The Lonely Way—Intermezzo—Countess Mizzie / Three Plays

CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF PLAYS
BY ARTHUR SCHNITZLER

• Anatol (Anatol); seven dramatic scenes; 1889-91 (1893).
• A Piece of Fiction (Das Märchen); a drama in three acts; 1891 (1894).
• Paracelsus (Paracelsus); a verse-play in one act; 1892 (1899).
• Amours (Liebelei); a drama in three acts; 1894 (1896).
• Outside the Game Laws (Freiwild); a drama in three acts; 1896 (1897).
• Change Partners! (Reigen); ten dialogues; 1896-97 (1903).
• The Legacy (Das Vermächtnis); a drama in three acts; 1897 (1898).
• The Life Partner (Die Gefährtin); a drama in one act; 1898 (1899).
• The Green Cockatoo (Der grüne Kakadu); a grotesque in one act; 1898 (1899).
• The Veil of Beatrice (Der Schleier der Beatrice); a drama in five acts; 1899 (1900).
• The Lady With the Dagger (Die Frau mit dem Dolche); a drama in one act; 1900 (1902).
• Hours of Life (Lebendige Stunden); an act; 1901 (1902).
• End of the Carnival (Die letzten Masken); a drama in one act; 1901 (1902).
• Literature (Literatur); a farce in one act; 1901 (1902).
• The Puppet Player (Der Puppenspieler); a study in one act; 1902 (1906).
• The Gallant Cassian (Der tapfere Cassian); a puppet play in one act; 1903 (1906).
• The Lonely Way (Der einsame Weg); a drama in five acts; 1903 (1904).
• Intermezzo (Zwischenspiel); a comedy in three acts; 1904 (1905).
• The Greatest Show of All (Zum grossen Wurstel); a burlesque in one act; 1904 (1906).
• The Call of Life (Der Ruf des Leben); a drama in three acts; 1905 (1906).
• Countess Mizzie (Komtesse Mizzi); a comedy in one act; 1909 (1909).
• Young Medardus (Der junge Medardus); a history in five acts with a prologue; 1909 (1910).
• The Vast Country (Das weite Land); a tragicomedy in five acts; 1910 (1911).
• Professor Bernhardi (Professor Bernhardi); a comedy in five acts; 1912 (1912).
• The Gallant Kassian (Der tapfere Kassian); a musical comedy in one act, with music by Oscar Straus; —— (1909).
• The Veil Of Pierrette (Der Schleier der Pierrette); a comic opera in three acts, with music by Ernst von Dohnnanyi; 1909 (not published).

The figures without brackets indicate the dates of production as given in the collected edition of Arthur Schnitzler's works issued by the S. Fischer Verlag, Berlin, 1912. The figures within brackets, showing the dates of publication, are taken from the twenty-fifth anniversary catalogue of the same house (Berlin, 1911), and from C. G. Kayser's "Vollständiges Bücher-Lexikon" (Leipzig, 1891-1912).

"Anatol" was first published by the Bibliographische Bureau (Berlin, 1893), and "A Piece of Fiction" by E. Pierson (Dresden, 1894). Both were reprinted by the Fischer Verlag in 1895. The original versions of "A Piece of Fiction" and "Amours" have been considerably revised. "Change Partners!" was printed privately in 1900, and was subsequently published by the Wiener Verlag, Vienna. "The Gallant Kassian" was published by Ludwig Doblinger, Leipzig.

"The Green Cockatoo," "Paracelsus" and "The Life Partner" appeared in one volume with the sub-title "Three One-act Plays." "Hours of Life," "The Lady With the Dagger," "End of the Carnival," and "Literature" were published together under the title of the first play. "The Puppet Player," "The Gallant Cassian," and "The Greatest Show of All" were brought out in a single volume under the title of "Puppets" (Marionetten).

For additional bibliographical data, see "Arthur Schnitzler: a Bibliography," by Archibald Henderson (Bulletin of Bibliography, Boston, 1913); "The Modern Drama," by Ludwig Lewisohn (New York, 1915), and "The Continental Drama of Today," by Barrett H. Clark (New York, 1914). A good, though brief, analysis of Schnitzler's work is found in Dr. Lewisohn's volume.

A LIST OF FIRST PERFORMANCES OF
PLAYS BY ARTHUR SCHNITZLER

• Anatol: Deutsches Volkstheater, Vienna, and Lessingtheater, Berlin, Dec. 3, 1910.
• A Piece of Fiction: Deutsches Volkstheater, Vienna, Dec. 1, 1893.
• Paracelsus: Burgtheater, Vienna, March 1, 1899.
• Amours: Burgtheater, Vienna, Oct. 9, 1895.
• Outside the Game Laws: Deutsche Theater, Berlin, 1896.
• The Legacy: Burgtheater, Vienna, Nov. 30, 1898.
• The Life Partner: Burgtheater, Vienna, March 1, 1899.
• The Green Cockatoo: Burgtheater, Vienna, March 1, 1899.
• The Veil of Beatrice: Lobetheater, Breslau, Dec. 1, 1900.
• The Lady With the Dagger: Deutsche Theater, Berlin, Jan. 4, 1902.
• Hours of Life: Deutsche Theater, Berlin, Jan. 4, 1902.
• End of the Carnival: Deutsche Theater, Berlin, Jan. 4, 1902.
• Literature: Deutsche Theater, Berlin, Jan. 4, 1902.
• The Puppet Player: Deutsche Theater, Berlin, September, 1903.
• The Gallant Cassian: Kleines Theater, Berlin, Oct. 12, 1905.
• The Lonely Way: Deutsche Theater, Berlin, Feb. 13, 1904.
• Intermezzo: Burgtheater, Vienna (with Joseph Kainz as Adams), Oct. 12, 1905.
• The Greatest Show of All: Lustspieltheater, Vienna, March 16, 1906.
• The Call of Life: Lessingtheater, Berlin, Feb. 24, 1906.
• Countess Mizzie: Deutsches Volkstheater, Vienna, January, 1909.
• Young Medardus: Burgtheater, Vienna, Nov. 24, 1910.
• The Vast Country: Lessingtheater, Berlin, Oct. 14, 1912.
• Professor Bernhardi: Kleines Theater, Berlin, Nov. 28, 1912.
• The Veil of Pierrette: Hofopernhaus, Dresden, Jan. 22, 1910.

Single scenes from "Anatol" were given at Ischl in the Summer of 1893, and at a matinée arranged by the journalistic society "Concordia" at one of the Vienna theaters in 1909. A Czechic translation of the whole series was staged at Smichow, Bohemia, sometime during the nineties. Three of the dialogues in "Change Partners!" were performed by members of the Akademisch-dramatischer Verein at Munich in 1904.

The official records of the Burgtheater at Vienna show that, up to the end of 1912, the eight Schnitzler plays forming part of its repertory had been performed the following number of times: "Paracelsus," 12; "Amours," 42; "The Legacy," 11; "The Life Partner," 14; "The Green Cockatoo," 8; "Intermezzo," 22; "Young Medardus," 43; "The Vast Country," 30.

The list of dates given above has been drawn chiefly from "Das moderne Drama," by Robert F. Arnold (Strassburg, 1912); "Das Burgtheater: statistische Rückblick," by Otto Rub (Vienna, 1913), and the current files of Bühne und Welt (Berlin). For dates of Schnitzler performances in America and England, see the Henderson bibliography previously mentioned.

THE LONELY WAY

(Der Einsame Weg)

A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS

1903

PERSONS

THE LONELY WAY

THE FIRST ACT

The little garden attached to Professor Wegrat's house. It is almost surrounded by buildings, so that no outlook of any kind is to be had. At the right in the garden stands the small two-storied house with its woodwork veranda, to which lead three wooden steps. Entries are made from the veranda as well as from either side of the house. Near the middle of the stage is a green garden table with chairs to match, and also a more comfortable armchair. A small iron bench is placed against a tree at the left.

Johanna is walking back and forth in the garden when Felix enters, wearing the uniform of a uhlan.

JOHANNA (turning about)

Felix!

FELIX

Yes, it's me.

JOHANNA

How are you?—And how have you been able to get another furlough?

FELIX

Oh, it won't last long.—And how's mamma?

JOHANNA

Doing pretty well the last few days.

FELIX

Do you think she would be scared if I dropped in on her unexpectedly?

JOHANNA

No. But wait a little just the same. She's asleep now. I have just come from her room.—How long are you going to stay, Felix?

FELIX

To-morrow night I'm off again.

JOHANNA (staring into a fancied distance)

Off....

FELIX

Oh, it sounds big! But one doesn't get so very far off—not in any respect.

JOHANNA

And you have wanted it so badly.... (Pointing to his uniform) Now you've got it. And are you not satisfied?

FELIX

Well, at any rate it is the most sensible thing I have gone into so far. For now I feel at least that I might achieve something under certain circumstances.

JOHANNA

I believe you would make good in any profession.

FELIX

I have my doubts whether I could get anywhere as a lawyer or an engineer. And on the whole I feel a good deal better than ever before. Often it seems to me as if I hadn't been born at the right time. I think I should have come into the world while there was still so much of order left in it, that one could venture all sorts of things one couldn't possibly venture nowadays.

JOHANNA

Oh, but you are free—you've got place to move.

FELIX

Only within certain limits.

JOHANNA

They are a great deal wider than these at any rate.

FELIX (looking around with a smile)

Well, this is not a prison.... Really, the garden has turned out quite pretty. How bare it looked when we were children.—What's that? A row of peach trees? That doesn't look bad at all.

JOHANNA

One of Dr. Reumann's ideas.

FELIX

Yes, I should have guessed it.

JOHANNA

Why?

FELIX

Because I can't believe any member of our family capable of such a useful inspiration. What are his chances anyhow?—I mean in regard to that professorship at Gratz?

JOHANNA

I don't know anything about it. (She turns away)

FELIX

I suppose mamma is outdoors a good deal these fine days?

JOHANNA

Yes.

FELIX

Are you still reading to her? Do you try to divert her a little? To cheer her up?

JOHANNA

Just as if it were such an easy thing!

FELIX

But you have to put some spunk into it, Johanna.

JOHANNA

Yes, Felix, it's easy for you to talk.

FELIX

What do you mean?

JOHANNA (speaking as if to herself)

I don't know if you'll be able to understand me.

FELIX (smiling)

Why should it all at once be so hard for me to understand you?

JOHANNA (looking calmly at him)

Now when she is sick, I don't love her as much as before.

FELIX (startled)

What?

JOHANNA

No, it's impossible that you could quite understand. All the time she is getting farther away from us.... It is as if every day a new set of veils dropped down about her.

FELIX

And what is the meaning of it?

JOHANNA (continues to look at him in the same calm way)

FELIX

You think...?

JOHANNA

You know, Felix, that I never make any mistakes in things of that kind.

FELIX

I know, you say...?

JOHANNA

When poor little Lillie von Sala had to die, I was aware of it in advance—before the rest of you knew that she was sick even.

FELIX

Yes, you had had a dream—and you were nothing but a child.

JOHANNA

I didn't dream it. I knew it. (Brusquely) It's something I can't explain.

FELIX (after a pause)

And papa—has he resigned himself to it?

JOHANNA

Resigned himself?—Do you think he too can see those veils coming down?

FELIX (having first shaken his head slightly)

Nothing but imagination, Johanna—I am sure.—But now I want to.... (Turning toward the house) Papa hasn't come home yet?

JOHANNA

No. As a rule he's very late these days. He has an awful lot to do in the Academy.

FELIX

I'll try not to wake her up—I'll be careful. (He goes out by way of the veranda)

[While alone for a while, Johanna seats herself on the garden bench with her hands clasped across her knees. Sala enters. He is forty-five, but looks younger. Slender to the verge of leanness, and smooth-shaven. His brown hair, which has begun to turn gray at the temples, and which he wears rather long, is parted on the right side. His features are keen and energetic; his eyes, gray and clear.

SALA

Good evening, Miss Johanna.

JOHANNA

Good evening, Mr. von Sala.

SALA

They told me your mother was having a little nap, and so I permitted myself to come out here in the meantime.

JOHANNA

Felix just got here.

SALA

Well? Have they already granted him another furlough? In my days they were stricter in that regiment. However, we were then stationed near the border—somewhere in Galicia.

JOHANNA

I can never keep in mind that you have gone through that kind of thing too.

SALA

Yes, it's long ago now. And it didn't last more than a couple of years. But it was good fun as I look back at it now.

JOHANNA

Like almost everything else you have experienced.

SALA

Like much of it.

JOHANNA

Won't you sit down?

SALA

Thank you. (He seats himself on the support of the armchair) Am I permitted? (Johanna having nodded assent, he takes a cigarette from his case and lights it)

JOHANNA

Are you already settled in your new place, Mr. von Sala?

SALA

I move in to-morrow.

JOHANNA

And it gives you a great deal of pleasure, doesn't it?

SALA

That would be a little premature.

JOHANNA

Are you superstitious?

SALA

Well, for that matter—yes.—But that was not what I had in mind. I only take possession temporarily, not for good.

JOHANNA

Why not?

SALA

I'm going abroad—for a prolonged stay.

JOHANNA

Oh? You are to be envied. I wish I could do the same—go here and there in the world, and not bother myself about a single human being.

SALA

Still at it?

JOHANNA

Still at it.... What do you mean?

SALA

Oh, I recall how the same kind of schemes for traveling used to occupy your mind when you were nothing but a little girl. What was it you wanted to become?—A ballet dancer, I think. Wasn't that it? A very famous one, of course.

JOHANNA

Why do you say that as if it were nothing at all to be a ballet dancer? (Without looking at him) You, in particular, Mr. von Sala, should not be talking like that.

SALA

Why not I, in particular?

JOHANNA (glances up calmly at him)

SALA

I don't quite make out what you mean, Miss Johanna.... Unless I must.... (Simply) Johanna, did you know at the time that I was looking at you?

JOHANNA

When?

SALA

Last year, when you were in the country, and I came out once and stayed over night in your attic. It was bright moonlight, and I thought I could see a fairy gliding back and forth in the meadow.

JOHANNA (nods with a smile)

SALA

And it was for me?

JOHANNA

Oh, I saw you very well, where you stood behind the curtain.

SALA (after a brief pause)

I suppose you will never dance like that for other people?

JOHANNA

Why not?—I have already. And then, too, you were looking on. Of course, it was a good while ago.—It happened on one of the Greek islands. A large number of men stood in a circle around me ... you were one of them ... and I was a slave girl from Lydia.

SALA

A princess in captivity.

JOHANNA (earnestly)

Don't you believe in such things?

SALA

If you want me to—certainly.

JOHANNA (still very serious)

You should believe everything in which the rest cannot believe.

SALA

When the time comes for it, I suppose I shall.

JOHANNA

You see—I can rather believe anything than that I should now be in the world for the first time. And there are moments when I recall quite clearly all sorts of things.

SALA

And at that time you had such a moment?

JOHANNA

Yes, a year ago, when I was dancing for you in the meadow that moonlit summer night. I am sure it was not the first time, Mr. von Sala. (After a short pause, with a sudden change of tone) Where are you going anyhow?

SALA (falling into the same tone)

To Bactria, Miss Johanna.

JOHANNA

Where?

SALA

To Bactria. That's quite a remarkable country, and what's most remarkable about it is that it doesn't exist any longer. What it means is that I am joining an expedition which will start next November. You have read of it in the papers, haven't you?

JOHANNA

No.

SALA

The proposition is to make excavations where it is supposed the ancient Ecbatana stood once—some six thousand years ago. That goes even farther back than your Lydian period, you see.

JOHANNA

When did you get hold of this idea?

SALA

Only a few days ago. Conversationally, so to speak. Count Ronsky, who is at the head of the matter, inspired me with a great desire to go. That wasn't very hard, however. He stirred an old longing within me. (With more spirit) Think of it, Miss Johanna: to be watching with your own eyes the gradual rising of such a buried city out of the ground—house by house, stone by stone, century by century. No, it wasn't meant that I should pass away until I had had this wish of mine fulfilled.

JOHANNA

Why talk of dying then?

SALA

Is there ever a blissful moment in any decent man's life when he can think of anything else in his innermost soul?

JOHANNA

I don't suppose a single wish of yours was ever left unfulfilled.

SALA

Not a single one...?

JOHANNA

I know that you have also had many sad experiences. But frequently I believe you have longed for those too.

SALA

Longed for them...? You may be right, perhaps, in saying that I enjoyed them when they came.

JOHANNA

How perfectly I understand that! A life without sorrow would probably be as bare as a life without happiness. (Pause) How long ago is it now?

SALA

What are you thinking of?

JOHANNA

That Mrs. von Sala died?

SALA

It's seven years ago, almost to a day.

JOHANNA

And Lillie—the same year?

SALA

Yes, Lillie died a month later. Do you often think of Lillie, Miss Johanna?

JOHANNA

Quite often, Mr. von Sala. I have never had a girl friend since that time. (As if to herself) She too would have to be called "miss" now. She was very pretty. She had black hair with a bluish glint in it like your wife, and the same clear eyes that you have, Mr. von Sala. (As if to herself) "Then both of them walked hand in hand along the gloomy road that leads through sunlit land...."

SALA

What a memory you have, Johanna.

JOHANNA

Seven years ago that was.... Remarkable!

SALA

Why remarkable?

JOHANNA

You are building a house, and digging out submerged cities, and writing queer poetry—and human beings who once meant so much to you have been rotting in their graves these seven years—and you are still almost young. How incomprehensible the whole thing is!

SALA

"Thou that livest on, cease thou thy weeping," says Omar Nameh, who was born at Bagdad in the year 412 of the Mohammedan era as the son of a cobbler. For that matter, I know a man who is only thirty-eight. He has buried two wives and seven children, not to speak of grandchildren. And now he is playing the piano in a shabby little Prater¹ restaurant, while artists of both sexes show off their tights and their fluttering skirts on the platform. And recently, when the pitiful performance had come to an end and they were turning out the lights, he went right on, without apparent reason, and quite heedless of everything, playing away on that frightful old rattle-box of his. And then Ronsky and I asked him over to our table and had a chat with him. And then he told us that the piece he had just played was his own composition. Of course, we complimented him. And then his eyes lit up, and he asked us in a voice that shook: "Gentlemen, do you think my piece will make a hit?" He is thirty-eight years old, and his career has come to an end in a small restaurant where his public consists of nurse-girls and non-commissioned officers, and his one longing is—to get their applause!

REUMANN (enters)

Good evening, Miss Johanna. Good evening, Mr. von Sala. (Shakes hands with both of them at the same time) How are you?

SALA

Fine. You don't suppose one must be your victim all the time because one has had the honor of consulting you once?

REUMANN

Oh, I had forgotten all about it. However, there are people who feel just that way.—I suppose your mother is having a little rest, Miss Johanna?

JOHANNA (who apparently has been startled by the few words exchanged between the physician and Sala, and who is looking intently at the latter) She is probably awake by this time. Felix is with her.

REUMANN

Felix...? You haven't telegraphed for him, have you?

JOHANNA

Not that I know of. Who could have...?

REUMANN

I only wondered. Your father is inclined to get frightened.

JOHANNA

There they are now.

MRS. WEGRAT (enters from the veranda with Felix)

How are you, my dear Doctor? What do you think of the surprise I have just had?

[All the men shake hands.

MRS. WEGRAT

Good evening, Mr. von Sala.

SALA

I am delighted to see you looking so well, Mrs. Wegrat.

MRS. WEGRAT

Yes, I am doing a little better. If only the gloomy season were not so close at hand.

SALA

But now the finest time of the year is coming. When the woods sparkle with red and yellow, and a golden mist lies on the hills, and the sky grows pale and remote as if it were scared by its own infinity...!

MRS. WEGRAT

Yes, that ought to be worth seeing once more.

REUMANN (reproachfully)

Mrs. Wegrat....

MRS. WEGRAT

Pardon me—but thoughts of that kind will come. (Brightening up a little) If I only knew how much longer I might count on my dear doctor?

REUMANN

I can reassure you on that score, madam: I shall stay in Vienna.

MRS. WEGRAT

What? Has the matter been settled already?

REUMANN

Yes.

MRS. WEGRAT

So another man has actually been called to Gratz?

REUMANN

No, not that way. But the other man, who was practically sure of the place, has broken his neck climbing a mountain.

FELIX

But then your chances should be better than ever. Whom could they possibly consider besides you?

REUMANN

I suppose my chances wouldn't be bad. But I have preferred to forgo them.

MRS. WEGRAT

How?

REUMANN

I won't accept the call.

MRS. WEGRAT

Is that out of superstition?

FELIX

Or out of pride?

REUMANN

Neither. But the thought of having another man's misfortune to thank for my own advancement would be extremely painful to me. Half my life would be spoiled for me. That is neither superstition nor pride, you see, but just commonplace, small-minded vanity.

SALA

You're a subtle one, Doctor.

MRS. WEGRAT

Well, all I gather is that you are going to stay. Which shows how mean your thoughts grow when you are sick.

REUMANN (changing the subject on purpose)

Well, Felix, how do you find life in a garrison?

FELIX

Fine.

MRS. WEGRAT

So you are really satisfied, boy?

FELIX

I feel very thankful to all of you. Especially to you, mamma.

MRS. WEGRAT

Why to me especially? After all, the decision lay with your father in the last instance.

REUMANN

He would, of course, have preferred to see you choose a more peaceful calling.

SALA

Oh, but to-day there is none more peaceful.

FELIX

That's where you are right, Mr. von Sala.—By the by, I was to give you the regards of Lieutenant-Colonel Schrotting.

SALA

Thank you. Does he still remember me?

FELIX

Not he alone. We are constantly being reminded of you—at every meal, in fact. Yours is among the pictures of former officers that hang in the mess rooms.

WEGRAT (enters)

Good evening.—Why, Felix, are you here again? What a surprise!

FELIX

Good evening, papa. I have applied for a two-day furlough.

WEGRAT

Furlough ... furlough? A real one? Or is it another one of those little brilliant tricks?

FELIX (cheerfully and without taking offence)

I am not in the habit of fibbing, papa, am I?

WEGRAT (in the same tone)

I meant no offense, my boy. Even if you had been guilty of deserting the flag, your longing to see your mother would be sufficient excuse for you.

MRS. WEGRAT

To see his parents, you mean.

WEGRAT

Of course—to see us all. But as you are a little under the weather, you come foremost just now.—Well, how are you getting along, Gabrielle? Better, are you not? (In a low voice, almost timidly) My love.... (He strokes her brow and hair) Love.... The air is so mild.

SALA

We are having a wonderful Autumn.

REUMANN

Have you just got away from the Academy, Professor?

WEGRAT

Yes. Now, when I am also the president of it, there is a whole lot to do—and all of it is not pleasant or grateful. But I seem to be made for it, as they have insisted. And I suppose it will have to go on this way. (With a smile) As somebody once called me—an art-official.

SALA

Don't be so unjust to yourself, Professor.

MRS. WEGRAT

You must have been walking all that long way home again?

WEGRAT

I even went out of my way some distance—to pass across the old Turkish fort.² I am awfully fond of that road. On evenings like this the whole city lies beneath you as if bathed in a silvery mist.—By the by, Gabrielle, I have some greetings to deliver. I met Irene Herms.

MRS. WEGRAT

Is she in Vienna?

WEGRAT

Just passing through. She intends to call on you.

SALA

Has she still got an engagement at Hamburg?

WEGRAT

No, she has left the stage, she told me, and is now living in the country with her married sister.

JOHANNA

I saw her once in a play of yours, Mr. von Sala.

SALA

Then you must have been a very small girl indeed.

JOHANNA

She played a Spanish princess.

SALA

Unfortunately. For princesses were not at all in her line. She has never in her life been able to treat verse properly.

REUMANN

And you can still bear that in mind, Mr. von Sala—that some lady on some occasion happened to handle your verse badly?

SALA

Well, why shouldn't I, my dear Doctor? If you were living at the center of the earth, you would know that all things are of equal weight. And were you floating in the center of the universe, you would suspect that all things are of equal importance.

MRS. WEGRAT

How does she look anyhow?

WEGRAT

She is still very pretty.

SALA

Has she preserved her resemblance to that portrait of hers which is hanging in the Museum?

FELIX

What portrait is that?

JOHANNA

Is her portrait really in the Museum?

SALA

Oh, you know it. In the catalogue it is labeled "Actress"—just "Actress." A young woman in the costume of a harlequin, over which she has draped a Greek toga, while at her feet lie a confused heap of masks. With her staring glance turned toward the spectators, she stands there all alone on an empty, dusky stage, surrounded by odd pieces of misfit scenery—one wall of a room, a forest piece, part of an old dungeon....

FELIX

And the background shows a southern landscape with palms and plane trees...?

SALA

Yes, and it is partly raised so that still farther off you can see a pile of furniture, steps, goblets, chandeliers—all glittering in full daylight.

FELIX

But that's Julian Fichtner's picture?

SALA

Exactly.

FELIX

I had not the slightest idea that the figure of that woman was meant for Irene Herms.

WEGRAT

Twenty-five years have passed since he painted that picture. It caused a tremendous sensation at the time. It was his first big success. And to-day I suppose there are lots of people who no longer remember his name.—Come to think of it, I asked Irene Herms about him. But strange to say, not even his "perennial best girl" could tell where in this world he happens to be straying.

FELIX

I talked with him only a few days ago.

WEGRAT

What? You have seen Julian Fichtner? He was in Salzburg?—When?

FELIX

Only about three or four days ago. He looked me up, and we spent the evening together.

[Mrs. Wegrat throws a quick glance at Dr. Reumann.

WEGRAT

How is he doing? What did he tell you?

FELIX

He has turned rather gray, but otherwise he didn't seem to have changed at all.

WEGRAT

How long can it be now since he left Vienna? Two years, isn't it?

MRS. WEGRAT

A little more.

FELIX

He has traveled far and wide.

SALA

Yes, now and then I have had a postcard from him.

WEGRAT

So have we. But I thought you and he were corresponding regularly.

SALA

Regularly? Oh, no.

JOHANNA

Isn't he a friend of yours?

SALA

As a rule I have no friends. And if I have any, I repudiate them.

JOHANNA

But you used to be quite intimate with him.

SALA

He with me rather than I with him.

FELIX

What do you mean by that, Mr. von Sala?

JOHANNA

Oh, I can understand it. I suppose you have had the same experience with most people.

SALA

Something very much like it, at least.

JOHANNA

Yes, one can see it from what you write, too.

SALA

I hope so. Otherwise it might just as well have been written by somebody else.

WEGRAT

Did he say when he would be back in Vienna?

FELIX

Soon, I think. But he didn't say very definitely.

JOHANNA

I should like to see Mr. Fichtner again. I am fond of that kind of people.

WEGRAT

What do you mean by "that kind of people"?

JOHANNA

Who are always arriving from some far-off place.

WEGRAT

But as a rule he never arrived from far-off places when you knew him, Johanna.... He was living right here.

JOHANNA

What did it matter whether he was living here or elsewhere?—Even when he came to see us daily, it was always as if he had just arrived from some great distance.

WEGRAT

Oh, of course....

FELIX

I had often the same feeling.

WEGRAT

Well, it's strange how he has been knocking about in the world—these last few years at least.

SALA

Don't you think his restlessness goes farther back? Were you not students together in the Academy?

WEGRAT

Yes. And to know him properly, you must have known him then. There was something fascinating about him as a young man, something that dazzled. Never have I known anybody whom the term "of great promise" fitted so completely.

SALA

Well, he has kept a whole lot of it.

WEGRAT

But think of all he might have achieved!

REUMANN

I believe that what you might achieve you do achieve.

WEGRAT

Not always. Julian was undoubtedly destined for higher things. What he lacked was the capacity for concentration, the inward calm. He could never feel at home for good anywhere. And the misfortune has been that in his own works, too, he has lived only as a transient, so to speak.

FELIX

He showed me a couple of sketches he had made recently.

WEGRAT

Good?

FELIX

To me there was something gripping about them.

MRS. WEGRAT

Why gripping? What kind of pictures were they?

FELIX

Landscapes. And as a rule very pleasant ones at that.

JOHANNA

Once in a dream I saw a Spring landscape, very sunlit and soft, and yet it made me weep.

SALA

Yes, the sadness of certain things lies much deeper than we commonly suspect.

WEGRAT

So he's working again? Then, perhaps, we may expect something out of the ordinary.

SALA

In the case of anybody who has been an artist once you are never safe against surprises.

WEGRAT

That's it, Mr. von Sala. That's where the great difference lies. In the case of an official you can feel perfectly safe on that score. (With cheerful self-contempt) Such a one paints every year his nice little picture for the exhibition, and couldn't possibly do anything else.

REUMANN

It is still open to question who do most for the advancement of life and art: officials like you, Professor, or—our so-called men of genius.

WEGRAT

Oh, I have not the least intention to play the modest one. But as to men of genius—we had better not talk of them at all. There you are dealing with a world by itself, lying outside of all discussion—as do the elements.

REUMANN

My opinion, I must confess, is utterly different.

WEGRAT

Oh, it's of no use discussing anybody but those who have distinct limitations. And what I have found is—that he who knows his own limitations best is the better man. And on this point I have pretty good reason for self-respect.—Do you feel chilly, Gabrielle?

MRS. WEGRAT

No.

WEGRAT

But you had better pull the shawl a little closer about you, and then we should have a little exercise—in so far as it's possible in here.

MRS. WEGRAT

All right.—Please, Doctor, give me your arm. You haven't paid the least attention to your patient yet.

REUMANN

At your service!

[The rest start ahead, Johanna walking with her brother, and Wegrat with Sala. Dr. Reumann and Mrs. Wegrat seem about to follow, when she suddenly stops.

MRS. WEGRAT

Did you notice his eyes light up—I mean, the eyes of Felix, when they were talking of him? It was most peculiar.

REUMANN

Men of Mr. Fichtner's type appear undoubtedly very interesting to young people. They seem to carry with them an odor of romance.

MRS. WEGRAT (shaking her head)

And he looked him up.... It is perfectly clear that he went to Salzburg just to see him again. I suppose he is beginning to feel a little deserted.

REUMANN

Why not pay a visit to a young friend when one happens to be near the place where he is living? I can see nothing peculiar in that.

MRS. WEGRAT

Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I might have looked at the matter in the same way not long ago. But now, in the face of.... No, Doctor, I am not going to be sentimental.

REUMANN

I don't object to sentiment, but to nonsense.

MRS. WEGRAT (smiling)

Thank you.—However, I have occasion to think of many different things. And it is no reason for taking it too seriously, my dear friend. You know, of course, that I told you everything merely that I might have a kind and sensible man with whom to discuss the past—and not at all to be absolved of any guilt.

REUMANN

To give happiness is more than being free of guilt. And as this has been granted you, it is clear that you have made full atonement—if you'll pardon the use of such a preposterously extravagant term.

MRS. WEGRAT

How can you talk like that?

REUMANN

Well, am I not right?

MRS. WEGRAT

Just as if I couldn't feel how all of us, deceivers and deceived, must seem equally contemptible to you in particular!

REUMANN

Why to me in particular...? What you call contempt, madam—supposing I did feel anything like it—would, after all, be nothing but disguised envy. Or do you think I lack the desire to conduct my life as I see most other people conducting theirs? I simply haven't the knack. If I am to be frank, madam—the deepest yearning of all within me is just to be a rogue: a fellow who can dissemble, seduce, sneer, make his way over dead bodies. But thanks to a certain shortcoming in my temperament, I am condemned to remain a decent man—and what is still more painful perhaps: to hear everybody say that I am one.

MRS. WEGRAT (who has been listening with a smile)

I wonder whether you have told the truth about what is keeping you here in Vienna?

REUMANN

Certainly. Indeed, I have no other reason. I have no right to have any other. Don't let us talk any more of it.

MRS. WEGRAT

Are we not such good friends that I can talk calmly with you of everything? I know what you have in mind. But I believe that it might be in your power to drive certain illusions and dreams out of the soul of a young girl. And it would be such a comfort to me if I could leave you for good among these people, all of whom are so near to me, and who yet know nothing whatever about each other—who are hardly aware of their mutual relationships even, and who seem fated to flitter away from each other to God knows where.

REUMANN

We'll talk of those things, madam, when it's time to do so.

MRS. WEGRAT

Of course, I regret nothing. I believe I have never regretted anything. But I have a feeling that something is out of order. Perhaps it's nothing but that strange glimmer in the eyes of Felix which has caused all this unrest within me. But isn't it peculiar—uncanny almost—to think that a man like him may go through the world with all his senses open and yet never know whom he has to thank for being in the world?

REUMANN

Don't let us indulge in generalities, Mrs. Wegrat. In that way you can set the most solid things shaking and swaying until the steadiest eyes begin to grow dizzy. My own conclusion is this: that a lie which has proved strong enough to sustain the peace of a household can be no less respectable than a truth which could do nothing but destroy the image of the past, fill the present with sorrow, and confuse the vision of the future. (He goes out with Mrs. Wegrat)

JOHANNA (entering with Sala)

In this way one always gets back to the same spot. I suppose your garden is bigger, Mr. von Sala?

SALA

My garden is the whole wide woods—that is, for people whose fancy is not restrained by a light fence.

JOHANNA

Your villa has grown very pretty.

SALA

Oh, you know it then?

JOHANNA

A little while ago I saw it again for the first time in three years.

SALA

But three years ago they hadn't put in the foundations yet.

JOHANNA

To me it was already standing there.

SALA

How mysterious....

JOHANNA

Not at all. If you will only remember. Once we made an excursion to Dornbach³—my parents, and Felix, and I. There we met you and Mr. Fichtner, and it happened on the very spot where your house was to be built. And now everything looks just as you described it to us then.

SALA

But how did you happen to be in that vicinity?

JOHANNA

Since mamma was taken sick I have often had to take my walks alone....

SALA

And when was it you passed by my house?

JOHANNA

Not long ago—to-day.

SALA

To-day?

JOHANNA

Yes. I went all around it.

SALA

Oh? All around it?—Did you also notice the little gate that leads directly into the woods?

JOHANNA

Yes.—But from that spot the house is almost invisible. The leafage is very thick.—Where have you placed those busts of the Roman emperors?

SALA

They stand on columns at the opening of an avenue of trees. Right by is a small marble bench, and in front of the bench a little pool has been made.

JOHANNA (nodding)

Just as you told us that time.... And there is a greenish gray glitter on the water—and in the morning the shadow from the beech tree falls across it.... I know. (She looks up at him and smiles; both go out together)