VON KELLER.
I've already had the pleasure.
MARIE.
I can't offer you a hand for welcome, Dr. Von Keller, but you may have a cup of coffee instead.
VON KELLER.
[Helping himself and looking at the others.] I am very fortunate in being treated like an old acquaintance of the family.
SCHWARTZE.
As far as we are concerned, you shall become not only an acquaintance but a friend. And that is no conventional politeness, Councillor; for I know you, and in these times, when all the ties of morality and authority seem strained to bursting, it is doubly necessary that those who stand for the good old patriarchal order should hold together.
VON KELLER.
Very true, very true indeed. One doesn't hear such sentiments as that in the world in general, where modern ideas pass current for small change.
SCHWARTZE.
Modern ideas! Oh, pshaw! I know them. But come into the quiet homes where are bred brave soldiers and virtuous wives. There you'll hear no talk about heredity, no arguments about individuality, no scandalous gossip. There modern ideas have no foothold, for it is there that the life and strength of the Fatherland abide. Look at this home! There is no luxury,--hardly even what you call good taste,--faded rugs, birchen chairs, old pictures; and yet when you see the beams of the western sun pour through the white curtains and lie with such a loving touch on the old room, does not something say to you, "Here dwells true happiness"? [Von Keller nods with conviction.]
SCHWARTZE.
[Broodingly.] And here it might have dwelt!
MARIE.
[Hurrying to him.] Papa!
SCHWARTZE.
Yes, yes, I know. Well, in this house rules old-fashioned paternal authority. And it shall rule as long as I live. And am I therefore a tyrant? Tell me. You ought to know.
MARIE.
You're the best, the dearest--
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
He is so excitable, you see, Councillor.
SCHWARTZE.
Have you not been well brought up? And shall we not hold together, we three? But the age goes on planting rebellion in children's hearts, putting mistrust between man and wife [rises], and it will never be satisfied till the last roof-tree smokes in ruins, and men wander about the streets, fearful and alone, like homeless curs. [Sinks back exhausted.]
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
You ought not to get so wrought up, papa. You know it is bad for you. [Max makes a sign to Von Keller.]
VON KELLER.
Shall I go? [Max nods.] This is an interesting subject to develop, Colonel. I must say I think perhaps you are a little severe. But my time--
SCHWARTZE.
Severe? Ah, well, don't think ill of an old man for speaking a little too hotly.
VON KELLER.
Ah, sir, heat is the badge of youth. I believe I am a graybeard beside you.
SCHWARTZE.
No, no. [Presses his hand.]
VON KELLER.
Madam! Miss Marie! [Exit. Max follows him.]
SCHWARTZE.
Greet the battalion for me, my boy.
MAX.
I will, dear uncle. [Exit.
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
A very agreeable man.
MARIE.
Almost too agreeable.
SCHWARTZE.
You are speaking of our guest! [Mrs. Schwartze makes Marie a sign to be careful.]
MARIE.
Will you have your pipe, papa?
SCHWARTZE.
Yes, dear.
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
The gentlemen of the card-club will be here soon. How lucky that we didn't eat the haunch of venison Sunday! I've ordered some red wine for the General, too. I paid three marks; that's not too dear, is it?
SCHWARTZE.
Not if it's good. Is your sister coming to-day?
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
I think so.
SCHWARTZE.
She was asked to the Governor's yesterday, wasn't she?
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
[Sighing.] Yes.
SCHWARTZE.
And we were not. Poor thing! She must look out for me to-day if she boasts. [Aside] Old cat!
MARIE.
[Kneels before him, lighting his pipe.] Be good, father dear. What harm does it do you?
SCHWARTZE.
Yes, yes, darling. I'll be good. But my heart is sore. [Bell rings. Marie hurries out.]
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Here they are.
Enter Major-general Von Klebs, Professor Beckmann, and Marie.
VON KLEBS.
My humblest respects to the ladies. Ah, my dear madam! [Kisses her hand.]
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Make yourselves at home, gentlemen.
VON KLEBS.
Ha, my dear Colonel, hearty as ever? All ready for the fray, little one? Now we are all right. But we were almost too late. We were caught in the Music Festival crowd. Such a confusion! I was bringing the schoolmaster along, and just as we passed by the German House, there was a great crush of people, gaping as if there were a princess at the least. And what do you suppose it was? A singer! These are really what one may call goings-on. All this fuss about a singer! What do they call the person?
BECKMANN.
Ah, General, we seem to be in a strange land to-day.
VON KLEBS.
We are under a curse, my dear madam. We are bearing a penance. [They sit.]
BECKMANN.
But you must know dall' Orto, the great Italian Wagner singer. We are very fortunate in getting her for the festival. If she were not here--
VON KLEBS.
Well, well, what if she were not? Eh? I hoped that our strictly moral circle, at least, would hold itself aloof from all this. But since the Governor gives receptions in the lady's honor! And, best of all, to cap the climax, who do you think was standing to-day among the enthusiasts, craning his neck like the rest? You'll never guess. It's too inconceivable. The pastor!
SCHWARTZE.
The pastor?
VON KLEBS.
Yes, our pastor.
SCHWARTZE.
How extraordinary!
VON KLEBS.
Now, I ask you, what did he want there? And what did the others want there? And what good is the whole festival?
BECKMANN.
I should think that the cultivation of the faculty of the ideal among the people was an object--
VON KLEBS.
The way to cultivate the faculty of the ideal is to found a Soldiers' Union.
SCHWARTZE.
But, General, every one isn't so lucky as to be a soldier.
VON KLEBS.
[Sorting his cards.] Well, we have been, Colonel. I know no one, I wish to know no one, who has not been a soldier. And all this so-called Art,--what good does it do?
BECKMANN.
Art raises the moral tone of the people.
VON KLEBS.
There we have it, madam!--We're beaten, beaten by the hero of Königgrätz.--I tell you Art is a mere invention of those who are afraid to be soldiers to gain an important position for themselves. I pass.
SCHWARTZE.
I pass.
BECKMANN.
And will you maintain that Art-- I have the nine of spades.
[Bell rings. Exit Marie. Von Klebs makes an impatient movement. Schwartze quiets him. They begin to play.]
Enter Franziska, followed by the Pastor.
VON KLEBS.
Ah, Miss Franziska! [Aside] That is the end of us!
SCHWARTZE.
No, no, we'll send her into the garden.
FRANZISKA.
[Throwing herself into a chair.] Oh, I am so hot! I must get my breath. Pray don't put yourself out, General.
BECKMANN.
Nine of spades!
VON KLEBS.
Hello, here's the pastor too!
HEFFTERDINGT.
Good-day to you! [He shakes hands with each.]
VON KLEBS.
How long have you been running after the singers. Pastor?
HEFFTERDINGT.
What? Oh, yes. Yes, I am running after singers. That's my occupation now.
SCHWARTZE.
You can play with our card party though, can't you?
HEFFTERDINGT.
Unfortunately, no. I must, on the contrary, ask for a few serious words with you, my dear sir.
VON KLEBS.
Ah, but you'll put it off, won't you, Pastor?
FRANZISKA.
Oh, for Heaven's sake! It's so important. There must be no delay.
SCHWARTZE.
Is my sister-in-law in it too?
FRANZISKA.
Very much so.
VON KLEBS.
Oh, well, we can go away again.
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Oh, we shouldn't like that at all.
SCHWARTZE.
If it were not you, dear pastor, who separated us!
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
But perhaps, Marie, the gentlemen would be willing to take a turn with you in the garden.
VON KLEBS.
Certainly! That's good! That's famous! That's what we'll do! Miss Marie, be so good as to lead the way.
BECKMANN.
Shall we leave the cards as they lie?
VON KLEBS.
Yes, you have the nine of spades. Come on.
[Exit Von Klebs, Beckmann, and Marie.
SCHWARTZE.
Well?
FRANZISKA.
Good Lord, don't you see how upset I am? You might at least give me a glass of water. [MRS. Schwartze brings it.]
HEFFTERDINGT.
Will you promise me, my dear sir, that whatever may happen you will preserve your calmness? You may believe me, much depends upon it.
SCHWARTZE.
Yes, yes; but what--
HEFFTERDINGT.
Miss Franziska will tell you better.
FRANZISKA.
[After drinking the water.] This is a day indeed! Fate is avenging me. This man has for years outraged my holiest feelings, but today I can heap coals of fire on his head. [Moved.] Brother-in-law, give me your hand. Sister, yours.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Pardon me, dear Miss Franziska, I think your news is so important that--
FRANZISKA.
[Melting.] Don't be angry, don't be angry. I am so upset! Well, yesterday I was at the Governor's. Only the nobility and the most important people were asked. You weren't asked?
SCHWARTZE.
[Angrily.] No.
FRANZISKA.
I did not mean to offend you. Oh, I am so upset! [Suppressing a sob at a sign from the Pastor.] Yes, yes, yes. I had on my yellow silk dress with the Brussels lace--you know I've had the train shortened. Well, as I stepped into the room--whom do you think I saw?
SCHWARTZE.
Well, well, who?
FRANZISKA.
[Sobbing.] Your child! Magdalene!
[Schwartze staggers, and is supported by the Pastor. Mrs. Schwartze cries out. A pause.]
SCHWARTZE.
Pastor?
HEFFTERDINGT.
It is true.
SCHWARTZE.
[Standing up.] Magdalene is no longer my child.
FRANZISKA.
Ah, just wait. If you listen, you'll look at it in quite another light. Such a child you will welcome with open arms.
SCHWARTZE.
Magdalene is no longer my child.
HEFFTERDINGT.
But you may at least hear the circumstances.
SCHWARTZE.
[Dazed.] Yes, I suppose so.
FRANZISKA.
[At a sign from Heffterdingt.] Well, the great dining-hall was crammed. They were almost all strangers. Then I saw his Excellency coming down the room. And on his arm was a lady--
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
On his Excellency's arm?
FRANZISKA.
With dark hair, and very proud and tall--and around her a crowd of men just like the circle about royalty--and chatting and laughing. And any one to whom she spoke seemed as happy as if it were the Princess. And she wore half a dozen orders, and an orange band with a medal about her neck. I was wondering what royal personage it could be--when she turned half around--and--I knew Magda's eyes!
SCHWARTZE.
Impossible!
FRANZISKA.
That is what I saw!
HEFFTERDINGT.
My dear Colonel, it is true.
SCHWARTZE.
If she-- [Clasping his hands.] At least she has not fallen! She has not fallen! Father in Heaven, Thou hast kept her safely!
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
And what is she, to have such honor--
HEFFTERDINGT.
She has become a great singer, and calls herself, in Italian, Maddalene dall' Orto.
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Listen, listen, Leopold, the famous singer of whom the papers are so full is our child!
SCHWARTZE.
Magda is no longer my child.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Is that your fixed resolve?
FRANZISKA.
What sort of a heart have you? You ought to imitate me. She offended me as only she could,--the little wretch! That is, then she was a little wretch. But now--well, she did not look at me; but if she had--
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Leopold, she was on his Excellency's arm!
SCHWARTZE.
I tell you, and you,--and you, too, Pastor,--that I would rather have seen her lying in rags and tatters at my feet and begging for forgiveness. For then I should have known that she was still, at heart, my child. But why has she come back here? The world was large enough for her triumph. Why should she rob this humble provincial nest of ours? I know why. To show her miserable father how far one can rise in the world by treading filial duty into the dust,--that is her intention. Pride and arrogance speak in her, and nothing else.
HEFFTERDINGT.
My dear Colonel, I might ask, what speaks in you? A father's love? You could make no pretence to that. Your rights? I think rather it would be your right to rejoice in the good fortune of your child. Offended custom? I don't know-- Your daughter has done so much through her own strength that even offended custom might at least condone it. It appears to me that pride and arrogance speak in you--and nothing else.
SCHWARTZE.
[Angrily.] Pastor!
HEFFTERDINGT.
Oh, don't be angry--there is no need of that. When I have something to say, I must say it, mustn't I? I might almost think that it displeased you that she has climbed so high in spite of you. Your pride demands something to forgive, and you are angry because there is nothing to be forgiven. And now, let me ask you, do you seriously wish that she had found her way home, lost and ruined? Do you dare answer for such a wish before the throne of God? [A silence.] No, my dear old friend. You have often, in jest, called me your good angel; let me be so once, in reality. Come with me--now--to-day.
FRANZISKA.
If you'd only seen-- [Heffterdingt stops her.]
SCHWARTZE.
Has she made the slightest effort to approach her parents? Has she thought of her home with one throb of love? Who will vouch for it that my outstretched hand will not be repulsed with scorn?
HEFFTERDINGT.
I will vouch for it.
SCHWARTZE.
You? You, above all, have had a proof of her untamable pride.
HEFFTERDINGT.
[With embarrassment.] You should not have reminded me of that.
Enter Marie with flowers, and Theresa.
MARIE.
Papa, papa, listen to what Theresa-- Oh! am I interrupting?
SCHWARTZE.
[Pulling himself together.] What is it?
MARIE.
To-day I got some more flowers; and when I sent Theresa back to the florist's, she found out it was not a man, but a lady, who had ordered them. And she couldn't sell them again; so she brought them back. [The others exchange glances.]
HEFFTERDINGT.
Tell me, Theresa, did they describe this lady to you?
THERESA.
She was tall, with great dark eyes, and there was something very distinguished and foreign about her.
HEFFTERDINGT.
[Leads Marie to the back of the stage, and lays his hand on Schwartze's arm.] You asked for a token of love!
SCHWARTZE.
[Staring at the flowers.] From her!
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
They must have cost a small fortune!
MARIE.
Theresa has something else very wonderful to tell, too.
HEFFTERDINGT.
What is it, Theresa? Quick!
THERESA.
If the pastor wishes it. When I came back, the porter told me that last evening in the twilight a carriage stopped before the door; there was a lady inside. She didn't get out, but kept watching all the windows of our house where there were lights. And when he went out to ask what she wanted, she said something to her coachman, and they were gone! [All show signs of astonishment.]
HEFFTERDINGT.
That's all, Theresa. [Exit Theresa.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Pardon us, dear Miss Marie, if we treat you once more like a child, and ask you to leave us alone for a moment.
MARIE.
I am so frightened at all this, Pastor. [Imploringly.] Papa?
SCHWARTZE.
What is it, child?
MARIE.
Papa, papa, do you know who this lady is?
SCHWARTZE.
I? No. I can only guess.
MARIE.
[Bursting out.] Magdalene--Magda! Magda is here! [Falling on her knees.] Oh, you will forgive her?
SCHWARTZE.
Get up, my child. Your sister is far above my poor forgiveness.
HEFFTERDINGT.
She is not above your love.
MARIE.
Magda is here! Magda herself is here! [Throws her arms about her mother's neck, weeping.]
FRANZISKA.
Won't any one bring me a glass of water? I am so upset!
HEFFTERDINGT.
Are you quite resolved? [Schwartze remains motionless.] Will you let her go on her way without--
SCHWARTZE.
That would be best.
HEFFTERDINGT.
How will it be with you if in your death-hour a longing for your lost child comes upon you, and all you can say to yourself is, "She stood before my door and I would not open it"?
SCHWARTZE.
[Shaken and half convinced.] What would you have me do? Must I abase myself before my runaway child?
HEFFTERDINGT.
No, you shall not do that. I--I--will go to her.
SCHWARTZE.
You? Pastor--you?
HEFFTERDINGT.
This afternoon I waited before her hotel to see if Miss Franziska had not been mistaken. At a quarter to four she came out of the house and got into her carriage.
MARIE.
You saw her?
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
How did she look? What did she have on?
HEFFTERDINGT.
The performance began at four, and must be almost over now. I will wait for her again at the hotel, and will tell her that she will find your arms open to her. May I?
MARIE.
Yes, yes, papa, won't you let him?
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Just think with whom your daughter--
SCHWARTZE.
Will you swear to me that no weak and personal motives are mixed with your intention,--that you do what you do in the name of our Lord and Saviour?
HEFFTERDINGT.
I swear it!
SCHWARTZE.
Then God's will be done. [Marie gives a cry of joy. Heffterdingt presses Schwartze's hand.]
SCHWARTZE.
[Holding his hand, speaking softly.] The way will be hard for you, I know. Your lost youth--your pride--
HEFFTERDINGT.
Dear Colonel, I begin to think that pride is a very poor sort of thing. It really profits us little to have it always in our mouths. I am giving back a daughter to an old father. I am giving back a home to an erring soul. That, I think, is enough. [Exit. Marie throws herself on her father's breast, laughing and crying.]
ACT II.
Scene same as Act I. It is evening; only a slight glow of sunset still shines through the windows.
[Marie and Theresa discovered.]