SCENE III.
Minna, Franziska
MIN.
Now I have found him again, Franziska! Do you hear? Now I have found
him again! I scarcely know where I am for joy! Rejoice with me,
Franziska. But why should you? And yet you shall; you must rejoice
with me. Come, I will make you a present, that you may be able to
rejoice with me. Say, Franziska, what shall I give you? Which of my
things would please you? What would you like? Take what you will; only
rejoice with me. I see you will take nothing. Stop!
(Thrusts her hand into the desk.)
There, Franziska,
(gives her money)
buy yourself what you like. Ask for more, if it be not sufficient; but
rejoice with me you must. It is so melancholy to be happy alone.
There, take it, then.
FRAN.
It is stealing it from you, my lady. You are intoxicated, quite
intoxicated with joy.
MIN.
Girl, my intoxication is of a quarrelsome kind. Take it, or
(forcing money into her hand)
... and if you thank me... Stay, it is well that I think of it.
(Takes more money from the desk.)
Put that aside, Franziska, for the first poor wounded soldier who
accosts us.
Minna, Franziska
MIN.
Now I have found him again, Franziska! Do you hear? Now I have found
him again! I scarcely know where I am for joy! Rejoice with me,
Franziska. But why should you? And yet you shall; you must rejoice
with me. Come, I will make you a present, that you may be able to
rejoice with me. Say, Franziska, what shall I give you? Which of my
things would please you? What would you like? Take what you will; only
rejoice with me. I see you will take nothing. Stop!
(Thrusts her hand into the desk.)
There, Franziska,
(gives her money)
buy yourself what you like. Ask for more, if it be not sufficient; but
rejoice with me you must. It is so melancholy to be happy alone.
There, take it, then.
FRAN.
It is stealing it from you, my lady. You are intoxicated, quite
intoxicated with joy.
MIN.
Girl, my intoxication is of a quarrelsome kind. Take it, or
(forcing money into her hand)
... and if you thank me... Stay, it is well that I think of it.
(Takes more money from the desk.)
Put that aside, Franziska, for the first poor wounded soldier who
accosts us.
SCENE IV.
Landlord, Minna, and Franziska
MIN.
Well, is he coming?
LAND.
The cross, unmannered fellow!
MIN.
Who?
LAND.
His servant. He refuses to go for him.
FRAN.
Bring the rascal here, then. I know all the Major's servants. Which
one of them was it?
MIN.
Bring him here directly. When he sees us he will go fast enough.
(Exit Landlord.)
Landlord, Minna, and Franziska
MIN.
Well, is he coming?
LAND.
The cross, unmannered fellow!
MIN.
Who?
LAND.
His servant. He refuses to go for him.
FRAN.
Bring the rascal here, then. I know all the Major's servants. Which
one of them was it?
MIN.
Bring him here directly. When he sees us he will go fast enough.
(Exit Landlord.)
SCENE V.
Minna, Franziska
MIN.
I cannot bear this delay. But, Franziska, how cold you are still! Why
will you not share my joy with me?
FRAN.
I would from my heart, if only!!!!!
MIN.
If only what?
FRAN.
We have found him again. But how have we found him? From all we hear,
it must go badly with him. He must be unfortunate. That distresses me.
MIN.
Distresses you! Let me embrace you for that, my dear playmate! I shall
never forget this of you. I am only in love, you are good.
Minna, Franziska
MIN.
I cannot bear this delay. But, Franziska, how cold you are still! Why
will you not share my joy with me?
FRAN.
I would from my heart, if only!!!!!
MIN.
If only what?
FRAN.
We have found him again. But how have we found him? From all we hear,
it must go badly with him. He must be unfortunate. That distresses me.
MIN.
Distresses you! Let me embrace you for that, my dear playmate! I shall
never forget this of you. I am only in love, you are good.
SCENE VI.
Landlord, Just, Minna, Franziska
LAND.
With great difficulty I have brought him.
FRAN.
A strange face! I do not know him.
MIN.
Friend, do you live with Major von Tellheim?
JUST.
Yes.
MIN.
Where is your master?
JUST.
Not here.
MIN.
But you could find him?
JUST.
Yes.
MIN.
Will you fetch him quickly?
JUST.
No.
MIN.
You will be doing me a favour.
JUST.
Indeed!
MIN.
And your master a service.
JUST.
Perhaps not.
MIN.
Why do you suppose that?
JUST.
You are the strange lady who sent your compliments to him this
morning, I think?
MIN.
Yes.
JUST.
Then I am right.
MIN.
Does your master know my name?
JUST.
No; but he likes over-civil ladies as little as over-uncivil
landlords.
LAND.
That is meant for me, I suppose?
JUST.
Yes.
LAND.
Well, do not let the lady suffer for it then; but bring him here
directly.
MIN. (to Franziska).
Franziska, give him something
FRAN. (trying to put some money into Just's hand).
We do not require your services for nothing.
JUST.
Nor I your money without services.
FRAN.
One in return for the other.
JUST.
I cannot. My master has ordered me to pack up. That I am now about,
and I beg you not to hinder me further. When I have finished, I will
take care to tell him that he may come here. He is close by, at the
coffee-house; and if he finds nothing better to do there, I suppose he
will come.
(Going.)
FRAN.
Wait a moment! My lady is the Major's... sister.
MIN.
Yes, yes, his sister.
JUST.
I know better; the Major has not a sister. He has sent me twice in six
months to his family in Courland. It is true there are different sorts
of sisters!!!!!
FRAN.
Insolent!
JUST.
One must be so to get the people to let one alone.
(Exit.)
FRAN.
That is a rascal.
LAND.
So I said. But let him go! I know now where his master is. I will
fetch him instantly myself. I only beg your ladyship, most humbly,
that you will make an excuse for me to the Major, that I have been so
unfortunate as to offend a man of his merit against my will.
MIN.
Pray go quickly. I will set all that right again.
(Exit the Landlord.)
Franziska, run after him, and tell him not to mention my name!
(Exit Franziska.)
Landlord, Just, Minna, Franziska
LAND.
With great difficulty I have brought him.
FRAN.
A strange face! I do not know him.
MIN.
Friend, do you live with Major von Tellheim?
JUST.
Yes.
MIN.
Where is your master?
JUST.
Not here.
MIN.
But you could find him?
JUST.
Yes.
MIN.
Will you fetch him quickly?
JUST.
No.
MIN.
You will be doing me a favour.
JUST.
Indeed!
MIN.
And your master a service.
JUST.
Perhaps not.
MIN.
Why do you suppose that?
JUST.
You are the strange lady who sent your compliments to him this
morning, I think?
MIN.
Yes.
JUST.
Then I am right.
MIN.
Does your master know my name?
JUST.
No; but he likes over-civil ladies as little as over-uncivil
landlords.
LAND.
That is meant for me, I suppose?
JUST.
Yes.
LAND.
Well, do not let the lady suffer for it then; but bring him here
directly.
MIN. (to Franziska).
Franziska, give him something
FRAN. (trying to put some money into Just's hand).
We do not require your services for nothing.
JUST.
Nor I your money without services.
FRAN.
One in return for the other.
JUST.
I cannot. My master has ordered me to pack up. That I am now about,
and I beg you not to hinder me further. When I have finished, I will
take care to tell him that he may come here. He is close by, at the
coffee-house; and if he finds nothing better to do there, I suppose he
will come.
(Going.)
FRAN.
Wait a moment! My lady is the Major's... sister.
MIN.
Yes, yes, his sister.
JUST.
I know better; the Major has not a sister. He has sent me twice in six
months to his family in Courland. It is true there are different sorts
of sisters!!!!!
FRAN.
Insolent!
JUST.
One must be so to get the people to let one alone.
(Exit.)
FRAN.
That is a rascal.
LAND.
So I said. But let him go! I know now where his master is. I will
fetch him instantly myself. I only beg your ladyship, most humbly,
that you will make an excuse for me to the Major, that I have been so
unfortunate as to offend a man of his merit against my will.
MIN.
Pray go quickly. I will set all that right again.
(Exit the Landlord.)
Franziska, run after him, and tell him not to mention my name!
(Exit Franziska.)
SCENE VII.
Minna, and afterwards Franziska
MIN.
I have found him again!—Am I alone?—I will not be alone to no
purpose.—
(Clasping her hands.)
Yet I am not alone!
(Looking upwards.)
One single grateful thought towards heaven, is the most perfect
prayer! I have found him! I have found him!
(With outstretched arms.)
I am joyful and happy! What can please the Creator more than a joyful
creature!
(Franziska returns.)
Have you returned, Franziska? You pity him! I do not pity him.
Misfortune too is useful. Perhaps heaven deprived him of everything—
to give him all again, through me!
FRAN.
He may be here at any moment.—You are still in your morning dress, my
lady. Ought you not to dress yourself quickly?
MIN.
Not at all. He will now see me more frequently so, than dressed out.
FRAN.
Oh! you know, my lady, how you look best.
MIN. (after a pause).
Truly, girl, you have hit it again.
FRAN.
I think women who are beautiful, are most so when unadorned.
MIN.
Must we then be beautiful? Perhaps it was necessary that we should
think ourselves so. Enough for me, if only I am beautiful in his eyes.
Franziska, if all women feel as I now feel, we are—strange things.
Tender hearted, yet proud; virtuous, yet vain; passionate, yet
innocent. I dare say you do not understand me. I do not rightly
understand myself. Joy turns my head.
FRAN.
Compose yourself, my lady, I hear footsteps.
MIN.
Compose myself! What! receive him composedly?
Minna, and afterwards Franziska
MIN.
I have found him again!—Am I alone?—I will not be alone to no
purpose.—
(Clasping her hands.)
Yet I am not alone!
(Looking upwards.)
One single grateful thought towards heaven, is the most perfect
prayer! I have found him! I have found him!
(With outstretched arms.)
I am joyful and happy! What can please the Creator more than a joyful
creature!
(Franziska returns.)
Have you returned, Franziska? You pity him! I do not pity him.
Misfortune too is useful. Perhaps heaven deprived him of everything—
to give him all again, through me!
FRAN.
He may be here at any moment.—You are still in your morning dress, my
lady. Ought you not to dress yourself quickly?
MIN.
Not at all. He will now see me more frequently so, than dressed out.
FRAN.
Oh! you know, my lady, how you look best.
MIN. (after a pause).
Truly, girl, you have hit it again.
FRAN.
I think women who are beautiful, are most so when unadorned.
MIN.
Must we then be beautiful? Perhaps it was necessary that we should
think ourselves so. Enough for me, if only I am beautiful in his eyes.
Franziska, if all women feel as I now feel, we are—strange things.
Tender hearted, yet proud; virtuous, yet vain; passionate, yet
innocent. I dare say you do not understand me. I do not rightly
understand myself. Joy turns my head.
FRAN.
Compose yourself, my lady, I hear footsteps.
MIN.
Compose myself! What! receive him composedly?
SCENE VIII.
Major von Tellheim, Landlord, Minna, and Franziska
MAJ. T. (walks in, and the moment he sees Minna rushes towards her).
Ah! my Minna!
MIN. (springing towards him).
Ah! my Tellheim!
MAJ. T. (starts suddenly, and draws back).
I beg your pardon, Fraulein von Barnhelm; but to meet you here!!!!!
MIN.
Cannot surely be so unexpected!
(Approaching him, whilst he draws back still more.)
Am I to pardon you because I am still your Minna? Heaven pardon you,
that I am still Fraulein von Barnhelm!
MAJ. T.
Fraulein...
(Looks fixedly at the Landlord, and shrugs his shoulders.)
MIN. (sees the Landlord, and makes a sign to Franziska).
Sir!!!!!
MAJ. T.
If we are not both mistaken!!!!!
FRAN.
Why, Landlord, whom have you brought us here? Come, quick! let us go
and look for the right man.
LAND.
Is he not the right one? Surely!
FRAN.
Surely not! Come, quick! I have not yet wished your daughter good
morning.
LAND.
Oh! you are very good
(still does not stir).
FRAN. (takes hold of him).
Come, and we will make the bill of fare. Let us see what we shall
have.
LAND.
You shall have first of all!!!!!
FRAN.
Stop, I say, stop! If my mistress knows now what she is to have for
dinner, it will be all over with her appetite. Come, we must talk that
over in private.
(Drags him off.)
Major von Tellheim, Landlord, Minna, and Franziska
MAJ. T. (walks in, and the moment he sees Minna rushes towards her).
Ah! my Minna!
MIN. (springing towards him).
Ah! my Tellheim!
MAJ. T. (starts suddenly, and draws back).
I beg your pardon, Fraulein von Barnhelm; but to meet you here!!!!!
MIN.
Cannot surely be so unexpected!
(Approaching him, whilst he draws back still more.)
Am I to pardon you because I am still your Minna? Heaven pardon you,
that I am still Fraulein von Barnhelm!
MAJ. T.
Fraulein...
(Looks fixedly at the Landlord, and shrugs his shoulders.)
MIN. (sees the Landlord, and makes a sign to Franziska).
Sir!!!!!
MAJ. T.
If we are not both mistaken!!!!!
FRAN.
Why, Landlord, whom have you brought us here? Come, quick! let us go
and look for the right man.
LAND.
Is he not the right one? Surely!
FRAN.
Surely not! Come, quick! I have not yet wished your daughter good
morning.
LAND.
Oh! you are very good
(still does not stir).
FRAN. (takes hold of him).
Come, and we will make the bill of fare. Let us see what we shall
have.
LAND.
You shall have first of all!!!!!
FRAN.
Stop, I say, stop! If my mistress knows now what she is to have for
dinner, it will be all over with her appetite. Come, we must talk that
over in private.
(Drags him off.)
SCENE IX.
Minna, Major von Tellheim
MIN.
Well, are we still both mistaken?
MAJ. T.
Would to heaven it were so—But there is only one Minna, and you are
that one.
MIN.
What ceremony! The world might hear what we have to say to one
another.
MAJ. T.
You here? What do you want here, Madam?
MIN.
Nothing now
(going to him with open arms).
I have found all that I wanted.
MAJ. T. (drawing back).
You seek a prosperous man, and one worthy of your love; and you find—
a wretched one.
MIN.
Then do you love me no longer? Do you love another?
MAJ. T.
Ah! he never loved you, who could love another afterwards.
MIN.
You draw but one dagger from my breast; for if I have lost your heart,
what matters whether indifference or more powerful charms than mine
have robbed me of it? You love me no longer; neither do you love
another? Wretched man indeed, if you love nothing!
MAJ. T.
Right; the wretched must love nothing. He merits his misfortunes, if
he cannot achieve this victory over himself—if he can allow the woman
he loves to take part in his misfortune... Oh! how difficult is
this victory!... Since reason and necessity have commanded me to
forget Minna von Barnhelm, what pains have I taken! I was just
beginning to hope that my trouble would not for ever be in vain—and
you appear.
MIN.
Do I understand you right? Stop, sir; let us see what we mean before
we make further mistakes. Will you answer me one question?
MAJ. T.
Any one.
MIN.
But will you answer me without shift or subterfuge? With nothing but a
plain "Yes," or "No?"
MAJ. T.
I will—if I can.
MIN.
You can. Well, notwithstanding the pains which you have taken to
forget me, do you love me still, Tellheim?
MAJ. T.
Madam, that question!!!!!
MIN.
You have promised to answer Yes, or No.
MAJ. T.
And added, If I can.
MIN.
You can. You must know what passes in your heart. Do you love me
still, Tellheim? Yes, or No?
MAJ. T.
If my heart!!!!!
MIN.
Yes, or No?
MAJ. T.
Well, Yes!
MIN.
Yes?
MAJ. T.
Yes, yes! Yet!!!!!
MIN.
Patience! You love me still; that is enough for me. Into what a mood
have we fallen! an unpleasant, melancholy, infectious mood! I assume
my own again. Now, my dear unfortunate, you love me still, and have
your Minna still, and are unhappy? Hear what a conceited, foolish
thing your Minna was—is. She allowed—allows herself, to imagine that
she makes your whole happiness. Declare all your misery at once. She
would like to try how far she can outweigh it.—Well?
MAJ. T.
Madam, I am not accustomed to complain.
MIN.
Very well. I know nothing in a soldier, after boasting, that pleases
me less than complaining. But there is a certain cold, careless way of
speaking of bravery and misfortune!!!!!
MAJ. T.
Which at the bottom is still boasting and complaining.
MIN.
You disputant! You should not have called yourself unhappy at all
then. You should have told the whole, or kept quiet. Reason and
necessity commanded you to forget me? I am a great stickler for
reason; I have a great respect for necessity. But let me hear how
reasonable this reason, and how necessary this necessity may be.
MAJ. T.
Listen then, Madam. You call me Tellheim; the name is correct. But
suppose I am not that Tellheim whom you knew at home; the prosperous
man, full of just pretensions, with a thirst for glory; the master of
all his faculties, both of body and mind; before whom the lists of
honour and prosperity stood open; who, if he was not then worthy of
your heart and your hand, dared to hope that he might daily become
more nearly so. This Tellheim I am now, as little as I am my own
father. They both have been. Now I am Tellheim the discharged, the
suspected, the cripple, the beggar. To the former, Madam, you promised
your hand; do you wish to keep your word?
MIN.
That sounds very tragic... Yet, Major Tellheim, until I find the
former one again—I am quite foolish about the Tellheims—the latter
will have to help me in my dilemma. Your hand, dear beggar!
(Taking his hand).
MAJ. T. (holding his hat before his face with the other hand, and
turning away from her).
This is too much!... What am I?... Let me go, Madam. Your
kindness tortures me! Let me go.
MIN.
What is the matter? Where would you go?
MAJ. T.
From you!
MIN.
From me
(drawing his hand to her heart)?
Dreamer!
MAJ. T.
Despair will lay me dead at your feet.
MIN.
From me?
MAJ. T.
From you. Never, never to see you again. Or at least determined, fully
determined, never to be guilty of a mean action; never to cause you to
commit an imprudent one. Let me go, Minna!
(Tears himself away, and Exit.)
MIN. (calling after him).
Let you go, Minna? Minna, let you go? Tellheim! Tellheim!
Minna, Major von Tellheim
MIN.
Well, are we still both mistaken?
MAJ. T.
Would to heaven it were so—But there is only one Minna, and you are
that one.
MIN.
What ceremony! The world might hear what we have to say to one
another.
MAJ. T.
You here? What do you want here, Madam?
MIN.
Nothing now
(going to him with open arms).
I have found all that I wanted.
MAJ. T. (drawing back).
You seek a prosperous man, and one worthy of your love; and you find—
a wretched one.
MIN.
Then do you love me no longer? Do you love another?
MAJ. T.
Ah! he never loved you, who could love another afterwards.
MIN.
You draw but one dagger from my breast; for if I have lost your heart,
what matters whether indifference or more powerful charms than mine
have robbed me of it? You love me no longer; neither do you love
another? Wretched man indeed, if you love nothing!
MAJ. T.
Right; the wretched must love nothing. He merits his misfortunes, if
he cannot achieve this victory over himself—if he can allow the woman
he loves to take part in his misfortune... Oh! how difficult is
this victory!... Since reason and necessity have commanded me to
forget Minna von Barnhelm, what pains have I taken! I was just
beginning to hope that my trouble would not for ever be in vain—and
you appear.
MIN.
Do I understand you right? Stop, sir; let us see what we mean before
we make further mistakes. Will you answer me one question?
MAJ. T.
Any one.
MIN.
But will you answer me without shift or subterfuge? With nothing but a
plain "Yes," or "No?"
MAJ. T.
I will—if I can.
MIN.
You can. Well, notwithstanding the pains which you have taken to
forget me, do you love me still, Tellheim?
MAJ. T.
Madam, that question!!!!!
MIN.
You have promised to answer Yes, or No.
MAJ. T.
And added, If I can.
MIN.
You can. You must know what passes in your heart. Do you love me
still, Tellheim? Yes, or No?
MAJ. T.
If my heart!!!!!
MIN.
Yes, or No?
MAJ. T.
Well, Yes!
MIN.
Yes?
MAJ. T.
Yes, yes! Yet!!!!!
MIN.
Patience! You love me still; that is enough for me. Into what a mood
have we fallen! an unpleasant, melancholy, infectious mood! I assume
my own again. Now, my dear unfortunate, you love me still, and have
your Minna still, and are unhappy? Hear what a conceited, foolish
thing your Minna was—is. She allowed—allows herself, to imagine that
she makes your whole happiness. Declare all your misery at once. She
would like to try how far she can outweigh it.—Well?
MAJ. T.
Madam, I am not accustomed to complain.
MIN.
Very well. I know nothing in a soldier, after boasting, that pleases
me less than complaining. But there is a certain cold, careless way of
speaking of bravery and misfortune!!!!!
MAJ. T.
Which at the bottom is still boasting and complaining.
MIN.
You disputant! You should not have called yourself unhappy at all
then. You should have told the whole, or kept quiet. Reason and
necessity commanded you to forget me? I am a great stickler for
reason; I have a great respect for necessity. But let me hear how
reasonable this reason, and how necessary this necessity may be.
MAJ. T.
Listen then, Madam. You call me Tellheim; the name is correct. But
suppose I am not that Tellheim whom you knew at home; the prosperous
man, full of just pretensions, with a thirst for glory; the master of
all his faculties, both of body and mind; before whom the lists of
honour and prosperity stood open; who, if he was not then worthy of
your heart and your hand, dared to hope that he might daily become
more nearly so. This Tellheim I am now, as little as I am my own
father. They both have been. Now I am Tellheim the discharged, the
suspected, the cripple, the beggar. To the former, Madam, you promised
your hand; do you wish to keep your word?
MIN.
That sounds very tragic... Yet, Major Tellheim, until I find the
former one again—I am quite foolish about the Tellheims—the latter
will have to help me in my dilemma. Your hand, dear beggar!
(Taking his hand).
MAJ. T. (holding his hat before his face with the other hand, and
turning away from her).
This is too much!... What am I?... Let me go, Madam. Your
kindness tortures me! Let me go.
MIN.
What is the matter? Where would you go?
MAJ. T.
From you!
MIN.
From me
(drawing his hand to her heart)?
Dreamer!
MAJ. T.
Despair will lay me dead at your feet.
MIN.
From me?
MAJ. T.
From you. Never, never to see you again. Or at least determined, fully
determined, never to be guilty of a mean action; never to cause you to
commit an imprudent one. Let me go, Minna!
(Tears himself away, and Exit.)
MIN. (calling after him).
Let you go, Minna? Minna, let you go? Tellheim! Tellheim!
ACT III.
SCENE I.
The Parlour. Just (with a letter in his hand)
JUST.
Must I come again into this cursed house! A note from my master to her
ladyship that would be his sister. I hope nothing will come of this,
or else there will be no end to letter carrying. I should like to be
rid of it; but yet I don't wish to go into the room. The women ask so
many questions, and I hate answering—Ah! the door opens. Just what I
wanted, the waiting puss!
The Parlour. Just (with a letter in his hand)
JUST.
Must I come again into this cursed house! A note from my master to her
ladyship that would be his sister. I hope nothing will come of this,
or else there will be no end to letter carrying. I should like to be
rid of it; but yet I don't wish to go into the room. The women ask so
many questions, and I hate answering—Ah! the door opens. Just what I
wanted, the waiting puss!
Scene II
Franziska and Just
FRAN. (calling through the door by which she has just entered).
Fear not; I will watch. See!
(observing Just)
I have met with something immediately. But nothing is to be done with
that brute.
JUST.
Your servant.
FRAN.
I should not like such a servant.
JUST.
Well, well, pardon the expression! There is a note from my master to
your mistress—her ladyship—his sister, wasn't it?—sister.
FRAN.
Give it me!
(Snatches it from his hand.)
JUST.
You will be so good, my master begs, as to deliver it. Afterwards you
will be so good, my master begs, as not to think I ask for anything!
FRAN.
Well?
JUST.
My master understands how to manage the affair. He knows that the way
to the young lady is through her maid, methinks. The maid will
therefore be so good, my master begs, as to let him know whether he
may not have the pleasure of speaking with the maid for a quarter of
an hour.
FRAN.
With me?
JUST.
Pardon me, if I do not give you your right title. Yes, with you.
Only for one quarter of an hour; but alone, quite alone, in private
tete-a-tete. He has something very particular to say to you.
FRAN.
Very well! I have also much to say to him. He may come; I shall be at
his service.
JUST.
But when can he come? When is it most convenient for you, young woman?
In the evening?
FRAN.
What do you mean? Your master can come when he pleases; and now be off.
JUST.
Most willingly!
(Going.)
FRAN.
I say! one word more! Where are the rest of the Major's servants?
JUST.
The rest? Here, there, and everywhere.
FRAN.
Where is William?
JUST.
The valet? He has let him go for a trip.
FRAN.
Oh! and Philip, where is he?
JUST.
The huntsman? Master has found him a good place.
FRAN.
Because he does not hunt now, of course. But Martin?
JUST.
The coachman? He is off on a ride.
FRAN.
And Fritz?
JUST.
The footman? He is promoted.
FRAN.
Where were you then, when the Major was quartered in Thuringia with us
that winter? You were not with him, I suppose!
JUST.
Oh! yes, I was groom; but I was in the hospital.
FRAN.
Groom! and now you are!!!!!
JUST.
All in all; valet and huntsman, footman and groom.
FRAN.
Well, I never! To turn away so many good, excellent servants, and to
keep the very worst of all! I should like to know what your master
finds in you!
JUST.
Perhaps he finds that I am an honest fellow.
FRAN.
Oh! one is precious little if one is nothing more than honest. William
was another sort of a man! So your master has let him go for a trip!
JUST.
Yes, he... let him—because he could not prevent him.
FRAN.
How so?
JUST.
Oh! William will do well on his travels. He took master's wardrobe
with him.
FRAN.
What! he did not run away with it?
JUST.
I cannot say that exactly; but when we left Nurnberg, he did not
follow us with it.
FRAN.
Oh! the rascal!
JUST.
He was the right sort! he could curl hair and shave—and chatter and
flirt—couldn't he?
FRAN.
At any rate, I would not have turned away the huntsman, had I been in
the Major's place. If he did not want him any longer as huntsman, he
was still a useful fellow. Where has he found him a place?
JUST.
With the Commandant of Spandau.
FRAN.
The fortress! There cannot be much hunting within the walls either.
JUST.
Oh! Philip does not hunt there.
FRAN.
What does he do, then?
JUST.
He rides—on the treadmill.
FRAN.
The treadmill!
JUST.
But only for three years. He made a bit of a plot amongst master's
company, to get six men through the outposts.
FRAN.
I am astonished; the knave!
JUST.
Ah! he was a useful fellow; a huntsman who knew all the foot paths and
by-ways for fifty miles round, through forests and bogs. And he could
shoot!
FRAN.
It is lucky the Major has still got the honest coachman.
JUST.
Has he got him still?
FRAN.
I thought you said Martin was off on a ride: of course he will come
back!
JUST.
Do you think so?
FRAN.
Well, where has he ridden to?
JUST.
It is now going on for ten weeks since he rode master's last and only
horse—to water.
FRAN.
And has not he come back yet? Oh! the rascal!
JUST.
The water may have washed the honest coachman away. Oh! he was a
famous coachman! He had driven ten years in Vienna. My master will
never get such another again. When the horses were in full gallop, he
only had to say "Wo!" and there they stood, like a wall. Moreover, he
was a finished horse-doctor!
FRAN.
I begin now to be anxious about the footman's promotion.
JUST.
No, no; there is no occasion for that. He has become a drummer in a
garrison regiment.
FRAN.
I thought as much!
JUST.
Fritz chummed up with a scamp, never came home at night, made debts
everywhere in master's name, and a thousand rascally tricks. In short,
the Major saw that he was determined to rise in the world
(pantomimically imitating the act of hanging),
so he put him in the right road.
FRAN.
Oh! the stupid!
JUST.
Yet a perfect footman, there is no doubt of that. In running, my
master could not catch him on his best horse if he gave him fifty
paces; but on the other hand, Fritz could give the gallows a thousand
paces, and, I bet my life, he would overhaul it. They were all great
friends of yours, eh, young woman?... William and Philip, Martin
and Fritz! Now, Just wishes you good day.
(Exit.)
Franziska and Just
FRAN. (calling through the door by which she has just entered).
Fear not; I will watch. See!
(observing Just)
I have met with something immediately. But nothing is to be done with
that brute.
JUST.
Your servant.
FRAN.
I should not like such a servant.
JUST.
Well, well, pardon the expression! There is a note from my master to
your mistress—her ladyship—his sister, wasn't it?—sister.
FRAN.
Give it me!
(Snatches it from his hand.)
JUST.
You will be so good, my master begs, as to deliver it. Afterwards you
will be so good, my master begs, as not to think I ask for anything!
FRAN.
Well?
JUST.
My master understands how to manage the affair. He knows that the way
to the young lady is through her maid, methinks. The maid will
therefore be so good, my master begs, as to let him know whether he
may not have the pleasure of speaking with the maid for a quarter of
an hour.
FRAN.
With me?
JUST.
Pardon me, if I do not give you your right title. Yes, with you.
Only for one quarter of an hour; but alone, quite alone, in private
tete-a-tete. He has something very particular to say to you.
FRAN.
Very well! I have also much to say to him. He may come; I shall be at
his service.
JUST.
But when can he come? When is it most convenient for you, young woman?
In the evening?
FRAN.
What do you mean? Your master can come when he pleases; and now be off.
JUST.
Most willingly!
(Going.)
FRAN.
I say! one word more! Where are the rest of the Major's servants?
JUST.
The rest? Here, there, and everywhere.
FRAN.
Where is William?
JUST.
The valet? He has let him go for a trip.
FRAN.
Oh! and Philip, where is he?
JUST.
The huntsman? Master has found him a good place.
FRAN.
Because he does not hunt now, of course. But Martin?
JUST.
The coachman? He is off on a ride.
FRAN.
And Fritz?
JUST.
The footman? He is promoted.
FRAN.
Where were you then, when the Major was quartered in Thuringia with us
that winter? You were not with him, I suppose!
JUST.
Oh! yes, I was groom; but I was in the hospital.
FRAN.
Groom! and now you are!!!!!
JUST.
All in all; valet and huntsman, footman and groom.
FRAN.
Well, I never! To turn away so many good, excellent servants, and to
keep the very worst of all! I should like to know what your master
finds in you!
JUST.
Perhaps he finds that I am an honest fellow.
FRAN.
Oh! one is precious little if one is nothing more than honest. William
was another sort of a man! So your master has let him go for a trip!
JUST.
Yes, he... let him—because he could not prevent him.
FRAN.
How so?
JUST.
Oh! William will do well on his travels. He took master's wardrobe
with him.
FRAN.
What! he did not run away with it?
JUST.
I cannot say that exactly; but when we left Nurnberg, he did not
follow us with it.
FRAN.
Oh! the rascal!
JUST.
He was the right sort! he could curl hair and shave—and chatter and
flirt—couldn't he?
FRAN.
At any rate, I would not have turned away the huntsman, had I been in
the Major's place. If he did not want him any longer as huntsman, he
was still a useful fellow. Where has he found him a place?
JUST.
With the Commandant of Spandau.
FRAN.
The fortress! There cannot be much hunting within the walls either.
JUST.
Oh! Philip does not hunt there.
FRAN.
What does he do, then?
JUST.
He rides—on the treadmill.
FRAN.
The treadmill!
JUST.
But only for three years. He made a bit of a plot amongst master's
company, to get six men through the outposts.
FRAN.
I am astonished; the knave!
JUST.
Ah! he was a useful fellow; a huntsman who knew all the foot paths and
by-ways for fifty miles round, through forests and bogs. And he could
shoot!
FRAN.
It is lucky the Major has still got the honest coachman.
JUST.
Has he got him still?
FRAN.
I thought you said Martin was off on a ride: of course he will come
back!
JUST.
Do you think so?
FRAN.
Well, where has he ridden to?
JUST.
It is now going on for ten weeks since he rode master's last and only
horse—to water.
FRAN.
And has not he come back yet? Oh! the rascal!
JUST.
The water may have washed the honest coachman away. Oh! he was a
famous coachman! He had driven ten years in Vienna. My master will
never get such another again. When the horses were in full gallop, he
only had to say "Wo!" and there they stood, like a wall. Moreover, he
was a finished horse-doctor!
FRAN.
I begin now to be anxious about the footman's promotion.
JUST.
No, no; there is no occasion for that. He has become a drummer in a
garrison regiment.
FRAN.
I thought as much!
JUST.
Fritz chummed up with a scamp, never came home at night, made debts
everywhere in master's name, and a thousand rascally tricks. In short,
the Major saw that he was determined to rise in the world
(pantomimically imitating the act of hanging),
so he put him in the right road.
FRAN.
Oh! the stupid!
JUST.
Yet a perfect footman, there is no doubt of that. In running, my
master could not catch him on his best horse if he gave him fifty
paces; but on the other hand, Fritz could give the gallows a thousand
paces, and, I bet my life, he would overhaul it. They were all great
friends of yours, eh, young woman?... William and Philip, Martin
and Fritz! Now, Just wishes you good day.
(Exit.)
SCENE III.
Franziska, and afterwards the Landlord
FRAN. (looking after him seriously).
I deserve the hit! Thank you, Just. I undervalued honesty. I will not
forget the lesson. Ah! our unfortunate Major!
(Turns round to enter her mistress' room, when the Landlord comes.)
LAND.
Wait a bit, my pretty maid.
FRAN.
I have not time now, Mr. Landlord.
LAND.
Only half a moment! No further tidings of the Major? That surely could
not possibly be his leave-taking!
FRAN.
What could not?
LAND.
Has not our ladyship told you? When I left you, my pretty maid, below
in the kitchen, I returned accidentally into this room!!!!!
FRAN.
Accidentally—with a view to listen a little.
LAND.
What, girl! how can you suspect me of that? There is nothing so bad in
a landlord as curiosity. I had not been here long, when suddenly her
ladyship's door burst open: the Major dashed out; the lady after him;
both in such a state of excitement; with looks—in attitudes—that
must be seen to be understood. She seized hold of him; he tore himself
away; she seized him again—"Tellheim." "Let me go, Madam." "Where?"
Thus he drew her as far as the staircase. I was really afraid he would
drag her down; but he got away. The lady remained on the top step;
looked after him; called after him; wrung her hands. Suddenly she
turned round; ran to the window; from the window to the staircase
again; from the staircase into the room, backwards and forwards. There
I stood; she passed me three times without seeing me. At length it
seemed as if she saw me; but heaven defend us! I believe the lady took
me for you. "Franziska," she cried, with her eyes fixed upon me, "am I
happy now?" Then she looked straight up to the ceiling, and said again
—"Am I happy now?" Then she wiped the tears from her eyes, and
smiled, and asked me again—"Franziska, am I happy now?" I really
felt, I know not how. Then she ran to the door of her room, and turned
round again towards me, saying—"Come, Franziska, whom do you pity
now?" and with that she went in.
FRAN.
Oh! Mr. Landlord, you dreamt that.
LAND.
Dreamt! No, my pretty maid; one does not dream so minutely. Yes, what
would not I give—I am not curious: but what would not I give—to have
the key to it!
FRAN.
The key? Of our door? Mr. Landlord, that is inside; we took it in at
night; we are timid.
LAND.
Not that sort of key; I mean, my dear girl, the key—the explanation,
as it were; the precise connexion of all that I have seen.
FRAN.
Indeed! Well, good-bye, Mr. Landlord. Shall we have dinner soon?
LAND.
My dear girl, not to forget what I came to say!!!!!
FRAN.
Well? In as few words as possible.
LAND.
Her ladyship has my ring still. I call it mine!!!!!
FRAN.
You shall not lose it.
LAND.
I have no fear on that account: I merely put you in mind. Do you see,
I do not wish to have it again at all. I can guess pretty well how she
knew the ring, and why it was so like her own. It is best in her
hands. I do not want it any more; and I can put them down—the hundred
pistoles which I advanced for it, to the lady's bill. Will not that
do, my pretty maid?
Franziska, and afterwards the Landlord
FRAN. (looking after him seriously).
I deserve the hit! Thank you, Just. I undervalued honesty. I will not
forget the lesson. Ah! our unfortunate Major!
(Turns round to enter her mistress' room, when the Landlord comes.)
LAND.
Wait a bit, my pretty maid.
FRAN.
I have not time now, Mr. Landlord.
LAND.
Only half a moment! No further tidings of the Major? That surely could
not possibly be his leave-taking!
FRAN.
What could not?
LAND.
Has not our ladyship told you? When I left you, my pretty maid, below
in the kitchen, I returned accidentally into this room!!!!!
FRAN.
Accidentally—with a view to listen a little.
LAND.
What, girl! how can you suspect me of that? There is nothing so bad in
a landlord as curiosity. I had not been here long, when suddenly her
ladyship's door burst open: the Major dashed out; the lady after him;
both in such a state of excitement; with looks—in attitudes—that
must be seen to be understood. She seized hold of him; he tore himself
away; she seized him again—"Tellheim." "Let me go, Madam." "Where?"
Thus he drew her as far as the staircase. I was really afraid he would
drag her down; but he got away. The lady remained on the top step;
looked after him; called after him; wrung her hands. Suddenly she
turned round; ran to the window; from the window to the staircase
again; from the staircase into the room, backwards and forwards. There
I stood; she passed me three times without seeing me. At length it
seemed as if she saw me; but heaven defend us! I believe the lady took
me for you. "Franziska," she cried, with her eyes fixed upon me, "am I
happy now?" Then she looked straight up to the ceiling, and said again
—"Am I happy now?" Then she wiped the tears from her eyes, and
smiled, and asked me again—"Franziska, am I happy now?" I really
felt, I know not how. Then she ran to the door of her room, and turned
round again towards me, saying—"Come, Franziska, whom do you pity
now?" and with that she went in.
FRAN.
Oh! Mr. Landlord, you dreamt that.
LAND.
Dreamt! No, my pretty maid; one does not dream so minutely. Yes, what
would not I give—I am not curious: but what would not I give—to have
the key to it!
FRAN.
The key? Of our door? Mr. Landlord, that is inside; we took it in at
night; we are timid.
LAND.
Not that sort of key; I mean, my dear girl, the key—the explanation,
as it were; the precise connexion of all that I have seen.
FRAN.
Indeed! Well, good-bye, Mr. Landlord. Shall we have dinner soon?
LAND.
My dear girl, not to forget what I came to say!!!!!
FRAN.
Well? In as few words as possible.
LAND.
Her ladyship has my ring still. I call it mine!!!!!
FRAN.
You shall not lose it.
LAND.
I have no fear on that account: I merely put you in mind. Do you see,
I do not wish to have it again at all. I can guess pretty well how she
knew the ring, and why it was so like her own. It is best in her
hands. I do not want it any more; and I can put them down—the hundred
pistoles which I advanced for it, to the lady's bill. Will not that
do, my pretty maid?
SCENE IV.
Paul Werner, Landlord, Franziska
WER.
There he is!
FRAN.
A hundred pistoles? I thought it was only eighty.
LAND.
True, only ninety, only ninety. I will do so, my pretty maid, I will
do so.
FRAN.
All that will come right, Mr. Landlord.
WER. (coming from behind, and tapping Franziska on the shoulder).
Little woman—Little woman.
FRAN. (frightened).
Oh! dear!
WER.
Don't be alarmed! I see you are pretty, and a stranger, too. And
strangers who are pretty must be warned. Little woman! little woman! I
advise you to beware of that fellow!
(Pointing to the Landlord).
LAND.
Ah! What an unexpected pleasure! Herr Werner! Welcome, welcome! Yes,
you are just the same jovial, joking, honest Werner! So you are to
beware of me, my pretty maid. Ha! ha! ha!
WER.
Keep out of his way everywhere!
LAND.
My way? Am I such a dangerous man? Ha! ha! ha! Hear him, my pretty
maid! A good joke, isn't it?
WER.
People like him always call it a joke, if one tells them the truth.
LAND.
The truth. Ha! ha! ha! Better and better, my pretty maid, isn't it? He
knows how to joke! I dangerous? I? Twenty years ago there might have
been something in it. Yes, yes, my pretty maid, then I was a dangerous
man: many a one knew it; but now!!!!!
WER.
Oh! the old fool!
LAND.
There it is! When we get old, danger is at an end! It will be so with
you too, Herr Werner!
WER.
You utter old fool!—Little woman, you will give me credit for enough
common sense not to speak of danger from him. That one devil has left
him, but seven others have entered into him.
LAND.
Oh! hear him! How cleverly he can turn things about. Joke upon joke,
and always something new! Ah! he is an excellent man, Paul Werner is.
(To Franziska, as if whispering.)
A well-to-do man, and a bachelor still. He has a nice little freehold
three miles from here. He made prize-money in the war, and was a
sergeant to the Major. Yes, he is a real friend of the Major's; he is
a friend who would give his life for him.
WER.
Yes; and that is a friend of the Major's—that is a friend... whose
life the Major ought to take
(Pointing to the Landlord).
LAND.
How! What! No, Herr Werner, that is not a good joke. I no friend to
the Major! I don't understand that joke.
WER.
Just has told me pretty things.
LAND.
Just! Ah! I thought Just was speaking through you. Just is a nasty,
ill-natured man. But here on the spot stands a pretty maid—she can
speak, she can say if I am no friend of the Major's—if I have not
done him good service. And why should not I be his friend? Is not he a
deserving man? It is true, he has had the misfortune to be discharged;
but what of that? The king cannot be acquainted with all deserving
officers; and if he knew them, he could not reward them all.
WER.
Heaven put those words into your mouth. But Just... certainly there
is nothing remarkable about Just, but still Just is no liar; and if
that what he has told me be true!!!!!
LAND.
I don't want to hear anything about Just. As I said, this pretty maid
here can speak.
(Whispering to her.)
You know, my dear; the ring! Tell Herr Werner about it. Then he will
learn better what I am. And that it may not appear as if she only said
what I wish, I will not even be present. I will go; but you shall tell
me after, Herr Werner, you shall tell me, whether Just is not a foul
slanderer.
(Exit.)
Paul Werner, Landlord, Franziska
WER.
There he is!
FRAN.
A hundred pistoles? I thought it was only eighty.
LAND.
True, only ninety, only ninety. I will do so, my pretty maid, I will
do so.
FRAN.
All that will come right, Mr. Landlord.
WER. (coming from behind, and tapping Franziska on the shoulder).
Little woman—Little woman.
FRAN. (frightened).
Oh! dear!
WER.
Don't be alarmed! I see you are pretty, and a stranger, too. And
strangers who are pretty must be warned. Little woman! little woman! I
advise you to beware of that fellow!
(Pointing to the Landlord).
LAND.
Ah! What an unexpected pleasure! Herr Werner! Welcome, welcome! Yes,
you are just the same jovial, joking, honest Werner! So you are to
beware of me, my pretty maid. Ha! ha! ha!
WER.
Keep out of his way everywhere!
LAND.
My way? Am I such a dangerous man? Ha! ha! ha! Hear him, my pretty
maid! A good joke, isn't it?
WER.
People like him always call it a joke, if one tells them the truth.
LAND.
The truth. Ha! ha! ha! Better and better, my pretty maid, isn't it? He
knows how to joke! I dangerous? I? Twenty years ago there might have
been something in it. Yes, yes, my pretty maid, then I was a dangerous
man: many a one knew it; but now!!!!!
WER.
Oh! the old fool!
LAND.
There it is! When we get old, danger is at an end! It will be so with
you too, Herr Werner!
WER.
You utter old fool!—Little woman, you will give me credit for enough
common sense not to speak of danger from him. That one devil has left
him, but seven others have entered into him.
LAND.
Oh! hear him! How cleverly he can turn things about. Joke upon joke,
and always something new! Ah! he is an excellent man, Paul Werner is.
(To Franziska, as if whispering.)
A well-to-do man, and a bachelor still. He has a nice little freehold
three miles from here. He made prize-money in the war, and was a
sergeant to the Major. Yes, he is a real friend of the Major's; he is
a friend who would give his life for him.
WER.
Yes; and that is a friend of the Major's—that is a friend... whose
life the Major ought to take
(Pointing to the Landlord).
LAND.
How! What! No, Herr Werner, that is not a good joke. I no friend to
the Major! I don't understand that joke.
WER.
Just has told me pretty things.
LAND.
Just! Ah! I thought Just was speaking through you. Just is a nasty,
ill-natured man. But here on the spot stands a pretty maid—she can
speak, she can say if I am no friend of the Major's—if I have not
done him good service. And why should not I be his friend? Is not he a
deserving man? It is true, he has had the misfortune to be discharged;
but what of that? The king cannot be acquainted with all deserving
officers; and if he knew them, he could not reward them all.
WER.
Heaven put those words into your mouth. But Just... certainly there
is nothing remarkable about Just, but still Just is no liar; and if
that what he has told me be true!!!!!
LAND.
I don't want to hear anything about Just. As I said, this pretty maid
here can speak.
(Whispering to her.)
You know, my dear; the ring! Tell Herr Werner about it. Then he will
learn better what I am. And that it may not appear as if she only said
what I wish, I will not even be present. I will go; but you shall tell
me after, Herr Werner, you shall tell me, whether Just is not a foul
slanderer.
(Exit.)
SCENE V.
Werner, Franziska
WER.
Little woman, do you know my Major?
FRAN.
Major von Tellheim? Yes, indeed, I do know that good man.
WER.
Is he not a good man? Do you like him?
FRAN.
From the bottom of my heart.
WER.
Indeed! I tell you what, little woman, you are twice as pretty now as
you were before. But what are the services, which the landlord says he
has rendered our Major?
FRAN.
That is what I don't know; unless he wished to take credit to himself
for the good result which fortunately has arisen from his knavish
conduct.
WER.
Then what Just told me is true?
(Towards the side where the Landlord went off.)
A lucky thing for you that you are gone! He did really turn him out of
his room?—To treat such a man so, because the donkey fancied that he
had no more money! The Major no money!
FRAN.
What! Has the Major any money?
WER.
By the load. He doesn't know how much he has. He doesn't know who is
in his debt. I am his debtor, and have brought him some old arrears.
Look, little woman, in this purse
(drawing it out of one pocket)
are a hundred louis d'ors; and in this packet
(drawing it out of another pocket)
a hundred ducats. All his money!
FRAN.
Really! Why then does the Major pawn his things? He pledged a ring,
you know!!!!!
WER.
Pledged! Don't you believe it. Perhaps he wanted to get rid of the
rubbish.
FRAN.
It is no rubbish; it is a very valuable ring; which, moreover, I
suspect, he received from a loving hand.
WER.
That will be the reason. From a loving hand! Yes, yes; such a thing
often puts one in mind of what one does not wish to remember, and
therefore one gets rid of it.
FRAN.
What!
WER.
Odd things happen to the soldier in winter quarters. He has nothing to
do then, so he amuses himself, and to pass the time he makes
acquaintances, which he only intends for the winter, but which the
good soul with whom he makes them, looks upon for life. Then, presto!
a ring is suddenly conjured on to his finger; he hardly knows himself
how it gets there; and very often he would willingly give the finger
with it, if he could only get free from it again.
FRAN.
Oh! and do you think this has happened to the Major?
WER.
Undoubtedly. Especially in Saxony. If he had had ten fingers on each
hand, he might have had all twenty full of rings.
FRAN. (aside).
That sounds important, and deserves to be inquired into.
Mr. Freeholder, or Mr. Sergeant!!!!!
WER.
Little woman, if it makes no difference to you, I like "Mr. Sergeant"
best.
FRAN.
Well, Mr. Sergeant, I have a note from the Major to my mistress. I
will just carry it in, and be here again in a moment. Will you be so
good as to wait? I should like very much to have a little talk with
you.
WER.
Are you fond of talking, little woman? Well, with all my heart. Go
quickly. I am fond of talking too: I will wait.
FRAN.
Yes, please wait.
(Exit.)
Werner, Franziska
WER.
Little woman, do you know my Major?
FRAN.
Major von Tellheim? Yes, indeed, I do know that good man.
WER.
Is he not a good man? Do you like him?
FRAN.
From the bottom of my heart.
WER.
Indeed! I tell you what, little woman, you are twice as pretty now as
you were before. But what are the services, which the landlord says he
has rendered our Major?
FRAN.
That is what I don't know; unless he wished to take credit to himself
for the good result which fortunately has arisen from his knavish
conduct.
WER.
Then what Just told me is true?
(Towards the side where the Landlord went off.)
A lucky thing for you that you are gone! He did really turn him out of
his room?—To treat such a man so, because the donkey fancied that he
had no more money! The Major no money!
FRAN.
What! Has the Major any money?
WER.
By the load. He doesn't know how much he has. He doesn't know who is
in his debt. I am his debtor, and have brought him some old arrears.
Look, little woman, in this purse
(drawing it out of one pocket)
are a hundred louis d'ors; and in this packet
(drawing it out of another pocket)
a hundred ducats. All his money!
FRAN.
Really! Why then does the Major pawn his things? He pledged a ring,
you know!!!!!
WER.
Pledged! Don't you believe it. Perhaps he wanted to get rid of the
rubbish.
FRAN.
It is no rubbish; it is a very valuable ring; which, moreover, I
suspect, he received from a loving hand.
WER.
That will be the reason. From a loving hand! Yes, yes; such a thing
often puts one in mind of what one does not wish to remember, and
therefore one gets rid of it.
FRAN.
What!
WER.
Odd things happen to the soldier in winter quarters. He has nothing to
do then, so he amuses himself, and to pass the time he makes
acquaintances, which he only intends for the winter, but which the
good soul with whom he makes them, looks upon for life. Then, presto!
a ring is suddenly conjured on to his finger; he hardly knows himself
how it gets there; and very often he would willingly give the finger
with it, if he could only get free from it again.
FRAN.
Oh! and do you think this has happened to the Major?
WER.
Undoubtedly. Especially in Saxony. If he had had ten fingers on each
hand, he might have had all twenty full of rings.
FRAN. (aside).
That sounds important, and deserves to be inquired into.
Mr. Freeholder, or Mr. Sergeant!!!!!
WER.
Little woman, if it makes no difference to you, I like "Mr. Sergeant"
best.
FRAN.
Well, Mr. Sergeant, I have a note from the Major to my mistress. I
will just carry it in, and be here again in a moment. Will you be so
good as to wait? I should like very much to have a little talk with
you.
WER.
Are you fond of talking, little woman? Well, with all my heart. Go
quickly. I am fond of talking too: I will wait.
FRAN.
Yes, please wait.
(Exit.)
SCENE VI.
Paul Werner
WER.
That is not at all a bad little woman. But I ought not to have
promised her that I would wait, for it would be most to the purpose, I
suppose, to find the Major. He will not have my money, but rather
pawns his property. That is just his way. A little trick occurs to me.
When I was in the town, a fortnight back, I paid a visit to Captain
Marloff's widow. The poor woman was ill, and was lamenting that her
husband had died in debt to the Major for four hundred thalers, which
she did not know how to pay. I went to see her again to-day; I
intended to tell her that I could lend her five hundred thalers, when
I had received the money for my property; for I must put some of it
by, if I do not go to Persia. But she was gone; and no doubt she has
not been able to pay the Major. Yes, I'll do that; and the sooner the
better. The little woman must not take it ill of me; I cannot wait.
(Is going in thought, and almost runs against the Major, who meets
him.)
Paul Werner
WER.
That is not at all a bad little woman. But I ought not to have
promised her that I would wait, for it would be most to the purpose, I
suppose, to find the Major. He will not have my money, but rather
pawns his property. That is just his way. A little trick occurs to me.
When I was in the town, a fortnight back, I paid a visit to Captain
Marloff's widow. The poor woman was ill, and was lamenting that her
husband had died in debt to the Major for four hundred thalers, which
she did not know how to pay. I went to see her again to-day; I
intended to tell her that I could lend her five hundred thalers, when
I had received the money for my property; for I must put some of it
by, if I do not go to Persia. But she was gone; and no doubt she has
not been able to pay the Major. Yes, I'll do that; and the sooner the
better. The little woman must not take it ill of me; I cannot wait.
(Is going in thought, and almost runs against the Major, who meets
him.)
SCENE VII.
Major Von Tellheim, Paul Werner
MAJ. T.
Why so thoughtful, Werner?
WER.
Oh! that is you. I was just going to pay you a visit in your new
quarters, Major.
MAJ. T.
To fill my ears with curses against the Landlord of my old one. Do not
remind me of it.
WER.
I should have done that by the way: yes. But more particularly, I wish
to thank you for having been so good as to take care of my hundred
louis d'ors. Just has given them to me again. I should have been very
glad if you would have kept them longer for me. But you have got into
new quarters, which neither you nor I know much about. Who knows what
sort of place it is? They might be stolen, and you would have to make
them good to me; there would be no help for it. So I cannot ask you to
take them again.
MAJ. T. (smiling).
When did you begin to be so careful, Werner?
WER.
One learns to be so. One cannot now be careful enough of one's money.
I have also a commission for you, Major, from Frau Marloff; I have
just come from her. Her husband died four hundred thalers in your
debt; she sends you a hundred ducats here, in part payment. She will
forward you the rest next week. I believe I am the cause that she has
not sent you the whole sum. For she also owed me about eighty thalers,
and she thought I was come to dun her for them—which, perhaps, was
the fact—so she gave them me out of the roll which she had put aside
for you. You can spare your hundred thalers for a week longer, better
than I can spare my few groschens. There, take it!
(Hands him the ducats.)
MAJ. T.
Werner!
WER.
Well! Why do you stare at me so? Take it, Major!
MAJ. T.
Werner!
WER.
What is the matter with you? What annoys you?
MAJ. T. (angrily striking his forehead, and stamping with his foot.)
That... the four hundred thalers are not all there.
WER.
Come! Major, did not you understand me?
MAJ. T.
It is just because I did understand you! Alas, that the best men
should to-day distress me most!
WER.
What do you say?
MAJ. T.
This only applies partly to you. Go, Werner!
(Pushing back Werner's hand with the money in it.)
WER.
As soon as I have got rid of this.
MAJ. T.
Werner, suppose I tell you that Frau Marloff was here herself early
this morning!!!!!
WER.
Indeed?
MAJ. T.
That she owes me nothing now!!!!!
WER.
Really?
MAJ. T.
That she has paid me every penny—What will you say then?
WER. (thinks for a minute).
I shall say that I have told a lie, and that lying is a low thing,
because one may be caught at it.
MAJ. T.
And you will be ashamed of yourself?
WER.
And what of him who compels me to lie? Should not he be ashamed too?
Look ye, Major; if I was to say that your conduct has not vexed me, I
should tell another lie, and I won't lie any more.
MAJ. T.
Do not be annoyed, Werner. I know your heart, and your affection for
me. But I do not require your money.
WER.
Not require it! Rather sell, rather pawn, and get talked about!
MAJ. T.
Oh! people may know that I have nothing more. One must not wish to
appear richer than one is.
WER.
But why poorer? A man has something as long as his friend has.
MAJ. T.
It is not proper that I should be your debtor.
WER.
Not proper! On that summer day which the sun and the enemy made hot
for us, when your groom, who had your canteen, was not to be found,
and you came to me and said—"Werner, have you nothing to drink?" and
I gave you my flask, you took it and drank, did you not? Was that
proper? Upon my life, a mouthful of dirty water at that time was often
worth more than such filth
(taking the purse also out of his pocket, and holding out both to
him).
Take them, dear Major! Fancy it is water. God has made this, too, for
all.
MAJ. T.
You torment me: don't you hear, I will not be your debtor.
WER.
At first, it was not proper; now, you will not. Ah! that is a
different thing.
(Rather angrily.)
You will not be my debtor? But suppose you are already, Major? Or, are
you not a debtor to the man who once warded off the blow that was
meant to split your head; and, at another time, knocked off the arm
which was just going to pull and send a ball through your breast? How
can you become a greater debtor to that man? Or, is my neck of less
consequence than my money? If that is a noble way of thinking, by my
soul it is a very silly one too.
MAJ. T.
To whom do you say that, Werner? We are alone, and therefore I may
speak; if a third person heard us, it might sound like boasting. I
acknowledge with pleasure, that I have to thank you for twice saving
my life. Do you not think, friend, that if an opportunity occurred I
would have done as much for you, eh?
WER.
If an opportunity occurred! Who doubts it, Major? Have I not seen you
risk your life a hundred times for the lowest soldier, when he was in
danger?
MAJ. T.
Well!
WER.
But!!!!!
MAJ. T.
Why cannot you understand me? I say, it is not proper that I should be
your debtor; I will not be your debtor. That is, not in the
circumstances in which I now am.
WER.
Oh! so you would wait till better times. You will borrow money from me
another time, when you do not want any: when you have some yourself,
and I perhaps none.
MAJ. T.
A man ought not to borrow, when he has not the means of repaying.
WER.
A man like yourself cannot always be in want.
MAJ. T.
You know the world... Least of all should a man borrow from one who
wants his money himself.
WER.
Oh! yes; I am such a one! Pray, what do I want it for? When they want
a sergeant, they give him enough to live on.
MAJ. T.
You want it, to become something more than a sergeant—to be able to
get forward in that path in which even the most deserving, without
money, may remain behind.
WER.
To become something more than a sergeant! I do not think of that. I am
a good sergeant; I might easily make a bad captain, and certainly a
worse general.
MAJ. T.
Do not force me to think ill of you, Werner! I was very sorry to hear
what Just has told me. You have sold your farm, and wish to rove about
again. Do not let me suppose that you do not love the profession of
arms so much as the wild dissolute way of living which is
unfortunately connected with it. A man should be a soldier for his own
country, or from love of the cause for which he fights. To serve
without any purpose—to-day here, to-morrow there—is only travelling
about like a butcher's apprentice, nothing more.
WER.
Well, then, Major, I will do as you say. You know better what is
right. I will remain with you. But, dear Major, do take my money in
the meantime. Sooner or later your affairs must be settled. You will
get money in plenty then; and then you shall repay me with interest. I
only do it for the sake of the interest.
MAJ. T.
Do not talk of it.
WER.
Upon my life, I only do it for the sake of the interest. Many a time I
have thought to myself—"Werner, what will become of you in your old
age? when you are crippled? when you will have nothing in the world?
when you will be obliged to go and beg!" And then I thought again—
"No, you will not be obliged to beg: you will go to Major Tellheim; he
will share his last penny with you; he will feed you till you die; and
with him you can die like an honest fellow."
MAJ. T. (taking Werner's hand).
And, comrade, you do not think so still?
WER.
No, I do not think so any longer. He who will not take anything from
me, when he is in want, and I have to give, will not give me anything
when he has to give, and I am in want. So be it.
(Is going.)
MAJ. T.
Man, do not drive me mad! Where are you going?
(Detains him.)
If I assure you now, upon my honour, that I still have money—If I
assure you, upon my honour, that I will tell you when I have no more—
that you shall be the first and only person from whom I will borrow
anything—will that content you?
WER.
I suppose it must. Give me your hand on it, Major.
MAJ. T.
There, Paul! And now enough of that, I came here to speak with a
certain young woman.
Major Von Tellheim, Paul Werner
MAJ. T.
Why so thoughtful, Werner?
WER.
Oh! that is you. I was just going to pay you a visit in your new
quarters, Major.
MAJ. T.
To fill my ears with curses against the Landlord of my old one. Do not
remind me of it.
WER.
I should have done that by the way: yes. But more particularly, I wish
to thank you for having been so good as to take care of my hundred
louis d'ors. Just has given them to me again. I should have been very
glad if you would have kept them longer for me. But you have got into
new quarters, which neither you nor I know much about. Who knows what
sort of place it is? They might be stolen, and you would have to make
them good to me; there would be no help for it. So I cannot ask you to
take them again.
MAJ. T. (smiling).
When did you begin to be so careful, Werner?
WER.
One learns to be so. One cannot now be careful enough of one's money.
I have also a commission for you, Major, from Frau Marloff; I have
just come from her. Her husband died four hundred thalers in your
debt; she sends you a hundred ducats here, in part payment. She will
forward you the rest next week. I believe I am the cause that she has
not sent you the whole sum. For she also owed me about eighty thalers,
and she thought I was come to dun her for them—which, perhaps, was
the fact—so she gave them me out of the roll which she had put aside
for you. You can spare your hundred thalers for a week longer, better
than I can spare my few groschens. There, take it!
(Hands him the ducats.)
MAJ. T.
Werner!
WER.
Well! Why do you stare at me so? Take it, Major!
MAJ. T.
Werner!
WER.
What is the matter with you? What annoys you?
MAJ. T. (angrily striking his forehead, and stamping with his foot.)
That... the four hundred thalers are not all there.
WER.
Come! Major, did not you understand me?
MAJ. T.
It is just because I did understand you! Alas, that the best men
should to-day distress me most!
WER.
What do you say?
MAJ. T.
This only applies partly to you. Go, Werner!
(Pushing back Werner's hand with the money in it.)
WER.
As soon as I have got rid of this.
MAJ. T.
Werner, suppose I tell you that Frau Marloff was here herself early
this morning!!!!!
WER.
Indeed?
MAJ. T.
That she owes me nothing now!!!!!
WER.
Really?
MAJ. T.
That she has paid me every penny—What will you say then?
WER. (thinks for a minute).
I shall say that I have told a lie, and that lying is a low thing,
because one may be caught at it.
MAJ. T.
And you will be ashamed of yourself?
WER.
And what of him who compels me to lie? Should not he be ashamed too?
Look ye, Major; if I was to say that your conduct has not vexed me, I
should tell another lie, and I won't lie any more.
MAJ. T.
Do not be annoyed, Werner. I know your heart, and your affection for
me. But I do not require your money.
WER.
Not require it! Rather sell, rather pawn, and get talked about!
MAJ. T.
Oh! people may know that I have nothing more. One must not wish to
appear richer than one is.
WER.
But why poorer? A man has something as long as his friend has.
MAJ. T.
It is not proper that I should be your debtor.
WER.
Not proper! On that summer day which the sun and the enemy made hot
for us, when your groom, who had your canteen, was not to be found,
and you came to me and said—"Werner, have you nothing to drink?" and
I gave you my flask, you took it and drank, did you not? Was that
proper? Upon my life, a mouthful of dirty water at that time was often
worth more than such filth
(taking the purse also out of his pocket, and holding out both to
him).
Take them, dear Major! Fancy it is water. God has made this, too, for
all.
MAJ. T.
You torment me: don't you hear, I will not be your debtor.
WER.
At first, it was not proper; now, you will not. Ah! that is a
different thing.
(Rather angrily.)
You will not be my debtor? But suppose you are already, Major? Or, are
you not a debtor to the man who once warded off the blow that was
meant to split your head; and, at another time, knocked off the arm
which was just going to pull and send a ball through your breast? How
can you become a greater debtor to that man? Or, is my neck of less
consequence than my money? If that is a noble way of thinking, by my
soul it is a very silly one too.
MAJ. T.
To whom do you say that, Werner? We are alone, and therefore I may
speak; if a third person heard us, it might sound like boasting. I
acknowledge with pleasure, that I have to thank you for twice saving
my life. Do you not think, friend, that if an opportunity occurred I
would have done as much for you, eh?
WER.
If an opportunity occurred! Who doubts it, Major? Have I not seen you
risk your life a hundred times for the lowest soldier, when he was in
danger?
MAJ. T.
Well!
WER.
But!!!!!
MAJ. T.
Why cannot you understand me? I say, it is not proper that I should be
your debtor; I will not be your debtor. That is, not in the
circumstances in which I now am.
WER.
Oh! so you would wait till better times. You will borrow money from me
another time, when you do not want any: when you have some yourself,
and I perhaps none.
MAJ. T.
A man ought not to borrow, when he has not the means of repaying.
WER.
A man like yourself cannot always be in want.
MAJ. T.
You know the world... Least of all should a man borrow from one who
wants his money himself.
WER.
Oh! yes; I am such a one! Pray, what do I want it for? When they want
a sergeant, they give him enough to live on.
MAJ. T.
You want it, to become something more than a sergeant—to be able to
get forward in that path in which even the most deserving, without
money, may remain behind.
WER.
To become something more than a sergeant! I do not think of that. I am
a good sergeant; I might easily make a bad captain, and certainly a
worse general.
MAJ. T.
Do not force me to think ill of you, Werner! I was very sorry to hear
what Just has told me. You have sold your farm, and wish to rove about
again. Do not let me suppose that you do not love the profession of
arms so much as the wild dissolute way of living which is
unfortunately connected with it. A man should be a soldier for his own
country, or from love of the cause for which he fights. To serve
without any purpose—to-day here, to-morrow there—is only travelling
about like a butcher's apprentice, nothing more.
WER.
Well, then, Major, I will do as you say. You know better what is
right. I will remain with you. But, dear Major, do take my money in
the meantime. Sooner or later your affairs must be settled. You will
get money in plenty then; and then you shall repay me with interest. I
only do it for the sake of the interest.
MAJ. T.
Do not talk of it.
WER.
Upon my life, I only do it for the sake of the interest. Many a time I
have thought to myself—"Werner, what will become of you in your old
age? when you are crippled? when you will have nothing in the world?
when you will be obliged to go and beg!" And then I thought again—
"No, you will not be obliged to beg: you will go to Major Tellheim; he
will share his last penny with you; he will feed you till you die; and
with him you can die like an honest fellow."
MAJ. T. (taking Werner's hand).
And, comrade, you do not think so still?
WER.
No, I do not think so any longer. He who will not take anything from
me, when he is in want, and I have to give, will not give me anything
when he has to give, and I am in want. So be it.
(Is going.)
MAJ. T.
Man, do not drive me mad! Where are you going?
(Detains him.)
If I assure you now, upon my honour, that I still have money—If I
assure you, upon my honour, that I will tell you when I have no more—
that you shall be the first and only person from whom I will borrow
anything—will that content you?
WER.
I suppose it must. Give me your hand on it, Major.
MAJ. T.
There, Paul! And now enough of that, I came here to speak with a
certain young woman.
SCENE VIII.
Franziska (coming out of Minna's room), Major von Tellheim, Paul Werner
FRAN. (entering).
Are you there still, Mr. Sergeant?
(Seeing Tellheim.)
And you there too, Major? I will be at your service instantly.
(Goes back quickly into the room.)
Franziska (coming out of Minna's room), Major von Tellheim, Paul Werner
FRAN. (entering).
Are you there still, Mr. Sergeant?
(Seeing Tellheim.)
And you there too, Major? I will be at your service instantly.
(Goes back quickly into the room.)
SCENE IX.
Major von Tellheim, Paul Werner
MAJ. T.
That was she! But it seems you know her, Werner.
WER.
Yes, I know her.
MAJ. T.
Yet, if I remember rightly, when I was in Thuringia you were not with
me.
WER.
No; I was seeing after the uniforms in Leipsic.
MAJ. T.
Where did you make her acquaintance, then?
WER.
Our acquaintance is very young. Not a day old. But young friendship is
warm.
MAJ. T.
Have you seen her mistress, too?
WER.
Is her mistress a young lady? She told me you are acquainted with her
mistress.
MAJ. T.
Did not you hear? She comes from Thuringia.
WER.
Is the lady young?
MAJ. T.
Yes.
WER.
Pretty?
MAJ. T.
Very pretty.
WER.
Rich?
MAJ. T.
Very rich.
WER.
Is the mistress as fond of you as the maid is? That would be capital!
MAJ. T.
What do you mean?
Major von Tellheim, Paul Werner
MAJ. T.
That was she! But it seems you know her, Werner.
WER.
Yes, I know her.
MAJ. T.
Yet, if I remember rightly, when I was in Thuringia you were not with
me.
WER.
No; I was seeing after the uniforms in Leipsic.
MAJ. T.
Where did you make her acquaintance, then?
WER.
Our acquaintance is very young. Not a day old. But young friendship is
warm.
MAJ. T.
Have you seen her mistress, too?
WER.
Is her mistress a young lady? She told me you are acquainted with her
mistress.
MAJ. T.
Did not you hear? She comes from Thuringia.
WER.
Is the lady young?
MAJ. T.
Yes.
WER.
Pretty?
MAJ. T.
Very pretty.
WER.
Rich?
MAJ. T.
Very rich.
WER.
Is the mistress as fond of you as the maid is? That would be capital!
MAJ. T.
What do you mean?
SCENE X.
Franziska (with a letter in her hand), Major von Tellheim, Paul Werner
FRAN.
Major!!!!!
MAJ. T.
Franziska, I have not yet been able to give you a "Welcome" here.
FRAN.
In thought, I am sure that you have done it. I know you are friendly
to me; so am I to you. But it is not at all kind to vex those who are
friendly to you so much.
WER. (aside).
Ah! now I see it. It is so!
MAJ. T.
My destiny, Franziska! Did you give her the letter?
FRAN.
Yes; and here I bring you...
(holding out a letter).
MAJ. T.
An answer!
FRAN.
No, your own letter again.
MAJ. T.
What! She will not read it!
FRAN.
She would have liked, but—we can't read writing well.
MAJ. T.
You are joking!
FRAN.
And we think that writing was not invented for those who can converse
with their lips whenever they please.
MAJ. T.
What an excuse! She must read it. It contains my justification—all
the grounds and reasons!!!!!
FRAN.
My mistress wishes to hear them all from you yourself, not to read
them.
MAJ. T.
Hear them from me myself! That every look, every word of hers, may
embarrass me; that I may feel in every glance the greatness of my
loss.
FRAN.
Without any pity! Take it.
(Giving him his letter.)
She expects you at three o'clock. She wishes to drive out and see the
town; you must accompany her.
MAJ. T.
Accompany her!
FRAN.
And what will you give me to let you drive out by yourselves? I shall
remain at home.
MAJ. T.
By ourselves!
FRAN.
In a nice close carriage.
MAJ. T.
Impossible!
FRAN.
Yes, yes, in the carriage, Major. You will have to submit quietly; you
cannot escape there! And that is the reason. In short, you will come,
Major, and punctually at three.... Well, you wanted to speak to me
too alone. What have you to say to me? Oh! we are not alone.
(Looking at Werner.)
MAJ. T.
Yes, Franziska; as good as alone. But as your mistress has not read my
letter, I have nothing now to say to you.
FRAN.
As good as alone! Then you have no secrets from the Sergeant?
MAJ. T.
No, none.
FRAN.
And yet I think you should have some from him.
MAJ. T.
Why so?
WER.
How so, little woman?
FRAN.
Particularly secrets of a certain kind.... All twenty, Mr.
Sergeant!
(Holding up both her hands, with open fingers.)
WER.
Hist! hist! girl.
MAJ. T.
What is the meaning of that?
FRAN.
Presto! conjured on to his finger, Mr. Sergeant
(as if she was putting a ring on her fingers).
MAJ. T.
What are you talking about?
WER.
Little woman, little woman, don't you understand a joke?
MAJ. T.
Werner, you have not forgotten, I hope, what I have often told you;
that one should not jest beyond a certain point with a young woman!
WER.
Upon my life I may have forgotten it! Little woman, I beg!!!!!
FRAN.
Well, if it was a joke, I will forgive you this once.
MAJ. T.
Well, if I must come, Franziska, just see that your mistress reads my
letter beforehand? That will spare me the pain of thinking again—of
talking again, of things which I would willingly forget. There, give
it to her!
(He turns the letter in giving it to her, and sees that it has been
opened.)
But do I see aright? Why it has been opened.
FRAN.
That may be.
(Looks at it.)
True, it is open. Who can have opened it? But really we have not read
it, Major; really not. And we do not wish to read it, because the
writer is coming himself. Come; and I tell you what, Major! don't come
as you are now—in boots, and with such a head. You are excusable, you
do not expect us. Come in shoes, and have your hair fresh dressed. You
look too soldierlike, too Prussian for me as you are.
MAJ. T.
Thank you, Franziska.
FRAN.
You look as if you had been bivouacking last night.
MAJ. T.
You may have guessed right.
FRAN.
We are going to dress, directly too, and then have dinner. We would
willingly ask you to dinner, but your presence might hinder our
eating; and observe, we are not so much in love that we have lost our
appetites.
MAJ. T.
I will go. Prepare her somewhat, Franziska, beforehand, that I may not
become contemptible in her eyes, and in my own. Come, Werner, you
shall dine with me.
WER.
At the table d'hote here in the house? I could not eat a bit there.
MAJ. T.
With me, in my room.
WER.
I will follow you directly. One word first with the little woman.
MAJ. T.
I have no objection to that.
(Exit.)
Franziska (with a letter in her hand), Major von Tellheim, Paul Werner
FRAN.
Major!!!!!
MAJ. T.
Franziska, I have not yet been able to give you a "Welcome" here.
FRAN.
In thought, I am sure that you have done it. I know you are friendly
to me; so am I to you. But it is not at all kind to vex those who are
friendly to you so much.
WER. (aside).
Ah! now I see it. It is so!
MAJ. T.
My destiny, Franziska! Did you give her the letter?
FRAN.
Yes; and here I bring you...
(holding out a letter).
MAJ. T.
An answer!
FRAN.
No, your own letter again.
MAJ. T.
What! She will not read it!
FRAN.
She would have liked, but—we can't read writing well.
MAJ. T.
You are joking!
FRAN.
And we think that writing was not invented for those who can converse
with their lips whenever they please.
MAJ. T.
What an excuse! She must read it. It contains my justification—all
the grounds and reasons!!!!!
FRAN.
My mistress wishes to hear them all from you yourself, not to read
them.
MAJ. T.
Hear them from me myself! That every look, every word of hers, may
embarrass me; that I may feel in every glance the greatness of my
loss.
FRAN.
Without any pity! Take it.
(Giving him his letter.)
She expects you at three o'clock. She wishes to drive out and see the
town; you must accompany her.
MAJ. T.
Accompany her!
FRAN.
And what will you give me to let you drive out by yourselves? I shall
remain at home.
MAJ. T.
By ourselves!
FRAN.
In a nice close carriage.
MAJ. T.
Impossible!
FRAN.
Yes, yes, in the carriage, Major. You will have to submit quietly; you
cannot escape there! And that is the reason. In short, you will come,
Major, and punctually at three.... Well, you wanted to speak to me
too alone. What have you to say to me? Oh! we are not alone.
(Looking at Werner.)
MAJ. T.
Yes, Franziska; as good as alone. But as your mistress has not read my
letter, I have nothing now to say to you.
FRAN.
As good as alone! Then you have no secrets from the Sergeant?
MAJ. T.
No, none.
FRAN.
And yet I think you should have some from him.
MAJ. T.
Why so?
WER.
How so, little woman?
FRAN.
Particularly secrets of a certain kind.... All twenty, Mr.
Sergeant!
(Holding up both her hands, with open fingers.)
WER.
Hist! hist! girl.
MAJ. T.
What is the meaning of that?
FRAN.
Presto! conjured on to his finger, Mr. Sergeant
(as if she was putting a ring on her fingers).
MAJ. T.
What are you talking about?
WER.
Little woman, little woman, don't you understand a joke?
MAJ. T.
Werner, you have not forgotten, I hope, what I have often told you;
that one should not jest beyond a certain point with a young woman!
WER.
Upon my life I may have forgotten it! Little woman, I beg!!!!!
FRAN.
Well, if it was a joke, I will forgive you this once.
MAJ. T.
Well, if I must come, Franziska, just see that your mistress reads my
letter beforehand? That will spare me the pain of thinking again—of
talking again, of things which I would willingly forget. There, give
it to her!
(He turns the letter in giving it to her, and sees that it has been
opened.)
But do I see aright? Why it has been opened.
FRAN.
That may be.
(Looks at it.)
True, it is open. Who can have opened it? But really we have not read
it, Major; really not. And we do not wish to read it, because the
writer is coming himself. Come; and I tell you what, Major! don't come
as you are now—in boots, and with such a head. You are excusable, you
do not expect us. Come in shoes, and have your hair fresh dressed. You
look too soldierlike, too Prussian for me as you are.
MAJ. T.
Thank you, Franziska.
FRAN.
You look as if you had been bivouacking last night.
MAJ. T.
You may have guessed right.
FRAN.
We are going to dress, directly too, and then have dinner. We would
willingly ask you to dinner, but your presence might hinder our
eating; and observe, we are not so much in love that we have lost our
appetites.
MAJ. T.
I will go. Prepare her somewhat, Franziska, beforehand, that I may not
become contemptible in her eyes, and in my own. Come, Werner, you
shall dine with me.
WER.
At the table d'hote here in the house? I could not eat a bit there.
MAJ. T.
With me, in my room.
WER.
I will follow you directly. One word first with the little woman.
MAJ. T.
I have no objection to that.
(Exit.)