Stella.—Sometimes one may be mistaken about people.

Drahomir.—Do you speak about me or Miliszewski?

Stella.—Let us say it is about you. They told me that you were a mirror of all perfections.

Drahomir.—And have you discovered that I am the personification of all faults?

Stella.—I did not say so.

Drahomir.—But you think so. But I am not deceived. Your portrait drawn by Mr. Pretwic and the Doctor is exactly like you.

Stella.—How was the portrait?

Drahomir.—With wings at the shoulders.

Stella.—That means that I have as much dignity as a butterfly.

Drahomir.—Angels' wings are in harmony with their dignity.

Stella.—True friendship should speak the truth. Tell me some bitter one.

Drahomir.—Very bitter?

Stella.—As wormwood—or as is sometimes the case—with life.

Drahomir.—Then you are kind to me.

Stella.—For what sin shall I begin penitence?

Drahomir.—For lack of friendship for me.

Stella.—I was the first to appeal for friendship—in what respect am I untrue to it?

Drahomir.—Because you share with me your joys, sports, laughter, but when a moment of sorrow comes, you keep those thorns for yourself. Pray share with me your troubles also.

Stella.—It is not egotism on my part. I do not wish to disturb your serenity.

Drahomir.—The source of my serenity does not lie in egotism either. George told me of you when I came here: "I know only how to look at her and how to pray to her; you are younger and more mirthful, try to amuse her." Therefore I brought all my good spirits and laid them at your feet. But I notice that I have bored you. I see a cloud on your face—I suspect some hidden sorrow, and being your best friend, I am ready to give my life to dispel that cloud.

Stella (softly).—You must not talk that way.

Drahomir (clasping his hands).—Let me talk. I was a giddy boy, but I always followed my heart, and my heart guessed your sorrow. Since that moment a shadow fell across my joy, but I overcame it. One cannot recall a tear which has rolled down the cheek, but a friendly hand can dry it. Therefore I overcame that cloud in order that the tears should not come to your eyes. If I have been mistaken, if I have chosen the wrong path, pray forgive me. Your life will be as beautiful as a bouquet of flowers, therefore be mirthful—be mirthful.

Stella (with emotion, giving him her hand).—I shall be; being near you, I am capricious, spoiled, and a little bit ill. Sometimes I do not know myself what is the matter with me, and what I wish. I am happy; truly I am happy.

Drahomir.—Then, no matter, as Mrs. Czeska says. Let us be merry, laugh, and run in the garden and play pranks with the countess and her son.

Stella.—I have discovered the source of your mirth; it is a good heart.

Drahomir.—No, madam. I am a great good-for-nothing. But the source of true happiness is not in this.

Stella.—Sometimes I think that there is none in this world.

Drahomir.—We cannot grasp it with our common sense, and will not fly after that winged vision. Sometimes perhaps it flies near us, but before we discover it, before we stretch out our hands, it is too late!

Stella.—What sad words—too late!

SCENE VIII.

The same. Jozwowicz.

Doctor (entering, laughs).—Ha! ha! Do you know what has happened?

Stella.—Is it something amusing?

Doctor.—A dreadful, tragic, but before a ridiculous thing. Miliszewski wished to challenge Pretwic.

Stella.—For Heaven's sake!

Doctor.—You must laugh with me. If there were anything dreadful I would not frighten you, princess.

Drahomir.—And what has been the end of it?

Doctor.—I was angry with Mr. Pretwic for taking the matter so seriously.

Drahomir.—How could he help it?

Doctor.—But it would be shameful for a man like Mr. Pretwic to fight with such a poor thing.

Stella.—The doctor is right. I do not understand Mr. Pretwic.

Doctor.—Our princess must not be irritated. I have made peace between them. Mr. Pretwic did not grasp the real situation and his naturally sanguine disposition carried him away. But now that I have explained to him, he agrees that it would be too utterly ridiculous.

Drahomir.—And what about Miliszewski?

Doctor.—I have sent him to his mamma. He is a good boy.

Stella.—I shall scold Mr. Pretwic, nevertheless.

Drahomir.—But you must not be too severe.

Stella.—You are laughing, gentlemen. I am sorry that it was necessary to explain the matter to Mr. Pretwic. I must scold him immediately (she goes out).

SCENE IX.

Drahomir. Doctor.

Drahomir.—The princess is a true angel.

Doctor.—Yes, there is not a spot in the crystalline purity of her nature.

Drahomir.—It must be true when even you, a sceptic, speak of her with such enthusiasm.

Doctor.—I have been here six years. When I came she wore short dresses. She grew by my side. Six years have their strength—it was impossible not to become attached to her.

Drahomir.—I believe you. (After a while of silence) Strange, however, that you self-made people have no hearts.

Doctor.—Why?

Drahomir.—Because—I know what you would say about her social position, but hearts are equal, so it does not matter. Then how did it happen that you, being so near the princess, did not—

Doctor (interrupting).—What?

Drahomir.—I cannot find an expression.

Doctor.—But I have found it. You are asking me why I did not fall in love with her?

Drahomir.—I hesitated to pronounce the too bold word.

Doctor.—Truly, if you, count, are lacking in boldness, I am going to help you out, and I ask you: And you, sir?

Drahomir.—Doctor, be careful.

Doctor.—I hear some lyrical tone.

Drahomir.—Let us finish this conversation.

Doctor.—As you say, although I can speak quietly, and in order to change the conversation, I prefer to ask you: Do you think she will be happy with Mr. Pretwic?

Drahomir.—What a question! George loves her dearly.

Doctor.—I do not doubt it, but their natures are so different. Her thoughts and sentiments are as delicate as cobweb—and George? Have you noticed how hurt she was that he accepted the challenge?

Drahomir.—Why did you tell her about it?

Doctor.—I was wrong. Therefore George—

Drahomir.—Will be happy with her.

Doctor.—Any one would be happy with her, and to every one one might give the advice to search for some one like her. Yes, count, search for some one like her (he goes out).

Drahomir (alone).—Search for some one like her—and if there is some one like, her—too late (he sits down and covers his face with his hand).

SCENE X.

Stella. Drahomir.

Stella (seeing Drahomir, looks at him for a while).—What is the matter with you?

Drahomir.—You here? (A moment of silence.)

Stella (confused).—I am searching for papa. Excuse me, sir, I must go.

Drahomir (softly)—Go, madam. (She goes out. At the door she stops, hesitates for a while and then disappears.) I must get away from here as soon as possible.

SCENE XI.

Drahomir. Prince. Finally Jozwowicz.

Prince (rushing in).—She has tormented me until now. Good gracious! Ah, it is you, Drahomir.

Drahomir.—Yes, prince. Who tormented you?

Prince.—The Countess Miliszewski. My dear boy, how can he be a member of parliament when he is so densely stupid!

Drahomir.—It is true.

Prince.—Don't you see! And then she proposed to marry him to Stella. The idea! She is already betrothed. But of course they did not know.

Drahomir.—How did you get rid of her?

Prince.—The doctor helped me out. Jozwowicz is a smart man—he has more intelligence than all of us together.

Drahomir.—It is true.

Prince.—But you, Drahomir, you are smart also, are you not?

Drahomir.—How can I either affirm or deny? But Jozwowicz is very intelligent, that much is certain.

Prince.—Yes. I do not like him, and I am afraid of him and I am fond of him, but I tell you I could not live without him.

Drahomir.—He is an honest man, too.

Prince.—Honest? Very well, then, but you are better because you are not a democrat. Drahomir, I love you. Stella, I love him—Ah! She is not here.

Drahomir.—Thank you, prince.

Prince.—If I had another daughter, I would—well—

Drahomir.—Prince, pray do not speak that way. (Aside) I must run away.

Prince.—Come, have a cigar with me. We will call the others and have a talk. Jozwowicz! Pretwic!

Doctor (entering).—What are your orders, Your Highness?

Prince.—You, Robespierre, come and have a cigar. Thank you, my boy. You have rid me of the countess.

Doctor.—I will send for Pretwic, and we will join you. (He rings the bell. A servant comes in—the prince and Drahomir go out.) Ask Mr. Pretwic to come here. (The servant goes out.)

Doctor (alone).—Anton was right. I am helping along the logic. But I do not like the sap—because I am accustomed to break. (Pretwic enters.)

SCENE XII.

Pretwic. Jozwowicz.

George.—I was looking for you.

Doctor.—The prince has invited us to smoke a cigar with him.

George.—Wait a moment. For God's sake tell me what it means. Stella changes while looking at her—there is something heavy in the air. What does it mean?

Doctor.—That melancholy is the mode now.

George.—You are joking with me.

Doctor.—I know nothing.

George.—Excuse me. The blood rushes to my head. I see some catastrophe hanging over me. I thought you would say something to pacify me. I thought you were my friend.

Doctor.—Do you doubt it?

George.—Shake hands first. Then give me some advice.

Doctor.—Advice? Are you ill?

George (with an effort).—Truly, you play with me as a cat with a mouse.

Doctor.—Because I know nothing of presentiments.

George.—Did you not tell me that she is not ill?

Doctor.—No, she is wearied.

George.—You speak about it in a strange way and you have no conception of the pain that your words cause me.

Doctor.—Then try to distract her.

George.—What? Who?

Doctor.—Who? Count Drahomir, for instance.

George.—Is she fond of him?

Doctor.—And he of her also. Such poetical souls are always fond of each other.

George.—What do you mean by that?

Doctor (sharply).—And you—how do you take my words?

George (rises.)—Not another word. You understand me, and you must know that I do not always forgive.

Doctor (rises also, approaches George and looks into his eyes).—I believe you wish to frighten me. Besides this, what more do you wish?

George (after a moment of struggle with himself).—You must ask me what I did wish, because I do not now wish for anything. You have known her longer than I have, therefore I came to you as her friend and mine, and for answer you banter with me. In your eyes there shone hatred for me, although I have never wronged, you. Be the judge yourself! I would be more than right in asking you: What do you wish of me, if it were not for the reason (with pride) that it is immaterial to me. (He goes out.)

Doctor.—We shall see.

SCENE XIII.

Jozwowicz. Servant.

Servant.—A messenger brought this letter from Mr. Anton Zuk.

Doctor.—Give it to me. (The servant goes out. Doctor looks at the door through which George went out.) Oh, I can no longer control my hatred. I will crush you into dust; and now I shall not hesitate any longer. (Opens letter feverishly) Damnation, I must be going there at once.



SCENE XIV.

Jozwowicz. Mrs. Czeska.

Czeska (enters swiftly).—Doctor, I am looking for you.

Doctor.—What has happened?

Czeska.—Stella is ill. I found her weeping.

Doctor (aside.)—Poor child! (Aloud) I will go to see her at once. (They go out.)

END OF ACT III.

* * * * *



ACT IV.

The same Drawing Room.

SCENE I.

Jozwowicz. Drahomir.

(Jozwowicz sits at table writing in notebook. Drahomir enters.)

Drahomir.—Doctor, I came to bid you farewell.

Doctor (rising suddenly).—Ah, you are going away?

Drahomir.—Yes.

Doctor.—So suddenly? For long?

Drahomir.—I am returning to-day to Swietlenice, to George; to-morrow I leave for Paris.

Doctor.—One word—have you said anything to any one of your plans?

Drahomir.—Not yet. I only made up my mind an hour ago.

Doctor.—Then Mr. Pretwic knows nothing about it as yet?

Drahomir.—No; but why do you ask?

Doctor (aside).—I must act now—otherwise everything is lost. (Aloud) Count, I have not much time to speak to you now, because in a moment I expect Anton in regard to a matter on which my whole future depends. Listen to me. I beseech you, for the sake of the peace and health of the princess, not to mention to any one that you are going away. Neither to the Prince nor to Mr. Pretwic.

Drahomir.—I do not understand you.

Doctor.—You will understand me. Now I cannot tell you anything more. In a half hour pray grant me a moment of conversation. Then you will understand me—that I guarantee you. Here is Anton. You see I cannot explain now.

Drahomir.—I will see you again. (He goes out.)

SCENE II.

Anton. Jozwowicz.

Anton.—The fight is very hot. Have you the address?

Doctor.—Here it is. How goes it?

Anton.—Up to now everything is well, but I repeat—the fight is very hot. If you had not come the last time, you would have lost the battle, because Miliszewski has withdrawn and his partisans vote for Husarski. Podczaski is good for nothing. Your speech in the city hall was splendid. May thunder strike you! Your address was admired even by your enemies. Oh, we will at last be able to do something. For three days I have not slept—I have not eaten—I work and I have plenty of time, because I have lost my position.

Doctor.—You have lost your position?

Anton.—On account of the agitation against Husarski.

Doctor.—Have you found any means against him?

Anton.—I have-written an article. I have brought it to you. Read it. He sues me—he will beat me. They will put me in prison, but it will be only after the election, and my article wronged him very much.

Doctor.—Very well.

Anton.—But when I am in prison you must take care of my wife and children. I love them dearly. I have three of them. It is too much—but natura lex dura.

Doctor.—Be assured.

Anton.—You would not believe me if I were to tell you that I am almost happy. Sometimes it seems to me that our country is a moldy room and that I open the window and let in the fresh air. We will work very hard. I believe in you, because you are an iron man.

Doctor.—I shall either perish or gain two victories.

Anton.—Two?

Doctor.—Yes; the other one even to-day, here. The events have surprised me in some way. The facts turned against me, and I was obliged to build my plans of action only a short while ago.

Anton.—Eh! If we win only there. Do you know what—I would prefer that you abandon the idea of the other victory.

Doctor.—Anton, you are mistaken.

Anton.—Because you worry a great deal. You have grown awfully thin. Look in the mirror.

Doctor.—No matter; after I have sprung the mine I shall be calmer and the mine is ready.

Anton.—But it will cost you too much.

Doctor.—Yes, but I shall not retract.

Anton.—At least be careful and do not smear your hands with the powder.

SCENE III.

The same. Stella.

Stella (entering, notices Anton).—Ah, excuse me.

Doctor.—Mr. Anton Zuk, a friend of mine. (Anton bows.) What is your wish, princess?

Stella.—You told me to stay in bed and it is so hard to lie down. Mrs. Czeska went to the chapel and I escaped. Do you approve?

Doctor.—I cannot help it, princess, although I would like to scold you like a disobedient child. A few moments ago some one else begged for you also.

Stella.—Who was it?

Doctor.—Count Drahomir. And he begged so earnestly that I promised him that I would allow you to leave the bed. He wishes to have a talk with you to-day, because he will not be able to see you again.

Stella (aside).—What does it mean?

Doctor.—He will be here at five o'clock.

Stella.—Very well.

Doctor.—And now, pray, return to your room. Your dress is too thin and you might catch cold.

SCENE IV.

Jozwowicz. Anton.

Anton.—Ah, that is the princess.

Doctor.—Yes, it is she.

Anton.—Very pretty, but looks as though she was made of mist. As for me, I prefer women like my wife. From such as your princess you cannot expect sturdy democrats.

Doctor.—Enough of that.

Anton.—Then I will weigh anchor and sail. I will distribute the pamphlet with your address, and then I will write another article against Husarski. If they put me in prison they shall at least have a reason for it. Good-bye.

Doctor.—If you meet a servant, tell him that I am waiting for Count Drahomir.

SCENE V.

Jozwowicz—then Drahomir.

Doctor (alone).—Let that golden-haired page go, but he must see her before he goes. This leave-taking shall be the red flag for the bull. (Drahomir enters.) I am waiting for you, sir. Is Mr. Pretwic in the chateau?

Drahomir.—He is with the prince.

Doctor.—Count, be seated, and let us talk.

Drahomir (uneasily).—I am listening, sir.

Doctor.—You are in love with the princess.

Drahomir.—Mr. Jozwowicz!

Doctor.—On your honor—yes or no?

Drahomir.—Only God has the right to ask me such a question. I do not dare to ask myself.

Doctor.—And your conscience?

Drahomir.—And no one else.

Doctor.—Then let us turn the question. She loves you.

Drahomir.—Be silent, sir. Oh, God!

Doctor.—Your pride is broken. You knew of it?

Drahomir.—I did not wish to know it.

Doctor.—But now you are aware of it.

Drahomir.—That is the reason why I am going away from here forever.

Doctor.—It is too late, sir. You have tangled her life and now you leave her.

Drahomir.—For God's sake, what shall I do, then?

Doctor.—Go away, but not forever, and not without telling her good-bye.

Drahomir.—Why should I add the last drop to an already overflowing cup?

Doctor.—A beautiful phrase. Can you not understand that it will hurt her good name if you should go away suddenly without taking leave of her? And she—she is ill and she may not be able to bear your departure.

Drahomir.—I do not see any remedy—

Doctor.—There is only one. Find some pretext, bid her good-bye quietly, and tell her that you will be back. Otherwise it will be a heavy blow for her strength. You must leave her hope. She must not suspect anything. Perhaps later she will become accustomed to your absence—perhaps she will forget—

Drahomir.—It will be better for her to forget.

Doctor.—I will do my best, but I shall first throw a handful of earth on your memory.

Drahomir.—What shall I do, then?

Doctor.—To find a pretext to bid her good-bye, tell every one that you are going. Then come back—and go away. Mr. Pretwic also must not know anything.

Drahomir.—When shall I bid her good-bye?

Doctor.—In a moment. I told her. I will manage to be with Pretwic during that time. She will be here presently.

Drahomir.—I would prefer to die.

Doctor.—No one is certain of to-morrow. Be off now. (Drahomir goes out.)

SCENE VI.

Jozwowicz. Then a servant.

Doctor.—How warm it is here! My head is splitting. (He rings—a servant enters.) Ask Mr. Pretwic to come here. (The servant goes out.) My head is bursting—but then I will have a long peace.



SCENE VII.

Jozwowicz. George Pretwic.

George (entering).—What do you wish with me?

Doctor.—I wish to give you good advice about the princess's health.

George.—How is she?

Doctor.—Better. I allowed her to leave bed because she and Drahomir asked me to.

George.—Drahomir?

Doctor.—Yes. He wishes to talk with her. They will be here in a quarter of an hour.

George.—Jozwowicz, I am choking with wrath and pain. Drahomir avoids me.

Doctor.—But you do not suspect him.

George.—I swear to you that I have defended myself from suspicions as a man dying on the steppe defends himself from the crows—that I have bitten my hands with pain and despair—that I still defend myself. But I cannot any more. I cannot. The evidence pounds on my brain. He avoids me. He tells me that I have become an idiot—that I have become a madman, because—

Doctor.—Keep your temper. Even if he were in love with the princess, nobody rules his own heart.

George.—Enough! You were right when you coupled his name with hers. At that moment I repulsed the thought, but it was there just the same (he strikes his breast). The fruit is ripened. Oh, what a ridiculous and dreadful part I am playing here—

Doctor.—But he saved your life.

George.—In order to take it when it began to have a certain value. His service is paid with torture, with a slain happiness, with a broken hope, with destroyed faith in myself, in him and in her.

Doctor.—Be easy.

George.—I loved that man. Tell me that I am a madman and I shall be calmed. How dreadful to think that it is he! Forgive me everything I said to you before and help me. Evil thoughts are rushing through my head.

Doctor.—Be calm—you are mistaken.

George.—Prove to me that I am mistaken and I will kneel before you.

Doctor.—You are mistaken, because Drahomir is going away.

George.—He is going away. (A moment of silence.) Oh, Lord! Then I can live without such tortures, I may hope!

Doctor (coolly and slowly).—But he is not going away forever. He said he would return.

George.—You put me on the cross again.

Doctor.—Come to your senses and do not let yourself be carried away by madness. At any rate you gain time. You can win her heart back again.

George.—No—it is done. I am sinking into a precipice.

Doctor.—Everything will be straightened out by his absence.

George (with an outburst).—But did you not tell me that he will return?

Doctor.—Listen: I agree with you that you have repaid Drahomir for the services of saving your life with your tortures. Drahomir has betrayed you and has broken the friendship between you by winning her heart. But I do not think that he is going away in order to avoid your vengeance.

George.—And to give her time to break her engagement! Yes, yes! I am cursed. I suspect him now of everything. He avoids me.

Doctor.—Mr. Pretwic.

George.—Enough. I am going to ask him when he will be back. He has saved my life once, and slain me ten times. (He tries to leave.)

Doctor.—Where are you going?

George.—To ask him how long he is going away.

Doctor.—Wait a moment. How could you ask him such a question? Perhaps he is innocent, but pride will shut his mouth and everything will be lost. Stay here—you can leave only over my corpse. I am not afraid of you!—do you understand? In a moment they will be here. You wish for proofs—you shall have them. From the piazza you cannot hear them, but you can see them. You shall be persuaded with your own eyes—perhaps you will regret your impetuosity.

George (after a while).—Very well, then. May God grant that I was mistaken! Thank you—but you must not leave me now.

Doctor.—One word more. No matter what happens I shall consider you a villain if you place her life in peril by any outburst.

George.—Granted. Where shall we go?

Doctor.—On the piazza. But you have fever—you are already shaking.

George.—I am out of breath. Some one is coming. Let us be going.

SCENE VIII.

Drahomir. Then Stella.

Drahomir.—The last evening and the last time. (After a while.) O Lord, thy will be done!

Stella (enters).—The Doctor told me that you wished to see me.

Drahomir.—Yes, madam. Pray forgive my boldness. A very important affair calls me home. I come to bid you good-bye.

Stella.—You are going away?

Drahomir.—To day I am going to Swietlenice, to-morrow still further. (A moment of silence.)

Stella.—Yes, it is necessary.

Drahomir.—Life has flown like a dream—it is time to wake up.

Stella.—Shall we see each other again?

Drahomir.—If God permits it.

Stella.—Then let us shake hands in farewell. I can assure you that you have a friend in me. Friendship is like an immortal—it is a pale flower, but does not wither. May God guide you and protect you. The heart—of a sister—will follow you everywhere. Remember—

Drahomir.—Farewell.

Stella.—Farewell. (She goes toward the door. Then suddenly turns. With a sob in her voice.) Why do you deceive me? You are going forever.

Drahomir.—Have mercy on me.

Stella.—Are you going away forever?

Drahomir.—Yes, then.

Stella.—I guessed it. But perhaps it is better—for both of us.

Drahomir.—Oh, yes. There are things which cannot be expressed, although the heart is bursting. A while ago you told me that you will remember—it will be better for you to forget.

Stella.—I cannot. (She weeps.)

Drahomir (passionately).—Then I love you, my dearest, and that is the reason why I escape. (He presses her to his breast.)

Stella (awakening).—Oh, God! (She rushes, out.)

SCENE IX.

Drahomir. Jozwowicz. George.

(George stops with Jozwowicz near the door.)

Drahomir.—Ah, it is you, George.

George.—Do not approach me. I have seen all. You are a villain and a coward.

Drahomir—George!

George.—In order not to soil my hand, I throw in your face our broken friendship, my trampled happiness, lost faith in God and man, endless contempt for you and myself.

Drahomir.—Enough.

George.—Do not approach me, because I will lose my self-command and will sprinkle these walls with your brains. No, I shall not do that—because I have promised. But I slap your face, you villain. Do you hear me?

Drahomir (after struggling with himself for a moment).—Such an insult I swear before God and man I will wash out with blood.

George.—Yes, with blood (pointing to the doctor). Here is the witness of these words.

Doctor.—At your service, gentlemen.

END OF ACT IV.

* * * * *



ACT V.

The same drawing-room.

SCENE I.

Jozwowicz enters reading a dispatch.

The result of the ballotting until now: Jozwowicz, 613; Husarski, 604. At ten o'clock: Jozwowicz, 700; Husarski, 700. At 11 o'clock: Jozwowicz, 814; Husarski, 750. The fight is hot. The final results will be known at three o'clock. (He consults his watch.)

SCENE II.

Jozwowicz. George.

Doctor.—You are here?

George.—You are as afraid of me as of a ghost.

Doctor.—I thought you were elsewhere.

George.—I am going directly from here to fight. I have still an hour. The duel will take place at Dombrowa, on the Miliszewski's estate—not far from here.

Doctor.—Too near from here.

George.—Miliszewski insisted. And then you will be here to prevent the news from being known until as late as possible.

Doctor.—Doctor Krzycki will be with you?

George.—Yes.

Doctor.—Ask him to send me the news at once. I would go with you, but I must be here.

George.—You are right. If I am killed?

Doctor.—You must not think of that.

George.—There are some people who are cursed from the moment they are born, and for whom death is the only redemption. I belong to that class. I have thought everything over quietly. God knows that I am more afraid of life than of death. There is no issue for me. Suppose I am not killed—tell me what will become of me, if I kill the man whom she loves? Tell me! I will live without her, cursed by her. Do you know that when I think of my situation, and what has happened, I think some bad spirit has mixed with us and entangled everything so that only death can disentangle it.

Doctor.—A duel is very often ended by a mere wound.

George.—I insulted Drahomir gravely, and such an insult cannot be wiped out by a wound. Believe me, one of us must die. But I came to talk with you about something else.

Doctor.—I am listening to you.

George.—Frankly speaking, as I do not know what will become of me, and whether in an hour I shall be alive or not, I came to have one more look at her. Because I love her dearly. Perhaps I was too rough for her—too stupid—but I loved her. May God punish me if I have not desired her happiness. As you see me here it is true that at this moment I pity her the most and feel miserable about her future. Listen: whether I am killed or not, she cannot be mine. Drahomir cannot marry her, because he could not marry the woman whose fiance he has killed. Of the three of us you alone will remain near her. Take care of her—guard her. Into your hands I give her, the only treasure I ever possessed.

Doctor (quietly).—I shall carry out your wishes.

George.—And now—I may be killed. I wish to die like a Christian. If ever I have offended you, forgive me. (They shake hands. George goes out.)

Doctor (alone).—Yes, of the three of us I alone shall remain near her.

SCENE III.

Jozwowicz. Anton.

Anton (rushing in).—Man, have you become an idiot? When every moment is valuable, you remain here. The results are uncertain. They have put up big posters—Husarski's partisans are catching the votes in the streets. For God's sake come with me. A carriage is waiting for us.

Doctor.—I must remain here. I cannot go under any consideration in the world. Let be what may.

Anton.—I did not expect such conduct from you. Come and show yourself, if only for a moment, and the victory is ours. I cannot speak any more. I am dead tired. Have you become a madman? There—we have worked for him, and he clings to a petticoat and stays here.

Doctor.—Anton! Even if I should lose there I would not stir one step from here. I cannot and I will not go.

Anton.—So?

Doctor.—Yes.

Anton.—Do what you please, then. Very well. My congratulations. (He walks up and down the room; then he puts his hands in his pockets and stands before Jozwowicz.) What does it mean?

Doctor.—It means that I must remain here. At this moment Drahomir stands opposite Pretwic with a pistol. If the news of the fight should come to the princess, she would pay for it with her life.

Anton.—They are fighting!

Doctor.—For life or death. In a moment the news will come who is killed. (A moment of silence.)

Anton.—Jozwowicz, you have done all this.

Doctor.—Yes, it is I, I crushed those who were in my way, and I shall act the same always. You have me such as I am.

Anton.—If so, I am no longer in a hurry. Do you know what I am going to tell you?

Doctor.—You must go for a while. The princess is coming. (He opens the door of a side room.) Go in there for a moment.

SCENE IV.

Jozwowicz and Stella.

Stella.—Doctor, what is the matter in this house?

Doctor.—What do you mean, princess?

Stella.—Mr. Pretwic came to tell me good-bye. He was very much changed and asked me to forgive him if he ever offended me.

Doctor (aside).—A sentimental ass.

Stella.—He said that he might be obliged to go away in a few days. I have a presentiment that you are hiding something from me. What does it mean? Do not torture me any longer. I am so miserable that you should have pity on me.

Doctor.—Do not let anything worry you. What can there be the matter? An idle fancy, that is all! The care of loving hearts surrounds you. Why should you have such a wild imagination? You had better return to your apartment and do not receive any one. I will come to see you in a moment.

Stella.—Then truly there is nothing bad?

Doctor.—What an idea! Pray believe me, I should be able to remove anything which would threaten your happiness.

Stella (stretching out her hand to him).—Oh, Mr. Jozwowicz, happiness is a very difficult thing to take hold of. May only the peace not leave us. (She goes to enter the room in which Anton is.)

Doctor.—This way, princess. Some one is waiting for me in that room. In a moment I will come to see you. Pray do not receive any one. Anton! (The princess goes out.)

SCENE V.

Anton, Jozwowicz, then a Servant.

Anton.—Here I am. Poor child!

Doctor.—I cannot go for her sake. I must be here and not let the bad news reach her, for it would kill her.

Anton.—What! and you, knowing this, you still expose her, and sacrifice her for yourself?

Doctor (passionately).—I love her and I must have her, even if the walls of this house should crumble around our heads.

Anton.—Man, you are talking nonsense.

Doctor.—Man, you are talking like a nincompoop, and not like a man. You have plenty of words in your mouth, but you lack strength—you cannot face facts. Who would dare say: You have no right to defend yourself?

Anton (after a while).—Good-bye.

Doctor.—Where are you going?

Anton.—I return to the city.

Doctor.—Are you with me or against me?

Anton.—I am an honest man.

A servant (enters).—A messenger brought this letter from Miliszewski.

Doctor.—Give it to me. Go (tears the envelop and reads) "Pretwic is dead." (After a while) Ah—

Anton.—Before I go I must answer your question as to why I am going. I have served you faithfully. I served you like a dog because I believed in you. You knew how to use me, or perhaps to use me up. I knew that I was a tool, but I did not care for that, because—But now—

Doctor.—You give up the public affair?

Anton.—You do not know me. What would I do if I were to give up my ideas? And then, do you think that you personify public affairs? I will not give up because I have been deceived by you. But I care about something else. I was stupid to have cared for you, and I regret now that I must tell you that you have heaped up the measure and used badly the strength which is in you. Oh, I know that perhaps it would be better for me not to tell you this, perhaps to hold with you would mean a bright future for such a man as I, who have hardly the money to buy food for my wife and children. But I cannot. Before God, I cannot! I am a poor man and I shall remain poor, but I must at least have a clear conscience. Well, I loved you almost as much as I loved my wife and children, but from to-day you are only a political number—for friendship you must look to some one else. You know I have no scruples; a man rubs among the people and he rubs off many things; but you have heaped up the measure. May I be hanged if I do not prefer to love the people than pound them! They say that honesty and politics are two different things. Elsewhere it may be so, but in our country we must harmonize them. Why should they not go together? I do not give up our ideas, but I do not care for our friendship because the man who says he loves humanity, and then pounds the people threateningly on their heads—that man is a liar; do you understand me?

Doctor.—I shall not insist upon your giving me back your friendship, but you must listen to me for the last time. If there shall begin for me an epoch of calamity, it will begin at the moment when such people as you begin to desert me. The man who was killed was in my way to happiness—he took everything from me. He came armed with wealth, good name, social position, and all the invincible arms which birth and fortune give. With what arms could I fight him? What could I oppose to such might? Nothing except the arms of a new man—that bit of intelligence acquired by hard work and effort. He declared a mute war on me. I have defended myself. With what? With the arms which nature has given me. When you step on a worm you must not take it amiss if the worm bites you; he cannot defend himself otherwise. It is the law of nature. I placed everything on one card, and I won—or rather it is not I, but intelligence which has conquered. This force—the new times—have conquered the old centuries. And you take that amiss? What do you want? I am faithful, to the principle. You are retreating. I am not! That woman is necessary for my happiness because I love her. I need her wealth and her social position for my aims. Give me such weapons and I will accomplish anything. Do you know what an enormous work and what important aims I have before me? You wish me to tear down the wall of darkness, prejudice, laziness, you wish me to breathe new life into that which is dead. I cry: "Give me the means." You do not have the means, therefore I wish to get them, or I shall perish. But what now? Across the road to my plans, to my future—not only mine but everybody's—there stands a lord, a wandering knight, whose whole merit lies in the fact that he was born with a coat of arms. And have I not the right to crush him? And you wish me to fall down on my knees before him? Before his lordship—to give up everything for his sake? No! You do not know me. Enough of sentiment. A certain force is necessary and I have it, and I shall make a road for myself and for all of you even if I should be obliged to trample over a hundred such as Pretwic.

Anton.—No, Jozwowicz, you have always done as you wanted with me, but now you cannot do it. As long as there was a question of convictions I was with you, but you have attacked some principles which are bigger than either you or I, more stable and immutable. You cannot explain this to me, and you yourself must be careful. At the slightest opportunity you will fall down with all your energy as a man. The force you are attacking is more powerful than you are. Be careful, because you will lose. One cannot change a principle: straight honesty is the same always. Do what you please, but be careful. Do you know that human blood must always be avenged? It is only a law of nature. You ask me whether I am going to leave you? Perhaps you would like to be given the right to fire on the people from behind a fence when it will suit you. No, sir. From to-day there must be kept between us a strict account. You will be a member of parliament, but if you think we are going to serve you, and not you us, you are greatly mistaken. You thought that the steps of the ladder on which you will ascend are composed of rascals? Hold on! We, who have elected you—we, in whose probity you do not believe—we will watch you and judge you. If you are guilty we will crush you. We have elected you; now you must serve.

Doctor (passionately).—Anton!

Anton.—Quiet. In the evening you must appear before the electors. Good-bye, Mr. Jozwowicz. (He goes out.)

Doctor (alone).—He is the first.

SCENE VI.

Jozwowicz. Jan Miliszewski.

Jan (appears in the half-open door).—Pst!

Doctor.—Who is there?

Jan.—It is I, Miliszewski. Are you alone?

Doctor.—You may enter. What then?

Jan.—Everything is over. He did not live five minutes. I have ordered them to carry the body to Miliszewo.

Doctor.—Your mother is not here?

Jan.—I sent her to the city. To-day is election day and mamma does not know that I have withdrawn, therefore she will wait for the evening papers in the hope that she will find my name among those elected.

Doctor.—Did no one see?

Jan.—I am afraid they will see the blood. He bled dreadfully.

Doctor.—A strange thing. He was such a good marksman.

Jan.—He permitted himself to be killed. I saw that very plainly. He did not fire at Drahomir at all. He did not wish to kill Drahomir. Six steps—it was too near. It was dreadful to look at his death. Truly, I would have preferred to be killed myself. They had to fire on command—one! two! three! We heard the shot, but only one. We rushed—Pretwic advanced two steps, knelt and tried to speak. The blood flowed from his mouth. Then he took up the pistol and fired to one side. We were around him and he said to Drahomir: "You have done me a favor and I thank you. This life belonged to you, because you saved it. Forgive me," he said, "brother!" Then he said: "Give me your hand" and expired. (He wipes his forehead with a handkerchief.) Drahomir threw himself on his breast—it was dreadful. Poor Princess Stella. What will become of her now?

Doctor.—For God's sake, not a word in her presence. She is ill.

Jan.—I will be silent.

Doctor.—You must control your emotion.

Jan.—I cannot. My knees are trembling.

SCENE VII.

The same. The prince leaning on Stella's shoulder, and Mrs. Czeska.

Prince.—I thought Pretwic was with you. Jozwowicz, where is Pretwic?

Doctor.—I do not know.

Stella.—Did he tell you where he was going?

Doctor.—I know nothing about it.

Czeska (to Jan).—Count, what is the matter with you? You are so pale.

Jan.—Nothing. It is on account of the heat.

Prince.—Jozwowicz, Pretwic told me—

SCENE VIII.

(The door opens suddenly. Countess Miliszewska rushes in).

Countess.—Jan, where is my Jan? O God, what is the matter? How dreadful!

Doctor (rushing toward her).—Be silent, madam.

Stella.—What has happened?

Countess.—Then you have not killed Pretwic? You have not fought?

Doctor.—Madam, be silent.

Stella.—Who is killed?

Countess.—Stella, my dearest, Drahomir has killed Pretwic.

Stella.—Killed! O God!

Doctor.—Princess, it is not true.

Stella.—Killed! (She staggers and falls.)

Doctor.—She has fainted. Let us carry her to her chamber.

Prince.—My child!

Czeska.—Stelunia! (The prince and Jozwowicz carry Stella. The countess and Czeska follow them.)

Jan (alone).—It is dreadful. Who could have expected that mamma would return! (The countess appears in the door.) Mamma, how is the princess?

Countess.—The doctor is trying to bring her to her senses. Until now he has not succeeded. Jan, let us be going.

Jan (in despair).—I shall not go. Why did you return from the city?

Countess.—For you. To-day is election day—have you forgotten it?

Jan.—I do not wish to be a member of parliament. Why did you tell her that Pretwic was killed?

SCENE IX.

The same. Jozwowicz.

Countess and Jan together.—What news?

Doctor.—Everything is over. (The bell is heard tolling in the chapel of the chateau.)

Jan (frightened).—What, the bell of the chapel? Then she is dead! (Jozwowicz comes to the front of the stage and sits down.)

SCENE X.

The same. Podczaski.

Podczaski (rushing in suddenly).—Victory! Victory! The deputation is here. (Voices behind the stage) Hurrah! Hurrah! for victory!

Jozwowicz.—I have lost!

FINIS.