirement for a year and a half. She should now console herself. Fr. v. Star. Well, she is consoled. Sigis. She might well go to a party now and then. I hold much to propriety but still, I say, she might do that. Fr. v. Star. There can be no doubt of it. Sigis. The world does not understand a long mourning. If my sister-in-law wished to marry again, I believe every one would approve it. Fr. v. Star. Who is thinking of marriage 1 Siyis. Not I, my worthy friend; I think a woman who remains a widow very much to be respected, but the human heart has its fancies. Fr. v. Star. Does your cousin Isidor appear to you worthy of the heart of the baroness? Sigis. He? Heaven forbid ! Fr. v. Star. Yet she can marry no other man without losing all her property. It is best, therefore, that she should remain a widow. Sigis. Very wisely thought of ; for in the case of any other marriage, I should become my brother's heir, and I do not care for money. But am I a barbarian ? No, Frau von Starken, if I have never been overcome by love myself, I have never- theless read " Werther," as well as others, and can understand what the passion is. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 175 Fr. v. Star. With all confidence in your generosity, it seems to us best not to venture. "We will have no second husband till he announces himself as Captain Firnewald. Sigis. Firnewald? who is he? Fr. v. Star. An English officer who saved the life of an Indian widow, and defrauded me of yesterday's ball. Sigis. I do not quite understand. Fr. v. Star. Why, the widow was to have been burned, but she had no inclination for it. The Brahmins threw her on the pile, but still she did not like it, so out she sprang, and this Captain caught her in his arms. There was a great bustle and uproar; the captain held her fast, and called his friends to aid him risked his life was wounded but at last brought off" the widow in safety ; and the story was put in the news- papers. Sigis. But what has all this to do with yesterday's ball? Fr. v. Star. More than you think. I believe the Baroness is in love with this Captain. Sigis. But she has never seen him ! Fr. v. Star. That is the best of it ; the fancy cannot there- fore be dangerous. Sigis. (Aside.} If I could only fly to the East Indies to fetch him! (Aloud.} Then he is never likely to return to Europe? Fr. v. Sigis. Unluckily, he is already in Europe, for he was almost forgotten, when the baroness happened to see in the papers that he had arrived at Hamburg by an English ship. Sigis. In Hamburg? (Aside.) Then, perhaps, he may be hunted up after all. Fr. v. Star. She wrote immediately to her friend Madame Hellborn for some tidings of the hero, and yesterday, just as the hair-dresser had arranged her last flower, the tiresome postman brings Hellborn's answer ! In a moment the baroness dismissed the hair-dresser tore open the letter threw herself into an arm-chair, and read, and read ; became thoughtful serious, and at last decided to remain at home ! 176 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. SCENE VIII. The same. BARONESS HELEN. Helen. ( W/io has heard the last toords.) It is all literally true! Sigis. My compliments to you, sister-in-law ! Helen. Starken is angry with me, is it not so ? and has been accusing me to you ; but I cannot deny what she says. Yes, brother, Hellborn's letter kept me from the ball ; for it proved to me that I am not fitted for balls. What should I do there ? Dance 1 I am not a girl of fifteen. Make con- quests 1 that I do not wish ; the human heart appears to me too noble to be made sport of, and I could not love those coxcombs. I can love only those whom I admire. Sigis. And who for example, save Indian widows. Helen. Do you know all about that ? My good Starken has been very indiscreet ; but you are not misinformed. Fr. v. Star. I must confess the story of this Captain what is his name Firnewald, has moved me 'greatly. Helen. If the man were to come here, to prove even tolerable in appearance, and to fall in love with me, I really think I should surrender at discretion ; therefore it is well that he is not likely to come here, and that I shall never see him. Thus my feelings towards him are a mere romance, and prevent other gentlemen from being dangerous to me. Sigis. But, bless me ! how is it the fault of the poor men in this country that widows are not burnt here? Helen. Oh ! it is not the saving of the widow alone that makes the Captain so worthy of esteem in my eyes ; Hellborn has told me many other things in his praise, and, in short, it is quite as well that he should not appear before me. Fr. v. Star. It would be still better if you could quite forget him; a man who were to come from the East Indies, how sun-burnt he would be, and what a language he would talk ! He would not be fit to show himself in our town. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 177 SCENE IX. SIGISMUND. HELEN. Helen. The poor woman has not yet recovered the loss of her ball ! How is it possible, at her age, to be still so devoted to pleasure? Sigis. She has not your sense, my dear sister-in-law. Helen. And is, perhaps, for that reason happier than I am. Sigis. You are the object of my highest respect ; with such accomplishments, to make so little pretension to the world's admiration. Helen. Little pretension! Oh, don't believe that I keep away from the world just because I am inclined to ask from it more than it has to bestow. The world would think me either insipid, or a coquette. A coquette ! if I could be thought that, it would be my death. Sigis. My brother possessed a treasure in you. Helen. And I certainly was not unhappy with your brother; I got on much better with him than his first wife did. Sigis. Every one observed that. Helen. And it pleased me to have it so observed ; that it was which drew me to him, for I confess the opinion of the world is of value to me. Sigis. The opinion of the world is not indifferent to the wisest of us ; it makes me indignant, therefore, that my sister- in-law should be a subject of criticism in society. Helen. About what am I criticised 1 ? Sigis. About your secluded life, which I think so worthy of admiration; but the common herd, you know, do not under- stand all these things. And many have carried their malice so far as to maintain that my sister-in-law must have lost her beauty, because she shuts herself up so. Helen. If they say nothing but that ! Sigis. I myself have not quite escaped their bad tongues. Helen. You? i 3 178 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Sigi*. Yes; it is I, they say, who encourage you in your fancies, and keep you in retirement. I have really been made quite angry about it. Helen. They cannot, at least, blame you for selfishness ; if I remain a widow it is to your disadvantage. Sigis. To my disadvantage! ha, ha! certainly, you are right ; that had never occurred to me, indeed. Helen. And yet it is more likely to set your mind at ease than anything* else. Courage, brother! let the town gossips chatter as much as they will, provided they do not touch our characters more injuriously; and so I invite you this evening to a game of whist. You will certainly win, for I feel stupid to-day. You may bring a fourth with you. Sigis. Hofrath Reiner? Helen. Very well. (She sees ISIDOR outside.) Ah, here comes my cousin Isidor! Sigis. Your wooer. Helen. The only man in the world who inclines me to make game of him. SCENE X. The same. ISIDOR. ISIDOR bows with affected coldness. Helen. Good morning, cousin! Isidor. Good morning to you, madam ! Helen. It is well that you are come. You can amuse me by an account of yesterday's ball. I si. My fair cousin did not honour the ball. Helen. No; you know what I am. I changed my mind at the last moment. In. You lost a great deal. It was a brilliant ball, though to me a little wearisome at last ; what with dancing and talking together, I scarcely knew where my head was ! Helen. But do you know now? Isi. Yes, of course. There was an assemblage of the most CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 179 beautiful ladies, and exquisite toilettes were to be seen. The greatest sensation was made by a Hanoverian lady Fraiilein von Thoren a blonde, with black eyes, and so affable so witty!. Every one was charmed with her; she danced the cotillon with me. Helen. You did not lose the cotillon, then? Isi. The Fraiilein will be at the races to-morrow. Helen. Then take care that your Pretly does you credit. Isi. (Looking at her attentively.) Cousin ! Helm. Well? Isi. The Fraiilein paid me great attention. Helen. (Aside.) That is intended to make me very angry. Isi. And if I were to encourage these favourable dispo- sitions ! the Fraiilein is very rich. (HELEN puts her hand to her forehead.) Are you unwell? Helen. My head aches a little. Fair hair and black eyes did you say? Isi. Yes, cousin. Helen. Oh, how nervous I feel to-day! And amiable? Isi. At once a Muse and a Grace. But I fear you are going to faint. Helen. No, my dear cousin, I was only going along with you into the ball-room scene for a moment; but if you take joke for earnest, I must have done. As another, however, might be less honourable than myself, I will give you this piece of good counsel Never act comedies with ladies, for the simplest among us plays better than you. [Goes out. SCENE XI. ISIDOR. SlGISMUND. Isidor. (In a tone of self-satisfaction.) Did you hear what she said? She was quite rude to me. Sigis. So it struck me. Isi. And all from jealousy. 180 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Sigis. Don't be a fool. Isi. I know women. Sigis. You don't know yourself. 1st. My plan of courtship takes it takes ! Sigis. And you will knock your head against it. Isi. Ah, you say that from envy. Good bye, uncle. Sigis. Young man, you are behaving very foolishly, and you have no philosophy. Where are you going now ? Isi. To exercise my Pretly; and afterwards to Bernini's, where I hope to meet a comical man with whom I made acquaintance this morning a certain Captain Firnewald. Sigis. Firnewald ! my dear boy, say that name again ! Isi. Captain Firnewald. Sigis. In the English service ? Isi. Quite right. Sigis. Comes from the East Indies? Isi. So he says. Sigis. Has saved a widow from burning? Isi. I know nothing about that. Sigis. No matter, it must be the man. Captain Firnewald here ! how wonderful ! Isi. Pray, uncle, what is it that amazes you so ? Do you know the man? Sigis. No, but I have business with him ; a certain affair which is he well looking ? Isi. Tolerably. Sigis. Young? Isi. About thirty; and so you have business with him? now I understand why he wishes for your acquaintance. Sigis. What ! He wishes for my acquaintance ? Captain Firnewald? Isi. Yea, and it appears to me very natural ! Sigis. Natural? (Aside.) Now to me it seems very strange. (Aloud.) Harkye Isidor, when shall you see the Captain ? Isi. This afternoon I think, at the Italian's. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. LSI Sigis. As soon as you see him tell him, don't forget, tell him but remember Isi. If I only knew what ! Sigis. Tell him I shall expect him this evening at six o'clock. Baron Sigismund of Rosbeck awaits him, and he will not regret accepting the invitation. Isi. I understand ! Sigis. Where are you going 1 Isi. To see my horse. Sigis. Leave your tiresome horse; I am not yet ready. Isi. I cannot wait much longer. Sigis. Only wait one moment I will write to him. Isi. Confound it ! Sigis. Do you think the Captain will remain here long? Isi. Scarcely. He seems to me a bird of passage. Sigis. No time to be lost, then. ( Writes hastily.) " Shall have a pleasure, a surprise " Well said ; that will fix him. Isi. (Aside.) How the man scribbles ! Sigis. (Still writing.) " He is requested not to tell his name to any one in the house," that is necessary to avoid startling her; but he must have a name. Isi. I am growing impatient ! Sigis. A name; he is in the English service, Smith Captain Smith! (Folding the letter.) I am ready, Isidor; I am ready. Isi. At last ! Sigis. (Sealing it.) There, take it; put it into your pocket. Isi. And if I meet the Captain ? Sigis. Give him the letter. Isi. And if I do not meet him? Sigis. Then seek him through the whole town till you find him ! 7^. That's likely. Sigis. Isidor, my whole happiness is at stake. Isi. Indeed ! Well, I will see about it, but if your happi- 182 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. ness were endangered twice over, I have business also, cousin, and am not your messenger. [Goes. Sigis. Well, he is gone ! and Firnewald will be found ; but when I have got him, how shall I begin with him? So? no! So, that will be original ! (Calling.) Franz ! Franz ! I must put him up to it, mistakes chances, she shall play at whist with him. ACT II. SCENE I. Same apartment as before ; a, card-table is set out. Enter SIGISMUND. Sigismund. Isidor writes that the Captain has received my invitation, and will soon be here. Now that I reflect upon the affair, I wonder at it, for my note certainly looked as if it had been written by a fool. This Captain must be a strange man, but so much the better. (Goes to the side door.) My worthy friend Frau von Starken ! SCENE II. SIGISMUND. FRAU VON STARKEN. Frau von Starken. Do you want to play already, Baron Sigismund? It is not yet six o'clock. Sigis. Play ? who knows whether our party will take place at all to-day. Hoffrath Reiner has sent for me, probably because he is suffering again from that swimming in his head. So I shall have to leave home, which is quite provoking quite provoking ! Fr. v.Star. How so? Sigis. Ah, my worthy friend, perhaps you can help me out of the difficulty? Fr. v. Star. Out of what difficulty? CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 183 Sigis. I have appointed a man to come here at six o'clock an Englishman a Captain Smith with whom I have some important business ; if, by chance, he should come during my absence, I would beg you to keep him here, if possible. You are an obliging creature, and what I ask is but a trifle. My sister is busy just now. Fr. v. Star. And the gentleman is English! (Aside.) How long it is since I have spoken to an Englishman! Sigis. Captain Smith Smith Smith! Remember the name ; I should be beside myself if he were to escape me. Fr. v. Star.- May I ask what your business with him is? Sigis. That is a secret ; but you I can trust you, well! (Aside.) What shall I tell her? yes! (Aloud.) Why, he has challenged my cousin Isidor, and, if I do not hinder it, they will fight. Fr. v. Star. A duel ! good heavens ! Sigis. You understand now how necessary it is that I should speak to the gentleman before Isidor meets him? Fr. v. Star. Oh, I see that perfectly well. What have the gentlemen been quarrelling about? An Englishman? no doubt about a horse. Sigis. Exactly. The races are to-morrow, and my cousin maintains the superiority of his Pretly, over the Captain's Washington, so that at last Vr. v. Star. Oh, how vain are men-folk ! Sigis. Very true ; yet, if duels between you ladies were in fashion, you would perhaps fight for still greater trifles; so do not be angry, but justify my confidence. I commit the lives of two men into your hands. Fr. v. Star. You make me uneasy. Sigis. No, no; don't be uneasy, your understanding your savoir faire, I shall soon be back again as soon as I can ; but I go away quite at ease, for everything you undertake, Frau von Starken, succeeds. [Goes out. Fr. v. Star. (Alone.) This is a terrible business! Poor Baron 184 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Isidor ! he is sometimes ridiculous, but when his life is in question I ought to feel for him ; he has always distinguished me has always had a predilection for me, well, I will protect him ; the Englishman shall not stir from hence until he has abjured his thirst for blood. Men are all afraid of me, I know how to manage them : even the philosopher Sigismund, is aware of that ; he torments me, laughs at me, but when any- thing of importance is to be done, he always turns to Frau von Starken. (She steps to the window and looks out.) There is a tall man, with light hair, coming down the street, perhaps [During these words FRANZ opens the door, and CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD enters. SCENE III. FRAU VON STARKEN. FRANZ. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Franz. Walk in sir, if you please. [He goes. SCENE IV. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD and FRAU VON STARKEN. Captain. (Looking about him, aside.) Where can the old gen- tleman be, and what does he want with me 1 A strange note ! I could almost think I was hoaxed. Fr. v. Star. (Attentively observing him, aside.) Doubtless it is our man. (Aloud.) Sir! Copt. Pardon me, madam ! I have been appointed to come here. Fr. v. Star. Are you Captain Smith ? Capt. Smith ? quite right, yes, yes, Captain Smith ! Might I venture to ask where Baron Sigismund is to be found? Fr. v. Star. Baron Sigismund is gone out. Capt. (Looking at the furniture.) But am I not in his house? Fr. v. Star. In that of his sister-in-law, the widowed Baroness of Rosbeck. Capt. What do you tell me? You are, I beg you, excuse CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 185 me, madam, for having forced myself in here uninvited ; but really the fault is not mine. \_He bows, and is going. Fr. v. /Star. Where are you going? Capt-. Home, if you permit. Fr, v. Star. (Decidedly.} No, sir; you must remain here. Capt. But if the Baron is elsewhere 1 Fr. v. Star. The Baron will return presently, and you must wait for him. Capt. I am afraid of being in your way. Fr. v. Star. You are not in my way; indeed, I have so much to say to you, that I should be glad if Baron Sigismund did not return immediately. Take a seat, sir. Capt. If you command it. \_They both sit. Fr. v. Star. (After a pause.) Pray, sir, what crime do you hold to be the greatest 1 ? Capt. What? Fr. v. Star. I say, what crime do you hold to be the greatest? Capt. What crime ? That I think would be difficult to decide. Fr. v. Star. Murder is the greatest of crimes ! Capt. Murder murder ! Why, yes, that must stand foremost. Fr. v. Star. And it is not only robbers and bandits who are guilty of murder. Men will kill one another from anger and jealousy, and from their ill-conceived notions of honour; but that is murder also horrible murder ! Capt. I grant that. Fr. v. Star. For example, whoever fights duels Capt. Don't excite yourself. Fr. v. Star. Whoever fights duels Capt. I have not been challenging any one. Fr. v. Star. (Looking sharply at him.) No ! Capt. No, upon my honour. Fr. v. Star. So you were challenged by him, then ; still it will be inhuman if you shoot him. Capt. But who do you mean? Fr. v. Star. And about such a trifle, too ; for after all, will 186 CAPTAIN FIRNEW2CLD. it ruin you, or injure your honour, if Pretly runs faster than Washington? You are shaken now, I see it. Capt. (Looking at, her, amazed.) (Aside.) Can Bernard's widow be deranged? Fr. v. Star. Yes, yes, you are shaken ; I have convinced you. Go, now, give your hand to Baron Isidor in peace. Capt. Isidor! It was he I was to have shot then? Fr. v. Star. But I hope you are not going to do so now? Capt. Are you interested for Baron Isidor? Fr.v.Star. Why? Capt. That he is your admirer, I know from himself. Fr.v.Star. (Smiling.} My admirer? the comical man ! He esteems me, and has confidence in me, certainly. Capt. Well, I won't kill him. Fr. v. Star. Give me your hand upon it. Capt. How strange you are ! I have had no quarrel with the Baron. Fr. v. Star. Oh, don't tell a lie! Capt. Upon my honour. Who told you about this duel ? Fr. v. Star. Baron Sigismund. Capt. He was making game of you. Fr. v. Star. That would be shameful. Capt. Console yourself with the knowledge that I share your fate. Fr. v. Star. I will see if he is come back, and if so, I will soon ascertain the truth of all this. (She goes out, looking back mistrustfully at the CAPTAIN.) Hm? (doubtfully.) Yes! (in a tone of resolution.) [She is heard locking t/te door behind her. SCENE V. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD, alone. Capt. My lady Baroness, what have you done? (He tries the door.) Locked lockejd! she seemed afraid of my escaping from her. Shall I await the event? The affair becomes amusing interesting it cannot be, for Bernard Rosbeck's CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 187 widow is no enchanted princess, and this house no giant's castle. On the contrary, it is really familiar to me. On this very spot I have often been scolded, till at last I determined to keep away for the future. And there stood my little Cecilie's table Cecilie ! if I were to find thee here it would rejoice me! She used to call me her bridegroom, and say she would have no husband but Conrad. Probably, her taste has changed since then. SCENE VI. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. HELEN, entering by the side door. Helen. (Aside.") I really am not in a humour to play to-day, but as I have invited my brother-in-law, I must go through with it. And so ends another day ! I am rich I am independent my life is peaceful, untroubled; but it is sadly monotonous. Gapt. (Aside.} What a sweet face! and the same age, the same brown locks it is surely she. Yes; it must be she ! Cecilie ! Oh, how beautiful she is grown ! Helen. ( Without seeing him, goes to tJie door on the left side.) Dear Starken, are you there 1 ? Capt. I alone am here, gracious Fraiilein ! Helen. Fraiilein! may I ask who you are, sir? Capt. A prisoner. Helen. A prisoner? Capt. Yes; but just now, well contented with his prison. Helen. I do not understand a word of all this. Capt. And I not a syllable. Helen. Is there anything I can do to serve you? Capt. Nothing, my gracious Fraiilein. Helen. Then I would beg of you to leave me. Capt. That I am unable to do. Helen. How so? Capt. Even if I am in your way if you find me insupport- able, and treat me ill, I cannot leave you. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Eden. This is singular ! Capt. So I think. Eden. Might I ask the reason. Capt. Because the door is locked. Hden. Which door? Capt. This one; try it yourself, if you will. Eden. Who locked it? Capt. The lady, your mother. Eden. My mother? Capt. Are you not Fraiilein Cecilie von Rosbeck? Eden. Cecilie? Capt. Baron Bernard's daughter ! Eden. Bernard's daughter has been dead more than four years. She died long before her father. Capt. I am very sorry to hear it. Eden. It grieved me much she was an excellent girl. Capt. Was she not? Ah, how I should have liked to have found Cecilie Rosbeck again in you ! Hden. Did you know her, then? Capt. Oh, yes! and her father too. I knew less of the mother she lived chiefly apart from her husband. Hden. Then you are from this neighbourhood? Capt. I lived here formerly. Hden. And your name? Capt. My name? Hden. Yes; your name, sir? Capt. You ask my name? Hden. Does it not seem natural to you? Capt. Quite natural. (Aside.) But at this moment I cannot recollect my name. Helen. Well? Capt. I am an Englishman. (Aside.) So much I know. Hden. But you still have a name, I suppose. (CAPTAIN FIRXEWALD draws out SIGISMUND'S note.) What are you reading? CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 189 Capt. (After a glance at the note.) Pardon me, I was absent you wished to know my name ? It is Smith Captain Smith- Helen. You speak good German for an Englishman. Capt. Do you think so ? Helen. (Aside.) I never before made an acquaintance in so curious a way. But the man Has something so open in his countenance that I cannot be annoyed with him. Capt. My gracious Fraiilein ! Helen. Sir ! Capt. Do I not seem to be playing a very ridiculous part just now ? Helen. Only a very incomprehensible one to me, at least. In whose house do you believe yourself to be ? Capt. In the Baroness of Rosbeck's. Helen. Well, that is right; but what do you want of the Baroness 1 Capt. Ask rather, what the Baroness wants of me ? Helen. The Baroness? Capt. Yes; she or her brother-in-law, Baron Sigismund. I was sent for hither. I was to have had a surprise, then a duel, I was preached to, and finally locked up. Helen. By whom ? Capt. By the Baroness. That woman is very queer, and not at all pleasant. Helen. Indeed ! Capt. Since she is not your mother, I may venture to say so much. Helen. And for whom do you take me ? Capt. For a friend a companion. Helen. Not badly guessed. A friend I certainly am to the baroness, and a companion. She often has no other society from morning till night. Capt. Then I pity you, Fraiilein. Helen. Well, it does sometimes happen to me to suffer from ennui. 190 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Capt. I can believe it. And here, I declare, is a card table ! So the baroness plays cards ? And you have to piny with her ! Helen. She never plays a game without me. Capt. My poor Fraiilein, this is very sad for you ! Helen. Oh, no. The old Baron Sigismund wins and is pleased, and that pleases me. Capt. That is very obliging of you. (Aside.) The girl is delightful! (Aloud.) I should like to be a fourth at your card- table. Helen. (Smiling.) Old gentlemen only are admitted to it. Capt. But every worthy man ought to be admitted to pay his respects to the baroness, from time to time. Helen. She receives no visitors. Capt. Then she must begin with me; she must make an exception in my favour. Helen. What do you mean? Capt. Whoever is brought into a house by force cannot easily be prevented from returning to it if he will. The lady baroness locked me up, now let her see how she can get rid of me. Helen. (Aside.) Has that mad Starken been getting me into this scrape? Capt. My dear young lady, you will often see me here in future. Helen. (Aside.) There is no fear of that; he is the last man I should wish to see often. Capt. I wish extremely to become better acquainted with you. Helen. You might perhaps have cause to regret it. Capt. So it might be, certainly. [A noise is heard at tJie principal door. Helen. It is Baron Sigismund! They are coming to set you free. Capt. I would rather have been locked up a little longer. CAPTAIN FIENEWALD. 191 SCENE VII. The same. BARON SIGISMUND. FRAU VON STARKEN. Sigismund. (To FRAU VON STARKEN.) And so you locked him in? FT. v. Starken. As I told you, and I cannot understand why you kept me so long, and did not return to me here. (She perceives HELEN.) Gracious me ! the Baroness ! Capt. What baroness? Sigis. My sister-in-law, the Baroness of Rosbeck. Capt. (To HELEN.) Impossible ! You are Helen. A respectable widow. Bernard Rosbeck's second wife. Copt. (Aside.) The old man, then, is dead. (Turning to FRAU VON STARKEN.) And who is this lady? Fr. v. Star. Frau von Starken, also a widow, and friend of the house. Capt. (To SIGISMUND.) In you, I probably see Baron Sigis- mund. Helen. Are you acquainted with my brother-in-law? Capt. No, my gracious lady. Helen. And yet you said Capt. I said what is true, that Baron Sigismund appointed me here ; for what purpose, he is now, I suppose, about to explain. Sigis. My dear sir, you see me quite beside myself; a mistake a singular mistake. Frau von Starken must bear the blame of all. Fr.v.Star. Who! I? Sigis. Yes, you took my joke for earnest to keep the gentleman under bolt and bar ! Fr. v. Star. Men are not to be detained in any other way. Capt. Dear baron, I forgive what has happened from my heart, for I was well contented with my cage ; only now let 192 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. me at length know what the surprise, the pleasure is, which you promised me. [He draws from his pocket the BARON'S note. Sigis. (Aside to him.) Put it back; for Heaven's sake, put it back ! Not a word about our business here not a word, I en- treat you! (Aside.) He is a handsome man. (Aloud.) My cousin Isidor told me that you wished to make my acquaintance. Helen. If you have business with the gentleman, I will not be in your way. Sigis. By and by! Just now, my worthy Captain, it must be the ladies before all, must it not? We will not interrupt my sister's card party. (Aside.) A very fine-looking man! Helen. Hofrath Reiner is not arrived. Sigis. And he will not arrive he is unwell. Can you play, sir ? Capt. (Aside.} Can I play? (A Imid.) A little. Oh, yes! Sigis. Whist? Capt. (Aside.) Would that I had never learned it! Sigis. Then help us at our need ! (To HELEN.) Our fourth is found. Capt. If the lady permits. Helen. (Aside, to SIGISMUND.) No, brother; I will not have him. Sigis. (Aloud.) It will be a pleasure to my sister-in-law. Capt. And makes me extremely happy. (Aside.) She must not have Isidor! Sigis. (Goes up to the table.) Here are the cards, ladies. Mr. Captain ! Fr. v. Star. I am quite ashamed, I play so ill ! Capt. And I am out of practice. (Aside.) Thank Heaven ! Helen. (Aside.) Now I must play with him much against my will. \_Tliey sit down. Sigis. (As he takes his place.) You may wonder, sir, per- haps, to see so young a lady as my sister-in-law making up a card party, but you would wonder more if I were to tell you why she does it. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. ] 93 Copt. In order to please her brother-in-law. Sigis. Ah, no ! young ladies do not carry their attentions to old gentlemen quite so far. The Baroness plays by way of excuse for staying at home, and she stays at home in order to avoid admiration. Helen. Brother ! Sigis. My dear sister, when I speak in your praise, I allow no one, not even yourself, to interrupt me. Capt. You are dreaming, surely, Baron. Why should not the lady wish to be admired 1 Helen. He is right. I do not wish it. Capt. It must be difficult in that respect to have your wishes obeyed. Sigis. She is my brother's widow, and was attached to him ! Oh, how much she was attached to him ! Capt. To old Baron Bernard 1 ? Helen. Old Bernard esteemed me highly, and was a man of honour. Capt. But was rather tiresome, it was said. Helen. Our young fashionables are not particularly agree- able at home. Sigis. My sister is a philosopher, and is quite disgusted with frivolity; the homage of young coxcombs is odious to her; and if she ever enters on a second marriage Helen. (Hastily.) I have no thoughts of a second marriage. Sigis. Not even if Captain Firnewald were to be announced 1 Capt. Firnewald! Sigis. (Aside to him.) Hush ! Be quiet ! Helen. Why must you begin talking of that now ? Capt. Firnewald ! What makes you think of him ? Helen. Do you know him? Capt. I have certainly heard his name. Helen. On the occasion of his saving the Indian widow, I suppose ? 194 CAPTAIN FIRNKWALD. Capt. Why, yes; he did rescue a widow. Helen. Who was old, doubtless? Capt. And ugly also. Helen. (To SIGISMUND.) Do you hear, Baron? Capt. But the man does not deserve much praise on that account, madam, for he must have been devoid of all heart and feeling Helen. Oh, do not begin disparaging what I so much ad- mire. It demands heroic courage for an individual to struggle with a. fanatical mob. Capt. Well, I will not depreciate his merit. Helen. It would displease me if you were to do so. Capt. You are very good to Firnewald, though if you knew his early history he might possibly lose your favour. Helen. It is already known to me. Capt. You are not in earnest? Helen. Yes, indeed, Captain. Capt. Then you know Helen. I know that he committed many follies in early youth. Capt. It is true, that he left scarcely any uncommitted that he bore a bad character, and was given up by his family. Fr. v. Star. But, dear Baroness, according to this, he must be a dreadful person. Sigis. Well, well! Helen. A man worthy of the highest esteem, for he has risen out of this condition. Capt. (Much confused.} Gracious lady! Helen. ( Without noticing him, turns to FRAU VON STABKEX and SIGISMUXD.) He only sought to preserve his freedom, in the hope that he might one day repair his faults ; and now, after twelve weary years, passed in a foreign land, beloved and respected in his new sphere of life, he gives up the wealth and honour proffered him by the English, and returns with his hardly earned savings, to pay his former debts, and to offer his services to his fatherland. Is not that fine? Is not that noble? CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 195 Capt. You think, then, that the Captain need not now be ashamed of returning to live among his friends? Helen. Ashamed ! I say, he may return with honour, for it is harder to return to the right path than never to leave it. Capt. And he might not now, perhaps, be wholly unworthy of the affection of a high-minded woman ? Helen. Happy the woman who wins the love of such a man ! Capt. Know, then Fr. v. Star. My dear Baroness, we no longer doubt the Captain's worth, but you are growing quite warm, and I think we had better be thinking of our game. Helen. Willingly, it is the first time that you have ever in- vited me to play cards. Let us draw, brother. Sigis. As you command! (They draw cards.) Now, Captain! Fr. v. Star. You should shuffle the cards, sir. [CAPTAIN shuffles them in an absent manner. Helen. I should think that was enough. [CAPTAIN hands the cards. Fr. v. Star. Left, sir; to the left first we are playing whist. Sigis. Dear Captain, you appear to me to be no great player. Capt. I thank you for that compliment. SCENE VIII. The same. Enter ISIDOR. Sigis. Isidor, what do you want here? Isidor. Only to announce my misfortune! Cousin, my Pretly is lame ! Helen. I am sorry for you. Isi. (Perceiving the CAPTAIN.) Whom do I see here? and established at the card-table? (To SIGISMUND.) Well, you have him now your Captain Firnewald. Sigis. (Aside to him.) Young man, you are insufferable! Helen. (Terrified.) Firnewald ! This gentleman then is Isi. Captain Firnewald, after whom I have been running K 2 196 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. half over the town, but I did not know that he was to come to this house. Helen. (Aside.) Firnewald! and I! I shall not survive the shame 1 Sigis. Have I not done right, Baroness ? Helen. Oh, be silent! (Aside.) What have I done? The man must think I was striving to gain his heart. Sigis. Do not be angry. (To the CAPTAIN.) My sister-in- law, Captain, has long wished to become acquainted with you; I present you to her, and this is the pleasure the surprise which I promised you. Capt. But the lady appears much annoyed, and has, indeed, good reason to be displeased with me for coming thus under an assumed name. Helen. I learn, to my sorrow, that one cannot venture to speak in praise of people of whom one has read in the news- papers, without being either misunderstood or making oneself ridiculous. So I will never again venture to pronounce judg- ment upon any one, whether good or bad, stranger or friend. Love I have long forsworn, but esteem I desire that esteem of which I believe myself deserving. [She goes out with FRAU VON STARKEN. Capt. Baron, what mischief have you been doing ! Sigis. It is all womanly pride prudery ; never mind, it will all pass off. Capt. Not easily ! And what must she think of me ? I shall never dare to show myself in her presence again. Sigis. Oh, my dear Captain, you must not take that sort of anger for true coin ; she has been raving about you for this month past, and this very morning she was quite wild to see you. Capt. Is it possible? Sigis. As I tell you. Fr. v. Star. (Returning.) The Baroness has locked herself in her room, and begs the gentleman to leave her house. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 197 Sigis. (To the CAPTAIN.) Strange woman ! but do not be disturbed at this. Capt. Be silent, sir ! I begin to understand the part which you have been making me play here, and you may thank your age that I do not call you to account for your conduct. [He goes out. Sigis. Captain my dear Captain ! \Fottows him hastily. Isi. I don't comprehend a word ! cousin my dear cousin ! [He follows SIGISMUND. SCENE IX. Fr. v. Star. (Opens tJie door softly and looks round, then knocks at HELEN'S door.) They are gone ! Baroness, they are gone; you may safely come out. [She goes out through the middle door, as if wishing to look after the gentlemen. SCENE X. HELEN enters alone. Helen. What has happened? It all seems like a dream. I have seen him the man whom I so much admired without knowing him, and whom, now that I have seen, I perceive that I could have loved ; and I have been degraded in his eyes, yes, degraded ! How ill must he think of me ! I observed him when Isidor named his name, and I read his thoughts; he believes that I have arranged it all with the most consummate art that I wished to ensnare him. My innocent acknowledg- ment of the noblest feelings must appear to him the trick of a coquette. Ah, I cannot endure the wretchedness of this con- viction ! No means shall be too painful for me to attempt, in order to undeceive him. SCENE XI. HELEN. ISIDOR. Isidor. May I come in 1 Helen. Cousin Isidor, what do you want ? 198 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Isi. From what I understand of all that has passed, it seems that Sigismund got up this distressing scene. Is it not BO ? Explain it to me; and be assured that I will defend or avenge you, if necessary. Helen. Dear cousin, I do not, in any case, require your services; I am annoyed only not injured. Baron Sigismund brought Captain Firnewald here under a feigned name, which was very unpleasant to me. Isi. And to the Captain also. Hden. To him also 1 Isi. Certainly; but Sigismund excused himself by declaring that he has only been following out your wishes ; that you were full of enthusiasm about the Captain a week ago, and were burning with eagerness to become acquainted with him. Helen. That is not true. Isi. So I imagined; but he said it, nevertheless. Helen. Shameful ! And the Captain 1 Isi. He went away, looking contemptuously at Sigismund. Helen. (Aside.) Oh, he despises me ! he must despise me ! Isi. Does all this distress you, cousin 1 Helen. Beyond measure ! Isi. Be easy. I know you well, and am not at all offended at it. Helen. Very kind, truly ! Isi. And if I were a little piqued this morning, my regard for you still remains the same. Helen. You love me ? Isi. With all devotion; and I know well that you have some feeling towards me. Helen. You know it 1 Isi. Therefore I doubt not that you will at length crown my wishes, and in so doing, avenge yourself at once on Uncle Sigismund and the Captain. Helen. What do you mean 1 Isi. I mean, that you may, as my bride, laugh at the pre- sumption of both these gentlemen. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 199 Helen. (Aside.) That were, indeed, a desperate resolution ! Isi. You cannot do without a husband. Without a husband, a woman is exposed to every sort of impertinence. Helen. Ah, you are right there. Isi. And so, my gracious cousin Helen. (Aside.) He is a coxcomb; he will not trouble him- self much about me. It will not be necessary to feign an affection which I do not feel, and my dignity will be preserved. (Aloud.) Cousin Isidor ! Isi. Hm? Helen. If I were to resolve Isi. Well! Helen. To grant you my hand 1 Isi. (Seizing her hand.) I would hold it fast. Helen. Oh, not so; I must make a condition. Isi. What? Helen. You must tell your acquaintance that we have been engaged for a week. Isi. I have done that already. Helen. How? Isi. In the hope of your goodness. Helen. That was a strong step. But so much the better; / need not tell lies, at least. Isi. Then we are agreed. Helen. Yes, cousin, I am yours ! Isi. (Takes her hand.) How you tremble; be reasonable. Helen. (Bitterly.} Where is the use of reason 1 Isi. It is feeble, certainly, in comparison with love. Helen. Oh, my heart will burst ! Isi. Only think ! the poor heart ! Helen. (Aside.) Better die, than be despised. [She goes; ISIDOR looks after her with an air of triumph. 200 CAPTAIN FIKNEWALD. ACT III. SCENE I. Apartment of BAROX SIGISMDND. (Time Morning.) SIGISMUND alone, sitting down, and glancing over papers. Sigismund. A pretty property my late brother had ! And should my lady sister-in-law have had it all 1 That is, indeed, too great a piece of good fortune for a penniless Fraiilein, who brought no dowry into the family ; and before long, I hope it will all be in the right bank. Our Captain has made off, it is true; but he will come again. A lover always comes again ; and then the baroness will lose her head completely, and then I shall have them both in a net. (Looks out of window.) That flower-garden is too large ; as soon as I have the house, the flower-beds shall all be done away with vegetables can be grown there, or the dyer over the way may have the ground. Oh, I think I shall enjoy myself heartily ! SCENE II. SlGISMUND. ISIDOR. Isidor. Good morning, cousin ! Sigis. Pray, what do you come here for? Isi. To tease you. Sigis. That will be difficult, for I am in a very good humour. Isi. Then, perhaps, you will dance at my wedding! Sigis. At your wedding? And who is to be your bride? Isi. The Baroness Helen. I have her promise. Sigis. When did she give it you ! Isi. Yesterday evening. I am a blockhead am I not? I do not know women? Oh, good cousin, young men ought to come to school to me. Without heavy rain the tree does not become green, and without a sharp quarrel love affairs never come to a close. My little talk of yesterday did more than half a year's flattery, and I am now betrothed. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 201 Sigis. Betrothed? Isi. Yes; not publicly indeed, but to-morrow I shall give a soiree, at which the marriage will be declared. I invite you to it, and I must now go and make the necessary preparations. Sigis. How in the world did the thing come about so suddenly 1 ? Isi. Suddenly ! I thought it had been long enough on hand 1 Sigis. (Aside.) And now my game is up ! Isi. I am sorry for you, cousin, since, under these circum- stances, you lose all the Baroness keeps her fortune in marry- ing me. Sigis. Oh, I despise Isi. Money: that is what you would say, but it sticks in your throat. Sigis. (Aside.) Confound her pride ! I did not reckon on that ! And that it is which makes her play me this trick ! Isi. Have you any commands? Sigis. Isidor! you are certainly a malicious fellow, but you are my cousin, and the claims of blood do not permit me to be silent. I will open your eyes. Isi. Much obliged ! I see very well already. Sigis. Helen is deceiving you. Isi. Oh, nonsense ! Sigis. She only takes you to secure her fortune she loves another. Isi. Whom should she love, pray? Sigis. Captain Firnewald! Isi. Very likely ! Sigis. You laugh ! Isi. The Captain, indeed; I would willingly enter the lists with him. A man probably of forty years old ! and his uni- form does not please me at all. Sigis. A uniform ought certainly to be taken into considera- tion in a love affair, but women are often blinded, and you are not the man to preserve a woman from falling into snares; you are quite without manly energy. K 3 202 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 1st. No one ever told me that before. Sigis. Well then, I am the first. Isi. I have never endured a rival. Sigis. You will not easily get the Captain out of Helen s way, I wager. In. The Captain is going away. Sigis. Oh, don't believe that. You will often see him again. Isi. No, I say; and again, no! If I could think that, he should never cross Helen's threshold again. Sigis. Poor fellow ! Isi. I am no poor fellow, cousin ! Sigis. Well, go, and forbid your bride to see Captain Firne- wald again. Isi. I am quite capable of doing so. Sigis. You have not the courage; you would become dumb at the Baroness's first glance. Isi, You don't know me; I have great power over the Baroness. Did you observe her yesterday? Sigis. Yes ; well ! In. She is violently in love with me. Sigis. I shall not believe that till she has dismissed the Captain. Isi. She will dismiss him; and, in order to convince you, she shall dismiss him this very day. (SioiSMUND lauglis.) You laugh ! Do you take me for a fool ? Sigis. You have long known that. Isi. A pithy answer; but to-morrow you will change your note; people will see that you they will find that 7 Cousin, if you were not my relation, I would say you were intolerable ! \He goes out. SCENE III. The BARONESS HELEN'S room. HELEN. FRAU VON STARKEN. Helen. (Holding a bonnet in Iter hand.) Where is the use of fresh air when the heart is oppressed? CAPTAIN F1RNEWALD. 203 Frau von Star. The fresh air is of no great use, indeed; and to-day it is very windy. Helen. Ah, dear Starken ! I can no longer conceal it from you. I have been too hasty, and I have made the future wretchedness of my life certain. Fr. v. Star. Heaven forbid ! Helen. My brother-in-law was the origin of it. Unworthy man ! Too late I have learnt his covetousness and falsity ! Fr. v. Star. He is a good-for-nothing fellow. Helen. To play such a trick upon me ! Fr. v. Star. And on me, too ! Helen. To make me appear so ridiculous ! Fr. v. Star. And me also ! Helen. I was quite beside myself. Fr. v. Star. And so was I. Helen. And then, while I was in a state of strong excite- ment, Isidor came in and offered me his protection. Fr. v. Star. That was nice of him ! Helen. Wounded pride, and, perhaps, an emotion of revenge, blinded my senses. All thought of the future was lost in the desperation of the moment, and I promised my hand to my cousin Isidor. Fr. v. Star. Is it that which so much disturbs you 1 ? Helen. What else should it be? Fr. v. Star. I was really terrified, and thought that some misfortune had happened to you. Helen. Can there be a greater misfortune than to marry without a preference? Fr. v. Star. Marriages de convenance often turn out best. Look back a little you certainly did not love Baron Bernard, yet how well you got on with him. Helen. Bernard was a worthy man. Fr. v. Star. Well, Isidor is not so bad. Helen. But I seek for much more in life now than I did when I was united to Bernard. 204 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Fr. v. Star. All people's wishes change with age; it is, therefore, good that you should keep your fortune. Hden. My fortune has nothing to do with this affair. Fr. v. Star. I beg your pardon, money has to do with every- thing. And I confess to you that, after all that happened yesterday, I am very glad you have decided in favour of Isidor, for the Captain made me uneasy. Hden. (With emotion.) The Captain, who thinks nothing about me at all ! Fr. v. Star. We won't talk about that. Helen. You think, then, that he Fr. v. Star. I think it is fortunate that you are now en- gaged elsewhere. Helen. He is going away, and I shall never see him again. Fr. v. Star. But I shall remain in your neighbourhood and improve your husband. Yes, dear Baroness, I will soon cure Isidor of his ridiculous ways ; and if ever you have to complain of him, speak to me, and I will set it all right. Helen. Oh, why was my peace destroyed ! I desired nothing but peace ! \S1ve goes out through the side door. Fr. v. Star. (Alone.) She has a strong fancy for the Captain, and he is certainly a very fine looking man. If it were eight hundred thalers only that were to be sacrificed, it might be all very well, but he is not worth eight tliousand. SCENE IV. FRA.U VON STARKEN. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Captain. (Aside.) No, she is no coquette. A noble heart only can thus attract one of its own nature to itself. I cannot go without having an explanation with her. Fr. v. Star. (Aside.) The Captain ! What does he want here? Surely, he will not attempt to see the Baroness. I must speak to him. I will put him upon his honour. Oh, I know men! I know men! (Aloud.) Your servant, Captain. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 205 Capt. Could I speak for a moment to the Baroness, madam? Fr. v. Star. What do you want with the Baroness? Capt. I wish to apologize for my foolish conduct. Fr. v. Star. The Baroness feels no resentment against you. Capt. But to explain to her Fr. v. Star. All explanation is unnecessary. Capt. That appears to me so far from being the case, that I cannot go until I have spoken to her. Fr. v. Star. She is at her toilette. Capt. Then I will wait. Fr. v. Star. Then she will breakfast. Capt. I will wait. Fr. v. Star. Then she will write letters. Capt. I will wait. Fr. v. Star. But how long do you intend to wait, then? Capt. Until the Baroness finds time to listen to me. Fr. v. Star. You are a shameless man. Capt. I have been shamefully treated. Fr. v. Star. (After a pause?) Captain Firnewald, do you love the Baroness? Capt. And if I do love her? Fr. v. Star. Then you must leave her, for your attachment will be ruinous to her. Capt. Frau von Starken, do you know who I am? Fr. v. Star. Captain Firnewald, or Smith, whichever you are; have you more than these two names? Capt. But I thought you said that my attachment Fr. v. Star. Would be ruinous to the Baroness. She has a large fortune, which grieves Baron Sigismund, who would willingly get possession of it for himself. Capt. Sigismund? Fr. v. Star. And this is why he wished her to marry you. Capt. Does she lose her fortune if she marries? Fr. v. Star. Yes; unless she marries her cousin Isidor. Capt. Isidor ! that fool ! 200 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Fr. v. Star. It was a whim of old Bernard's. Capt. A detestable whim, to torment her even wheu a widow! Fr. v. Star. Oh, she may be very happy, if you do not become a hinderance. Capt. I? Fr. v. Star. You have certainly taken her fancy. Capt. Is it possible? Fr. v. Star. She had already made a hero of you, from what she read about you in the newspapers. Capt. Really! Fr. v. Star. Yes; and I believe I believe, she really almost loves you already ! Excellent man, I trust all to your generosity. Capt. My generosity ! You risk a great deal I tell you, you risk a great deal ! Fr. v. Star. Oh, no; you have saved one widow the Indian, I mean you will not now ruin the other, the European. Capt. Frau von Starken, you have formed a high idea of me. Fr. v. Star. I do you justice only, I am sure. Are you rich? Capt. No. Fr. v. Star. Could you repay the Baroness for the sacrifice she would make to you? Capt. If you mean of Isidor, oh, yes; but not of the fortune. Fr. v. Star. Well, then Capt. (Aside.) What a torment this woman is ! Fr. v. Star. Shall I tell you what you are thinking now? Capt. Oh, pray, do not attempt such a thing. Fr. v. Star. You are thinking that though Starken is rude, she is, nevertheless, an honourable and discreet woman. Capt. Oh! Fr. v. Star. Now I am going to call the Baroness, for I perceive in you a hero, who will certainly act so as to obtain my highest admiration. [She goes out. Capt. (Alone.) Her admiration! I do not set much value on that. But must I, then, deny my love ? Yet to deprive a CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 207 Avoman of everything she possesses, with nothing in return to give her but a repentant heart, and a name, which the utmost exertions alone could clear from its stain, would be like cheat- ing in trade, or paying in false coin. SCENE V. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. FRAU VON STARKEN. HELEN. Helen. (Aside to FRAU VON STARKEN.) I am glad, very glad, that he is come, I wanted to speak to him; but leave me alone with him, for then I shall feel more courageous. Capt. (Aside, after bowing to HELEN.) Oh, why is she so lovely ! Fr. v. Sta/r. (To tJie CAPTAIN, as she goes out.) Now think on your honour and on me. Capt. (Aside.) On her! that would be an inspiring thought indeed ! SCENE VI. HELEN. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Helen. (Aside.) Courage, Helen ! The harvest which your pride has sown, mustnowbe reaped. (Aloud.) Captain Firnewald! Capt. I thank you, madam, for having consented to hear me; I feared that I had displeased you, and I could have no peace until I had made my apologies. Helen. (In a tremulous voice.) You are fully excused, I assure you. My brother-in-law alone was to blame ; he brought both you and me into difficulties. But you must not look upon it as a crime in the foolish old man. Capt. A crime ! 1 1 Since you are so mild and forgiving, I ought rather to be thankful to him for having procured me a delightful hour, during which I heard from your lips words which have strengthened my heart, and which will ever remain there. Helen. What was said to Captain Smith was not of course intended for Captain Firnewald. Captain Firnewald is, how- 208 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. ever, a worthy man, who will not misinterpret my words. I value courage, self-devotion, and nobleness of heart; these are the qualities for which I honoured the unknown, and for which, now that I know him, he will always possess my esteem; but I certainly should never have praised him to his face, if, (endeavouring to assume a playful tone,) if it were only from the fear of annoying my bridegroom. Capt. (Starting back.) Your bridegroom? Helen. Yes, I am betrothed to Baron Isidor, of Rosbeck, and my choice will be declared to-day. Capt. Oh, Heaven! Helen. (Aside.) He appears shocked what am I to think 1 Capt. (Recovering himself.) And to Isidor? I know, indeed, that such was the will of your late husband. Helen. (Affecting liveliness.) Which was kindly arranged for me. His cousin is young and fashionable. Capt. (SomewJiat bitterly.) That is sufficient to please ladies. (Aside.) She love me! Helen. The marriage will generally be thought suitable. Capt. In a worldly point of view it is good enough, I suppose. Helen. Not on my side ; I gain nothing in point of fortune. Capt. Then why did you choose him? Helen. Because I was weary of being made the sport of false friends and covetous relations; (changing Jier tone to one of playfulness,) because, at least, I wish to amuse myself to travel to see company without being exposed to invidious remarks. I have lived long enough in retirement, and I long for the pleasures of society. (She can scarcely restrain her tears.) Laugh at me, Captain, if you please laugh at me, by all means. Capt. (Seriously.) How can I laugh while you weep? Helen. (Bursts into tears.) I do not know what is the matter with me. Capt. Oh, yes, you do know ! You feel what a pity it is CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 209 SCENE VII. The same. ISIDOR. Isidor. Pity! what pity? what's the pity about? Helen. Isidor! Isi. The Captain here already? And my lovely bride in tears? Do you know it surprises me! Helen. What have you to fear? I have pledged my word to you, and shall keep my promise. Isi. I know that, but it is not enough. I am a young man who may lay claim to be loved a young man who can please and when my cousin Sigismund does say, when he says in short, it offends me. Capt. What does he say? Isi. He says things which are unpleasant to me, and which I will not put up with I will not put up with them. Helen. Isidor, what do you mean? Isi. You look at me so full of wonder ! Do you, too, con- sider me an effeminate fellow, because I am gallant, and obliging to ladies? I am not so I have character manly energy ; and I have a right, as your bridegroom, to say that so and so does not please me. Capt. (Aside.) And must she fall to the lot of such a fellow? Helen. (Gravely.) Compose yourself, Baron pray. Isi. I won't compose myself I won't become dumb at the first grave look. Helen. Do you mistrust me? If that is it, it Isi. I don't mistrust I am not jealous, indeed; but I cannot allow myself to be laughed at ! Helen. I do not think that my behaviour has ever been such as to cause any man to fear being laughed at on my account. Isi. Don't be angry, dear Baroness, and forgive me; but you are not aware what power pride has over a man, and in 210 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. order to satisfy its claims, I must desire that you will never receive that gentleman again. Helen. Captain Firnewald 1 ? I si. Yes; for Sigismund declares that you love him. Helen. The bad man ! Isi. Yes, do you see, he insists upon it, and I must make him give up his belief! Capt. My presence need not trouble you any longer, Baron Kosbeck, for I leave this town to-morrow. Before I go, however, one word with you, madam. You are the noblest- minded woman living; you will be loved wherever you are known, and honoured wherever you are seen, without needing any man's protection. You are still free. Oh, do not dispose too hastily of your future destiny; do not let me carry away with me the unspeakable grief of leaving you the bride of a man who does not deserve you. Isi. Who does not deserve her and he means me! Cap- tain Firnewald, do you know that I must require satisfaction for such language? Copt. I am willing to give it you. Helen. And to trample my honour in the dust. Isi. Your honour? (To CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD.) Do you hear it cannot be. SCENE VIII. Tlie same. SIGISMUND enters, a/nd remains standing in the background. Isi. (Perceiving him. Aside.) Confound it! My cousin Sigis- mund! (Speaking loud enough to be heard by SIGISMUND.) It is true, is it not, that I am quite a little Othello at times? But I am appeased now that I know the Captain is going away, and I am convinced that you do not love him. It is true, is it not, that you do not care at all for him? Helen. You are becoming impertinent. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 211 1st. Impertinent or not, I must have an answer to my question, begging your pardon. You do not care for the Cap- tain, do you? (HELEN is silent.) I entreat you to say no. (She is, still silent.) Baroness, I am very much thought of in other quarters, I assure you; I shall find another match easily say no, at once, therefore, or we are divided for ever. [HELEN glances towards the CAPTAIN, who observes her with delighted attention ; she then says, in a tone of relief- We are divided, cousin I [She goes out through the side door. TSIDOR bursts open the middle door, and rushes out. CAPTAIN FIRNE- WALD attempts to follow the BARONESS, and says Helen, might it be possible? Sigis. Bravo, Captain, this is to come, to see, and to conquer. Captain. (After a, moment's thought.) She loves me, that thought, at least, shall accompany me through life. [He goes out. Sigis. Captain! Captain! [Hefottows CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. ACT IV. SCENE I. The same room as before. SIGISMUND and HOFRATH BRUNO enter, talking together. Bruno. And so he talks of going away 1 Sigismund. Yes, so he tells me. Do you not know why? Bru. I have not seen him since yesterday morning. Sigis. He was like a madman ; I ran down the street after him to persuade him to change his mind, but it was all in 212 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. vain. So, in my trouble, I came to you, my worthy sir; I hear that you know a good deal of him, and it may perhaps be in your power to bring him to reason. Bru. Are you interested in Firnewald? Sigis. How can you ask? He is my fellow-creature. Bru. Yes, but you cannot keep all your fellow-creatures in this town. But why is he going away? Sigis. Because he is in love. Bru. In love ! that does not usually make people run away. And with whom is he in love? Sigis. With my sister-in-law, the Baroness. Bru. And she does not like him? Sigis. On the contrary, she likes him extremely. Bru. Then why should he not marry her? Baroness Helen ! Why that is excellent a charming woman, and rich. Sigis. Rich? How do you mean? Bru. Is she not the heiress of your late brother's property? Sigis. Yes, but in the case of a second marriage Bru. It all comes to you, eh ? But then you would behave generously towards her. Sigis. Generously? Why, you know, I should not have it in my power. Bru. Yet you are a philosopher, and profess to despise money. Sigis. But the will I respect a will, and hold it as almost a sacred thing. Bru. Well, so do I. Sigis. I could kneel before a will. How many men are there of whom nothing remains but their will. Bru. Very true. But I do not exactly understand how your brother's will can set limits to your generosity. Sigis. It is absolutely necessary that no stranger should enjoy the Rosbeck property, in order that the old family may be kept up. Bru. But the money ; you have no children, what could you do with all that money? CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 213 Sigis. Buy shares in railways and canals; pay my debts of gratitude and pleasure to my fellow citizens. Oh, my dear Counsellor,. to a childlike spirit there is such blessed happiness in repaying the kindnesses one has received. Bru. Certainly. Sigis. There are so many still living to whom I was in early life indebted ; none of them shall be forgotten you are among them, dear Counsellor. Bru. II What good have I ever done you? Sigis. Do you not remember my law-suit with Friedman, six years ago? Bru. Yes, in which I declined conducting your cause ! Sigis. Certainly, you did decline it, and in that lies your service to me, for, had you chosen, you might have taken every heller from me. Bru. I declined because you were in the wrong. Sigis. Wrong? See now, you wished to prevent my being guilty of injustice, and should I not be grateful to you? Should I not, if I get this property, tear up your little bill of three thousand thalers? Bru. My account? Sigis. Yes, the three thousand thalers which are chargeable on your property. Bru. Would you destroy that bill? Sigis. Yes, if I come in for my brother's fortune, in that case Bru. You mean, if your sister, the Baroness, marries Firne- wald? Well, we will see if it cannot be brought about. Sigis. Yes, yes, dear Counsellor; yes, yes, let us endeavour to accomplish that good work. Bru. The young people love each other! Sigis. They will be very happy without the fortune. Bru. Love is content with potatoes. Sig'is. Hush, I think I hear him ! Bru. Who? 214 CAPTAIN FIRNEWAI.D. Sigi*. The Captain. I desired my Franz to entice him here under any sort of pretext; and I can trust Franz; he never neglects anything. Bru. (Listening.} Really he is coming up stairs. Leave the field clear to me ! Sigis. I am going. I leave the fate of two human beings in your hands ; only talk plenty of sentiment, Counsellor plenty of sentiment! Bru. That will be difficult for me. Sigis. Why, you are a doctor of law; you have helped to break off many marriages; why should you not bring one to pass? [He goes out. Bru. Breaking them off is easier than making them; how- ever, in this case we will try. SCENE II. HOFRATH BRUNO. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Bruno. Good morning, Conrad, what brings you here? Captain. The Baroness sent for me. Bru. That is not true, Baron Sigismund sent for you in her name. Capt. So, he has tricked me again? Bru. Yes, but this time it was in order to teach you good behaviour, and prevent you from running away without taking leave. Capt. You know, then Bru. That you mean to go away; but where in the world are you going? Capt. To the East Indies again, my leave of absence is nearly over. Bru. I thought you intended to leave the British service, and remain in your own country? Capt. I did; but now I think it will be better to serve my time out there. CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 215 Bru. (Looks closely at him.) So, then, it is true that you are in love 1 ? Capt. Ah! Bru. With the Baroness Helen? Capt. Yes, with her whom I must renounce. Bru. How so? Capt. Can I ask a woman to sacrifice for me every pleasure and comfort to which she has been accustomed? If she unites herself to me, she loses her fortune, and, since the discharge of my debts, I am quite without property. Bru. And, if you leave the army, you will only have half- pay ; certainly, you are not a brilliant match. 'Tis a bad case, however, does the Baroness know of your attachment? Capt. Ah, she must have observed it. Bru. And how did she seem to take it? Capt. She appeared somewhat moved, and therefore I re- solved not to see her again. Bru. That won't do, you must see her again; why, you stand as pale as a poor criminal ! I cannot endure romantic sacrifices. [He knocks at HELEN'S door. Helen. (From imthin.) Who knocks? What are you about? Bru. Help! help! Capt. Oh, heaven! SCENE III. The same, and HELEN. Helen. What is going on here ? Bru. Hold this man fast, or else he will go away into the wide world. Capt. Bruno! Helen. Into the wide world ! wherefore ? Bru. Because he dares not ask you to marry him. Capt. Are you mad ? Bru. Well; is it not true ? (Turning to HELEN.) Because 216 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. he loves you, yet thinks that you prize gold and worldly pleasures more than a true heart. Helen. Firnewald ! Capt. Could I deprive her of all her property? Helen. Do you think that I was happy in the midst of my wealth 1 or are riches of such value in your eyes, that you would cease to love a woman who should resign her fortune ? Capt. Ah, no ! Poverty could never drive me from you. Bru. Stop, stop ; do not let us get into a misunderstanding. People must eat even when they are in love, and one cannot very well judge of poverty in a drawing-room. But do not be alarmed. I would have you marry, but without throwing yourselves into absolute poverty; and this is possible, if the lady has but courage. Helen. Courage ! for what ? Bru. To follow him to the East Indies. Capt. What are you thinking of ? Bru. You have not yet quitted the army. Twelve years more in India, and you will be a man well to do in the world; and meanwhile, you will be able to maintain a wife tolerably well. Capt. To India ! A delicate lady like her ! Helen. (To BRUNO.) Hofrath ! do you really and truly believe that I am necessary to his happiness? Bru. I think you may see that. Helen. Then I will follow him to India. Capt. Let it be so then, Helen; yes, let it be so. Leave these men who are seeking to beguile you, and the wealth which they covet. A true heart is indeed worth something, and this I can offer you, together with an arm which shall win for me fame, and justify your choice. Bru. Don't talk so much just now, but come to my house, and fetch your papers ; the lady ought to know something more about you before she marries you. Helen. About him ? Capt. Oh dear ! I had quite forgotten that. CAPTAIN FIKNEWALD. 217 Bru. Never mind; the disclosure of your name will not alter her determination; for the fact of your being a penitent sinner Capt. "The Baroness knows already. Bru. Then come, Conrad; I want to look for a scrap of paper, which, it strikes me, will be useful to us. I live close by; we shall be back directly. (To HELEN.) You will have a good husband, madam a truly good husband. [He goes out. Capt. (To HELEN.) If you could but know; not only hap- piness, but peace of mind, courage, all all I owe to you. SCENE IV. HELEN, alone. Afterwards, FRAU VON STARKEN. Helen. (After a pause.) To the East Indies ? A few weeks more, and I shall be far from my fatherland, my friends, and every object connected with my past life. Yet Firnewald was the man of my choice, even before I had seen him; and now I have seen him, I love him. He will be my husband. But to India ! (She sighs.) A sigh 1 It is well that he did not hear it, a sigh, while he is so happy, so joyful? Why must we cling to so many objects, and often, most to the merest trifles ? Enter FRAU VON STARKEN. Fr. v. Star. Dear Baroness, I have been looking a little after your clothes; but excepting the ball-dress, everything is in last year's fashion. You must buy new dresses, or at least, have your own altered, as you will doubtless be receiving a great many visits just now. Helen. Visits? I? Fr. v. Star. Yes, as soon as your marriage is declared, all the ladies will Helen. I shall go into the country till the time of my marriage. Fr. v. Star. That, Isidor will not allow. L 218 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Helen. Do you think that I am going to many Isidor ? Fr. v. Star. Why, who else ? Helen. The worthiest, the most excellent of men Captain Firnewald, with whom I am going to India. [She goes out. Fr. v. Star. (Alone.) To India ! did I hear rightly ! to India ? Impossible ! I cannot go there with her I could not live among the savages ; and besides, they would burn me because I am a widow. So this is what comes of staying at home, of retirement and quiet ! Narrow walls confine the judgment, and a black veil stupifies the understanding. I mourned six weeks for my husband, and he had to content himself with that. SCENE V. FRAU VON STARKEN. ISIDOR. Isidor. Dear Frau von Starken, is my cousin at home ? Fr. v. Star. Baron Isidor, I don't know where my head is. I si. And I am puzzled to find out mine; for I am just come from the races. But I had little pleasure there; for I have a fear; a fear which troubles me more than "Wellington's" gaining the race. Fr. v. Star. A fear ? Isi. A fear lest the Baroness should be too seriously dis- pleased. Have you seen her ? Has she said anything to you ! I had a regular quarrel with her. Fr. v. Star. There we have it ! Isi. Have what ? Fr. v. Star. Only go on. Isi. And in my anger, I gave her back her promise, not in earnest, of course. Fr. v. Star. Is it possible for any one to have acted so foolishly ? Isi. Offended honour, Frau von Starken, offended honour. But she will be appeased, will she not ? Fr. v. Star. No, certainly; you have ruined yourself. CAPTAIN FIRXEWALD. 219 Isi. What do you mean ? Fr. v. Star. The Baroness is going to marry Captain Fir- newald. Isi. _But, good gracious ! she cannot ; her fortune Fr. v. Star. She will find gold in India. Isi. What, is she going to India ? And do you fancy that the roads there are paved with gold ? Fr. v. Stcvr. I only think as she told me, that she is going there. Isi. I shall faint ! Fr. v. Star. I am not inclined to support you, so pray keep on your feet. Isi. Here comes Sigismund; he is the cause of all. Fr. v. Star. And he looks like the personification of tri- umphant unrighteousness. SCENE VI. SAME and SIGISMUND. Sigismund. (To FRAU VON STARKEN.) Ah! (TblsiDOR.) Ah! Fr. v. Star. Whom do you seek, sir ? Sigis. A pair of worthy friends, Counsellor Bruno and Captain Firnewald. Isi. Cousin, look me in the face. Sigis. Is anything new to be seen there ? Isi. Can you support my look ? Sigis. Oh, yes, if you don't squint. Isi. Cousin, you have treated me shamefully; you are a traitor to your own blood. Sigis. In what way ? Isi. Oh, you know all ! Sigis. I know nothing. Isi. The Baroness is going to marry that confounded Indian. Sigis. Well, but what have / done 1 Isi. The marriage is your work. You brought the fellow into this house. L 2 220 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Sigis. I beg your pardon, it was you who did that. Fr. v. Star. And kept him there by force. Sigis. I beg your pardon, it was you who did that. 1st. You serpent ! Fr. v. Star. You monster ! Sigis. You are getting uncivil. Fr. v. Star. And now what is to happen? Are you to have the whole property? Sigis. I shall do good with it. Isi. Cousin, I shall never go near you again. Sigis. As you please, my son. Fr. v. Star. I will never see you again. Sigis. I shall get used to the separation. Isi. But you will be talked of. Sigis. That I leave to the lady here. Fr. v. Star. Don't make a joke of it. Were I to mention it, no honourable person would have anything more to say to you. Sigis. A philosopher is sufficient to himself. Fr. v. Star. A philosopher ! Oh, how I hate philosophers, and we here are quite haunted by them. The Greeks were happy people, who had only seven in their whole country. SCENE VII. The same. HELEN. Helen. Are you disputing here? Sigis. No, madam; only Frau von Starken is a little witty to-day, and my dear cousin a little rude; but all in a friendly way. Isi. A report has reached me, which I cannot believe, namely, that you Helen. That I, since you set me free, have promised myself to another. There is nothing to surprise you in this, cousin, and it coincides with your own way of thinking, for you have already, you know, threatened me with other fair ones, who may now console you for my loss. Isi. Oh, that was spoken only en depit amoureux! CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. 221 Helen. It is of no consequence. (The CAPTAIN and BRUNO enter.") Here you may see a man over whom, depithas not quite so much power. SCENE VIII. The same. BRUNO cmd CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD, with pwpers in their hands. Captain. Helen, my beloved Helen ! how can I describe my happiness ! You love me and you may be mine without leaving Europe ! Helen. What is it you say? Fr. v. Star. Oh, if that were true ! Bruno. I have proved you, my lady Baroness, but I have proved him also-. I wished for once in my life to have the pleasure of beholding two persons disinterestedly loving and beloved. Take her, Conrade take her. The woman who was ready to follow you to India, will in Europe also be true till death. Sigis. Has the Captain come into possession of some property? Bru. No; but the Baroness is rich. Sigis. The Baroness! Bru. Baron Sigismund you man of feeling, you true phi- losopher, let your conscience be at ease, your sister-in-law will be happy, she will marry my friend, and yet you will not, in consequence of your brother's will, have the misfortune of being obliged to deprive her of her wealth. Sigis. What do you mean? Bru. (Holding out a, paper ^ Here is a copy of your late brother's will; his widow loses her property only in case of her taking a husband who does not belong to the house of Rosbeck. Sigis. But of that house, Isidor and I alone remain. Bru. And Conrad of Rosbeck, the son of your youngest uncle. Sigis. The worthless fellow who was drowned at the ship- wreck of the Victory. Capt. He was saved, he lives he has regained his honour paid all his creditors, and is now to be requited by love. 222 CAPTAIN FIRNEWALD. Yes, Helen, I am Conrad von Rosbeck, of whom you have heard so much evil, but of whom you shall henceforth know nothing but good. Fr. v. Star. Von Rosbeck ! Yes, you may have him, then all will remain in its proper place. Helen. Ah, it was Captain Firnewald I loved ! Sigis. Von Rosbeck. Is this proved 1 ? Capt. (Giving him tlte papers.) Look yourself at my papers. [SiGiSMUND reads. Fr. v. Star. (To ISIDOR.) Well, my lord Baron? Sigis. (Throwing tJie papers on the table.) It is he, certainly 1 Isi. Oh, you kind-hearted cousin ! Fr. v. Star. Philosopher ! Sigis. If the water has such respect for fools, wise men have nothing left but to throw themselves into it. Gapt. Cousin Isidor, no ill-will I hope 1 ? 1st. I shall console myself. (Aside.) She only takes him out of spite. [He goes ovJt,. Capt. Frau von Starken, your hand I Fr. v. Star. I congratulate you. Helen. (To the CAPTAIN.) You will serve in future Capt. My country, if she has need of me. Bru. And India 1 Capt. (Turning to HELEN.) Of India, I shall only in future think, to remind myself that you were willing to have fol lowed me thither. THE SON'S RETURN, Brama, IN FOUR ACTS. DEAMATIS PERSONS. COLONEL SEEWALD, a Retired Officer. MADAME SEEWALD, his wife. GEORGE, their Son. BRAUS, Forester, (Fb'rster.*) JOHANNA. ADELE. BETTY, Adele's Maid. FROST, ] . i- in Colonel Seewald's service. LAURETTE, J LUDWIG, George's Servant. A LANDLORD. Servants of the Inn. The Scene is laid on Colonel Seewald's estate. * An office of high respectability for the middle classes in Germany. THE SON'S RETURN. ACT I. SCENE I. Sitting-room in COLONEL SEEWALD'S house. Enter JOHANNA and FBOST. Frost. But, my dear Madame Johanna. (A letter in her hand.} Be silent, I beg ! You servants have always an answer, I know. I have been running down stairs, and through all the rooms through court and garden. I have been calling after you till I am hoarse; but Mr. Frost was nowhere to be found. (It strikes ten.) There, do you hear, it is striking ten? The postman from Bergheim is gone, and my letter left behind, whilst you were at the inn smoking, or reading the newspapers. Frost. (Restraining his anger.} Hm ! Joh. Well ! Is it not true? Frost. No, Madame! Joh. Then tell me where you have been? Frost. To Sarburg, to fetch the glazier, as you desired me, on account of the broken window-pane. Well, the glazier is here. Joh. The glazier? That is right; I did tell you Frost. Smoking?- reading the newspapers? Yes, madame, I smoke because I am a man, and read because I am a rational one ; but at unseasonable times, I do neither the one nor the other. Joh. Recollect yourself, Frost ; I am, now and then, a little hasty. L 3 THE SON'S RETURN. Frost. Yes, madame, so you are ; and if any other lady were to come to me in that manner, I do not in general bear any- thing from ladies. But you, you, who are the widow of my good departed George you I will obey. Joh. Frost, I mean to become good and gentle ; I think I have improved already since I have been living here among good people. But my education was faulty, (aside,) and now my heart is no longer free. Braus waits for an answer, and the old man with the window-frame (To FROST.) You loved your master's son very much? Frost. What would you have ? Parents, relations, wife, and child, I have never known any of these concerns; but man must love something. At first, I loved my regiment, and when that was ordered too far away, I gave it up; then I loved George, and there it remains. Oh, if he would have been a soldier, I should have adored him! Joh. But he did not become a soldier. Frost. He could not do so, hadn't any resolution, was too soft-hearted. However, he had no need of courage when old Frost was there to defend him in life and death. Only he ought not to have been a book- worm; for no weapons can help a man against the book disease. Joh. Just as there grows no herb to cure silliness. Frost. Silliness! Was George silly, then? Joh. Why Frost. You mean because he took you for a wife? But there was love in the game, and what can man do against love, particularly the poor civilian, who cannot in such a case expect help from a change of garrison? So I told his father when he was angry, and his mother when she cried; but his mother had no voice in the matter, and his father ordered me to be quiet. Well, I was quiet enough, and so is George; he troubles no one any more. Joh. I regretted his loss. Frost. Hm! THE SON'S RETURN. 227 Joh. Well ! So you don't believe it? Frost. Why not? Yes, yes, yes ! Joh. I have been in mourning for him for a whole year. Frost. Well, that does not imply very much. Swallows wear mourning all their lives long, and flutter about very merrily with it. Joh. But the colour black does not become me ! Frost. For whom should you dress becomingly? Joh. For whom? for my looking-glass and besides, am I never to be admired by any one again? Frost. ( With a serioits look.) No, dear madame, no; for it is still a question whether you are really a widow. Joh. What do you say? Frost. It is yet a question whether your husband is really dead. Joh. Why, did you not yourself read in the newspapers that the yellow fever had seized George's patron, and swept away all his people? Frost. Very true ; still a poor teacher is not much thought of, and he sometimes gets through unnoticed, in the midst of the general destruction. Joh. How could one suppose Frost. I do not hang on suppositions, madame, but only on hopes, and hopes I have, not through the whole week, but on Sunday evenings, when I have drunk a glass of wine, it sometimes seems to me as if George would suddenly walk in at the door; pray let this pleasure be left me. Joh. Well, I am not going to deprive you of it. Frost. His parents have written for a certificate of his death, but I should not like to see it, nor would you either would you ? You will not think of any second marriage ? Joh. (Looking frightened.) Marriage ! (Searching about the table.) Where are my scissors? Frost. (Giving her the scissors.) Here they are. What I wish to say is, to dissuade you earnestly from a second mar- riage, for a second George you will never find again. THE SON'S RETURN. Joh. If good nature were the only thing to be considered! Frost. Good nature is, in the eyes of wives, the most im- portant quality men can possess. Not always in the eyes of maidens, indeed, for they sometimes love barbarians. Joh. Only the manly and the strong, Frost ! SCENE II. Enter BRAUS. Braus. May I come in? Joh. Good Heavens, Heir Forester. Braus. (Looking at his arms.) So, you like strong people that is very agreeable to me. Dear Mr. Frost, there is a peasant boy out there, in front of the inn, who is wishing much to speak to you. Frost. Is he begging? Braus. Oh, no; he says he has been paid. Frost. Is he in search of me? Braus. Yes, indeed. Frost. Where does he come from? Braus. From Merbach. Frost. Curious ! I have often been called for, but no one has ever before been hired to call me. With your permission, I will go and hear what the fellow says. Braus. Madame permits it; do as you please. Frost. One learns news about war and peace for nothing, so what must a paid messenger bring? SCENE III. BRAUS. JOHANNA. Braus. I am glad he is gone ! Madame Seewald ! Joh. Herr Braus. Braus. Here I am, you see. Joh. I see it with sorrow. Braus. With sorrow! Joh. If you had received my letter, but I could not find THE SON'S RETURN. 229 any one to take it. A call from a gentleman after a ball ! What would my mother say to that? Braus. I will now go to your mother, and ask your hand in proper form. Joh. Has the affair gone so far already? Braus. I have accomplished all I could in the way of paying court to you. There is nothing more to be done. You have given me to understand that you look favourably on me, therefore, the priest's blessing over our hands, the sooner the better ! Joh. Your attentions, dear Herr Forester, have given me much pleasure, and when I was, at last, convinced that you loved me I felt very happy, and I nattered myself things would go on in this way for a little while longer, and now you speak of marrying immediately. Braus. Because my house is in want of a wife, because my housekeeping is going to ruin, and I am wearied of being alone in my forest dwelling. " Marry, my son, as soon as pos- sible," were the last words of old Susan, my dying godmother, and I respect her words. So; shall I take somebody else? Joh. Oh, do not talk of that ! Braus. Then you will have me? Joh. This hurry this haste ! Only to-day, dear Herr Braus, at least during my absence, for I must go to Bergheim, to the fair, during my absence therefore, do not mention it to Frau Seewald. Braus. Do you think, then, that my suit would vex her? Joh. It will not please her, at least. She cherishes an idol- atrous affection for her George, and she supposes me to have the same. She believes me to be living in continual grief. Braus. Indeed! Joh. For a long time I scarcely dared to speak aloud, and if I happened to laugh, she took it for a convulsion. Braus. I entreat you Joh. His wife ought not to have been able to forget George. 230 THE SON'S RETURN. Braus. And yet this George ran away from you. Joh. (Earnestly.) Not so. I will defend his memory as long as I live, for I owe him much gratitude. Want alone drew him to the new world, where he intended to earn some- thing, and then to return home. Braus. Then he was not a bad fellow ? Joh. Rather too good, too gentle, a child in heart, seeing an angel in every human being; and from fear of wronging any one, the toy of all. To a mother, her darling to a friend, a protege but to a wife, who herself wants protection, some- thing intolerable. Braus. So we will leave him in peace. Joh. (Somewhat moved.) Peace be to his remains ! Braus. Hark ! I think that is your mamma. Joh. Then leave me, and go away by the side-door. Braus. But, dear Madame Seewald, what good does it do to delay this business? Your mamma will feel just as much for her George a year hence, as now. Joh. I am not afraid of mamma. Braus. Of whom, then? Joh. Ah, dear Herr Braus, before I go to the altar with you, I have something to make known to you, something do not be afraid I don't speak of a crime, but, until you know all, I feel myself anxious afraid ! Braus. Then tell me everything. Joh. If 1 could resolve to do so ! Braus. Do not think about it so long. Now for it, a couple of words are soon out. Joh. Then listen. Ah, mamma ! Braids. Confound it! SCENE IV. Enter MADAME SEEWALD. Madame Seewald. You, Herr Forester! what has brought me that honour? THE SON'S RETURN. 23 J Braus. We are neighbours. I wished to wait upon you. Mad. See. Much honour for our house. Johanna, you are glad you got through yesterday's ball 1 ? Jeh. Indeed, it was very endurable. Mad. See. You look pale. Braus. That is from dancing. Mad. See. Indeed! Have you been dancing? Well, to be sure, I know how they consider it in the country. They obliged you did they not? Pardon me for having brought you into such an embarrassment ; but (to BRAUS) I did not wish to offend the Bailiff von Bergheim. Those people have no feelings. Poor Johanna ! Braus. Why do you pity her ? Mad. See. Because it must be terrible to dance with a torn heart. Braus. Is, then, your daughter's heart still torn 1 ? Mad. See. Do not speak so injudiciously. Johanna, if you still wish to go to the fair, the carriage is ready. Joh. May I leave you alone with Herr Forester? Mad. See. Why should that trouble you ? Braus. You may do it madame, you may do it. Joh. Really? Braus. On my honour! Joh. Then I will go. [Is going away. Mad. See. Without your bonnet ? Joh. (Takes her bonnet from the table.) (Aside.) Ah, what is the use of a bonnet when one has no longer a head ! [Goes out. SCENE V. MADAME SEEWALD. BRAUS. Braus. (Aside.) Perhaps I can get out of the old lady what vexes her. Mad. See. What can be the matter with the poor dear? Braus. I was wishing to know that, too. 232 THE SON'S RETURN. Mad. See. She talks so oddly. Braus. But she is a charming person ! Mad. See. Yes, that she is, and active, industrious. She returned from Bergheim yesterday, at twelve o'clock, as I learnt from the people, and this morning she was on her feet again at five. Braus. Impossible! Mad. See. Yes, so it is always. She says that she will make up to us, by her services, what we have bestowed on her, and so, in this way, she will be no expense to us. Braus. Do you think that she lived happily with your son? Mad. See. What would you have? A marriage of pure love ! The young people worshipped each other. Braiis. Indeed! Mad. See. As I tell you. Braus. Is the Colonel also convinced of that? Mad. See. My husband was at first very angry with his daughter-in-law. Braus. Angry! On what account? Mad. See. Because she married our George, a poor maiden like her, without our permission. But why then did he suffer him to become a tutor? He a tutor, and she a governess in the same house! A tutor and a governess cannot blindfold themselves ! Braus. Such teachers, indeed, would not be very suitable to youth. Mad. See. Would they? But my old gentleman made no allowance for that, especially after receiving the worst account of Johanna's family. Braus. Indeed! Mad. See. Yes. The father, it was said, was a spendthrift without character, which circumstance, at last, induced my son to move away into an obscure place, where, however, he had to drag half the family along with him. Braus. (Aside.} I think I almost guess Johanna's secret. Poor George ! But now the family are all dead ! THE SON'S EETURN. 233 Mad. See. We hear no more of them, at least. Braus. That is a fortunate thing, and has apparently pacified your husband. Mad. See. Oh, he was very resolute, disowned his son, and sent back the letters he wrote him unopened. But when he heard the almost certain news of his death, he was touched, and permitted me to seek out George's destitute widow. I set out at hap -hazard ; Frost alone accompanied me. We did not know where to turn, when Providence led us into a country inn, where she had come on foot, and where she was lying ill. Braus. Poor thing! Mad. See. Yes, poor she was, and on the point of returning to her home. (Showing a work-basket which stands on the table.) This basket here, the certificate of her baptism, and that of her marriage, were her sole possessions. Braus. And the certificate of her husband's death ! has she not got that? Mad. See. A certificate of his death? No, I could never wish for a sight of that. Braus. Nevertheless, Madame, the death certificate of her husband is always part of the household effects of his widow; and you let faft a word, just now, about his almost certain death. I did not know that there prevailed any doubt respecting the death of your son ! Mad. See. I have worn mourning for him, his wife has also dressed herself in black. Braus. That is no evidence ! and there should be evidence, otherwise there is still a chance of his returning home. Mad. See. Oh, if there were only a chance ! Braus. (Recollecting himself.) Yes, indeed ! SCENE VI. Enter COLONEL SEEWALD. Colonel Seewald. (Gloomily) Good morning, Clara ! Good morning, Herr Forester ! A frightful storm last night. Braus. Yes ; it threw down two beautiful trees of mine. 234 THE SON'S RETURN. Col. See. And one of mine. Mad. See. A tree in our garden? which? Col. See. The pear-tree, near the wall. Mad. See. The pear-tree which you planted six-and-twenty years ago ? Col. See. The same. Mad. See. When George was christened? Col. See. Yes, I think I planted it on that day. Well, why are you dismayed? There were other and finer trees in the garden. Mad. See. There are also other and finer men in the world than our George! Col. See. What does that mean? Mad. See. That he was our only one. Col. See. But a mere mother's child, who would not become a soldier; and what is a man who will not become a soldier? Mad. See. Would you have a world full of soldiers? Col. See. No, for we want other people besides; but I would have every young man wish to be a soldier, otherwise no good will come of him, a proof of which unfortunately our George furnishes us with; so, no more of him, wife no more of him. Mad. See. And yet you regretted the pear-tree just now! Col. See. One plants a tree, waters it, and then leaves it to the wind and weather. Mad. See. Does one not do the same with a human being? and have you not done the same with your son ? Ah, if you had not withdrawn your assistance from him when he gave up theology, he would have been a lawyer ! Col. See. In order to transform thieves into poor sufferers, and murderers into heroes of romance. A lawyer? yes, indeed; and then a physician ; perhaps an artist also, that he might try every profession, for he had an unstable mind, it was that displeased me in him ; and then, to improve him, I wished to leave him a little time to himself. THE SON'S RETURN. 235 Mad. See. The experiment, unfortunately, did not succeed. Col. See. (Earnestly.) Everything in the world cannot succeed. SCENE VII. Enter LAURETTE. Laurette. Ah, madame, do not be frightened, but a misfortune has happened ! Frost I fear Frost is gone mad. Mad. See. Frost? Lau. Yes. He has been talking a great deal with a peasant boy, and ever since, he has behaved as if he were crazy, laughing, weeping, and dancing on one leg. At last he called after my young mistress, and, when I told him she had gone to Bergheim, after you : " Then, if the wife is not at home," cried he, " the mamma shall learn it first." Mad. See. The mamma? But that is not so foolish of the fellow. I will go and hear what news he has to bring. Lau. Dear madame, I am afraid of him. Mad. See. Because he made a show of himself? Pah ! if you could see my Colonel sometimes Col. See. Who? me? Mad. See. You, my friend ! Oh, I have heard a great deal about you. If my parents had let me learn French, or playing on the piano, instead of embroidery and sewing, I also might have married from love. Col. See. Or, perhaps, not at all ! Mad. See. Well, yes, indeed ; that is true. \_Goes out with LAURETTE. SCENE VIII. COLONEL SEEWALD. BRAUS. Colonel Seewald. Did you hear? Women become disagree- able when they grow old. I advise you not to marry. Braus. And yet I am in love. Col. See. I can fancy that ; but you are a huntsman ! 236 THE SON'S RETURN. Braus. I fear, however, that the affair stands ill with me. Col. See. Then give it up. The fancy will go off, believe me, it will go off and you will retain your noble freedom ! Braus. Freedom? Do you wish to be free? Col. See. I am, once for all, under the yoke. Braus. And if it were taken off you? If your wife were to die? Col. See. Be quiet ! I think I should lay myself in the same grave with her. Braus. Well, then? Col. See. Then? What? Do not marry, and then you may die whenever you please. SCENE IX. Enter FROST. Frost. Gracious sir! Heir Colonel! Madame Seewald is lying out there in a swoon ! Col. See. My wife? What do you say? Frost. And I stepped so softly so cautiously; I entreated her not to be frightened ! Braus. We must go and assist her. [Goes out. Col. See. My wife my poor old woman ! [Is about to go. SCENE X. COLONEL SEEWALD. FROST. Frost. Stay, let her lie; it is of no consequence. Col. See. What has happened to her ? Frost. Ah, Herr Seewald ! a peasant boy has brought the news, a peasant boy ; but I cannot yet believe it. Col. See. What ? Frost. The landlord himself is astonished at the number of boxes which the stranger has brought with him. Col. See. What stranger? Frost. An American, from Guadaloupe, who wished to speak THE SON'S EETURN. 237 with poor Frost: and sent a messenger to poor Frost, and do not take it amiss, sir but I think it is our George. Col. See.- George here ? in this neighbourhood ? George, a rich man ! Old man, you talk foolishly ! Frost. But if the peasant boy has really said it, if he has said it are not you rejoiced, too ? Col. See. What did the peasant boy say ? Frost. George von Seewald was what he said : he named that name. Col. See. His name ? Frost. I know you were displeased with him ; he was faulty in many things, but he is still living ; that one thing blots out all his sins. Does it not ? Col. See. Frost, give me your hand. See, how I tremble ! frost. Do not give way to trembling; I must be off, Colonel, he awaits me ! \He rushes out. Col. See. Where ? for Heaven's sake, where ? SCENE XI. COLONEL, MADAME SEEWALD, and BRAUS. Madame Seewald. Well, have I not always said so ? Have I not always said so ? A glass of water ! Col. See. (Deeply agitated.} Have you spoken to Frost ? He declares that George is alive, and I believe it I believe it; ill weeds never perish. Braus. It is really generous of me, but I cannot help feel- ing touched by these people. Mad. See. George living ? Carl, dear Carl ! how amiable you appear to me at this moment! Well, and what are you feeling? Col. See. No one can tell that better than you, his mother. [Throws himself into the arms of his wife. THE SON'S RETURN. ACT II. SCENE I. A Country Iim. Enter GEORGE ; behind him LUDWIG and servants, w/io are carrying cltests. George. Here put down everything here? Gently! Do not break anything. (Aside, pointing to different boxes.) The service of plate for my mother, the case of cigars for my father, and here, this fine cloth, and the beautiful stuffs, all bought in London all in London. (The servants go out. To LUDWIG.) Ah ! London is a fine place; but it is still more beautiful here ! Lud. Do you think so, sir? George. Go, now, and look out of window. Well ? Lud. I see nothing but fields and windmills. George. To be sure, there is not much to see; but, do not laugh everything appears to me quite charming ! Lud. (Looking out.) Ah, yes, yes, yes! when one observes the country more attentively. Is not that a church tower ? George. The church tower of my father's village. Oh, that I could be there in a moment ! Lud. I will see if we can get horses. George. Stay; it is not that I want. Don't you suppose that at this moment I fancy I could run faster than all the horses in the world ? But, do you see, Ludwig, I was once young Lud. Your honour appears to be so still. George. I mean to say, I was once thoughtless. Lud. (Astonished.) Thoughtless ! George. Yes; and then I committed a great fault, which my father has not yet forgiven me. Lud. Your respected father is yet alive then ? George. (Frightened.) Alive ! What do you say ? Yes, in- THE SON'S RETURN. 239 deed; certainly ! Why else should I have become so rich and so happy 1 I have sent to an old friend an old servant of the family. He will soon be here, and then he shall tell me how my affairs stand, and whether I may venture to show myself. Lud. With those boxes there ? How can you doubt it 1 George. Yes, Ludwig, yes; I hope to make all right at last with my father; as for my good mother Lud. Sons always right themselves in a mother's eyes. SCENE II. Enter LAJTDLORD. Landlord. I am come to ask whether the gentleman would like to dine. George. Who thinks of eating ? Impossible ! Landlord. Perhaps in an hour. George. Not for a week, my stomach feels as if it were laced up. Landlord. Through some illness 1 ? George. (Looks at him.) Landlord ! You have not been estab- lished here long, I think ? Landlord. A year. George. Are you acquainted with old Colonel Seewald ? Landlord. Who owns the estate on the other side ? Oh, yes. George. And his wife ? Landlord. Yes, also. Excellent people ! I see them every Sunday in church. George. There, do you hear, Ludwig? Oh, I was sure of it ! Mr. Landlord, I shall not eat anything; but he (looking at LUDWIG) will eat, and your people will be glad of something also. (Gives him his purse.) There ! let them serve up what- ever you have in the house, and send with it the best wine you can get ! You shall all drink to the health of Colonel Seewald and his lady, and to a happy meeting, and a happy reconcilia- tion, and (aside) if I say any more I shall talk nonsense. (Aloud.) My lads, make haste ! 240 THE SON'S RETURN. Landlord. {Catting out at the door.) Johann ! Christian ! Martin ! Come together all of you, the strange gentleman is going to give you a treat ! (To GEORGE.) My humble thanks. (Looks out at the door.) Hu ! How they all rush up ! George. They must cheer after dinner, Mr. Landlord ! Landlord. (Catting out.) Lads, you are to cheer ! (Shouts without: " Vivat /") [LANDLORD and LUDWIO go out. SCENE in. GEORGE. Then FROST. George. (Alone.) And is this really my head? and this my hand 1 ? Am I really here once more? Or, rather, have I really been so long absent? For that seems to me the most incon- ceivable part of it. Everything unchanged, everything in its place ! Well, I shall soon be in mine the arms of my parents. But where can old Frost be ? Frost. (From without.) Get out of my way? Let me through, or I will force my way. George. That was his voice. Frost ! my good Frost ! [Goes towards tJie door. Frost. (Bursting in.) Who ever you may be, tell me where a certain George Seewald George. Kecollect yourself look at me. George Seewald stands before you. Frost. (Stares at him.) I am struck all on a heap ! George. Frost ! Frost ! I am beside myself with joy ! How does my father go on? and my mother? Frost! Frost! I am going out of my senses ! \He seizes him, and whirls round with him. Frost. Stand still, or I shall fall. George. Well, my friend old man, what do you say? Frost. Then you are not dead? George. No, as you see. And more than that, I shall now for the first time begin to live; for I am happy, Frost, and I THE SON'S RETURN. 241 am rich. I am I will not tell you the rest I will surprise you and the whole house with it. Frost. You look very well. George. I am going on quite well. Ah, Frost ! Heaven was most gracious to me, after I had sinned so grievously. Frost. Certainly; to marry without the permission of one's parents ! Nevertheless, love excuses many things in youth. George. Love, do you say? Ah ! that had not much to do with it ! Frost. (Astonisfied.) How? George. I will tell you the whole story, which you may repeat to my parents for my exculpation. You see Johanna was pretty, and besides very friendly towards me. My pupils, on the contrary, were ill-mannered boys. I corrected them; they did not attend, because their mother took their part against me. Then I let them go their own way, and whilst they were quarrelling, I talked with the governess. This was very amusing, until one day we were sitting on a stone bench iu the garden, after having seen "Court Intrigues and Love"* acted the evening before, when our conversation was becoming so interesting that we did not observe how, in the meantime, the young troop had fastened a pea-shooter to the tail of their mamma's favourite cat. Frost. Detestable ! George. Their mamma had seen the enormity from the window, and appeared before us, like a female dragon, at the very moment when I was venturing, for the first time, to press Johanna's hand to my lips. I have never before seen a woman in such a rage, and I was terribly frightened. Frost. That I can easily believe. George. She declared that she did not wish to have teachers who were in love, and immediately gave the tutor and the governess their discharge. * " Cabale und Liebe," one of Schiller's earliest dramatic works. M 242 THE SON'S RETURN. Frost. Which, indeed, she was not to be blamed for. George. By no means; so I went away without murmuring, and considered what I should do next in the world. Then Johanna's father came to me. The man looked as if he would have torn me to pieces! He said that I was the cause of his daughter's losing both her situation and her good name. She could hope for no other provision, and that I was bound in duty and conscience to marry her. It had never occurred to me in this light; but the old man forced his view of the case upon me, and duty conscience ; put it to yourself I am not proof against these things, and it almost seemed to me that there was no choice left me. I could not hope for the consent of my parents ; but I was of age. I saw a weeping maiden, whom 1 had, as it was said, ruined, and so I consented to be married to her. Frost. Out of pure good-nature 1 ? George. Yes ; but yet it was wrong of me, and has brought no blessing with it. As soon as my money was spent, and every hope of reconciliation with my parents had fled, the relations altered their demeanour towards me. They must have relied strongly on a reconciliation, for now they ill-used me in every way. Frost, you cannot think how terrible is the position of a husband who has fallen into the hands of his wife's family. At last, in order to get rid of them, I went with Johanna to a remote place, where we gave private lessons. Frost. There, at least, you had peace. George. Peace? Where an ill-tempered woman is, there is no peace. Frost. An ill-tempered woman 1 ? George. She is dead Frost she is dead. I will not speak ill of her. Frost. Dead? What do you say 1 ? George. Do you not know that Johanna is dead ? Frost. No, I did not know it. George. Then learn it from me. Frost. But who brought you this news ? THE SON'S RETURN. 243 George. It, was written to me ; it is beyond all doubt. Frost. And perhaps you rejoiced? George, Kejoiced! What do you think of me? Frost. (Aside.) I dare not tell him that she is in the house with us. (Aloud?) George, is it true that you abandoned your wife? George. Abandoned? No, Frost, I did not abandon her; I left her with her own consent. We had not a heller left to us, when an American offered me employment; and so I fol- lowed him, but with the firm intention of returning, or of telling her to come out to me when my circumstances should be improved. For I determined, at least, to be a good hus- band, though I had been a bad son. But Heaven did not demand of me such a sacrifice; she was taken from me. And now, Frost, tell me, is my father still very angry with me? Frost. He is only impatient for the moment of seeing you George. Then he knows I am here? Frost. I could not conceal it from him. George. And he rejoices at it? Frost. He believed you dead ! George. Dead? Frost. Yes; it was said that you had died of the yellow fever. George. My patron caught the fever, and his only son, my pupil; but I was too poor for death or, rather, by good for- tune, I was preserved. Mr. Landlord! Frost. What do you want? George. Let me alone. Mr. Landlord ! SCENE IV. Enter LANDLORD. Landlord. Your honour. George. (Drawing him aside.) Dear Mr. Landlord, in about half an hour a second travelling carriage will arrive here. Tell M 2 244 THE SON'S RETURN. the people who are in it that they must not gtop here, but drive straight to Colonel Seewald's, where I shall be waiting for them. Do you understand me ? Landlord. Perfectly, sir. George. It shall not injure you you will often see me here; and now go back to your guests. Landlord. They are eating and drinking so that it is a pleasure to see them. George. Give them whatever you will, I will pay for every- thing. [LANDLORD goes out. George. And you, Frost, come ! Frost. Where? George. To my parents. Frost. Oh, do not be in such a hurry ! George. Why should I not go ? The ground burns nuder my feet. Frost. (Aside.} I am overwhelmed with dismay ! George. Frost, I do not understand you. Has my father not pardoned me then ? Frost. He shed many tears when he heard of your arrival. George. And my mother ? Frost. She fell from one fainting fit into another with joy. George. Then what have I got to fear ? Frost. Nothing nothing in the world. (Aside.) Johanna is no monster, at least; and if he sees her again unprepared, he will make a virtue of necessity. George. Then let us be gone ! Frost. I will follow you. George. My heart, Frost my heart will spring out of me ! Frost. (Aside.) It will soon be quieted! George. At first, there will be nothing but embraces no speaking; then you shall hear, you shall hear ! I will say nothing of it beforehand; you will wonder and rejoice above all measure at what you will then hear. [Goes with FROST. THE SON'S RETURN. 245 SCENE V. Room in SEEWALD'S House. BRAUS and MADAME SEEWALD come forward. Braus. Dear Madame Seewald, I am quite giddy; will you not be so good as to be seated ? Mad. See. I cannot remain quiet in one place. Impatience and eager expectation destroy me ! You do not understand the feelings of a mother ! Braus. Indeed, 1 do not ! Mad. See. Nor Frost either. To run off without mentioning the place where my son was awaiting us ! My old man has been out looking in all directions, and I have been wandering for this hour past from one window to the other. Cannot you help me, Herr Braus? You first spoke to the peasant boy. Braus. But have clean forgotten the name of his village. Ah, I had quite another thing in my head this morning ! Mad. See. (Jestingly.) State affairs, probably. Braus. My own affairs. Do you believe that there is nothing important in the world but what concerns either the state or you? There you are mistaken. Other people have also their interests, their pleasures, their sorrows in short, every one is the nearest to himself. Mad. See. Well, do not be hasty. You appear to be out of sorts to-day, Herr Braus. What is the cause of it? Are you not also a little glad at the return of my son ? Braus. I rejoice at it, my dear lady ! Who would not sym- pathize in the joy of parents? And if I do not express it aloud, you must take the will for the deed. Mad. See. Hush, I hear a carriage ! Braus. Yes, indeed. [He goes to tJie window. Mad. See. Oh, how my heart beats ! It stops. Now I will rush down! Braus. Stay. It is your daughter-in-law who is returnin from the fair. 246 . THE SON'S RETURN. Mad. See. Johanna? truly she does not know what awaits her. What will be her joy ! Braus. (Aside.) Merciful Heaven! Mad. See. If only the joy does not make her ill ! Eraus. At least the news will affect her very much. Mad. See. She had considered him as so certainly dead ! Eraus. Yes, we all know that. Mad. See. And then to find him again so suddenly ! The agitation will be too great. She must be prepared for his appearance. Eraus. Yes, you are right there. Mad. See. Am I not? But I have not sufficient composure; therefore you must undertake that office. Eraus. What office? Mad. See. To make known to her, poor thing ! that her husband is alive! Eraus. Indeed? (Aside.) The commissioner is well chosen ! Mad. See. Only very slowly, dear Heir Braus, and with caution. Braus. I shall not be wanting in caution. Mad. See. For an unexpected joy overcomes one. Braus. It is possible that she might be so overcome. Mad. See. There are instances of people dying of joy. Braus. She will not go so far as that, I suspect. Mad. See. I hear her, and will hasten away. Manage the affair as cleverly as you can. [Goes out. SCENE VI. BRAUS. Afterwards JOHANNA. Braus. (Alone.) That one should live to see such a thing! That I, her lover, should have to announce to her the return of her husband ! Confounded commission ! But I will under- take it for her sake, I will. Then I alone shall be witness of her first agitation. THE SON'S RETURN. 247 Johanna (Speaking outside the door.) The baskets into my room. I shall soon come there myself and unpack. Braus. (Aside.) A charming woman! Well, well, what is past is past ; and what I am now about to do, will be the last proof of my love. (Aloud.) Madame Joh. Are you still here, Herr Braus? Well, it was very pretty of you to wait for me. Braus. (Aside.) She pleases me now more than ever; and how in all the world shall I find courage Joh. You are so silent ! Good gracious! how absent and gloomy you look! Has any misfortune happened to you? Braus. No misfortune. Be composed. Joh. Or have you broken your word, and told my mother? Braus. I have told your mother nothing, nor shall I have anything for the future to say to her. Joh. Braus! Braus. Johanna, I am here to take leave of you ! Joh. To take leave? Braus. Yes, we are neighbours ; it is possible that we may sometimes meet, but we must avoid each other, and I must visit at this house no more. Joh. Has any one here offended you ? Braus. Oh, no; only drawn me into too much confidence. Dear Johanna, before I speak, answer me one question. Joh. Ask it. Braus. Is the memory of George become quite insupportable to you? Joh. Insupportable? Oh, no! to whom could the good creature be insupportable? I had a friendship for him. Braus. Seek, then, henceforth, your happiness in friendship. Joh. What does that mean? Braus. Friendship believe me friendship can ensure us peace in life! (Aside.) I read that once in a book. (Aloud.) Friendship yes and George Joh. But, good heavens, he is dead ! 248 THE SON'S RETURN. Braus. And if he were alive? Joh. What do you say? Braus. If he were alive, Johanna? Joh. (Agitated.) Then I should rejoice, for his father for his mother's sake, and welcome him to life ! (Hastily.) Have they received news of him? Braus. They have. Joh. And he escaped the yellow fever? Braus. From that, at least, he recovered. You tremble; you grow pale ! Oh, Johanna, why have you so resolutely refused to yourself any hope of his life, and thence permitted me to give you my heart? I am an honourable forester, but I ought to have stifled my affection for you at the beginning, and never, never, sought for the wife of another! Joh. (Who does not hear him.) But George is still in America, is he not? Braus. He has already crossed the sea. Joh. And is coming here? When does he come? Braus. I imagine, in a short time. Joh. Perhaps in a few days? Braus. It is possible that it might be to-morrow, or even as soon as to-day, his impatience is great. Joh. Only not to-day ! I cannot see him to day ! Braus. Why not? I can believe that you did not find in George the ideal of your wishes, and that your marriage was not a very poetical union; but you are, once for all, married, your husband lives, and you must hold to him, if you would satisfy your own conscience, and also respect the opinion of the world. Joh. An edifying sermon, Herr Braus, but spoken at a wrong time, for you do not know, you cannot know, what now torments me so cruelly. Braus. Did you separate from your husband in disagree- ment ! You are proud sometimes hasty ; do you believe he will be displeased. with you? THE SON'S RETURN. 249 Joh. It is not that ; but the fault I wished to make known to you this morning Braus. Make it known to me now ! Joh. Never; for at last I perceive its enormity, and it ap- pears to me a crime which must cost me the esteem of all who love me. Braus. You frighten me. Joh. Perhaps you would compassionate me if you did but know all, for what cannot be approved of, may yet sometimes be excused. But, Braus, I entreat you not to trouble yourself further about my fate ; I must carry it out to the end as well as I can. [Goes out. SCENE VII. BKAUS, alone. Braus. Not trouble myself about her fate, when she needs a friend more than ever! Go quietly home, shoot deer, and have wood cut down, whilst she is pining in sorrow? Braus cannot act so selfishly. I have loved her, I love her still, and will not leave her until I know her, if not happy, at least, devoted to her duty. SCENE VIII. BRAUS. SEEWALD. GEORGE. FROST. Afterwards, MADAME SEEWALD. Colonel Seewald. (Arm in arm with GEORGE.) Well, here we are at last ! George, look about you; do you know the old room again? and the old writing-desk? and the old clock? Nothing is altered here, and the hearts also have remained the same. George. You are exceedingly kind, father; I do not deserve it at all. Col. See. Indeed, you don't deserve it; but, as I believed you dead, I have thrown all my anger into your grave, from whence I will never dig it out again. Only, therefore, act like M 3 250 THE SON'S RETURN. a man for the future, and we will never again speak of the past. But where is your mother? Clara! Madame Seewald. (Coming in.) Here I am! here I am! Well? Col. See. Well ! here are you, and here is he. Mad. See. George ! George ! I shall not survive this ! [She rushes into his arms. Col. See. Old lady, he is smothering! I entreat you, let him go ! Braus. (Aside.) Though he deprives me of all, yet it is joyful to find that he lives. Mad. See. (Letting him go, and gazing at him.) Oh, George, how handsome you are grown ! Father, we have a handsome son, have we not? Col. See. A son, who, as I hope, will, from this time forth, do us nothing but honour. George. Certainly, father; through honesty and industry, for I can never become a shining character. Col. See. It is not necessary that you should be a shining character; I know that you are learned. George. Greek, Latin, history, and mathematics, I am master of. Col. See. Well, we cannot all be soldiers, and learned men have also their use. George. When I can find employment, I will work as much as I can. Col. See. That is right I like that ; but no more about it now, this hour belongs to joy only, and one person is wanting to make it perfect. (To MADAME SEEWALD.) Where is she? George. Where is who? Mad. See. Oh, I understand, and will go and bring her. Col. See. Stay, Clara, not so quickly; let us enjoy the plea- sure by degrees. Mad. See. Now, my son, you will hear something that will throw you into astonishment ! Be a man, I entreat you be a man! THE SON'S RETURN. 251 Col. See. George, you stand here between your father and mother, and feel doubtless very happy; but do you miss no one ? George. Why, who should I miss? Col. See. Your wife. George. My wife ! Col. See. Yes, to be sure. Do not fear to name her. Since I have learnt to know her, I have pardoned your choice. George. You know her! What has happened to me 1 ? Mad. See. For a year past she has lived under our roof. George. Who 1 ? Mad. See. Your wife ! Yes, now be astonished. George. Heaven forbid! Col. See. Your wife Johanna Werner ! George. Johanna! The deceased! Col. See. She lives ! Mad. See. She was ill near death when I found her out ; but your mother's care has preserved her to you. George. Johanna, do you say 1 ? Do not make me miserable! Mad. See. You do not believe me ! Well, then, you shall see her. George. Stay I feel ill. Mad. See. You tremble ! you are pale ! Frost. (Brings him a chair.) Sit down, I entreat you ! [GEORGE sinks into tJie chair. Col. See. Only do not fall into a fainting fit. Mad. See. The surprise was too great for him. He closed his eyes. He is dying ! Johanna ! Johanna ! JBraus. (Stepping forward.) Oh, do not call her! Mad. See. Why not, then ? Johanna ! SCENE IX. Enter JOHANNA. Johanna. What did you want, mother? Mad. See. (Pointing to GEORGE.) There ! look at him, and bring him to himself. 252 THE SON'S RETURN. Joh. George ! Heaven be with me ! [Site hurries out. Col. and Mad. See. Johanna ! Johanna ! George. ( With fiorror, slowly opening his eyes.) I believe it was she ! ACT III. SCENE I. The same room. Enter COLONEL and MADAME SEEWALD. Colonel Seewald. Well, wife ! Madame Seewald. I come from George. He feels himself better since he has taken my cordial drops, but his spirit is still much disturbed. Col. See. Has he any spirit, then ? Mad. See. His mind, I mean. He will not keep himself quiet, and would go into the air; but to-day it is too cold, and I have positively forbidden them to let him out. Col. See. Has Johanna visited him ? Mad. See. No; joy has done her mischief also. I sent for her, but she sent word she was not well. Col. See. Indeed! And does George ask for her? Mad. See. No ; he rather avoids speaking of her. I think he fears another agitating scene. Col. See. Then we must leave him quiet. Perhaps after dinner he will feel stronger. You have thought of having his favourite dish prepared] Mad. See. Ah, he will not eat ! Col. See. Why not? Perhaps he may. You had better look into the kitchen. Mad. See. I will do so ; the appetite of a sick person must be humoured. And you will go to him meanwhile will you not? THE SON'S RETURN. 253 Col. See. Yes, I intend to do so. Mad. See. And you will speak very gently to him 1 ? Col. See. Like a father. Mad. See. Only be very gentle, dear old man ! SCENE II. COLONEL SEEWALD ; then GEORGB. Col. See. (Alone.) Now, I am free from her for a time; she will not come out of the kitchen directly. She must not be present at the conversation which is about to take place. The poor old mother ! she will be unhappy enough without this, when she discovers everything here is not as it should be. (He opens the side door.) George, my son, you are, I see, on your feet ; just come out here. George. (Somewhat pale, coming through the door.) Father, what did you want with me? Col. See. I would speak with your conscience, George. See, I have, till now, been silent for the love of your mother, but Frost has told me everything. I know all George. What do you know? Col. See. That you had lived at variance with your wife, and were rejoiced at being freed from her. George. I was rejoiced yes, but quite involuntarily. Does not the bird feel free when he escapes from his cage? Col. See. The bird-catcher forces the bird into the cage, but who forced you in? George. Only my own folly I know that. Col. See. You are aware of it, and, therefore, it is your duty to bear up against it. George. (Aside.) My distress increases every moment. If I could only escape from him ! Col. See. You look down ! you are silent ! George. Oh, I am an unhappy man ! Col. See. Unhappy ! Quite right that is the style. When '254 THE SON'S RETURN. a man has no desire to act rightly, immediately he says that he is unhappy. For shame ! George. Father! Col. See. You are no unhappy man for your wife is pretty, frugal, and honest not, indeed, perfection. George. No ; much is wanting towards that. Col. See. A little quick now and then. George. A little ? Col. See. But women must be so otherwise the house does not get on; and when a man has strength of character, he is not to be annoyed by that. In short, I advise you to see her. George. When she wishes to see me. Col. See. To be reconciled to her. George. We are not exactly at variance. Col. See. And then to live in harmony with her, like an upright husband. George (Aside.) Oh, that I might rather die! Col. See. Do this and I will let you remain in my house, and no more shall be said of your early errors. But what is the matter with you? I hope that you do not oppose this in your heart 1 ? George. Father, you do not know what you desire of me. Col. See. Nothing more than you are bound to do, if you would not prove yourself a worthless man. George. A worthless man ! and your son ! Col. See. Do not speak to me in sentences which just mean nothing. Keep yourself to the upright principles of morality, which will show you the way you have to go in. George. Oh, father, father ! why did you let me leave you. I ought never to have been left to depend on myself, for self dependence requires good fortune. Col. See. Then come to my arms, and resign yourself for the future to my guidance. George. (Throws himself into his arms.) Yes, father; receive me, and help me to bear the struggle which awaits me. Save THE SON'S RETURN. 255 me or bury me I will trust to you. (Tlie clock strikes, GEORGE starting up.] Good Heavens, what did it strike? Col. See. Twelve o'clock. George. Then farewell ; I can no longer remain here. Col. See. Why not? George. (Aside.} Twelve o'clock! She may be here any moment ! Col. See. Tell me what is the matter with you ? George. Nothing, father nothing ! (Aside.) I will take the way through the garden, which leads the quickest to the road. (Aloud, while lie, seizes SEEWALD'S hand.) Father, a fate such as visits few, has befallen me ! Appearances condemn me, and stamp me as a criminal. Of the endless grief of my heart, I will not now speak I will support it like a man; but that I have always desired to do right, and striven to fulfil my duty, is now clearer to me than ever, and the consciousness of this strengthens my courage. Though you reject me on that account reject me a second time still I am not a bad man no, I am not and in death itself I will hold to this assertion. [Goes out. Col. See. George, George ! He does not hear me the thought of seeing his wife again, drives him beside himself. A curious young man ! My old woman has sometimes given me trouble in times past, but I did not run away from her on that account. SCENE III. COL. SEEWALD. FROST. Frost. I heard you call, sir. Col. See. I called after my son. Frost. Who has just passed me, and rushed through the garden as if he were mad. Col. See. Frost, things go on very badly here. Frost. Yes, indeed, sir; much worse than I thought for. 256 THE SON'S RETURN. Col. See. George will hear nothing of his wife, and his wife nothing of him. A plagued household ! Frost. The little wife is sometimes as obstinate as a devil. Col. See. And my son as restive as a horse. But I will bring the young people together, and they shall endure each other, or my name is not Seewald. One word in earnest, as I am accustomed to speak it, puts an end to all humours and whims. You say my son has run into the garden? Does he think to be safe from me there! He is mistaken, I have sound legs, and he shall not leave me till he has obeyed my commands. Frost. And Frau Johanna? Col. See. She is not well, never mind her she will soon be tired of being ill; and she will come to reason when she gets well again. [Goes out. Frost. (Alone.) I fear there is something behind the discord of these people, which we do not understand. Both of them, it seems, have something at their hearts which they conceal; and just in the very things which men conceal, lie the moving springs of all their actions. SCENE IV. FROST. JOHANNA. Johanna. Frost, Frost ! are you at length alone ? Frost. Yes, madame, as you see. Joh. I have an important request to make you a request, on the fulfilling of which, everything depends. Frost. If it is in my power Joh. But you must trust blindly to me, and not ask the reasons of my resolution. Frost, I must leave this place to- day; order a carriage and horses for me. Frost. You wish to make your escape. Joh. If you call my departure an escape, yes. Frost. And where will you go to? Joh. That I do not yet know. THE SON'S EETURN. 257 Frost. Remain here, dear madame; all will yet go well. Joh. You do not know what you say. Frost. The Colonel is assisting you to the utmost of his power.- Joh. He will cease to do that, as soon as he knows all. I alone, believe me I alone know the position of things here therefore give me your word that I shall find a carriage ready for me this evening ! Frost. Consider! Joh. As if I had been doing anything but consider for the last two hours as if my resolution was not the result of a long and painful deliberation ! Frost. But for all that, it is very strange. Joh. Not to the degree you think. Believe me, it will be for the good of George and his family, if I go. I should only be in the way of you all here. Frost. Well, then Joh. Shouldn't 1? You are of my opinion, I see, without knowing it, and I can depend on you 1 SCENE V. Enter LAURETTE. Laurette. Ah, come, my lady ! come, Herr Frost ! and look at this splendid sight with me. Joh. What splendid sight? Lau. A magnificent travelling carriage is just driving into the court. Trunks and boxes are on it; the postillion is blowing with all his might ! A negro fancy a negro is sitting on the box, and two ladies are looking out of window. Frost. Where are the people going, then? Lau. They are coming here to this house, without doubt. Joh. To this house! Strangers? What does it all mean? Lau. Will you receive them, my lady? Joh. I should be well disposed for visitors truly ! (Turning to LAURETTE.) I am not well do you hear, Laurette? and 258 THE SON'S RETURN. can speak with no one with no one. (Aside to FROST.) Dear Frost, ray request Frost. (Aside to her.) I will provide the carriage. Joh. Thanks! (Aside.} I cannot do otherwise. [She goes out through t/te side-door. Lau. I must look at the negro again. \Goes out through the middle door. Frost. (Alone.) Yes, I will provide a carriage; but first I will speak with Herr Braus. He is the wisest person in the house ; perhaps he may reconcile the parties. SCENE VI. FROST, ADELE, and BETTY enter. Adele. Strange ! The people look at us with astonishment do not greet us do not approach us ; in short, they appear not to be expecting us here. (To FROST.) My friend, are we not in the house of Colonel Seewald? Frost. Yes, Madame. Adele. And the Colonel is here? Frost. He is just now in the garden. Adele. And his lady? Frost. Is in the kitchen. If you wish it, I will call her. Adele. No thank you, good old man; call her son, rather. Frost. (Looks hard at her.) The son? Adele. George Seewald has arrived her? Frost. Oh, yes. (Aside, looking at her.) What, the thousand ! Adele. Well, then, where is he? Why is he not to be seen? Frost. He must be with his father in the garden. Adele. (Laughing.) The strange creature! And he ap- pointed me to be here ! Frost. Appointed? (Aside.) That does not please me much. Adele. Why do you look so astonished at me? Frost. Oh, I shall soon cease to wonder at anything. THE SON'S RETURN. 259 Adele. Then you cannot understand what is my business here? Frost. No, indeed; that I can not. Adele. Then bring George Seewald here, and he will en- lighten you. Frost. If only I do not learn more than I like ! Adele. What do you say? Frost. Nothing, lady ! I will now look for George Seewald. May I venture to ask your name? Adele. Adele. Frost. Indeed? And may I venture to ask where your ladyship comes from? Adele. America. Frost. (Aside.) An American sweetheart ! That alone was wanting ! [Goes out. SCENE VII. ADELE. BETTY. Adele. To leave the house, and to prepare no one for my arrival ! That is like my good George. Betty. The joy of seeing his parents again, must have quite overcome the gentleman, I suppose. Adele. (Half joking.) That is no excuse. Even in the midst of his greatest ecstasies, he should still keep one thought re- maining for his Adele. But I know him, and fully pardon him for the embarrassment into which he has perhaps brought me, by leaving me to introduce myself to his family; for he still thinks that I shall always enchant people at the first glance. Betty. And is he wrong there? Adele. Ah, no; for every good husband should, whether right or wrong, think so of his wife. Joseph, meanwhile, is un- packing our carriage? Betty. Certainly; but where will he put the trunks? Adele. That we shall learn as soon as George comes. Betty. How does the country around please you, madame? 260 THE SON'S RETURN. Adele. Well, it certainly is not beautiful. Betty. A desert. Adele. But it looks friendly, like a home; for here my George was brought up. Betty, I advise you to seek for your- self a husband here a noble race of men must live here. My choice, indeed, has been much found fault with. The rich Creole surrounded by adorers, and the poor tutor without any imposing or brilliant qualities; and yet how happy I am, because I prefer goodness of heart to riches and talents. Follow my example, therefore, and do not seek for that which pleases every one. The man whom you alone care for, will be likely to care for you alone. But here I am moralizing, whilst my dress is looking quite in disorder. Betty. Will you not take off your cloak ? [ADELE takes off her cloak, and BETTY lays it on the sofa. Adele. Put it here. We are at home. (She takes off her bonnet.) The bonnet has made me very warm ; but, bless me, how disordered my ringlets are ! Betty, have you a comb with you? Betty. Yes, my lady! [She takes a comb out of her bag. Adele. I must not appear thus before the lady mother. Betty. There, sit down; and I will soon set the disorder to rights. [ADELE sits down, and BETTY arranges her ringlets. SCENE VIII. Enter COL. SEEWALD. Col. Seewald. (Without seeing the others.} I cannot over- take the young man, so he must run where he will. He will come home again when he is hungry. (He sees the strangers.) Good Heavens! what do I see? Is my parlour turned into a hairdresser's shop? Adtle. (To BETTY.) Who is that man? Betty. Apparently the steward. THE SON'S RETURN. 2G1 Adele. (To SEEWALD.) You are surprised, doubtless, at my making myself so much at home here ? Col. See. Do not inconvenience yourself. Adele. But I know your master has no objection. Col. See. My master? Adele. (To BETTY.) It will do now do not trouble your- self any more. [She gets up. BETTY goes. Col. See. (Aside.) A pretty woman but she behaves very oddly. Adele. You do not know what to make of me? Col. See. No; on my honour, I do not. Adele. You do not guess who I am 1 Col. See. I do not believe that CEdipus, if he yet lived, could do that. A dele. Then I will tell you. I am Adele Vogard, the daughter of a rich Creole in Guadaloupe. My father, whose wife was a German, had a predilection for the German nation, and brought back from his last voyage a German teacher for my brother, one inexperienced in the ways of the world, and perhaps too child-like, but well educated, and a highly honour- able man. Last year, the yellow fever spread around us, and my father and my brother fell victims to the epidemic. I, the last survivor of my house, lay near death, and was already counted for dead. Of the numerous worshippers of my dowry, none now ventured to tread my threshold, and even my ser- vants fled from the plague-stricken one, whilst elsewhere they were quarrelling for my inheritance. One only friend kept his ground by me one whose silent devotion I had till then scarcely noticed, and who now braved death for my sake. It was the German tutor. Through the knowledge of medicine which he possessed, and through unwearied care, he restored me to life. I recovered ; but I had promised to myself, in the hour of my death-struggle, only to live for him. Col. See. (With breathless attention.) Indeed! 262 THE SON'S RETURN. Adele. All my rich suitors were now dismissed; and half a year ago, the brilliant Ade"le Vogard became Madame SeewaM. Col. See. (Dismayed.) Seewald? Adele. Yes, indeed; George Seewald, the son of this house, is my husband. I sold my estates, and have, as you see, fol- lowed him to Germany, which I shall never more leave. Col. See. Never more, madame? Germany? Well, Germany is wide. But where George Seewald is, there you cannot be. Adele. Yet where is my home but with him? Col. See. One word, madame: are you really married to him? Adele. Have I not told you so? Col. See. In regular form? Adele. What do you think of me? Col. See. That you are either a deceiver, or deceived. Adele. And who are you that dare to speak thus to me? Col. See. George's unhappy father. Adele. His father? Ah! Col. See. (Looking at Tier with compassion.) No ; you are no deceiver. This, then, was what he concealed from me this it was which weighed on his conscience. Oh, it is horrible ! Adele. For mercy's sake, speak clearer ! Col. See. Forsake one betray the other ! I have always said so weak people are good for nothing. Such a man, indeed, may well tremble before the honourable badge of a uniform. SCENE IX. Enter MADAME SEEWALD. Madame Seewald. What are you speaking so loud for there ? Tell me, my old man, what can be the matter? Col. See. Nothing a merry story a repetition of the legend of Count von Gleichen, who had two wives. Well, here in our house is one who has two wives. THE SON'S RETURN. 263 Adele. Oh ! what do you say? Col. See. (To CLARA.) Johanna is George's wife, is she not ? And (pointing to ADELE) that person, it seems, is also his wife. Mad. See. Heavens ! that would he unchristian. Col. 'See. Call it what you will, but it is true; and so you may now learn to know your mother's darling. Adele. (Looking towards the door.) Heavens ! here he is. SCENE X. Enter GEORGE. George. They told me, just now, that a carriage (he sees ADELE) Ah ! \He is about to go back. Col. See. (To GEORGE.) Kemain; do not evade me! Place yourself there, and answer me. (He takes ADELE l>y the hand, and places her before him.) Do you know this woman? George. (Sorrowfully.) Adele! Col. See. Yes, Adele, the second victim of your deceit your hypocrisy. Your crimes are come to light; fly, therefore, a home which you have levelled to the ground. Lay aside a name which you have disgraced, and leave me to die childless, for I disown you ! . [ADELE sinks into MADAME SEEWALD'S arms. GEORGE throws himself at his father's feet. ACT IV. SCENE I. A Room in SEEWALD'S House. Enter BRAUS and FROST. Braus. How ! will she go away? Frost. Yes, Herr Braus ; and I have promised to procure her a carriage. Braus. That will be needless, for she must remain. I come 204 THE SON'S RETURN. just now from George's second wife, whom I pity from my heart an excellent person. She means to return to America, and thus leave the field clear for Johanna. Frost. Then you think Braus. I think that everything may yet go right, if they will only moderate their expectations, and seek for their future happiness in that domestic peace which may be obtained by the fulfilment of their duties. Frost. Ah ! Herr Forester, that will not, and cannot be. I have been a soldier, and understand little of the finer feelings of the heart; but that neither of them can be happy again, is clear to me. Braus. And I, too, Frost, shall never be happy again. Frost. You ! On what account ? Braus. I must be silent on that subject. Frost. Only one thing more the last : do you really con- sider George Seewald a bad man? Braus. I consider him a helpless man, of limited capacity ; and it is by such people, that the greatest evils on earth are produced. I am here with the intention of speaking to him, and you will watch Johanna meanwhile. Frost. That I will do. Oh, my good George, if he could only be cleared, I would willingly mourn along with him; for though Johanna is pretty, the stranger pleases me still better. Braus. Where are your eyes ? Frost. In my head, Herr Braus ; and the stranger pleases me still better. [Goes out. SCENE II. BRAUS, then GEORGE. Braus. (Alone.) No, I do not suspect such wickedness in George a deceiver would not have acted so indiscreetly. But no consideration no knowledge of the world he is a sorry fellow, after all. [He starts on seeing GEORGE. George. (As he enters.) There are situations under which a THE SON'S RETURN. 265 man, without principle, must be tempted to put an end to his life, and such a situation is mine. With no longer a father or mother, but in their place two wives of whom, the one whom I do not love, I must endeavour to conciliate; and the one whom I do love, I must reject. Branded, withal, as a de- ceiver- condemned as a criminal I, who all my life have striven only to do my duty by every one ! Oh, it is hard ! very hard ! \He sits down exhausted. Braus. (Stepping forward.} Herr Seewald, I am but little acquainted with you, but your situation excites my compassion. I am Forester Braus, a friend of the family. Are you in a condition to hear me calmly? George. ( Without getting up.} What do you want with me 1 Braus. To speak courage to your heart. George. Spare yourself the trouble. I am an unhappy man, with whom everything he undertakes fails; who, against his will, has committed sin, from which a villain would shrink. Where shall I get courage? I wish nothing better for myself than an early death. Braus. Rouse yourself, young man ! He alone who gives himself up, is quite lost. I have spoken with your father have undertaken your defence and have much softened his displeasure. George. (Feebly.} Heaven reward you ! Braus. And I have spoken to Adele also. George. Adele! Does she also consider me guilty? Braus. Oh, no; she is more indulgent towards you than I am. George. My good Adele ! Braus. For she will not even tax you with inconsiderateness. George. When have I acted with inconsiderateness? Braus. You have acted so on every occasion. Who called on you to believe so easily the report of Johanna's death ? George. A report ! when the account came to me in regular form! Braus. By whom was it sent? N 266 THE SON'S RETURN. George. By an acquaintance. Braus. And you trusted his letter without requiring a certi- ficate of the death of your first wife ? George. The certificate of her death ! I have it. Braus. Where is it? George. Among my papers. You may see it if you wish. Braus. Very strange ! George. Is it not? Braus. Why did you not tell that to your father? George. What! Braus. That about the certificate. George. Why should I have told it him? Braus. It would have exculpated you with him. George. Ah, I don't care to be exculpated ! Whoever is dis- posed to think ill of me, may do so. That was my principle from childhood; at school, therefore, I had to suffer many un- deserved punishments. Braus. Well and good; but at this moment we are not talking of school punishments. The question is about a crime, to which, as it appears, you were led into by intentional deceit. George. Heaven forbid! Braus. No one would draw out a certificate of death on a mere report. George. But no one tells lies without some object; and who could be benefited by the fact of my considering my wife dead? Braus. Who? (A side.) What a dreadful suspicion seizes me if she herself the disturbance of her mind her resolution to fly and did she not speak of remorse which weighed on her mind? (Aloud.) Herr Seewald, were you willing that Johanna should have followed you to America? George. Indeed I was. As soon as I set foot in Vogard's house, and saw that things were likely to go well with me, I wrote to that effect, in my last letter to her, which she never answered. THE SON'S RETURN. 267 Braus. (Aside.) Now all is clear to me. She was not willing to cross the sea, and on that account permitted herself But he must never learn this. (Aloud.) Herr Seewald, you are a thoroughly honest man, and free from all guilt; and in a few moments your father shall be convinced of it. George. (Sighing.) And then? Braus. Then you may be happy, if you will only have courage to be so. George. Happy! I? Braus. Adele returns to America. George. She flies from me ? Braus. Oh, no; she only feels that it is no longer fitting she should be in your neighbourhood. Loving you, esteeming you, she separates herself from you. George. That I believe she knows my heart, she alone. Ah, dear Herr Braus, what a new and beautiful life was opening for me through her ! For the first time I saw myself regarded, understood. My mind, even my dull mind, became every day clearer by her presence. Braus. Be grateful to her she deserves it but do not, on her account, entirely overlook Johanna's merits. George. Johanna's merits? Braus. Yes, indeed. Johanna is not soft and languishing, like Adele; perhaps, too, Johanna used to tell you many dis- agreeable truths. She is somewhat hasty, and a little obstinate, but a charming woman; and as a proof of this, I will confess to you, that I am in love with her. George. Is it possible? Braus. Yes; wonder, if you will I am in love with Johanna; and I tell you this not to inspire you with jealousy, for I have already withdrawn from her this day I have withdrawn but to ask you, as my reward, not to think too slightingly of her who was once the hope of my life. George. (Aside.) The man has an extraordinary taste. (Aloud.) N2 268 THE SON'S RETURN. I will respect Johanna as highly as I can. A virtuous woman she ever was that she certainly was, and here, to be sure, she has other people to quarrel with. Braus. She regrets the impatient temper which formerly led her to vex those around her, and owns that her character has much improved since she has lived in this house. George. (Sighing.) Well, we will hope for the best. Good heavens! AdSle! SCENE III. Enter ADELE to the others. Braus. (To GEORGE.) Take leave of her meanwhile, I will go to your father. [Goes out. SCENE IV. GEORGE. ADELE. Adele. Do not fear me, George! I do not come to reproach you, your father may say what he will; nothing can shake my opinion of you. You have not deceived me that you have not : in this conviction I find my peace the justification of my choice ; may Heaven forgive those, whoever they be, who framed so cruel a plot against our happiness, and plunged us, credulous as we were, into such an abyss of misery. George. Herr Braus has just been telling me that you think of going away; it grieves me, but let it be so; I will not seek to detain you. In your own country, good and beautiful as you are, you will soon find a more worthy partner; when that happens, let me know it, and joy in your happiness shall be my last joy. Ah! I was not worthy of you ! A dele. George, you are no brilliant character, and you want many of the qualities which charm others of my sex ; I am aware of this, you see. In making choice of you, I thought only of your heart, and a heart like yours I shall never find again; I shall think of no second husband, therefore, but remain your widow till death ! Henceforth, I will seek my THE SON'S RETURN. 269 happiness only in doing good. Strive to do the same, George, and that the means may never fail you, take, oh, take the half of my fortune. [She gives him a paper. George. No, Adele! no! I do not misunderstand your gene- rous offer; but, if I took money from you I should feel hum- bled, and you would not wish to humble me. Highly you have honoured me in making me your choice; inexpressibly happy you have made me; and I have brought you an evil return against my will, indeed oh, on my honour, against my will. Pardon me, then, and so let us part. \He turns away. A dele. Farewell, George! (Pointing to the paper.) And, should you ever become a father, this belongs to your children. [Goes out quickly. George. (Makes a movement to follow her, but recollecting himself, remains.) No, I will not follow her; I must, hence- forth, withdraw my thoughts altogether from her. They say I am a weak man weak, oh, yes, against deceit and cunning but strong where it concerns my duties duties which I have never intentionally transgressed. SCENE V. GEORGE. COLONEL and MADAME SEEWALD. Madame Seewald. George, dear George, embrace your father, who is convinced of your innocence, and restores to you his affection. Colonel Seewald. Yes, my son ! Braus has just left me, and I have learnt that you are an honourable man, therefore come to my arms ! I esteem, and pity you. George. (Sorrowfully.) Do you not? Ah, I knew well that it must at last come to this. Col. See. Adele leaves us this very hour; have you taken leave of her ! George. A few minutes ago for ever ! . Col. See. Then you have already undergone the hardest 270 THE SON'S RETURN. struggle; therefore, courage; and in the presence of your parents come now to Johanna. George. Now? Col. See. Of course, that harmony may, at length, be re- established in my house. Mad. See. Dear husband, he looks very much agitated. Col. See. That should not be in the son of a soldier. George, compose yourself; everything will turn out well atlast. George. (Aside.) What he calls turning out well ! Col. See. Don't hang down your head. The woman we lose always seems better than the one who remains to us ; and yet, after all, one is just as good as the other. Come, come, let us make an end of this. George. I will follow you. (Aside.) My good father speaks according to his view of the case, and, on my honour, he com- prehends it ill enough. [Goes out with Itis parents. SCENE VI. JOHANNA'S room. On a table, lie clothes, linen, and other effects, besides a sealed letter. JOHANNA, alone. Johanna. (Enters with a bundle in her hand.) The arrival of that stranger has made a great commotion in the house. I cannot guess who she is, nor what she wants, and these restless doings increase my anguish. (She looks at the clock.) Eight o'clock ! If Frost has kept his word, the carriage may be here soon, which shall take me away from this place ! Farewell, then, friendly home ! My packing is finished, and (pointing to the bundle which lies on the table) here is my travelling-box ; poor as I came here, will I go. Let the rich presents of the good old people which I leave behind, assure them that, if unworthy, I am yet not ungrateful. (Some one knacks at the door.) Ah, Frost ! I am coming. (She opens the door. THE SON'S RETURN. 271 SCENE VII. BRAUS. JOHANNA. Joh. How! It is you, Herr Braus? For Heaven's sake, what do you want here? Braus. To keep you from committing a folly. (He looks at tJie table.} These preparations! then Frost did not deceive me, and you think of flying. Joh. I need neither you nor any one else to call my actions to account. My resolution, whatever it may be, is not lightly determined on, and no one will be able to alter it. Braus. I have spoken with George. Joh. What could he have had to say to you? Braus. Many things, which have thrown light on your affairs and, in short, Johanna, I believe that I now know the guilt which weighs on your conscience, and drives you hence. Joh. {Frightened.} Speak plainer. Braus. Oh, Johanna, you have deeply erred deeper, indeed, than you know for for have you considered the consequences of your action 1 Joh. The consequences? Oh, heavens, what can they be? A moment of misunderstanding ! I have written a letter to the old people, in which I make known to them my fault, and through which they will learn all, as soon as I am far from them. Braus. You must not go, Johanna. Your oath, your duty bind you to this house. Besides, George is an honest man, who always considered your happiness, and never looked on your tie with him as broken, until deceived by a false certifi- cate of your death Joh. Heavens ! Braus. Through a false certificate of your death, I say but you do not hear me? Joh. I hear only go on ! THE SONS RETURN. Braus. Deceived by a false certificate of your death, be resolved Johanna, you have no right to condemn him. Joh. Resolved! On what? Braus. To enter into a second marriage. Joh. A second marriage? Braus. Pardon him an offence which confess it you your ; self occasioned him to commit. The stranger who visited this house so unexpectedly to-day is his second wife. Joh. Oh, poor George ; how they must have treated him ! Braus. As worse than a criminal; and yet he is not guilty, but follows out his duty much better than any one else. Of his free will he withdrew himself from the friend who was the source of all his happiness, and she returns to her native country. Joh. To her country? Braus. Yes, to Guadaloupe. Joh. And when does she think of going? Braus. This very hour. Joh. This hour? Then there is not a moment to be lost. Braus. You tremble ! You change colour ! SCENE VIII. Enter FROST. Frost. I only wished to say, dear madam, that in respect of the carriage, a difficulty has come in the way. Joh. The carriage ! I am not going away now, Frost I must not go. But Heaven sent you here. Do you know where the stranger is? Frost. What stranger? Joh. The stranger George's wife. Frost. Then you know Joh. I know all ; but she is still here, I hope ? Frost. I scarcely think so. THE SON'S RETURN. 273 Joh. Then take a horse, ride pursue her until you reach her, and give her (taking tJie letter from, the table) this letter ! Frost. To the stranger? Joh. Yes, it must be in her hands to-day, or your George will be ruined. Frost. George, do you say; I will run, fly, swim, if it be necessary, to America ; but explain yourself? Joh. You shall learn all ; but do not now lose time with questions. Frost. Then give it here give it here! (He takes the letter.) The stranger shall have the letter she shall have it ! [_Goes out. SCENE IX. BRAUS. JOHANNA. Joh. Braus, you look inquiringly at me. You do not under- stand me at all? Braus. I must confess, your actions appear to me somewhat mysterious. In the meantime, I thank you for having resolved to stay. Joh. Yes, I shall stay; but do not think that it is you who induced me to do so. Oh, Braus, what a terrible hour awaits me! What will you what will every one here soon think of me? Poor George, particularly, who always behaved to me as a friend, and whom I have treated so ill. Braus. Bestow on him your love, and the poor fellow will be happier than he deserved, in spite of his good-nature. Joh. My love, yes ; my friendship I dedicate to him as long as I live. Braus. With that you will yet be a happy couple. Joh. Ah, you do not know what you say truly you do not know. Braus. I think they are coming. Joh. George and his parents. Braus. All my senses forsake me ! N 3 274 THE SON'S RETURN. SCENE X. Enter GEORGE, COLONEL, and MADAME SEEWALD. Col. Seewald. There she is ! "We have brought you to her door, my son; but the husband himself can best manage his own affairs; therefore, go in to her alone. We old people will wait at the door until it comes to the blessing. Sraus. (Aside.) Here he is. May Heaven lend assistance to both ! George. Johanna! (JOHANNA turns away.) Johanna, will you not look at me? Joh. (Turning towards him) Dear George George. Lisette! Are you also here, Lisette? Braus. Lisette! George. I am glad of this, it gives me courage. You have always been my friend have often taken my part, so I hope that to-day you will reconcile me and my wife. Col. See. (To MADAME SEEWALD.) What is he saying, then? Mad. See. I don't understand a word. George. You know all, do you not? You know that I have got another wife? I was drawn into it by deceit by a shame- ful deceit! Joh. (LISETTE.) Poor George ! George. And now that I know the truth, I return back to Johanna sad indeed ! she cannot take that ill of me, but firmly resolved to be a good husband, if I may only hope for peace at home. Li&ette. Peace you shall find at least, as far as we are con- cerned. My father is dead ! George. Ah, indeed! Lis. And Johanna George. I am ready to see her; take me to her. Lis. To Johanna ! George. (Pointing to tlie side door.) Is she there? THE SON'S RETURN. 275 Lis. George, what are you saying] what are you thinking of? Johanna died a year ago. George: Died! * Lis. Did you not receive the certificate of her death? George. Ah ! yes, yes ! but afterwards they bewildered me. Lis. Deceived through me, George through me, who alone caused this misunderstanding. George. A misunderstanding, you say! Then Johanna is really and Adele is now Heaven be for shame ! what am T saying? Col. See. Johanna dead! And who are you, then? George. Lisette, my wife's younger sister, who lived with her in my house. Lis. (To COLONEL and MADAME SEEWALD.) Yes, I am poor Lisette, and entreat your pardon. Deceived by the papers of Johanna, the good Madame Seewald took me for her daughter- in-law. I know that 1 ought to have undeceived her; but place yourselves in my situation my sister dead my father dead I taken ill on my journey home a destitute, portion- less maiden the arms of a mother were opened to me. Can you condemn me because I threw myself into them? SCENE XL Enter FROST. Frost. (To LISETTE.) Dear Madame ! Lis. Well, Frost, have you brought back the stranger? Speak out ! Frost. Yes, at the garden door. As she was on the point of stepping into the carriage, she received your letter from me. George. Adele! Lis. Quite right, Adele. Hush ! Frost. She tore it open carelessly, but after she had read the first line, you should have seen her joy ! She became first pale, then red she laughed and wept! Poor George, cried she, at last; then collected all her strength and followed me. 276 THE SON'S RETURN. George. Oh, my Adele ! my beloved Adele ! [Goes out. Lis. He is happy, and I part from you in peace, if only your displeasure does not follow me. Mad. See. Part from us ! No, Lisette, or Johanna, which- ever you are you shall not go. Is it not so, my dear husband ? She shall not? Col. See. She has tended me as a daughter, and my house shall be a home to her. Eraus. With your leave, Herr Colonel, I shall protest against that ; she shall move into my house. Lis. Braus, what are you saying? Braua. As Frau Foresteress, if you permit. SCENE XII. Enter GEORGE. ADELE. George. Here she is ! Here is my true, my only wife ! And now love her. [He draws her into MADAME SEEWALD'S arms. Mad. See. Oh, my daughter ! Addle. How happy I am! v George. (To COLOXEL SEEWALD.) You are satisfied now, father are you not? And my mother, too, and she, too (Pointing to ADELE) and I also ! You have, indeed, no hero for a son, but you have, what Heaven is pleased to favour an honest man ! af-~S*SV^ n . r'' THE YOUNG LADY FKOM THE COUNTRY. & Brama, IN FIVE ACTS. DRAMATIS PERSONS. FERDINAND, Baron von Brandner. COUNTESS AURELIA VON SONNENBEKO, a young Widow. 1 1 1: i; i: VON REiNSPERG, Ferdinand's friend. HERR VON BRAGENAU, an old Country Nobleman. DORA, his Daughter. WILDEN, a Usurer. PHILIP, Ferdinand's Servant. VERONICA, "] \- two of Bragenau's old Servants. GOTTLIEB, J The Scene is in one of the principal cities of Germany. " THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY" (Das Fraulein vom Lande) was published at Berlin, in 1836. Although the scene is laid in a town, the allusions give some insight into German country life. The heroine is represented as taking a more active part in the manage- ment of the estate and country business in general in all that is included in the German term, " Landswirth- schaft" than is usual with young ladies in England. But in many parts, both of Germany and Poland, daughters inherit a part of their father's landed pro- perty ; and when married, retain the management of it, and the power of leaving it to whom they will. This law makes it advisable, and even necessary, for a lady to understand the management of landed property, and many details come within her province which would be considered elsewhere as belonging exclusively to men. Ferdinand, the young and gay spendthrift nobleman, is represented as failing to obtain a place under govern- ment, from not having passed well through his studies. 280 This requires explanation. In Germany, a considerable portion of society is formed of those who hold offices under government these offices being almost countless. It is often thought necessary for a young man of noble family to make his carriere, as it is called, viz., his progress through the different grades of the military or civil service ; and for this purpose he must bring a certificate of good conduct and acquirements from the pastor of his parish, the school where he was brought up, and the university at which he studied. (See Mrs. Jameson's " Social Life in Germany.") Hence, one who has not passed honourably through college, is liable, however noble his birth, to be refused a place, as in the instance before us. THE YOUNG LADY FKOM THE COUNTRY. ACT I. SCENE I. A salon in the house of the COUNTESS, lighted up as if for a fete. From time to time, waltz-music is heard in the distance. BARON FERDINAND, alone. Ferdinand. It is too provoking! too provoking! this haughtiness this cold indifference! If I could but resolve to give her up and seek some one else ! If I could, I might find ten loving hearts for one. She promised me to be here as soon as the waltz was over. I must declare myself I must know where I stand. Enter HERR VON KEINSPERG. Reinsperg. So I have found you at last, then? Do tell me what is the matter with you? To leave the ball at the most brilliant part of it ! Fer. I can't bear waltz-music. Rein. The serpent makes an odious noise, it is true; but still, with all that, you seemed formerly Fer. Formerly is not now. Rein. When you and Countess Aurelia Fer. The Countess does not dance; she is enjoying the strange pleasure of looking at a game of cards. Rein. Indeed! And this sober taste seems to displease you! Has any whist or I'ftombre player stood in your light? 282 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. Per. Tell me, Henry, do you know anything more unin- teresting than a man of forty? A youth is pleasing, an old man is venerable; but one who stands in the middle between the two Rein. Enough of that ! I am just entering my nine-and- thirtieth year. What has happened between you and the Countess? Fer. Have you patience to hear the story? Rein. No; for most likely it is a very long one. Fer. That it is indeed. Ah, Henry, I cannot remain in Aurelia's chains any longer. Rein. Then give her up. Fer. I cannot do that either. Rein. Well, what can you do? Fer. Rave ! If I must renounce Aurelia Rein. Then you must look out for another wife. Fer. Have you, then, never been in love? Rein. Never in my life. Twice I wished to marry, but nothing ever came of it, and I consoled myself as I advise you to console yourself for Aurelia's loss. Besides, your father is against the marriage. Fer. Yes, because he is against everything that is dashing. Rein. And in the midst of all this dash, you have incurred some dashing debts. Fer. Which he will not even pay. Rein. I would not, at least, in his place. Fer. I sent him a letter by Councillor* Strahlen a letter which, I think, might soften a rock. I wrote the very morning after the great masquerade ; I thought that must touch him. Rein. But it did not. Fer. The Councillor promised me, too, to support my request in person with my father; but now it is three weeks since he left this place, and I have no answer. Rein. The answer is given in that very silence. * The title in German is Hofrath literally, Court-Councillor ; there is no equivalent to it in English. THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 283 Per. If my father would but understand that a marriage with Aurelia would more than requite me for all the expenses I have incurred to please her! Rein, Do you believe that 1 Fer. Is not Aurelia rich? Rein. At this moment, yes; but she will not remain so long, for consider yourself, what is to be seen here but lace veils, embroidered fans, Parisian bonnets, French cookery, gold-laced livery servants ; in a word, everything which can point out the approaching ruin of a house. No, no, Ferdinand; give up the Countess Aurelia; I have a better match in my eye for you. Fer. Are you out of your senses 1 Rein. A match which will also please your father, and very likely induce him to pay your debts. Do you know the old Herr von Bragenau? Fer. By reputation, not personally. He is said to be an original wears buckles in his shoes, and powder in his hair, is a star-gazer, and a collector of minerals. Rein. But has also money, and an only daughter. Fer. Ah, yes, I know it ! My father once wanted to marry me to her. I was very glad that my journey to France gave me an opportunity of getting out of the scrape. Rein. And now you may be glad if she will have you. Bragenau's large estate lies just in the neighbourhood of the small town, where the president is to procure you a situation. Fer. Any one who likes may have that situation, as far as I am concerned. / bury myself in a little provincial town, with plenty of work and scanty emolument ? Not I; I would rather await my fate here. Rein. Well, if you absolutely cannot live out of the city, it is the more necessary that you should think of looking out for a good match. Fer. But I have never seen Fraiilein von Bragenau. Rein. She is just come up to town for the first time, and will make her appearance here at the ball, in order to make acquaintance with you, her future husband. 284 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. Fer. Reinsperg! Edn. Well, well ! calm yourself, the girl is not ugly. Fer. What is that to me? Rein. To you ! More than to any one else, for I have told the father in confidence that you were desirous of being his son-in-law, and the idea struck him greatly. Fer. But he knows nothing of me. Rein. You may be very glad that he does not know you. I told him that you had an old head on young shoulders. Fer. I? Rein. That you were a man who always pays ready money, goes to bed at ten o'clock, and plays no games but chess and draughts. He knows me, from having met me at Herr Walter's hunting parties, and believes every word of what I told him. Fer. How could you bring yourself to tell such lies 1 Rein. Lies ! To be sure, when I consider it, they ^oere lies. I had not thought of that. Fer. You have thrown me into the most dreadful perplexity. Rein. Perplexity ! Heaven forbid ! You have only to be the man that Herr von Bragenau expects to find in you, and then marry the young lady; in this way you are free from all per- plexity. Fer. I marry a country girl ? an uncultivated country girl ! What would my fashionable friends say to that? Rein. They would envy you; for Dora's portion will cer- tainly not be inconsiderable; besides, you are not obliged to bring your wife into the circle which you visit here. She is accustomed to live in the country; holds very much to her greenhouse, her poultry-yard, and her dairy. Well, leave her then in the midst of her innocent pleasures, which you may share with her in May and June. In July the physician orders you a journey to the baths; in September there will be hunt- ing parties; and in winter you will have continually business in the town, sometimes a purchase, sometimes a former specu- THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 285 lation to arrange, sometimes a lawsuit. You stay away a week, a fortnight, a month; write home letters of four lines, and your wife and father-in-law praise the careful householder, who, instead ,of working, is going to two dozen balls and as many soirees. Fer. In that way, Henry, the thing might be worth con- sidering. But no, no ! my love for Aurelia Rein. And the bill of three thousand dollars, which is due to-morrow ! Fer. Old Wilden will let me have another respite. Rein. He will not do that, unless you can declare yourself the bridegroom of a lady of large fortune; he did it last time in hopes of your marriage with Aurelia, and now he no longer trusts you. Fer. That is detestable ! Rein. Think what it would be if he were to arrest you; that would destroy your credit once for all you would be lost. Fer. Have I, then, no friends left 1 ? You yourself, Henry might you not be able only for a short time? Rein. I have not three thousand dollars available in my possession, and if I had, I tell you plainly, I would not give them to you. Fer. Well, then, I must speak to the man to-day; how pro- voking ! (The music ceases.) The music has stopped. Aurelia will be here directly. Henry, would you be so kind as to go in my place? Rein. To Wilden? With pleasure. I know he is at home; I will come back presently, and bring you his answer. I am very willing to serve my friends; but when it comes to bor- rowing of me, they find me cased in an armour of indifference, and rightly, too, for friendship is by nature poetical, but money is prosaic altogether prosaic. [He goes out. Fer. (Alone.) There she comes, the lovely, captivating Aurelia! For her sake I set up a carriage, a jockey, and a black servant; for her I betted on horses, and lost my money 286 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. at whist. And now she shall marry me, she must marry me, if ten privy counsellors were to oppose themselves to it. SCENE II. FERDINAND. THE COUNTESS AURELIA. Aurelia. The waltz is over, and here I am. Admire my punctuality. Per. I suppose Counsellor von Ringen is just winning the game, and could you quietly leave him to his fate ? Aur. Counsellor von Ringen is a steady, sober lover, who does not watch every step and movement of his lady. Fer. I wish you would explain yourself at once clearly to him. Aur. What shall I explain to him? Fer. You should make known to him he is too worthy a man to be deceived. Aur. Who thinks of deceiving him? Fer. Then / am the deceived one? Aur. Neither you nor he; for to my knowledge, I have promised nothing to either of you. Fer. Aurelia! Aur. Listen to me. You have paid your addresses to me; well, that is very allowable; but you sought my hand, that is something more. Fer. And you have given me hopes. Aur. Hope is not certainty. Ferdinand, I am well-disposed towards you ; but I am no girl of eighteen, but a widow of two-and-twenty. Reason must have a voice in my determina- tion. Your circumstances are, I understand, by no means good. Fer. My circumstances ? Aur. Yes; and your father will advance you nothing. I have money, it is true ; but I want it myself; and I do not feel myself disposed to begin my married life with paying debts. I will accept you, Ferdinand, willingly, but not buy you. I think I could find it in my heart to sacrifice half my fortune to the needy father of a family, but never to a lover; THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 287 he must offer himself to me free from debts, if he wishes for my hand, that the suspicious world may be convinced that it was my little bit of beauty, and not my ducats, that attracted him. Fer. Then will you prove to me that the philosophers are right who affirm that what women call love is only vanity? Aur. If you would prevent me from believing that men's love is only selfishness, do you put your affairs in order. Why are you, all of a sudden, so cast down why are you so dis- heartened? I will own to you, Ferdinand, that you are the man who at this moment interests me the most. Fer. (Bitterly.) Keally! Aur. But I will give myself time to observe you before I decide for you. F&r. Indeed! (Aside) To-morrow she will observe me in custody. Aur. You must be free from debts, if I marry you. Fer .(Aside.) That I shall be at Dooms-day. SCENE III. Enter HERR VON BRAGENAU, in an old-fashioned embroidered coat, accompanied by DORA, in a heavy silk dress, quite unfit for a ball, and somewhat overloaded with ornaments. Bragenau. Here she is, your ladyship really here ! I have the honour to pay my respects to you ! The ball has begun, has it not ? I hope we did not keep any one waiting ! Aur. In town, here, we lay no restraint on our guests. Every one comes and goes as he likes. Bra. Then one may go when one likes ? Well, that fashion pleases me; and if you will allow me, I will beg to be excused in about half an hour. We shall have nearly a total eclipse of the moon this evening, which I should like to watch. Aur. Just as you please; but you will not carry away your daughter so soon ? Bra. My Dora? No, she must have her pleasure she must 288 THE YOUXG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. stay to the last touch of the fiddle. She has never been to a ball in her life, much less in town; for when I have come up here for an astronomical lecture or a horticultural show, there was so much to be done in the country that I had to leave her behind. Dora, if you feel embarrassed among all these strange people, just keep close to the countess. She is our neighbour; you know her; keep by her. Do you hear ? She will allow you. Don't stir from her side. A ur. Embrace me, my dear Fraiilein. Well, what do you think of all this? How do you like the town ? Bra. She cannot well judge just yet, for we only arrived this afternoon, and she had to begin her toilette directly. What do you think of my daughter's dress ? Does not she look like a queen? I ordered it all myself. Fer. (In a low voice to the COUNTESS.) Do tell me who in the world those two caricatures are ? A ur. (Aside to him.) Hush, hush! (Aloud.) My old friend, Herr von Bragenau, and his daughter, Fraiilein Dora. Fer. (Astonished and confused.) Bragenau ! I am in- finitely delighted Bra. Who is that young gentleman ? Aur. Baron von Brandner. Bra. Brandner ! Ah, well really ! Are you the Baron Brandner ? Fer. At your service. Bra. The Baron Ferdinand von Brandner, the son of my old friend Augustus Brandner? Fer. The same. Bra. I am rejoiced to hear it upon my honour, I am re- joiced! Dora, let me present you to this young gentleman. Fer. May I have the honour, Fraiilein? (Aside.) Then this is the angel Reinsperg has found for me ? I would rather die than take her for a wife. Bra. I hear you are such a worthy young man steady, upright, and economical. Bravo ! Have you news of your father? THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 289 Fer. He writes to me, from time to time. Bra. To be sure ! would not he write to such a son ? Well, how does he go on? Fer. Perfectly well; as well as any one could wish. Bra. Then I hope he is in good health 1 Fer. As sound as a nut. Bra. I can well believe that. To be a happy father gives a man a second youth. No one knows that better than I do, I who am a happy father, too. Fer. The father of a Grace. Bra. The father of a good, useful, notable daughter. My Dora manages the farm business with great diligence. She knows the name of every one of the cows. Dora. Father! Aur. We will not think of a country life, and its troubles, here at the ball. A new waltz is going to begin. You dance, do you not, Fraiilein Dora? Dora. 11 Oh, no! Bra. No 2 Don't believe her; she dances she dances splendidly. I made her take lessons of an old ballet master, who once came to our neighbourhood for the milk cure. mouline, ronde, ballote she learnt it all. Aur. The Baron von Brandner would be very happy if you would do him the honour Fer. (Aside to her.) What do you say? Aur. (In a low voice to him.) Do you behave civilly. She is a stranger. Bra. The Baron von Brandner? You must dance with him, Dora; that you must, at all events. (To FERDINAND.) I won't raise your expectations too high, but you will see, Baron you will see. Fer. (Confused.) May I beg you, Fraiilein Dora. Pray excuse me. \_T~he music begins. Bra. The Baron won't take any excuse. (To FERDINAND.) o 290 THE YODNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. Is not that true ? Tra, la, la ! Do you hear that charming music, my child? Dora, if you love me, you will dance ! Fer. If it were disagreeable to the young lady Dora. To me! Oh, no, no; but I tell you beforehand, I dance badly. Fer. All modesty nothing but modesty. (He gives DORA his arm. Aside, as he is leading her to the dancing-room.) I am ready to die with shame ! SCENE IV. AURELIA. BRAGENAU. Bra. (Looking after them.) A handsome couple! Are they not, Countess? A handsome couple! If I could only see them going that way, hand in hand, to the altar ! Aur. To the altar! How? Bra. You are my neighbour in the country, my only acquaintance in the town ; I may tell you in confidence that young Brandner has thoughts of my daughter. Aur. Indeed? Bra. I know it through one of his friends, and for 'that very reason I came up to town with Dora; for I wished the young people should have an opportunity of knowing each other. Aur. Do you know young Brandner, then? Bra. I have just seen him for the first time. Aur. And you are willing to give him your daughter? Bra. Why not? for his father's sake, and in consideration of his character of the excellent character he bears. He is said to be a pattern for all the young gentlemen of the city, and I must give my Dora to a city gentleman, for my poor wife brought her up with that view. Such men as we have out in the country could not properly appreciate her acquire- ments and her cleverness. Aur. (Aside.) Does Ferdinand seriously mean no, no, it is THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 291 impossible! I guess now which way the wind lies. (Aloud.) Will you tell me the name of the friend who is negotiating this match between your daughter and Brandner? Bra. Heir von Reinsperg, a very worthy man, who knows something of astronomy. Aur. (Laughing.) Reinsperg! v Could I have thought it! Bra. You laugh 1 ? Aur. Pray don't be vexed at my laughter. Baron Ferdi- nand is a distinguished young man, and quite fitted for your daughter. Bra. Well, and therefore? Aur. Therefore you are right in giving her to him as soon as he proposes for her, that is. Bra. And he will propose. Aur. Perhaps. Bra. Why, he is just dancing with her. After the waltz he will speak out, I will lay you anything. Aur. I wish you may win your wager. Bra. Where in the world could he find any one better than my daughter? I would lay anything that she is the prettiest girl at the ball, and the cleverest, too. Aur. I thank you for the compliment, in the name of the other ladies. Bra. Don't be angry, my dear madam; I was not thinking of you at all. You are a widow, and therefore, of course, with- out any pretensions. Aur. Well, however, there are people who, in spite of my widowhood, don't think me ugly. Bra. Ugly! Who speaks of ugly! I think you, on the contrary, very handsome, my dear Countess. But you would not make any pretensions to Baron Brandner's hand. There comes my friend Reinsperg; don't let him find out what I have just said to you do you understand? Aur. Make yourself quite easy about that o 2 292 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. SCENE V. Enter REIXSPERG. Reinsperg. Your ladyship's obedient servant. A ur. Do tell me where you are come from, Herr von Reins- perg ? I saw you only half an hour ago in the ball-room. Rein. I was called out on a commission. I suppose Baron Brandner is dancing ? Bra. He is dancing ! Yes, he is dancing with my daughter? (Aside to REINSPERG.) All is going on capitally quite capitally. (Aloud.} If you wish to speak to him, I will send him here as soon as the waltz is over. Rein. Pray don't trouble yourself ! Bra. It is an honour a pleasure to me. [Goes out. SCENE VI. AUBELIA. REINSPERQ. A ur. Herr von Reinsperg, just look me in the face look straight at me. Rein. A most agreeable duty. (He looks at her with surprise. AURELIA laughs.) You laugh. Aur. By rights, I ought not to do so ; I ought rather to frown at you ; for, Herr von Reinsperg, mark this : even if we ladies don't wish to keep a lover, we nevertheless take it ill when he is drawn off from us by stealth. Rein. I don't understand you. A ur. Old Bragenau asked me twice to dinner last summer; and therefore here, where he knows no one, I pass for his intimate friend ; accordingly, he has made known to me his plans for his daughter. Rein. Has he? Well, that is all the better; for now you know already what I was just going to tell you. Aur. And you would have had the boldness to confess to me that you while Brandner is paying his addresses to me THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 293 Rein. That while you were holding fast Brandner with half promises, I was prudent enough to secure him a more solid match. Why not? Aur. '(Aside.) The man is so shameless, that he quite takes away my presence of mind. (Aloud.) And does Ferdinand know of your project? Rein. Only within the last half hour. Aur. And what did he say when you informed him of it? Rein. He would not hear of it. , Aur. (Laughing.) I should think not. A charming Dul- cinea you have fixed on for him ! Rein. Countess, let us be clear on this subject. Our friend Brandner is in debt : will you pay his debts ? Aur. No. Rein. You are right; but after this declaration, nothing remains to him but to shut his eyes, and stretch out his hand wherever he hears a purse clinking. Aur. You are terribly prosaic, Herr von Eeinsperg. Rein. Terribly; I own I am. Aur. I will go and look after my guests. Rein. Do so, madam. (She goes.) The lady would suit me better than Ferdinand. She would be a torment and ruin to him; but to me she would be neither. I will think about it whenever I have time. We might give a couple of balls in the carnival just a couple of balls. Yes, but / must look over the accounts. SCENE VIII. KEINSPERG. FERDINAND. Ferdinand. Henry, I can bear it no longer. Rein. So you have danced with Fraiilein von Bragenau? Bravo ! a good beginning. To be the first to ask a stranger to dance, is a service of charity which the ladies prize highly. Fer. Aurelia had the malice to propose me to the country beauty for a partner. I shall remember the trick as long as THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. I live. All my acquaintance stared at me, whispered, and laughed. Rein. Let them laugh. He laughs best who laughs last. I hope you had the politeness to converse with the Fraiilein ? Fer. A pretty conversation, indeed ! What in the world could one say to such a girl ? " It is very hot here." " Very hot." " What do you think of the music of this waltz 1" " It is very pretty." " Shall you stay long in the city ?" " Oh, no !" "You are fond of country life, no doubt 1" "Oh, yes!" I thought, at last, I should have grown desperate. Rein. Certainly, I cannot tell you anything of Fraiilein Dora's understanding and acquirements, for I never saw her but once in my life, and only spoke to her about four words. But, Ferdinand, one thing is certain, she will have at least forty or fifty thousand dollars, and for that you can make a learned lady of her, if you like give her philosophical lessons, and have her taught Latin and Hebrew. Fer. Have you been at Wilden's ? Did you find him at home ? Rein. Certainly. Fer. Well, and what did he say ? Rein. I spoke like a Cicero, but all in vain. He will not hear of giving further credit. Fer. The brute ! Rein. He will have you arrested if your marriage-contract with Aurelia, or some other rich lady, is not signed in a week. Fer. What good can it do the usurer to have me in prison? Rein. What good? I will tell you. Your father is rich; as long as his son is at liberty to wander where he likes, and goes to balls and promenades, he does not pay, for he is not moved ; but if he learns that his only child is within the walls of a prison Fer. Reinsperg! Rein. Deprived of the inestimable blessings of freedom Fer. Do hold your tongue ! Rein. With no friendly being to console him THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 295 Fer. You are unbearable. Rein. Do you find me so? I am glad of that; it is a proof that I have spoken sensibly. Fer. -Before I endure such disgrace, I will send a bullet through my head. Rein. You will take Dora for your wife. Don't talk to me of suicide. Fer. Do you think, then, there is nothing to hope from Aurelia? She likes me. Rein. Oh, yes; but she likes you after the fashion of a shrewd widow. So soon as she hears of debts, she becomes as cold as ice. Fer. And yet she would be vexed if I proposed for another. Rein. That she would, in any case. Fer. If it were only to have that pleasure, I could almost there she comes, the fair Dora, as if my evil genius had called her. How she does look, good Heavens ! how she looks ! Rein. Like a rich heiress, and a good housewife into the bargain. Courage ! make use of the favourable moment have your speech ready. Her face is really not ugly; she has fine eyes. Fer. What do I see in her eyes but the arrest friend, the arrest ! I sacrifice myself to Moloch, I can do no otherwise. SCENE VIII. Enter DORA from the ball-room. Dora. (Calling at the outer door.} Gottlieb! Gottlieb! Gottlieb. (Entering.} Fraiilein! Dora. My father wishes to go out, to the Observatory. I hope you have his cloak? Gott. Yes, madam. Dora. Then give it me here, hang it over that chair, and see if a sedan can be had for me. Gott. Will not the Fraiilein dance any longer? 296 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. Dora. I am going home. I cannot bear to stay here any longer without my father. [GOTTLIEB gives her BRAGENAU'S cloak, which site hangs over a chair at the door and goes. Fer. (In a low voice to REINSPERG.) Then you think that Wilden cannot be moved? Rein. Certainly not. Fer. (To DORA.) Can I be of any use to you, madam? Dora. No, I thank you, Baron Brandner; I am going to look for my father. Fer. Will you deprive me of your company so soon? . Dora. (In an easy, unembarrassed tone.) My company? Have you anything to say to me? Fer. Much very much ; but I know not how to bring my lips to utter it. Dora. How so? Rein. My young friend is shy and confused. You must excuse it in him. Fer. (Aside to REINSPERG.) Must I really? Rein. (Aside to him.) Indeed you must. Dora. I do not understand either of you. Fer. Did you ever hear any one speak of love, Fraiilein ? Dora. (Looks at him in surprise.) Of love? Fer. Yes; of that feeling which will, in one short hour, make the timid courageous, the valiant bashful, fools wise, and wise men fools. Dora. (Somewhat frightened and uneasy.) Baron Brandner ! Rein. Do not fear him, he is not out of his senses, but alas ! a waltz has just decided the fate of his whole life. Dora. A waltz ! Rein. Yes; the one he has just danced with you. Dora. I do not understand one word of all this. Fer. I have been in many countries, Fraiilein Dora. Indeed! Fer. I have there seen many and rare beauties THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 297 Dora. I can believe it. Fer. But what has happened to me to-day what has hap- pened to-day- Dora. No misfortune, I hope! Fer. The greatest misfortune, unless your compassion, Fraii- lein, should change it into happiness for me. Rein. (To DORA.) He has fallen in love with you. Dora. (Turning away, aside.) I am ready to sink into the earth. Fer. My friend has betrayed the secret which I should never have had courage to utter before you. Yes, Dora; your beauty, your sweetness of manners, the fame of your virtues (Aside to REINSPEBG.) Reinsperg, I stick fast. Rein. The fame of your virtues above all others, has chained the heart of the Baron to you for ever. Dora. (Aside.) I am on thorns. SCENE IX. Enter GOTTLIEB. Gottlieb. The chair is here, Fraiilein ! Dora. (Aside.) Thank Heaven! (Aloud.) I am coming. Good night, gentlemen ! [She curtsies hastily, and is going. Exit GOTTLIEB. Fer. How ! you would leave us ! Dora. I am not suited to such a circle. Fer. Can my too hasty confession have offended you? Dora. Oh, pray let me go ! Fer. Can I, when you would leave me behind without a word of consolation 1 Dora. What am I to say to you? Fer. That you are not angry with me; that you forgive me. Dora. But I have nothing to forgive. Fer. (Seizes her hand.) Allow me to kiss that lovely hand. Dora. Oh, don't! Fer. As a sign of my deep veneration. o 3 298 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. SCENE X. Enter BRAGENAU yrom tlie Bali-room. Bragenau. Bravo, young man ! bravo ! No time lost ! Now Dora, why are you giving yourself airs why don't you let the Baron kiss your hand? Dora. Oh, father! Per. (Somewhat con/used.) Herr von Bragenau Bra. Well, take courage; it is no matter. Fer. (Aside to DORA.) May I speak with your father? Dora. Oh, yes, my dear sir; do so, pray. (Aside.) My father may see, perhaps, how he is to be dealt with. [She goes out hurriedly. Fer. (Aside.) She&ft/sme! that is capital ! Bra. Where is she gone? Rein. It is only her charming maidenly bashfulness. My friend Brandner, informed by me of your kind dispositions towards him, has just declared his love. Bra. Then he loves her? Rein. One glance of hers was enough to enchain him. Bra. I thought from the first that it would turn out so. Well? (To FERDINAND.) And my daughter? Fer. She referred me to you. Bra. That is a very good sign. My poor dear wife referred me to her father, twenty years ago. Rein. If you liked, my dear Herr von Bragenau, the be- trothal might be celebrated in a few days. Fer. (Dismayed, in a low voice.) Reinsperg ! Rein. (To him, in a low hurried voice.) In a couple of weeks it would be too late. (Aloud.) In my opinion, there is no good in putting off what is once resolved upon, and my young friend is impatient for the moment in which he may be allowed to call you father. Fer. Yes, I assure you; I am most impatient for the moment. THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 299 Era. Well, well, we will see. To be sure, there will be so much, to be done and settled. Fer. Settled! How so? Bra* You have a father. Fer. Whose wish has been for years past for a union between me and your daughter. Bra. I know that he will have no objection, but propriety demands and besides, I think, it is also needful that we should know a little more of each other, before well, why do you look so dismayed? Fer. The anxiety of a lover. Bra. Do you, then, love my Dora so much? Ah, I under- stand I understand. Be calm I am inclined to forward your wishes. I think the thing will be brought about. Fer. Herr von Bragenau, till I have attained the object of my wishes, I shall be the most unhappy of men. You cannot conceive what is in my mind. Bra. Be reasonable. Fer. I shall never know peace till the contract is signed. Bra. Well, I give you my word. Fer. Herr von Bragenau, I would rather have the contract. Bra. Do you doubt my uprightness? Fer. Oh, no; but I would rather have the contract. Rein. After all, he is right. You see, my dear friend, if, for example, anything was to happen to you before you signed the contract, your daughter's guardian might, in spite of your plighted word Bra. Sir! Fer. Henry, your jokes are unseasonable. SCENE XI. Enter GOTTLIEB. Gottlieb. The Professor wishes to let you know, sir, that you should come at once, for the eclipse will be over directly. 300 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. Bra. Really? Then my watch must be too slow. (Draws out his watch.) Ah, good heavens, it has stopped ! Gott. The servant thinks the professor cannot wait for you any longer, sir. Bra. I know that as well as you. Give me my cloak. (He takes his cloak.) Gentlemen, you will excuse me. Per. (Seizes his hand.) Herr von Bragenau ! Bra. Tou shall have the word contract whatever you will; call on me to-morrow, do you hear? to-morrow, I must be gone now. [Goes out, GOTTLIEB follows him. Rein. I congratulate you, sir bridegroom. Per. I wish that miser, Wilden, was sitting with the old man and his daughter on the eclipsed moon. \He goes out, followed by R.EINSPERG. ACT II. SCENE I. A room in BRAGENAU'S house. Books and news- papers arranged on a small table; tobacco-pipes on another. DORA, in a simple morning dress. VERONICA. Dora. (Occupied in arranging the table.) Just so ! (To VERONICA.) And now, bring the chair here. Veronica. (Brings a chair.) Here? Dora. Yes. Where is the cushion for my father's back? Ver. (Brings it.) Here? Dora. (Laying it on the chair.) Very well; now, I think, we are ready. Ver. When my master comes in, he will think he is in his own house in the country. Dora. So he shall. He shall never miss any of his comforts where I am. Veronica, how do you like the town? Ver. I? Very much. THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY 301 Dora. I do not at all. I could not sleep till two o'clock this moniing ; I kept thinking of the annoyance of last night, my dress, and the way I behaved at the ball, which I am sure was very silly. I wanted to recall to my mind exactly what I had said, and I could not; I could remember nothing, and when at last I fell asleep, I dreamt I was again in the midst of those strange, unfriendly people, and the young man was standing before me who made me so confused yesterday, and that made me awake with my heart beating. Ver. He must have been an addle-headed young man. Dora. And yet I should like to see him again, just to show him that I am not the silly girl he, doubtless, takes me for. Ver. Silly you? Well, if you are silly, I should like to know who in the world is sensible ! Dora. Ah, Veronica, I dare say I am not one of the wisest; but I do feel, that in my morning dress I am quite a different person from what I was in full dress yesterday. Take care that no noise is made in this room, lest my father should wake. I am going to work at the waistcoat I am embroidering for him. [DORA goes out. Ver. (Alone.) The Fraiilein may say what she will, I am quite sure that she made a great sensation at the bah 1 , just because of her dress. Gottlieb says none of the other ladies were as smartly dressed as she was, nothing but muslin and gauze ; she was rustling in her silks. As for that young gen- tleman, I would lay anything that he was a lover; I am sure it could not have been anything else ; I dare say she did not understand his courting. How should she? she never had a lover yet. (She goes to the ivindow.) Well, for all that, I like the town very much. What work it must have cost to build so many houses together and such high houses ! Nothing amuses me more than that fountain opposite. I stood looking for half an hour this morning into that great monster's face, with the water spouting out of his mouth, and laughing at it. In the middle of the day I shall go to the menagerie, and this 302 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. evening to the pantomime. If we only stay here a week, I shall have enough to tell my husband for the next six months. [She leans against the window. SCENE II. Enter FERDINAND, by the middle door. Ferdinand. So, here I am at last, in the fated house, like Egmont when he entered the Duke of Alva's presence, appa- rently free, and in reality a wretched prisoner. Brandner! Brandner ! have you not been too hasty? Was there nothing left to be sold, in order to procure three thousand dollars, but your freedom? Hold! I am not alone. A female form leans against the window, probably my chosen bride in her morning dress. (Aloud.) Fraiilein! Ver. (Turning round.) What is it? Fer. I wish to speak to Herr von Bragenau. Ver. He has not yet opened his door. He was up at the eclipse till late last night, and is most likely asleep now. Fer. But the young lady ? Ver. The young lady was up at five this morning to unpack the trunks, and put her father's sitting room in order. Does it not look as if it had been inhabited these fourteen years ? Yes, but our Fraiilein how careful she is, and how she loves her father! There is not one of the peasants who would not wish to have a daughter like her? Fer. I hear she is a good farm-manager. Ver. And learned, too so learned ! She reads books, and talks French, and she can play the piano, too. Fer. Really! Ver. But she is strongest in medicine. We have no sur- geon in the village, and she cures all our sick. Fer. Indeed! Ver. And speaks so kindly to them at the same time, that her very words half cure them. Fer. Fraiilein Dora? THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 303 Ver. Yes, indeed. She is honoured among us like a good angel. Only come to Eeichthal and ask the people. Fer. The Fraiilein was at a ball yesterday, for the first time in her life; do you know whether she liked it? Ver. She came back quite excited, and talked to me about it for an hour. F&r. (Smiling, aside.) I can believe that. (Aloud.') Well, what did she say 1 ? Ver. That she would beg her father never to take her to a ball again. Fer. Did she say that ? Ver. She said she was almost worn out with weariness and confusion, and that at last a young coxcomb came up to her F&r. A coxcomb? Ver. Yes, an insufferable man, who, with Herr von Reins- perg to stand by him, chattered such senseless stuff to her, that she went away, so that she might not have to listen to him any longer. Fer. (Aside.) That vexes me! really that does vex me! Will this country Dryad play the precieuse ? Ver. Perhaps you can tell me who the man was? Fer. I? Oh, no; there were so many young men at the ball. As Herr von Bragenau is not yet visible, I wish you would announce me to the young lady. Ver. That can be done. What name shall I say? Fer. I am an acquaintance of Herr von Bragenau's : he appointed me to come here himself. Ver. But you must have a name. Fer. I will not give my name to any but the young lady. Ver. That will do very well, for I find it very hard to remember names. [VERONICA goes out. Fer. (Alone.) I seem not to have pleased the young lady, and yet I paid court to her at a furious rate; she is either not so silly as I thought, or sillier; and I must therefore manage 304 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. matters differently. But how? Her answers to my first questions must teach me that. SCENE III. Enter DORA and VERONICA. Veronica. Here is the gentleman who wishes to speak to you. Dora. What do I see? (She curtsies to FERDINAND.) Fer. Fraiilein Dora. (In a whisper to VERONICA.) Ah, Veronica, it is he the same Ver. (Aside to her.) Not the crazy man of the ball, I hope? Dora. (In a low voice.) Oh, be still. Ver. (In the same tone.) Shall I stay or go? Dora. (Still whispering.) Go, go! I should be ashamed if he thought he could embarrass me. Ver. (In a whisper) Just behave as you are accustomed to do, and you will make him respect you. [VERONICA goes out. Fer. (Looking at DORA, aside.) Reinsperg is right, though; she is not ugly. (Aloud.) I come, madam, at your father's desire he appointed me. Dor. My father did not come home till after midnight. I will see if he is up. Fer. Oh, pray stay. I wished much to have an opportunity, before I saw him, of giving you an account of the conversation I had last night with him. Dora. An account? to me? I wish for no account. Fer. No? but it was by your permission only I spoke to your father. Dora. Could I have prevented you from speaking to him? My father, I know, is willing to listen to every one. Fer. Then you did not guess what I had to say to him? Dora. How could I have guessed it? You never confided it to me. Fer. And yet I ventured to give utterance to the feelings which your first appearance awakened in me. THE YOUNG LADY FEOM THE COUNTRY. 305 Dora. Oh, don't begin with that again. Fer. I was too bold, I acknowledge that now myself. But who is at all times master of his feelings? Dora. -What could you feel on seeing me? Nothing but a disposition to laugh at my confusion and my dress. Fer. To laugh.! Dora. At my confusion that indeed would have been cruel; but at my dress that I could pardon you, for it was none of the most modern. Fer. But still it adorned you. Dora. Badly, very badly, I know ; none of the other ladies were dressed as I was. I foresaw the evil, and wished for that reason not to go to the ball, but my father obliged me my good father the gown was a present from him, he was so delighted to give it me to see me shine in it, as he thought that I would rather be laughed at by the whole world than spoil his pleasure. Fer. (Somewhat moved.) That is much for a young lady to say. Dora. For a lady ! Do you think that, because you are a man, you love your father more heartily than I do mine? Fer. N"o, not that, I only meant but to return to our former conversation Dora. I should wish it never to be renewed. Fer. Have I then come forward too late? Dora. Too late? How? Fer. Is some happier man already rejoicing in your pre- ference? Dora. What do you mean? Fer. With so many charms it can hardly be believed that some other has not already sought your hand. Dora. (Blushing.) 0, Herr Baron Fer. You blush. I understand it all. Dora. What? Fer. That you have already given your heart. 306 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. Dora. My heart? Fer. And therefore are no longer in a condition to return my love. Dora. Love! Do not laugh at me. How can you love me? You have only known me since last night. Fer. Then you do not know that a moment is often suffi- cient to kindle love in a heart 1 Dora. I do not know it, nor do I believe it. One must first find out the disposition of a person, and learn to know her character. Fer. Love passes over all these tedious details. Dora. Then love must be a great folly. Fer. It is certainly not very wise or prudent. Dora. If that is the case, I will keep at a distance from it. Fer. (Aside.) A strange girl! I must look into her cha- racter thoroughly. Dora. (Aside.) This young man seems to me very light- minded and superficial ! SCENE IV. Enter BRAGENAU. Bragenau. I beg a thousand pardons, my dear Baron, that I was not present when you entered my house ; but I am an old man. I went late to bed last night, and I did not think you would come so early. Fer. You make me quite ashamed. Pray do not use any ceremony with me. Bra. No ceremony! You are a capital young man. No ceremony ! Then I may appear before you in future in my dressing-gown, and smoke my cigar? Fer. You will do so, if you wish to oblige me. Bra, Have you waited long for me? Fer. I really do not know; time passes so swiftly in your house. Bra. I understand ; my daughter bore you company. THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 307 Per. The Fraiilein had the goodness to allow me Bra. Take a seat, my dear Baron take a seat. \Hefetches a chair. Fer. (With polite earnestness.) Oh, Herr von Bragenau! don't take the trouble. Bra. Between ourselves, I propose it to you -merely that I may be seated myself; for do you see, my feet I can walk very well, but my standing days are over. (FERDINAND sets a chair.} Do you be seated, too, Dora, or the Baron will be ceremonious, too. (DoBA seats herself at a small table, on which stands Jter work-basket, and works during the remainder of tJie scene. BRAGENAU seats himself beside FERDINAND.) So, now I am comfortable, and I bid you welcome for the second time. Did you stay much longer at the ball last night? Fer. A short time after you went I left it. I make but little now of the pleasures of the world. Bra. I know you are a steady young man, only perhaps a little too serious for your years. Fer. 11 Bra. Yes, you. I hate levity; but cheerfulness cheerful- ness there ought to be. Fer. Certainly. Bra. Well, I hope you will soon be cheerful, too, when we are once better acquainted ; for in spite of my sixty years, I still rejoice every morning at the day which is before me. Fer. Then you are a very happy man. Bra, A very happy one, for there are only three things which I cling to in this world, none of which three ever change. My collection of minerals, the starry sky, and my daughter. Fer. The young lady alone, I should think, was enough to fill up the heart of a father. Bra. My daughter, indeed, is the chief thing after all. Look you, Baron, I have never leant much upon what is strictly called Love. I took my wife, because it so happened; but my 308 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE CODKTRY. Dora, she has grown close to my heart, and whoever were to make her unhappy, would be the death of me ! Fer. (Somewhat agitated.) Who could be bad enough ! Bra. Ah, dear Baron, I am rich; that has made me very anxious, and this was the reason why I never would bring my child to town ; " for," said I to myself, " the young city gentle- men all run after money. You are absent," said I to myself, " and look oftener to the heavens than the earth. If you take your daughter into company she is pretty she has forty thousand dollars a thousand young swaggerers will crowd round about her men with ready tongues, but empty purses and empty hearts. Among these, some one will be found who pleases your daughter; she sighs, you are touched; she grieves herself, you give your consent; the priest's blessing is spoken, and her misery is certain." No, no, I chose the safer way, and left her in the country till (Aside to him.) Have you made your proposal? Fer. (Aside to him.) Not in so many words. Bra. (Aloud.) I shall never forget that Reinsperg obtained for me the honour of your acquaintance- You interest me for your father's sake alone your good father, whom you make so happy ! Fer. (Confused.) My father! Bra. You have never lost sight, I hear, of the instructions he gave you ; and when far from him, and in the midst of the great world, you followed his paternal precepts with the strictest punctuality. That is honourable conduct, and will bring a blessing on you. Fer. (Growing more and more embarrassed.) How do you know? Bra. (Smiling.) I have my spies. Fer. (Aside.) And good ones, truly ! Bra. You studied hard; got the first class, did not you? Fer. (Colouring.) Yes. (Aside.) With great difficulty the second. THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 309 Bra. I expressed to Herr von Eeinsperg, whom you will have already guessed was my spy, my wonder, that with your merits, you should not yet have got a government office; then he related me a touching history. Fer. Indeed ! was there anything touching in that ? Bra. Oh, don't he ashamed that you have not yet a title. Fer. Well, I am not ashamed. Bra. The reason why you have none does you the greatest honour. Fer. Oh ! (Aside.) I am curious to know how. Bra. I have been informed of everything. You applied for a situation last autumn. Fer. Why, yes, that is true. But I had many competitors ; and you know how it often happens in such cases. Bra. Don't he led hy false modesty to deny a noble action : the situation was promised you. Fer. Promised me? (Aside.) To my knowledge, it was re- fused me. Bra. And you withdrew, in order not to stand in the way of a friend in narrow circumstances. Dora. (Who during this conversation has been listening, while sitting at her work, with visible interest, suddenly rises, and approaches FERDINAND.) Baron Brandner, I have greatly mistaken you, and I am sorry for it ! [She goes out hastily. FERDINAND stands overwhelmed with confusion. Bra. What did she say to you? Fer. The Fraiilein is too kind. Bra. She spoke in a very friendly tone to you. I would lay anything that she likes you. Fer. I do not venture to hope so much. Bra. To be sure, my Dora's heart is a prize which must be won, and will not be given on the spot to the first asker. You must have patience a little patience; and really you have none. Fer. No ! How do you mean? 310 THE YOONG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. Bra. Whyyouwere very hurried in your proceedings last night. Fer. Last night 1 Yes, to be sure ; but still it seems as if to-day Bra. You will not, at all events, be kept too long, I suspect. My daughter's last look, I tell you plainly, was very significant. Oh, my dear Baron, I look on it as a real blessing from Heaven that you have entered my house. When I have confided my daughter to your hands, I shall die in peace. Fer. (Pressing his hand.) You make me feel both moved and ashamed. Bra. (As if going.) I should like to inquire into my Dora's feelings, to hear what she thinks of you. Fer. (Almost alarmed.) Now directly? Bra. Now. I will go to her; or, stay, better, Veronica Veronica ! Fer. What is Veronica to do? Bra. Oh, she is not so stupid ; I can trust to her. SCENE V. Enter VERONICA. Veronica. Did you call ? Bra. I did, Veronica. Just come here. Look at that gen- tleman. Fer. I have done that already. Bra. Well, what do you think of him ? Ver. A handsome gentleman. Bra. And the gentleman thinks my daughter handsome also, and wishes to marry her. Ver. Oh, yes ! Bra. Has Dora spoken of the gentleman to you ? Ver. Oh, yes ! Bra. Well, what did she say 1 Ver. I can't repeat it, when the gentleman is standing there. Bra. Oh, never mind that ! speak out. Ver. That would not do; it would be rude. THE YOUNG LADY FEOM THE COUNTRY. 311 Bra. Rude! Why? Ver. Because the young lady (In a whisper to BRAGENAU) because the young lady didn't like the gentleman at all. Bra. (Startled.) No? Ver. Not by any means. Bra. Did my daughter tell you so ? Ver. This morning, while you were asleep, sir. Bra. This morning 1 Perhaps she thinks differently now. Veronica, I commission you to speak with Dora of Baron Brandner. Try and praise him to her; for, look you, I wish to have him for my son-in-law. Ver. He is good then, I hope ? Bra. Very good the son of my best friend ; who, like me, wishes to see this marriage concluded. Ver. Well, I will try what I can, do. Bra. You will dine with me to-day, my dear Baron? Fer. If you will allow me Bra. I have asked two of your acquaintances to meet you. Veronica, tell my daughter to put on her brocade dress for dinner, the one she wore last night. Fer. Oh, pray, Herr von Bragenau, let that dress alone. Bra. Why? did you not like it? Fer. I think the Fraiilein handsomest in her morning dress. Bra. Curious, that is! Well, if you think so, she may smarten herself up a little in her morning dress. Veronica, where are you going? Ver. Why, even if the Fraiilein is not to wear her brocade, I must fulfil her father's commission about the Baron. Bra. Commission? Don't be silly; my daughter must not find out my intentions about her. Ver. Not find out? Bra. You must speak in the Baron's favour, as if it were out of your own head; do you understand? Ver. I understand ; and, if you will allow me, in that case 312 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. I will go to the menagerie first; it will make the thing come about more naturally. Bra. Go wherever you like ! Ver. (To FERDINAND.) Mr. Philip is going to take me. (To BRAGENAU.) Certainly, the thing will be managed more naturally in that way. [Goes out. Bra. Have you anything to do before dinner? Fer. Nothing in the world but a visit to pay. Bra. Then I won't keep you, for, as we have agreed before- hand not to put ourselves out of our way for each other, I have got some new minerals which I should like to look at; an elastic sandstone from Brazil is to be among them. Fer. Don't use any ceremony with me. Bra. A large elastic sandstone from Brazil ! [Goes out. SCENE VI. FERDINAND. Afterwards, PHILIP. Ferdinand. I was disposed to laugh at these people, but they are really too good for that. Any one but myself would have felt quite at ease among them ; why do I feel so oppressed in their company. Philip. (Entering.) I have found you alone at last, sir ! I am come to tell you that I have fulfilled all your commissions. Fer. What have you learnt from Wilden? Phil. Not much good. We have kept the man up too long with the hope of your making a great match, so now he will give us no credit on the views of your approaching marriage with Fraiilein von Bragenau; and, unless he sees it in black and white within a few days, he will break loose without mercy. Fer. Perhaps he might see it in black and white if I chose. The father has a leaning towards me a great leaning. Phil. You say that in a very melancholy tone, sir. Fer. I feel myself in a very odd state of mind. Phil. That is natural, for between yesterday and to-day you have made a spring from folly to wisdom. Apropos of folly, THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 313 your second commission was, that I should inquire whether the Countess von Sonnenberg had been vexed at your visit to Bragenau's house. I have been there. Fer. Well, and so Phil. She may have been vexed, no doubt, in her heart, but as for the outward signs a milliner was with her, and she was trying on bonnets. Fer. (After a pause.} Philip, I am a fashionable young man I play, and get into debt but I am not one of the worst, am I ? Phil. Do you think, if you were, that I should venture to tell you so? Fer. In this house they consider me as the pattern of a steady young man. Phil. Impossible! Fer. Just as I tell you, and this torments me. Phil. Torments you ! Heaven forbid ; let me manage, and it will turn out all the better for you. Fer. Philip, I forbid you to tell any lies in my favour. Phil. Can you think of any true things which I can say in your favour? Fer. Let me go ! Phil. Can you think of nothing? Well, then, you must allow me to follow my own inspirations, for nothing, I warn you, succeeds in this house but virtue. I have sounded the servants already : I wanted to pay court to Veronica, but she is married, and thinks only of her Franz. I wanted to take Gottlieb to a public house, but he saves every groschen for his wife and child. Virtue virtue alone is the idol of these people, so that, in order to be able to serve your lordship, I have in half-an-hour become the worthiest valet that the world ever contained, and am now going, if you will allow me, to take Veronica to the menagerie. Fer. You fool ! Phil. From speaking of wild beasts I shall be able to lead the subject to you. * [Goes out. p 314 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. ACT III. SCENE I. A room in BRAGEKAU'S House. DORA alone afterwards, VERONICA. Dora. (Working at a small table.) To refuse a situation perhaps a brilliant one for the sake of a destitute friend, shows a noble heart, and one may forgive much to such an one. Veronica. (Entering.) Here I am, Fraiilein; I come straight from the menagerie. Dora. Were you pleased there? Ver. Uncommonly pleased ; I laughed myself almost sick. There were great lions in bird-cages, who roared till one was quite deaf, and swallowed whole joints of meat at once. I went with Philip, Herr von Bragenau's servant a very well-behaved man is Philip, and a very worthy man. Dora. Did he entertain you well? Ver. First he told me about the wild beasts, and then he went on to speak of his master. His master, Fraiilein Dora, is quite a pattern gentleman. Dora. Really! Ver. Good-natured, pious, and besides very learned. The ministers all quarrel and fight for him. Only lately he was to have had a place. Dora. I know that. Ver. There is only one fault that Philip finds with him, his bad housekeeping; for he lets himself be regularly stripped by the poor. Dora. An amiable failing. Ver. The beggars storm his house, because they know that he can refuse nothing to anybody, and they have already led him to get into debt. Dora. Then he is very kind-hearted? THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 315 Ver. As kind-hearted as a child. Ah, my dear young lady, that would be a husband for you ! Dora. For me? Ver. Ah, yes; your father would like it much, very much I know that. Dora. My father? Ver. Yes, to be sure; what did he invite him to the house for? And Baron Brandner is in love desperately in love. Dora. I don't believe that. Ver. No! Dora. To judge by the way in which he behaved to me yesterday Ver. I asked Philip about the Baron's behaviour yesterday, and he can only explain it by his master's ignorance of the world, and his earnest wish to please you. Dora. Me! Why? Ver. Because he had heard so much good of you because his father had intended you for him. Dora. His father! (A knock is heard.} Who knocks? Ver. Come in ! SCENE II. Enter FERDINAND. Ferdinand. Do I come too early? Dora. (Somewhat confused.) Too early! Why? Fer. Your father is not yet here? Ver. (In a half whisper to him.) What is the father to you, when you see the principal person before you ! I have pre- pared the way for you, Baron; now do you do your part. [She goes out. SCENE III. FERDINAND. DORA. Fer. Your father, madam, has done me the honour to ask me to dinner. Dora. Oh, sir, pray excuse him, it is dinner-time; but my p 2 316 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. good old father is absent; he has just got some new minerals. I will tell him Fer. Oh, never mind that. I should be beside myself, if he were to be disturbed in his pleasures by me. One should respect the fancies of old people. Dora. Should we not? Oh, yes! Those who watched over our childhood deserve that we should consider their old age. Is not that your opinion? Fer. Exactly my opinion. Dora. Pray take a seat, Baron; we may have to wait some time. Fer. (Takes a chair.} If you will allow me. (DoRA seats herself again at her table.) Are you going to work again? Dora. Not if it disturbs you. Fer. I have much that is important to say to you. Dora. (Aside.) Oh, good heavens, now it is coming. (Aloud, and timidly.) Pray, speak! Fer. My yesterday's conduct makes me blush, for it has offended you, Fraiilein has it iiot? Dora. It was certainly not very soothing to my self-love for those expressions and compliments own it yourself ; you took me for a rich, ridiculous village-queen, and wished to amuse yourself with laughing at me, did you not? After all, I cannot quarrel with you for it, for I am sure I did look very foolish. Fer. Fraiilein Dora. But now you think differently of me, don't you? Fer. Dora! Dora. And I, too, think very differently of you, to-day, from what I did yesterday. Fer. Indeed! Dora. Yesterday I thought you were a vain coxcomb. >er. Oh! Dora. And now I know that you are a very estimable young man, that you have learnt a great deal, do good to the poor, and love your father so much. THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 317 F&r. Oh, don't speak of it. (Aside.) Shall I propose to her, or shall I not? I almost feel as if I dared not. Dora. What is the matter? Per. Fraiilein Dora, I have a wish much at heart, which I dare not utter, unless you give me a little encouragement. (DoRA seizes her work, in the excess of her confusion.) Oh, don't work now ! Dora. (Aside.) I tremble all over! Fer. Will you not look at me? Dora. Oh, yes ! (She looks at him timidly, but kindly.) Why not? Fer. So ! now I am at ease; and now I ask you, not on my own pretensions alone, but supported by your father's wishes, whether I could ever be the man to whom you could entrust your fate? Dora. I expected this question, and that it was made me so frightened. Fer. And what answer, then, will you give me ? Dora. You say that my father favours your views ? Fer. It is with his approbation that I declare myself to you. Dora. Baron, I believe you to be a good man a man by whose addresses any girl must feel herself honoured; but, oh, allow me one question Fer. Ask what you will. Dora. Are you not too distinguished a man for me? Can a simple, homely creature, like myself, be sufficient for your happiness? Fer. You do not know how greatly ashamed your words make me. Dora. Do you seek my hand only with a view to the happi- ness of your own heart ? Fer. What can you mean, Fraiilein? Dora. Do you believe that I, the poor Dora, can be able to insure your happiness? Fer. I feel not the slightest doubt of it. 318 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. Dora. If you really believe this, say it once more. Tell it me coolly and deliberately, and remember that it would be a great crime if you were to deceive me one who is ignorant of the world, and who seeks to gain a knowledge of your dispo- sition and feelings from yourself only. Fer. Dora ! heavenly creature ! Indeed, indeed ! I do not deceive you, when I declare that I love you. Dora. That sounded differently from the compliments of yesterday ; that sounded from the heart ! Fer. Then I may hope? Dora. One moment, Herr von Brandner. If I give you my hand, you will not separate me from my father, will you? Fer. Never. Dora. And you will love him as I love him, and will share my cares for him? Fer. With heartfelt joy. Dora. On these conditions I could resolve Fer. Oh, do not hasten your decision, Dora. The esteem, the veneration with which you inspire me, compels me, before you decide in my favour you must know know SCENE IV. Enter PHILIP. Philip. My lord! Ferdinand. What do you want here? Phil. The old woman of eighty whom you have pensioned for the last six months, and the invalid soldier whose cure you are paying for, are at the door and want very much to speak to you. Fer. (In a whisper to him.) What does all this mean? Phil. (In a whisper to FERDINAND.) Sir, it is your tailor and the upholsterer, who have run after you here, and threaten to make a scene in the house. Dora. An old woman of eighty ! Oh, Herr von Brandner, wait a moment. [She goes out hastily. THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 319 Fer. (To PHILIP.) I should like to know what in the world is your object in telling these detestable lies? Phil. To establish your character. Fer. I forbid you henceforth to make use of such means of recommending me; I cannot bear them. Go out, quiet these clamorous people, and tell them I will pay them, but only on condition of their going away directly. Phil. Very well, my lord. (Aside, as he is going.) This marriage must be brought about, if it were only for the sake of the arrears of my wages. Fer. (Alone.) It is very painful, to be sure, to be thought worse than one is, but to be thought better ! that is too dread- ful to be borne. SCENE V. Enter DORA, a purse in her hand. Dora. Herr von Brandner, will you be offended if I wish to share your good work if I beg you to take this for the old woman of eighty? Fer. Dora! Dora. You are benevolent ; I, too, like to give away. We will, in future, support many people together, will we not ? Fer. Yes oh, yes in future; but at this moment Dora. Oh, do take it. Fer. No, indeed I cannot. [He hurries out. Dora. I have offended him, and yet I really meant no harm. Oh, I see I shall have to learn a great deal in this city, even the way of doing good, which seems quite different from what it is in the country. SCENE VI. REINSPERG. DORA. Reinsperg. May I come in, madam? Dora. Your servant, Herr von Reinsperg. (Aside.) Another guest, and my father not here yet ! Rein. You are quite alone here, I see. 320 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. Dora. I will tell my father directly Rein. Your father ! I expected to find a very different person. Dora. The Baron, you mean. He is just gone out to speak to a poor woman and an invalid soldier. Rein. Most likely he is these people's benefactor. Dora. Just so. Rein. (Aside.) Really, these lies seem too absurd. (Aloud.) Then the Baron has been here, and talking with you. Dora. For some time. Rein, What ! has he poured out his whole heart to you! Dora. My father knows all he said to me, otherwise I should not have listened to him. Rein. Your father is well disposed towards him, that I know; but you, Fraiilein, what do you think of the Baron? Dora. I think him a very good man. Rein. At dinner, I hope, his qualities will appear in a still more favourable light. We shall be all alone, then; I suppose you expect no one else? Dora. None but the Countess von Sonneiiberg. Rein. (Frightened.) Sonnenberg! Dora. Yes; my father has invited her as a friend of the Baron's. Rein. (Aside.) That will bring on us a pretty scene ! Upon my life, here she is ! SCENE VH. Enter AURELIA. A urelia. Fraiilein Dora, I have the honour Oh ! you here, Herr von Reinsperg ! Rein. Yes, madam. Dora. (Aside.) And my father still not come! (Aloud.) I am delighted, Countess von Sonnenberg, to bid you again welcome to our house. Aur. I was afraid I should be late. Dora. Will you take a seat, and allow me to let my father THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 321 know you are here? My poor father will be beside himself that he was not called before, and had not the honour of hand- ing you out of your carriage. Aur. I know your father. Most likely he is sorting minerals, or studying a book of astronomy. Pray, don't dis- turb him, but take a seat by me. I am used to dine late, and very desirous to make your further acquaintance. [DORA leads her to a, sofa; AURELIA seats herself, and DORA places herself beside her. Dora. t (Pointing to a chair.) Herr von Reinsperg! Rein. With your permission. [/Seats himself. Aur. I don't see Baron Brandner here. Your father sent me word that he had asked him to dinner, too. Dora. Baron Brandner is already in the house, and will be here directly. Aur. Already in the house? Indeed! have you seen him, then. Dora. Oh, yes ! Aur. Well; is he not an agreeable young man? Dora. A very good one, at least. SCENE VIII. Enter FERDINAND. Ferdinand. I have settled matters with my people out there, and now (He sees AURELIA.) Good Heavens, whom do I see! Aur. An old acquaintance, the sight of whom, I think, cannot embarrass you very much. Fer. Embarrass me! How? (A side to EEINSPERG.) Aurelia here! Did you know that? Bdn. (A side to him.) No; command yourself, or you are lost! Aur. (Aside.) He is very much dismayed. Dora. Pray, take a seat, Baron. [FERDINAND seats himself. Aur. (To DORA.) Is this your first visit to the city, Fralilein Dora? p 3 322 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. Dora. My first. Aur. It is fortunate for our young gentlemen, that you are not always here. To judge by the sensation you created last night, it might be feared that they would, one and all, follow the same triumphal car. Dora. Don't laugh at me. Aur. I am not laughing at you. You kindled yesterday, by one single glance, a flame in the hearts of some who had hitherto been impenetrable to true love, and who had only amused fair ladies by gallant falsehoods. Fer. Falsehoods'? Aur. Yes; falsehoods, which did not do much harm, how- ever, for the wise of my sex rated them at what they were worth. Fer. Ladies who are always suspecting deceit on the part of men, are not generally the most straightforward themselves. Aur. To be straightforward in one's dealings with men, would be to shoot arrows at stone walls. Fer. A fine principle ! However, the ladies may lay down what rules they choose, only they must not expect us to give up our liberty till we know how we stand with them. Aur. In the days of chivalry it was not so. Fer. The days of chivalry are not now to be found, even in the theatre. Aur. Fraulein Dora, what do you say to this dispute? Dora. II Aur. Which of us is right? I, or the Baron? Dora. I am quite inexperienced in such matters. [She rises. Aur. Where are you going? Dora. It is quite time now that I should call my father. [She goes out. Fer. (Aside to REINSPERO.) The Countess has great faults of her own, but still she is beautiful ! Even anger sits well upon her. Rein. (Aside to him.) Nonsense; think of old Wilden's anger. THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 323 Aur. (Fixing her eyes on FERDINAND.) Well, Baron Brandner? Fer. Countess Aur. I congratulate you; she is not bad-looking, by any means; good-natured, naive; and then her dowry I advise you to catch at it; indeed, I advise you in good earnest. Fer. Aurelia! Aur. She might be more elegant, certainly; and she should learn to dance better, if you ever wish to appear with her in the world ; but I suppose you will be inclined to lead a pastoral life in the country? Rein. This conversation is taking a turn which I don't at all like. Ferdinand, be so good as to join Fraiilein Dora with her old papa. You are doing no good here. I must have some private talk with the Countess von Sonnenberg. Fer. Don't meddle any more in my affairs. Rein. I promise you that I will only speak for your good; but if you are present, you will be in my way. Let me beg your ladyship to command him to go. His whole happiness, and perhaps yours, depend upon it. Aur. I will not detain him. Go, Baron go where your heart calls you. Rein. Well, did you hear? The Countess is of my opinion. (Pushes him to the door.) Go in there, and behave properly and reasonably, I say, as I bid you. SCENE IX. AURELIA. KEINSPERG. Rein. At last he is gone ! Aur. And I am curious to hear what you have to say to me. Rein. To tell you candidly how matters stand. Ferdinand is deeply in debt, and nothing but a wealthy marriage can save him from being arrested this very day, for a bill he has failed to pay. Aur. Arrested! 324 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. Rein. Yes, arrested. Now, I ask you, will you have him or not? If you will have him, you must pay three thousand dollars. His hand is to be obtained for three thousand dol- lars, not otherwise. Aur. You have an odd way of expressing yourself. Rein. It is a good way, for all that clear, and intelligible ; and it has this advantage, that no one can misunderstand me. Aur. I should think not. Rein. Then don't be annoyed at my way, but answer my question as plainly as I have asked it. Aur. What answer am I to give? Rein. A decided Yes, or No. I am aware that you have three thousand dollars by you. Aur. Are you? Rein. You have three thousand dollars. The question now is, only, whether or not you rate Ferdinand at so high a price? Aur. I have never been avaricious. Rein. No, Heaven knows that ! Aur. I am certainly able to pay Brandner's debts. Rein. Then pay, and he is yours. Aur. Not so quick, Herr von Reinsperg. I am able, I say, to pay for Brandner, if he knows no other way of saving him- self; but as he seems to have found one already, and to have taken it Rein. You mean his proposal for Fraulein von Bragenau? But, my dear Countess, consider that the Baron has the knife at his throat. You refused him your assistance yesterday, and you cannot expect that he should consent to be locked up in prison rather than give you up. Aur. You have high ideas of love! Rein. Ideas which are shared by most people in every-day life. In books, to be sure, lovers submit for true love's sake, to be imprisoned, beheaded, and tortured. If your lady- ship wants a lover of that kind, read romances, but don't think of marrying. Aur. (Aside.) There is really no answering that man. THE YOUNG LADY FKOM THE COUNTRY. 825 (Aloud.) Then Brandner has pretty well arranged matters with the fair Dora? Rein. That I do not know. Aur. A fine match you have brought about for your friend! Rein. An advantageous one. Aur. A charming bride you have found for him. How does he behave to the country damsel ? Rein. I have not had an opportunity of observing. Aur. But what does he say to her 1 Rein. He says nothing. Aur. (After a little pause.} After all, Herr von Reinsperg, I believe Ferdinand only meant to excite my jealousy. Rein. Jealousy ! Pah ! Aur. And you magnify his debt, in order to separate us. Don't attempt to answer me. I have long known that you are not one of the most truthful people in the world; and I know that you have always been against my marrying Brandner. Yes, yes, I know it. Rein. If you know that, you know the exact truth. Aur. Then you confess it ? Rein. I confess that I dissuaded Ferdinand, as a friend, from marrying you ; for you are not fitted for him, any more than he is for you. You do not keep an exact account of your money, and he squanders his. In two years, you would both have gone through your fortunes; and when money is gone, what becomes of love ? Aur. You are quite insufferable. Rein. For the rest, if you wish to marry, I know of a hus- band for you. Aur. Indeed! and a charming person, I dare say. Rein. Perhaps not exactly charming, but at least, steady and faithful. I myself am the person, my dear Countess. Aur. You! Rein. Yes, 1 1 Why not? I am in the prime of life, and think you very handsome. I should not adore you, to be sure; but I should be exceedingly attentive to you. I should take 326 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. you into society, and at the same time keep your affairs in order. Believe me, I am the man for you. Aur. Do, pray, be silent; and as to Ferdinand, I will find out myself how matters stand. Rein. That would be the safest plan. Aur. I shall not allow myself to be misled by what you have said. Rein. No need that you should. Aur. (Aside.) Insufferable man ! Rein. (Aside.) For how much would I wager it? I shall be her husband at last. SCENE X. Enter BARON BRAGENAU, FERDINAND, cmd DORA. Bragenau. My dear Madam, my good friend Herr von Reinsperg, I beg your pardon a thousand and a thousand times. Over my Brazilian sandstones, I had quite missed the striking of the clock, and forgotten to dress ; pray, do not take it amiss of an old man like me. Aur. I have, meanwhile, been so well entertained in your house, that I could not possibly quarrel with you. Bra. Well, that is very handsome of your ladyship. You are a kind, good lady, and therefore you shall be the first to hear what no one in the whole city knows yet. Aur. And that is Bra. My daughter's approaching marriage. Aur. Your daughter ! Fer. (Aside.) I am a dead man. Bra. (Taking FERDINAND and DORA'S hands.) Baron Brandner has proposed for my daughter my daughter has said " Yes." They may now, therefore, be considered as a betrothed pair ; and so let us go to dinner. [ He gives to FERDINAND DORA'S hand, and offers AURELI A his arm. A tt present show signs of emotion or surprise. THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 327 ACT IY. SCENE I. The same. BARON BRAGENAU, AURELIA, DOHA, FERDINAND, and REINSPERG, all seated. Reinsperg. That roast venison was excellent. Aur. The almond tart was still more recherche; and the burning heart of melted sugar on the top of it was really very prettily got up. Perhaps it was made by the Fraiilein herself? Bra. All from the hoiel, my dear madam all from the hotel. My daughter has neither time nor conveniences here to manage such things. Ah ! when she is with me in the country, she makes almost all the sweet things we have at table. Aur. I thought the Fraiilein had been a perfect cook. She probably also takes a part in the management of your estate 1 Bra. Does not she ? Why she knows all that goes on in the farm, and I know nothing. Aur. (To DORA.) Have you Tyrolese cows on your farm 1 Dora. Oh, yes, very fine ones. Aur. Have you the last improved breed of sheep 1 Dora. Yes, we have these, too. But, Madam, this is a con- versation which will tire both you and these gentlemen here. Aur. Me ! Oh, no ! Everything by which I can gain in- formation interests me. I like to talk with each person on the subject he understands. Fer. In that case, you have a wide field in conversing with Fraiilein Dora. At dinner, I was quite astonished by the cul- tivation of her mind, and her various acquirements. She is unwilling, it is true, to display how much she knows; and one must almost press her before her attainments unfold them- selves. Aur. Oh, I do not doubt the knowledge of a learned man's daughter, before whom our little bit of romantic lore must 328 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. hide its head. You have a small observatory close to your castle, Fraiilein have you not ? Dora. My father has had it built. Aur. And you often accompany him there do you not? Dora. I have great pleasure in doing so, whenever I have time for it. Aur. Then you are an astronomer? Dora. No, indeed, I am not, but the starry sky has great charms for me. Aur. Do you believe in the man in the moon? Dora. I hardly know even what goes on in this world. Aur. It is said that there have been violet-coloured rocks lately seen in the moon; what do you think of it? Dora. I am rather for the violets on the earth. Aur. Did not a clock strike just now? What o'clock is it, Herr von Reinsperg? Rein. Three o'clock. Aur. Then, you will excuse my leaving you. Bra. What a pity you must go so soon ! It is such a plea- sure to be in this little circle of friends and relations. Nothing is pleasanter than to see oneself surrounded with people of whose sympathy one cannot doubt, and who all really know each other. Aur. I should be happy to prolong such a pleasure, but I have two more visits to pay before going to the theatre. Do you go there this evening, Fraulein Dora? Dora. Not to-night, but to-morrow, to hear Tasso. Aur. Tasso! Do you think that will amuse you? Dora. (Surprised.) Amuse? Aur. There is nothing in it to please the eye. Dora. But the beautiful poetry? Aur. (Somewhat ironically.) Ah, to be sure, if you are learned in poetry, it is a different thing. I have the honour of wishing you a good day. Herr von Reinsperg, will you give me your arm ? THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 329 Bra. No, no ; your ladyship will not refuse me the pleasure of accompanying you to your carriage 1 ? Come with us, Dora. Aur. Au revoir, then, my dear Reinsperg; I shall find you, I hope, at my box in the theatre? Rein. Certainly, your ladyship. Aur. Do not stay away; your company is always the plea- santest to me of any one's ! [She gives her arm to BRAGENAU, and leaves the room with him; DORA follows. SCENE II. FERDINAND. REINSPERG. Reinsperg. (Aside.) There is nothing in all that; it does not touch me the least, for she only does it to vex him. Ferdinand. (Aside.) The Countess did not come off quite victorious. Rein. (To FERDINAND.) Ferdinand, you deserve praise ; you have behaved very sensibly. I quite admired you, and that is saying everything! Fer. You will not give me credit for loving Fraulein Dora; my heart is not so easily kindled; but I admire and esteem her, and the Countess's manner towards her was by no means friendly. Rein. I don't suppose the FraUlein understood it. Fer. She did understand it, I assure you; and, as you heard, she answered her, modestly indeed, but appropriately, Rein. Indeed! it seems you do not think her so very silly, then? Fer. Silly? What an expression ! Rein. Your not being in love with her is of no consequence. The happiest marriages are often those that are formed without love ; but I hope you will always treat her with proper atten- tion and respect will you not 1 ? Otherwise, my conscience would reproach me for having recommended the match to you. Fer. Proper respect ! how can you doubt it ? 330 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. * Rein. I don't require more; for the rest, as I told you last night, you can enjoy the pleasures of the world as much as you please, but you must leave her some little illusion, and that will be an easy task for you she is so simple-hearted and un- suspicious. Fer. (Aside.) If he would but go ! Rein. You don't answer me. Fer. I understand all you said perfectly. (Aside.) Reinsperg is very disagreeable to-day. Rein. Ferdinand, I guess what is going on in your mind ; the sight of the Countess Aurelia has embarrassed you, but don't deceive yourself about her, I have been trying her, and she won't pay for you. Fer. You did not surely speak of these money matters to her ? Rein. I told her all; do not be vexed, but you see you cannot afford to despise all other assistance, and to go into the debtors' prison for the sake of her bright eyes ! Fer. Women of the world are more exigeantes than any others. Rein. Then, take a wife who is not a woman of the world ! Fer. That is just what I wish, and mean to do, but (Aside.) What shall I say to that man? He does not under- stand me in the least ! Rein. I would lay something that, in a couple of years, you will thank me for my advice. Fer. I should thank you at once, this very day, if it came from a purer source ! SCENE III. Enter VERONICA. Veronica. (Aside.) There he is ! I feel in such a rage with him, that, if I don't give loose to it, I shall choke. (Aloud.) My lord ! Baron Brandner ! Rein. What do you want here, Dame Veronica? THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 331 Ver. You here, too ? No matter, you helped in the business, so you may just as well hear me, too. Fer. What has discomposed you so? Ver., The falseness of great folks! the wickedness of the world ! a hypocrite, a traitor ; in a word, you, my lord ! Fer. What crime have I committed? Ver. And now he asks what crime he has committed? I am trembling all over with anger. Yes, yes, I know all from the Countess von Sonnenberg's footman, and Herr von Reins- perg's huntsman, and the landlady of this house. Rein. But what do you know? Ver. That the Baron is the declared lover, the suitor of the Countess von Sonnenberg, and has deceived my young lady only to pay off his debts with her money. Rdn. What are you thinking of? Ver. You need not meddle in the matter, Herr von Reins- perg; the guilty man stands there he may defend himself, and give me the lie, if he has the heart to do so. Fer. Dear dame Veronica ! Ver. Not dear, if you please angry Dame Veronica ! You have deceived me you have made a fool of me; you persuaded me to speak to my poor young lady in your favour, and so made me the tool of your wickedness. I thought you an honest man when you did not deserve it, and I shall never forgive you that. Fer. Pray, hush ! Ver. And now he will forbid me to speak^will he? Very good ! forbid me speech, the only weapon Heaven has granted to the oppressed. But he shan't do that ; he can't prevent my speaking why, my husband himself can't do that. I will speak as long as I can move my tongue, and my tongue can hold out a good while. Rein. I have no doubt of that. Ver. (To FERDINAND.) And so my young lady is not worth loving, eh? 332 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. Fer. She is the most loveable of human beings. Ver. Well, and can't she be loved without being obliged to buy a lover from such a Queen Semiramis as that Countess Aurelia 1 ? With us in the country I know very well there is the captain of a circle* who would like to have her, and a country gentleman who would like to have her, and a head forest-inspector who would like to have her. SCENE IV. Enter DORA. Dora. What in the world is going on here ? What is the matter with you, Veronica? Ferdinand. (To VERONICA.) I entreat you Veronica. No, no, I am an honest, plain-spoken woman, and I must clear my conscience, and pour out my anger. The Baron here, my dear young lady, is the Countess von Sonnen- berg's lover, and is only courting you for the sake of your money. Now you know all, and you can act accordingly. [She goes out. SCENE V. FERDINAIJD. DORA. REINSPERG. Dora. (After a pause.) Baron, is it true what she says. Fer. (In a tone of bitter sorrow.) Oh, Fraiilein! Dora. You love the Countess; I can understand that per- fectly; but why did you deceive me? Fer. Indeed, indeed, I do not love the Countess ! Rein. He thought he loved the Countess before he knew you, madam that is all. Dora. Oh, I am not the person to drive so brilliant a beauty from a man's heart. Rein. Be reasonable, Fraiilein Dora ! You can hardly find * The original word is amtshauptmann, meaning the commandant of a circle, or district, whose business is to collect conscripts for the army, &c., his duties being somewhat between those of a military and a civil officer. THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 333 a lover on earth who has never paid his addresses to any woman before you. Dora. (Mournfully.') I do not expect that ; only Rein. For the rest, the attachment of my friend Brandner to Aurelia had more of vanity and ambition in it than real inclination, and as soon as his father had opened his eyes Dora. His father? (Aside.) Now I understand it all. Rein. Yes, his father, who knows Aurelia's character. She is a coquette, who would not have made Ferdinand happy. Dora. You judge her very harshly, and yet you call yourself her friend. Are all friends here like that? Rein. Oh, no. We have plenty of all kinds. Fer. (Who has been standing lost in thought?) Dora, may I beg you to grant me a moment's hearing? Dora. (Aside to him.) No, Brandner, no; you must hear me. I will spare you the pain of telling me what I believe I know already. (Aloud.) Herr von Reinsperg, will you be so good as to leave us for a few minutes? Rein. With the greatest pleasure. (Aside to FERDINAND.) I have shown you the line you should take. If you don't manage your affairs cleverly now, I will have nothing more to do with you. (Goes out. SCENE VI. FERDINAND. DORA. Dora. I did not like to say it before that cold, strange man, Herr von Brandner; but I had a sort of forebodiug, even before dinner, of what I have heard from Veronica. Your alarm at the entrance of the Countess your confusion in her presence the manner in which she spoke to you, all showed me that you were something more than mere friends. Fer. I swear to you, Dora Dora. Oh, do not swear; a false oath is a great sin, with which so good a man as you are ought not to stain his conscience. 834 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. Fer. (Aside.) Now I am a good man again ; I keep that title in spite of all I have done. Dora. You are confused you are silent! I have em- barrassed you, and I did not mean to do that. Do not think I shall reproach you. I might have cause to complain of you, but my heart can so easily comprehend the reason you had for deceiving me, that I am quite ready to pardon you. Fer. The reason! (Aside.) What reason will she attribute to me now? Dora. You will not suspect me of believing the base impu- tation that you sought me for my wealth; but your father wished to separate you from Aurelia because he wished you to be united to me, and you were going to sacrifice yourself to your father's wishes. Fer. My father! (Aside.) The idea had never occurred to me. Dora. Herr von Reinsperg will not be able to understand it; but I oh, I feel I could do the same for my father! Fer. Dora, heavenly creature! what would you make of me? Dora. I wish to forward your happiness; for, do you see, I never had a brother, and at this moment we feel so alike, that I could fancy you were my brother. Fer. It is too much ! To deceive you, noble-hearted girl, would be a crime which could never be expiated. Dora. Be calm, Herr von Brandner! You do not deceive me ; you see I know all. Fer. All? Dora. You have obeyed your father's commands, and pro- posed to me. Now I obey the command of my heart, and withdraw from you. Fer. Dora! oh, yes, do so! Dora. When your father learns that I will not be yours on any terms, he will do justice to the merits of Countess Aurelia, who, I am sure, cannot be so bad as Reinsperg makes her out. THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 335 SCENE VII. Enter VERONICA. Veronica. (Seeing FERDINAND, turns away from him, and speaks to DORA.) Fraiilein, there is a nice-looking old gentle- man outside there, who begs to have the honour of waiting upon you. Dora. On me! And you don't know him 1 ? Ver. No ; but he looks to me like the landlord of an hotel. Shall I let him in? Dora. What can he want of me? Ver. I told him that Baron Brandner was here, and he said that was just right. Fer. Indeed ! [WiLDEN opens the door. Ver. Here he is, I believe. Fer. (Aside.) Wilden! I am a dead man! Ver. (Going to WILDEN at the door.) Well, could not you have waited a moment 1 [Goes out. SCENE VIII. FERDINAND. DORA. WILDEN. Dora. Wilden! Fer. (To WILDEN.) Do tell me what brings you here? Dora. (To FERDINAND.) Do you know that gentleman? Wilden. (In a soft, flattering tone.) How could he fail to know me? I am Wilden, his best friend, his confidant; quite like his second father. Dora. Brandner, is that true? Wil. He will not deny it he will not contradict me and he will pardon a good old man who has heard of his approaching marriage, and wishes to be the first to throw himself at the feet of the lovely bride, and wish her joy ! Fer. (In a half whisper to him.) Sir, how can you dare Wil. (Aloud.) The dear young man is angry with me be- 336 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. cause I make bold to speak openly of an event which, perhaps, is still kept private. But let him be easy. I know how to lock up all that I have learnt by chance in my own faithful bosom, and nothing but a silent and respectful kiss of the fair bride's hands Fer. Bride ! No ; she is not my bride, and I am astonished at your daring to take it for granted. The young lady does not even bestow a thought on me, and I honour her too highly to presume to raise my eyes to her. (He approaclies DORA hastily, and speaks to her with emotion, in a half whisper.) Dora, I wished this morning to make a disclosure to you, to utter a confession, but now it is too late. Farewell ; grant your hand to some man more worthy of you. Report will soon tell you that I am not the excellent man you take me for; but my withdrawal may show you that I am not so bad either as they would represent me. [Goes out hastily. Wil. Now I know what I wished to know. It is always the way; if one does not look after oneself, one is always cheated. (To DORA.) Madam, I have the honour to congra- tulate you. Dora. ( Who had been lost in astonishment and confusion, rousing herself.] What do you mean? Wil. That I have the honour to congratulate you. Dora. What for? Wil. That you are not Baron Brandner's bride. Dora. Why? Wil. Or have you still a mind to have him? Dora. There is no longer any idea of a marriage between me and him. Wil. That is bad news for me; but, madam, honour de- serves honour, and you are wise to decide as you have done, for Brandner is deeply in debt; and if you will allow me, I will go and take the necessary measures for his arrest. Dora. Are you, then, his creditor? Wil. ( With the same affected gentleness.) At your service, THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 337 . yes; but the injury^ which your rupture with the Baron may cause me, does not diminish in the smallest degree my venera- tion for your sense and prudence. I admire such a lady with all my heart. I have two daughters at home, would to Heaven they might think as you do ! [Goes out. Dora. (Who has been standing as if stunned.) Stay, sir! He is gone, and I am oppressed and troubled beyond expression. In my whole life I have never felt so many emotions as in the last twenty-four hours. Brandner arrested ! My heart will break when I think of it. Shall I speak to my father? Shall I send for the Baron ? I do not know what to do, or what course to take. [Goes out. SCENE IX. PHILIP and VERONICA come in through the middle door. Veronica. You must not come in to my young lady I tell you, you must not; I took you for an honest man, when we were at the menagerie, but now since I have found out what sort of man your master is, I can't trust you. Like master, like man that is an old proverb. Philip. Dame Veronica, will you have to answer for the death of a man ? If I can't speak to your lady, and soften her, my master will throw himself into the water. Ver. (Frightened.} Into the water ! (Composing herself.} Pooh, nonsense! Our master's forester, Frederick, said as much, when he couldn't have the bailiff's daughter, Julia, but he didn't jump in after all. Phil. (Aside.} Confound it! I had made up such a capital story in the ante-room, a story which would pierce her heart, even if I could not pass off the other Ver. Well, what do you stand there for? What are you muttering to yourself for? Phil. If every spark of compassion in your breast is ex- tinct, the force of despair shall [He is about to rush against DORA'S room door. 338 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. Ver. (Placing herself before it.) You shall not get in that way. I am a country-woman, and can cope with your despair. SCENE X. Enter DORA. Dora. What is the matter? Who is that man? Phil. Who am I? Baron Brandner's faithful old servant. Dora. Brandner's servant? Veronica, leave us. Ver. What! must I go? Dora. Yes, pray do. Ver. But the fellow will tell you some lie. Dora. Think what you will of him, but leave me alone with him. Ver. Well, as you desire. \_S1ie goes out. SCENE XI. PHILIP. DORA. Dora. You are Baron Brandner's servant? Phil. Yes; and I am come to entreat your ladyship's assistance for my poor, noble, virtuous master. Dora. Then you know your master's circumstances? Phil. I know all, for I am his confidant. You know the unfortunate Baron's excessive love of doing good? Dora. Well? Phil. Then listen. Three months ago he was applied to by a man, the father of twelve children, who owed three thousand dollars to a usurer Dora. Three thousand dollars? Phil. Yes, and was therefore on the point of being thrown into prison Dora. Good heavens! Phil. He complained to my master of his distress; and he oh, be indulgent to a compassionate heart! was persuaded to be bail for him. Dora. Then that is the reason why the Baron THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 339 Phil. If no friend .will save him, must go into the debtor's jail. Dora. (Aside.) Oh, he is still excellent, even in his weak- nesses. Phil. Was your ladyship saying anything? Dora. II Nothing. Phil. If he cannot procure three thousand dollars this very day, he will be disgraced. Dora. I understand that, but would not his father, when he learns for what noble object his son Phil. Does your ladyship mean the old Baron? He gives a florin weekly to the poor-box, and cannot understand how people can do more for their suffering fellow-citizens. But your father, gracious madam, he seems to wish well to the Baron, and is rich. Dora. My father is now building on his estate, and is not in cash. Phil. And your ladyship? Dora. I have never more than a few dollars in my hands. Phil. Then there is nothing to be hoped for my young master from your ladyship? Dora. Heaven help him! Phil. (Impatiently.) Heaven can do that, madam, without your pious wish. (Aside.) An avaricious, obstinate set those villagers. [Goes out. Dora. ( Walks once or twice up and down tJie room.) Three thousand dollars! I will procure them for him, but that prating servant must not know it. Three thousand dollars! That ornament of my mother's is worth as much. He will then keep his honour in the world untarnished, he will be happy with Aurelia, and I there will remain for me my father to care for, and the consciousness of having done a good action. [Goes out. Q 2 340 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. ACT V. SCENE I. A Room in BRANDNER'S House. Philip. (Alone.) I will certainly go to Herr von Sternheim to-day, to see if he will take me into his service, as he once thought of doing. To be sure, I shall never in my life find another master like Baron Brandner, who pays my hills with- out looking over them ; but if he goes to prison SCENE II. Enter FERDINAND. Ferdinand. Philip, I have owed you your wages since Christmas. Phil. I know that, my lord ! Fer. It comes to four-and-twenty dollars. (Gives him money.) Here they are, and now we part. Phil. What, my lord ? Fer. I shall do without a servant in future. Phil. Have you broken with Fraiilein von Bragenau 1 Fer. She has broken with me. No more of that. Phil. And what will happen now? Fer. What Heaven will. How happy might I now be, if I had but attended to my father's warnings, and were now the excellent man these good, noble-hearted souls believe me to be ! Phil. (Aside.) To be sure, how a debt can change a man ! A bad business ! (Aloud.) My lord, you still owe me forty dollars for expenses. Fer. You are right; I remember. Forty dollars, do you say 1 (Gives him a watch.) Take this watch it cost eighty. Phil. Much obliged to your lordship. But now, pray, my lord, be comforted. What is a debt of two or three thousand dollars 1 Many young gentlemen owe as much, and yet are quite cheerful. THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 341 Fer. You don't understand me. Phil. The arrest, to be sure, is not pleasant. It is too late to make off; but if you will give me full powers, I will ven- ture to promise to find you a broker, who will lend you three thousand dollars this very day, if you will sign your name for double the sum. Fer. Then I am to repair my old follies by committing new ones ? On no account. I have deserved my fate, and will bear it. (He seats himself, and sees a parcel on tlie table.) What is this? Phil. Ah, my lord ! I had almost forgotten it. A man brought it a kind of laquais-de-ylace, who goes about to all the hotels in the neighbourhood. I saw him waiting yesterday at the Countess's fete. I have no doubt the parcel comes from her love-letters, or little presents which she sends you back. Fer. (In an absent tone.) I will see, directly. (He undoes tJie parcel, and finds a jewel-case in it.) I don't know this box. (He opens it, and sees an ornament of diamonds, in an old- fashioned setting.) Look there, Philip! What can this mean? Phil. Those are real diamonds, sir. Fer. Stay, there is a note with them, in an unknown hand. (Reads.) " Satisfy your creditors, and be happy with Aurelia. Fellow, did you dare to tell Dora of my embarrassments? PhU. No one knows better than I that this present did not come from Fraiilein Dora. Fer. Then it must have been Aurelia who Phil. The Countess has lately inherited the property of an old aunt, who, I dare say, was not ill off for jewels. Depend upon it, it is she who secretly pays your debts, to satisfy at once her vanity and her heart ; else why should the note say, " Be happy with Aurelia" ? Now, my lord, it is all clear : the Countess wishes to bestow her money on you, without its being said that she has bought you, and, therefore, she sends you an old-fashioned piece of jewellery which nobody knows to be hers. Do as she tells you pledge the diamonds without 342 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. asking where they came from, and then appear before her as a disinterested, adoring, and unembarrassed suitor. Fer. But this hand-writing, which is quite unknown to roe Phil. Is most likely her confidential maid's writing. Fer. Yes, I suppose so. Phil. Then cheer up, and be merry, your star rises. Ah, I have always said it : as long as a young gentleman is in the good graces of the ladies, he cannot be ruined. Give me the ornament, my lord ! Fer. What will you do with it? Phil. I know a Jew, who, I dare say, would lend you more than three thousand dollars upon it. Fer. (Putting the casket into his pocket.) I shall return the ornament to the Countess. Phil. (Dismayed.) Oh, my lord, consider, you can hardly expect such another opportunity of getting free. Fer. The man who wishes to unite love with pecuniar)' obligations, Philip, is a despicable fellow. Phil. It seems to me you did not think so yesterday ! Fer. Yesterday is not to-day ! Phil. (Aside.) These gentlemen make a great fuss about delicacy, and nobleness, and so forth, but none of them care into what perplexity they bring their servants. SCENE III. Enter REINSPERG. Reinsperg. Ferdinand, I bring good news ! Fer. Can there be such for me? Rein. So cast down ! So hopeless ! Courage, I tell you, Counsellor Strahlen is come back ; he stopped at his vineyard, two miles* off, and has just sent me a messenger with a note and this parcel for you. The German phrase is " eine halbe stunde." A stunde, literally an hour, is about four English miles, or rather less. THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 343 Fer. How! from my father? Rein. No doubt it is ! for he writes word to me that he managed . the old gentleman capitally, and found him more reasonable than he expected. [He gives FERDINAND a sealed parcel. Fer. (Opening it.) Oh, I cannot renounce the hope that I may still be happy! Rein. What have you got there? (He takes a paper from the parcel.) That really looks like a draft! Fer. A draft? Rein. Just so; a draft for three thousand dollars. A capital man papa is ! Fer. (Reading tlie letter?) A truly fatherly letter; how touched, how ashamed I feel ! (Suddenly uttering a cry of joy.) Reinsperg, no ! I had not dared to hope so much ; let me em- brace you ! Rein. Well, well ; take it quietly. Fer. My father consents to my marriage with Aurelia ! Rein. More fool he. Fer. Where's my hat? Philip, where's my hat? Phil. (Taking the hat from the table.) Here, my lord! Fer. Where are my gloves? Phil. They are lying in the hat. Fer. Right, right ! Good morning, then, my dear Reinsperg ! Rein. Do tell me where you are going? Fer. To Wilden, to pay my debt, and then to her. [He rushes out. Rein. I think he is gone crazy. Phil. It almost looks like it. Rein. The foolish fellow, if he runs off to Aurelia, and makes up matters with her, it will compromise me in the most alarm- ing way with Bragenau. Phil. Not quite, sir; for he has just told me that he has already broken off with Fraiilein Dora. Rein. Broken! no, no: he may have quarrelled with her; 344 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. but wliat proves that the old man reckons on Ferdinand as much as ever for his daughter, is, that he has just been speak- ing to Madame Gerard about her trousseau. I must go to Bragenau directly, and try to vindicate my own character. I will make Ferdinand's character as black as a raven, and he can't take it ill of me. But, Philip, if ever I make another match, you may be sure that I am fit for a madhouse. [Goes out, followed by PHILIP. SCENE IV. A Boom in BRAGENAU'S House. DORA, alone. Dora. He must have received my ornament by this time, and I should like to know whether he will understand my in- tention immediately, and pay his debts; or whether mistaken delicacy will lead him to reject the gift of an unknown person. Unknown ! oh, if he knew how willingly this unknown gave it, he would not be ashamed to use what he so greatly needs. I feel very sad and cast down; oh, that I had never come to the city ! How odious this city is become to me ! and yet, I fear that I shall not henceforth like the country any better. SCENE V. Enter BRAGENAU. Bragenau. Dora, do you know what I have been doing since dinner? I have been busy about your trousseau. Dora. Mine? Bra. You are surprised? But listen you see I heard your dress last night found fault with everywhere, and as I find I understand nothing of the matter, nor you either, nor Veronica, I have been to a dressmaker, and charged her to provide every- thing necessary for your trousseau, without our having to trouble ourselves any more about it. It will come to a pretty sum, but one is only married once. THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 345 Dora. Ah, dear father; pray, send directly to the woman, and tell her you have changed your mind, and she need not take the trouble. Bra. But, dear child, I don't know whom else to go to. Dora. The trousseau will not be wanted after all, dear father. Bra. I can't have you married without giving you a trousseau. Dora. But it is possible that I may not be married. Bra. Not married ! Don't talk nonsense. All is settled between you and Brandner. Dora. Oh, father, if you love me, let us go back to the country this very day. Bra. What an idea ! Dora. It is so beautiful, so peaceful there. I will manage your affairs, care for you, anticipate all your wishes; but never, never will I enter the city again. Bra. But if Brandner does not choose to live in the country? Dora. Ah, Brandner is not the husband for me or rather, I am not the wife for him. Bra. My good Dora not the wife for such an excellent man ! Dora. He is good he is estimable he was that even at the moment he deceived me; but Bra. Deceived! deceived you! Has he deceived my daughter? And you so innocent and I, too and both of us so guileless ! I esteemed him highly; but if he has behaved so, he is not worthy to No, no; Dora, it is impossible; you must be mistaken I can't believe it. Dora. Do not be angry with him, dear father. His fault is excusable. Filial obedience induced him to propose to me, while he loved another. Bra. Dora, consider what you are saying! Dora. I only say what he owned .to me himself. Bra. Owned to you I He owned it to you? Dora. Yes, after Veronica had told me Bra. Then it was not till you had been already informed of his deceit? Who would have thought it of the man! Oh, he 340 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. shall never come near ine again ! and you don't talk to me of his " filial submission," a feeling so noble as filial love does not lead men to deceive. So he dissembled with you? He told you and another 1 ? Who is this other? Dora. The Countess von Sonnenberg. Era. The Countess, whom I thought our best friend? and Herr von Reinsperg, who recommended me this son-in-law? I cannot yet recover myself scales seem to fall from my eyes ! Oh, you are right, my poor Dora, we are not fit for this town and these people. Veronica ! Gottlieb ! Gottlieb ! Veronica ! Dora. What are you going to do? Bra. Only what you wished, my child. They shall not laugh at us here any longer, we are too good for that ! SCENE VI. Enter VERONICA. Veronica. What are your commands, sir? Bra. Pack up, Veronica; pack up, with all speed; we are going back up to the country to-day. Ver. (In a voice of dismay.) Ah, good Heavens ! Bra. Well, what's the matter? Ver. I wanted to go to the pantomime this evening. Bra. You must give up that. Dora. (Giving her a key.) Here is the key of my wardrobe; take all my things out of it, I shall come myself directly. Ver. (Sorrowfully.) Then it is really in good earnest, true 1 I thought it might only be a fancy of my master's. (As she goes out, she turns to GOTTLIEB, who is coming in.) Gottlieb, you will hear of a pretty piece of business. [Goes out. Gott. Did you call? Bra. Run directly to the post, and order four horses to be ready at eight o'clock this evening precisely. Gott. And where to go? Bra. We are going back to the country. THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 347 Gott. My lady! Dora. Do as my father orders you. Gott. I have not yet even seen- the soldiers on guard. Bra. Then fancy how they look, and he off with you. Gott. As you please, sir. (Aside.) He who is to see nothing must march, when the best shot is going to he fired. [Goes out. [DoRA has turned away, and struggles to keep back lier tears. Bra. You are crying, my Dora ! Dora. Oh, no ! why should I Bra. Yes, you are crying; you are grieved and disturbed. Good heavens! that I should live to see this! Before you were enticed to town, you had nothing to weep for hut the sorrows of others. If your grief is lasting, if I am never to see you happy again, I shall have nothing left to live for. Dora. I shall he happy again, father! The painful day I have spent in the city will soon appear like a dream. Bra. Keally and truly? Dora. Compose yourself, dear father some one is coming ! SCENE VII. Enter KEINSPEKG. Rein. My honoured friend, and you, Fraiilein, pardon me if I disturb you, but I am compelled, in order that I may not appear any longer to you in a doubtful light, to tell you the plain truth. with regard to a circumstance which Bra. The truth ! Yes, Herr von Reinsperg, I beg I may have the truth told me ; and I think I am a man to whom any one should be ashamed to speak anything but the truth. Well? Rein. I hardly know where to begin. I am so astonished, so indignant young Brandner, whom I recommended to you, in my blindness, as a son-in-law ah ! I have been sadly de- ceived in him. Dora. Stop, sir! I am already aware of what concerns 348 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. Baron Brandner; and as I do not consider myself injured, you may be satisfied. Rein. Is it true you have broken with him 1 ? Dora. It is. Rein. Well, I am glad of that, it sets my conscience at ease. But, Herr von Bragenau, what must you think of me for having brought such a man into your house? and yet, I can assure you, that in his father's house he was quite the good, honourable youth I described to you. For the last two years, it is true, I had lost sight of him. Bra. How could that be? You lived in the same town. Rein. At first he was at the University, and then, in a city like this, every different circle is like a separate town. We saw each other but little, and I should never have thought it possible that a man could change as he has done. Bra. Then he is now what one calls a mauvais sujet ? SCENE VIII. Enter FERDINAND. (He opens the door, but on /tearing them speaking, remains standing in the doorway.) Rein. Bad? no, not that; only light-minded. His .exami- nation at the University was not nearly so brilliant as I had been informed. The place which he was said to have declined was refused him, and then he ran into debt. Dora. From excess of good-nature. Rein. From the desire of being fashionable. Then his romance with Countess Aurelia, which I thought had long been ended, was only broken off because the Countess was too prudent to pay the debts of a ruined bridegroom. Now that his father has forgiven him, and agreed to pay his debts Per. (Coming hastily forward.') He can appear as an honourable man before an honourable-minded maiden, and say to her, " I have committed all the follies of which I am accused ; I was a senseless being; I have erred greatly ; but I THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. 349 love you, and if you will undertake the task of directing my steps, I promise you to strive to acquire all the virtues which were attributed to me this day." Dora. Brandner ! Rein. Ferdinand, what are you about! Are you not come from Aurelia 1 Fer. From Aurelia ! Oh no ! The tie of selfishness and vanity which bound me to her, is broken for ever. (He gives BRAGENAU a letter.} Here, Herr von Bragenau, is a letter I have just received from my father. In your hands, and that of your daughter, lies my fate ; Dora, or no one shall be mine. Rein. (Aside.} I do believe he has fallen in love in good earnest. ' Fer. (To BRAGENAU.) You are silent? You do not answer me? Bra. I don't know what to say to you. You touch me ; I should wish to be able to trust you, but how can you expect that I should venture, merely on the strength of your good resolutions Fer. Oh, I do not venture yet to ask for Dora's hand ; I only entreat permission to try and deserve her. The air of this city is dangerous to me; one word from your daughter's lips will bring me into your neighbourhood in the country, where I am offered employment. Bra. What do you say to it, Dora? SCENE IX. Enter VERONICA. Veronica. Sir! my lady! you see me here a desperate woman : I am done for ! Bra. What do you want here? Ver. Ah, how shall I find words ! Bra. You had better not look for them now, but go away. We are engaged in business of importance. Ver. If you were celebrating the young lady's betrothal, my business would be more important still. You may find 350 THE YOUNG LADY FROM THE COUNTRY. husbands everywhere. What is a husband, compared to a diamond ornament ? Don't any of you take it ill that I say so. Bra. A diamond ornament ! Ver. Yes; the young lady's ornament is missing. Dora. (Aside to her.) Hush, pray. Ver. (Without paying her any attention.) I have cleared out the wardrobe in there, looked into every pocket, torn open every parcel, but the Fraiilein's ornament is not there not there not there! Fer. (Looks at DORA, who had turned away in great per- plexity) Heavens ! what a suspicion flashes across my mind ! (lie draws the casket from his pocket.) One word, Dame Veronica. Might this be the Fraiilein's ornament? Ver. As sure as I am alive, so it is ! How did it come into your hands? Bra. My daughter's ornament? Fer. (Approaching DORA in deep emotion, and taking for hand.) Then it was to repair my follies? Dora. Oh, Ferdinand! Fer. Your goodness ought to sink me to the earth; but in- stead of that, it encourages me to form still more presumptuous hopes. Herr von Bragenau? Rein. He was light-minded, but he has never been really bad. Bra. 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