WERMELSKIRCH

Mama, mama! Come along now, mama, and rest a while. So! You spoke your part very well indeed. You can repeat it to-night.

[He leads her behind the bar where her sobbing is heard for some time after.

WERMELSKIRCH

[Having resumed his seat.] She's quite right at bottom. I've heard all kinds of rumours too, to the effect that Henschel will rent the barroom. And, of course, his wife is behind that!

HAUFFE

An' who else'd be back of it I'd like to know? If there's anythin' low happenin' in the village nowadays, you don't has to go an ax who's back of it! That Henschel woman's got the devil in her!

FABIG

An' she's had her eye on the barroom this long time.

SIEBENHAAR

[To HAUFFE.] One hardly ever sees you any longer, Hauffe? Where did you land?

HAUFFE

Where d'you suppose? In misery an' hunger' An' who gave me the shove? That damned crittur of a woman! Who else'd do it, I'd like to know! I never had no trouble with Henschel!

FABIG

His wife has the breeches on—that's all!

HAUFFE

I wasn't quick enough for her no more. I'm not as young as I was—that's a fac'! An' I don't go hangin' aroun' no woman's apron strings neither. An' that there is what she wants. That's what you got to do with her! She's a hot one—you might say—she don't never get enough.—But as for workin': I c'n work! Them young fellers that she hires—they're that stinkin' lazy.... I could do as much as any three of 'em.

SIEBENHAAR

One feels sorry for old Henschel.

HAUFFE

If he's satisfied, I don't care. But he ought to know why my bones is stiff! They didn't get stiff with lazyin' aroun', an' if that man has a chest full o' money to-day, he knows who it is that helped him earn a good lot of it!

SIEBENHAAR

I recall very well that you even worked for Wilhelm Henschel's father.

HAUFFE

Well, who else but me! That's the way it is! An' I fed Wilhelm's horses eighteen years an' more—hitched 'em up an' unhitched 'em—went on trips summer an' winter. I drove 's far's Freiburg an' 's far's Breslau: I had to drive 'way to Bromberg. Many a night I had to sleep in the waggon. I got my ears an' my hands frost bitten: I got chilblains on both feet big as pears. An' now he puts me out! Now I c'n go!

FABIG

That's all the woman's doin's: he's a good man.

HAUFFE

Why did he go an' load hisself with that wench! Now he can look out for hisself! An' he couldn't hardly wait to do it decent. His first wife—she wasn't hardly cold when he ran to get married to this one!

SIEBENHAAR

Well, no one knew her, of course.

FABIG

I knew her well enough. O Lord—that I did! If he'd ha' axed me, I could ha' told him! If he wanted to send Gustel after her mother, there wasn't no surer way for him to take: all he had to do was to make Hanne the child's step-mother.

HAUFFE

Ah yes, yes ... well, well ... I'm not sayin' nothin' more. There's many a one has shaken his head about that! But that'll be comin' home to him some day. First people just wondered; now they'd believe anythin' of him.

SIEBENHAAR

That's undoubtedly mere idle talk.

The horse dealer WALTHER enters in riding boots, hunting jacket and cap. His whip is in his hand. He sits down at one of the tables and beckons FRANZISKA to bring him beer.

HAUFFE

You c'n say that. Maybe it's true. But if the dead was to come back an' was to say their say—'tis old Mrs. Henschel that could tell you a thing or two. She couldn't live an' she didn't want to live! An' what's the main thing—she wasn't to live!

SIEBENHAAR

Hauffe, you'd better take care! If Henschel were to get wind of that ...

HAUFFE

I wouldn't have to take care if he did! I'd say that to anyone's face. Old Mrs. Henschel—she was meant to die! If they pisened her, I couldn't say; I wasn't on the spot. But that thing didn't happen no natural way. She was a well woman; she might ha' lived thirty years.

SIEBENHAAR drinks and rises.

WALTHER

I c'n bear witness that she was well. She was my own sister an' I ought to know. She was in the way an' had to go.

SIEBENHAAR leaves quietly.

WERMELSKIRCH

Would you like a little snuff, gentlemen? [Softly and confidentially.] And don't you think, gentlemen, that you're going a little far? It seems so to me. I wish you would watch the man. He sat here till quite late yesterday. The man sighed so pitifully—there was no one else here—that I really felt very sorry for him.

HAUFFE

'Tis his bad conscience that's botherin' him!

WALTHER

Don't talk to me about Henschel! I'm sick o' hearin' about him. He an' me—we're through with each other this long time.

WERMELSKIRCH

No, no, Mr. Siebenhaar is right. One ought to feel sorry for him.

WALTHER

He c'n think about it what he pleases. I don't care. But what I ought to think about Henschel—there's nobody that need tell me nothin' about that!

HENSCHEL and the smith HILDEBRANT enter at the right. HENSCHEL is carrying little BERTHA, more neatly dressed than formerly, on his arm. A little pause of embarrassment falls upon the men.

WERMELSKIRCH

Welcome, Mr. Henschel.

HENSCHEL

Good mornin', all of ye.

FRANZISKA

Well, Berthel, how are you?

HENSCHEL

Say thank you! Well, can't you talk?—We gets along. A body has to be satisfied. Good mornin', brother. [He stretches out his hand carelessly to WALTHER who takes it in the same fashion.] How are you? How's everythin'?

WALTHER

I gets along as usual. 'Twouldn't be bad if it was better! You're a reg'lar nurse girl nowadays!

HENSCHEL

True, true! 'Tis almost that!

WALTHER

You're hardly ever seen without the girl. Can't you leave her with her mother?

HENSCHEL

She's always scourin' an' workin'. The little thing is just in her way! [He sits down on a bench along the wall near the bar, not far from his brother-in-law. He keeps the little girl on his lap. HILDEBRANT sits down opposite him.] How is it, Hildebrant, what shall we have? I think we've earned a bumper o' beer? Two of 'em, then, an two glasses o' brandy.

HILDEBRANT

That son of a—actually broke my skin!

HENSCHEL

Nothin' but a foal neither an' has the strength o'—... Good mornin', Hauffe.

HAUFFE

Mornin'.

HENSCHEL

He's a bit surly. Let's not bother him.

FABIG

Mr. Henschel, won't you buy something o' me? A needle box for the wife, maybe, or a pretty little comb to stick in the hair! [All laugh.] George, the waiter, he bought one too.

HENSCHEL

[Laughing good-naturedly with the others.] Don't you come botherin' me with your trash! [To WERMELSKIRCH.] Give him a measure o' beer!—'Tis a quaint little chap he is. Who is it?

HILDEBRANT

'Tis Fabig from Quolsdorf, I think—the most mischievous little scamp in the county.

HENSCHEL

Well, I got a little native from Quolsdorf here too.

FABIG

[To BERTHA.] We're good old friends, eh?

BERTHA

[To FABIG.] Why don't you dive me some nuts?

FABIG

Aha, she knows who I is! I'll look an' see if I c'n find some!

BERTHA

Outside in the waggon!

FABIG

No, they're here in my pocket! [He gives them to the child.] You see, you don't get out o' the pubs. Long ago your grandfather took you along; now you got to go about with Henschel.

HENSCHEL

[To BERTHA.] Tell him to attend to his bit o' trash! Tell him you're bein' looked out for! Tell him that!

GEORGE comes vivaciously out of the billiard room.

GEORGE

[Without noticing HENSCHEL.] Well,—I never saw the likes o' that! That there feller c'n eat glass like anythin'. Put it down on the reckoning, Miss Franziska: a lot o' beer! There's five o' us!

FRANZISKA

[Has taken BERTHA on her arm. She goes with the child behind the bar.] Bertha won't permit it; I can't do it now!

GEORGE

Good heavens, Mr. Henschel, there you are too!

HENSCHEL

[Without noticing GEORGE, to HILDEBRANT.] Your health, Hildebrant!

[They clink their glasses and drink.

FABIG

[To GEORGE who, a little taken aback, lights his cigar at one of the tables.] Tell me this, mister George, you're a kind of a wizard, eh?

GEORGE

Well, I do declare! What makes you think so?

FABIG

'Cause a while ago, you was gone like a light that's blown out.

GEORGE

Well, what's the use o' huntin' for disagreeable things. Siebenhaar an' me—we can't agree, that's all.

FABIG

[With the gesture of boxing another's ears.] People do say that somethin' happened.—[Passing by, to HAUFFE.] Did you win in the lottery? eh?

HAUFFE

You damned vermin!

FABIG

Yes, that's just what I am.

HENSCHEL

Is it true that you're working down at Nentwich's now?

HAUFFE

What business is it o' yours?

HENSCHEL

[Laughing and quite even-tempered.] Now look at that feller. He pricks like a weasel wherever you touches him.

WALTHER

I s'pose you'll be our host here pretty soon now?

HENSCHEL

[After he has glanced at him in astonishment.] That's the first ever I've heard of it!

WALTHER

Oh, I thought! I don't know exackly who 'twas that told me.

HENSCHEL

[Drinking: indifferently.] Whoever told you that must ha' been dreamin'!

[Pause.]

HILDEBRANT

In this here house everythin' is bein' turned upside down now. An' what I says is this: You'll be all sighin' to have Siebenhaar back some day.

HENSCHEL

[To HAUFFE.] You might go over to Landeshut. I got two coach horses standin' there. You might ride them in for me.

HAUFFE

The hell I will—that's what I'll do for you.

HENSCHEL

[Laughing and calmly.] Well, now you c'n sit there till you gets blue in the face. I won't concern myself that much about you!

HAUFFE

You c'n keep busy sweepin' before your own door.

HENSCHEL

'Tis well, 'tis well. We'll let that there be.

HAUFFE

You got filth enough in your own house!

HENSCHEL

Hauffe, I tell you right now: I wouldn't like to do it. But if you're goin' to start trouble here—I tell you that—I'll kick you out!

WERMELSKIRCH

Peace, gentlemen! I beg of you: peace!

HAUFFE

You're not the host here an' you can't kick nobody out! You has no more right to say anythin' here than me! I don't let you nor nobody tell me to hold my tongue. No, not you an' not your wife, no matter how you scheme, you two! That don't scare me an' don't bother me that much!

Without any show of anger, HENSCHEL grasps HAUFFE by the chest and pushes him, struggling in vain, toward the door. Just before reaching it he turns slightly, opens the door, puts HAUFFE out, and closes it again. During this scene the following colloquy takes place:

HAUFFE

Let go, I tell you! I just warn you: let go!

WERMELSKIRCH

Mr. Henschel, that won't do; I can't permit that!

HENSCHEL

I gave you fair warnin'! There's no help for you now.

HAUFFE

Are you goin' to choke me? Let go, I tell you! You're not the host here!

MRS. WERMELSKIRCH

[From behind the bar.] What's the meaning of this? That will never do, Ludwig! You can't permit yourself to be treated that way!

FABIG

[While HENSCHEL, holding HAUFFE, is rapidly approaching the door.] You might as well let it be. There's nothin' to be done. That there man—he's like an athlete. He'll bite his teeth into the edge of a table, and he'll lift the table up for you so steady, you won't notice a glass on it shakin'. If he went an' took the notion, I tell you, we'd all be flyin' out into the street different ways!

HAUFFE has been put out, HENSCHEL returns.

HENSCHEL

[Resuming his seat amid a general silence.] He wouldn't give no rest—he's that stubborn.

FIRST FIREMAN

[Who has come in out of the billiard room and drunk a glass of whisky at the bar.] I'd like to pay. A man had better go. In the end anybody might be flyin' out o' here, you know.

WERMELSKIRCH

Yon take another glass of beer. That would be the last straw. After all, I am still master here.

WALTHER

If that's the way you're goin' to do, Henschel, when you stands behind the bar and runs this here place instead o' Wermelskirch—you won't keep many customers, I c'n tell you that!

HENSCHEL

Customers like that don't matter.

WALTHER

You won't be able to pick 'em out, though. Hauffe don't pay with counterfeit money neither.

HENSCHEL

He c'n pay anyway he wants to, for all I care. But I tell you again now: Don't start that there business over again. I won't be takin' this place at all. If I was goin' to take it, I ought to know better than anybody else. Well, then: if I'm ready to buy a pub some day—I'll let you know! Afterward you c'n give me your advice. An' if you don't like the place an' don't patronise it—well, then, Lord A'mighty, you don't has to!

The FIREMAN goes out slamming the door angrily behind him.

WALTHER

I s'pose it's just as well to go....

[He prepares to pay his score.

WERMELSKIRCH

Mr. Henschel, surely that isn't right of you. You drive my customers out.

HENSCHEL

Well, my goodness! Now tell me: If that man runs out, what has I to do with it? For my part he can stay here till mornin'.

WALTHER

[Pocketing his money again.] You got no right to put anybody out o' here. You're not the host.

HENSCHEL

Anythin' else you know?

WALTHER

People knows a good deal. Only they rather keep still. Wermelskirch knows that best of all!

WERMELSKIRCH

Why I exactly? Now, look here, that's ...

HENSCHEL

[Firmly and collectedly.] What is't you know? Out with it! One o' you knows one thing an' another another, an' altogether you don't know that much!

[Pause.]

WALTHER

[In a changed tone.] If you were only the same man you used to be! But God only knows what's gotten into you! In those days you had a standin' among men. People came from far an' wide to get your advice. An' what you said, that was—you might say—almost like the law o' the land. 'Twas like Amen in church. An' now there's no gettin' along with you!

HENSCHEL

Go right ahead with your preachin'.

WALTHER

Very well, I s'pose you're noticin' it all yourself. Formerly, you had nothin' but friends. Nowadays nobody comes to you no more; an' even if they did want to come they stay away on account o' your wife. Twenty years Hauffe served you faithful. Then, suddenly, he don't suit your wife, an' you take him by the scruff an' put him out. What's the meanin' o' that! That woman has but to look at you an' you're jumpin' at her beck, instead o' goin' an' takin' a stout rope an' knockin' the wickedness out o' her!

HENSCHEL

If you don't keep still this minute—I'll take you by the scruff too.

GEORGE

[To HENSCHEL.] Don't forget yourself, whatever you do, Mr. Henschel! That man don't know no better, you see.

[Exit rapidly into the billiard room.

WALTHER

I believe, Henschel, if a man comes nowadays an' tells you the truth, you're capable o' flingin' him against the wall. But a feller like that, a worthless windbag like George—he c'n lie to you day an' night. Your wife an' he—they c'n compete with each other makin' a fool o' you! If you want to be cheated—all right! But if you got a pair o' eyes left in your head, open 'em once an' look around you an' look at that there feller good an' hard. Them two deceive you in broad daylight!

HENSCHEL

[About to hurl himself upon WALTHER, masters his rage.] What did you say—eh? Nothin'! Aw, it's all right.

[Pause.]

FABIG

It's reg'lar April weather this day. Now the sun shines an' now it blows again.

HAUFFE'S VOICE

[From without.] I'll pay you back for this! You watch out! You c'n let it be now! We'll meet again: we'll meet at court—that's where.

WALTHER

[Finishes his glass.] Good-bye. I'm meanin' well by you, Henschel.

HENSCHEL

[Lays his hand about WALTHER'S wrist.] You stay here! Y' understan'?

WALTHER

What is I to do here?

HENSCHEL

You'll see for yourself. All I says is: You stay! [To FRANZISKA.] Go down an' tell my wife she's to come up!

FRANZISKA goes.

WERMELSKIRCH

But, dear Mr. Henschel, I beg you, for heaven's sake, don't cause a scandal here! The police will be coming at me next, and then ...

HENSCHEL

[In an outburst of towering, withering rage—bluish-red of face.] I'll beat you all to death if Hanne don't come here—now!!!

WALTHER

[In helpless perplexity.] Wilhelm, Wilhelm, don' go an' commit some foolishness now! I wish I hadn't said nothin'. An' it didn't mean nothin'. You know yourself how people will talk!

HILDEBRANT

Wilhelm, you're a good man. Come to your senses! My God, how you look! Think, man, think! Why, you fairly roared! What's the matter with you? That must ha' been heard all over the house!

HENSCHEL

Anybody c'n hear me now that wants to. But you stay here an' Hanne is to come here.

WALTHER

Why should I be stayin' here? I don't know what for! Your affairs—they don't concern me a bit. I don't mingle in 'em an' I don't want to!

HENSCHEL

Then you should ha' thought before you spoke!

WALTHER

Everythin' else that's between us'll be settled in court. There we'll see who's in the right. I'll get hold o' my money; never fear! Maybe you're wife'll think it over once or twice before she goes an' perjures herself. The rest don't concern me. I tell you to let me go. I has no time. I has to go to Hartau, an' I can't be kept waitin' here.

SIEBENHAAR re-enters.

SIEBENHAAR

What's happened here?

WERMELSKIRCH

Goodness, gracious, I don't know! I don't know what Mr. Henschel wants!

HENSCHEL

[Who continues to imprison WALTHER'S wrist.] Hanne is to come here: that's all.

MRS. WERMELSKIRCH

[To SIEBENHAAR.] The men were drinking their beer quite peacefully. Suddenly Mr. Henschel came in and began a dispute as though he were master here.

SIEBENHAAR

[With a deprecating gesture.] All right; all right. [To HENSCHEL.] What's happened to you, Henschel?

HENSCHEL

Mr. Siebenhaar, it's no fault o' mine. I couldn't help things comin' about this way. You may think what you please, Mr. Siebenhaar. I give you my word—'twasn't my fault.

SIEBENHAAR

You needn't excuse yourself to me, Henschel. I know you're a man of peace.

HENSCHEL

Yes. I was in your father's service long ago, an' even if it looks that way a thousand times over—it wasn't my fault that this here has happened. I don't know myself what I has done. I never was quarrelsome—that's certain! But now things has come about ...! They scratch an' they bite at me—all of 'em! An' now this man here has said things o' my wife that he's got to prove—prove!!—or God help him!

SIEBENHAAR

Why don't you let the people gossip?

HENSCHEL

Proofs! Proofs! Or God help him!

WALTHER

I can prove it an' I will. There are not many people in this room that don't know it as well as I. That there woman is on an evil way. 'Tis no fault o' mine, an' I wouldn't ha' mentioned it. But I'm not goin' to let you strike me. I'm no liar. I always speaks the truth! Ask it of anybody! Ask Mr. Siebenhaar here on his honour an' conscience! The sparrows is twitterin' it on every roof—an' worse things 'n that!

SIEBENHAAR

Think over what you're saying carefully, Walther.

WALTHER

He forces me to it! Why don't he let me go? Why is I to suffer for other people? You know it all as well as I? How did you used to stand with Henschel in other years when his first wife was alive? D'you think people don't know that? An' now you don't cross his threshold.

SIEBENHAAR

The relations between us are our private affair. And I will not permit remark or interference.

WALTHER

All right. But if first his wife dies, though she's as well as anybody, an' when Gustel goes an' dies eight weeks later, then, I'm thinkin' it's more'n a private affair!

HENSCHEL

What?—Hanne is to come!

MRS. HENSCHEL enters suddenly and quickly, just as she has come from her work and still drying her hands.

MRS. HENSCHEL

What're you roarin' about so?

HENSCHEL

'Tis well that you're here.—This man here says—

MRS. HENSCHEL

[Makes a movement as if to go.] Damned rot that it ...

HENSCHEL

You're to stay here!

MRS. HENSCHEL

Are you all drunk together? What're you thinkin' of, anyhow? D'you think I'm goin' to stay here an' play monkey tricks for you?

[She is about to go.

HENSCHEL

Hanne, I advise you ... This man here says ...

MRS. HENSCHEL

Aw, he c'n say what he wants to, for all I cares!

HENSCHEL

He says that you deceive me before my face an' behind my back!

MRS. HENSCHEL

What? What? What? What?

HENSCHEL

That's what he says! Is he goin' to dare to say that? An' that ... my wife ...

MRS. HENSCHEL

Me? Lies! Damned lies!

[She throws her apron over her face and rushes out.

HENSCHEL

That I ... that my wife ... that we together ... that our Gustel ... 'Tis well! 'Tis well!

[He releases WALTHER'S hand and lets his head sink, moaning, on the table.

WALTHER

I won't be made out a liar here.

THE CURTAIN FALLS.



THE FIFTH ACT

The same room as in the first three acts. It is night, but the moonlight throws a moderate brightness into the room. It is empty. Several days have passed since the occurrences in the fourth act.

A candle is lit in the small adjoining room; at the end of a few seconds HENSCHEL enters, carrying the candle in a candlestick of tin. He wears leathern breeches but his feet are cased in bedroom slippers. Slowly he approaches the table, gazes hesitatingly first backward, then toward the window, finally puts the candlestick on the table and sits down by the window. He leans his chin on his hand and stares at the moon.

MRS. HENSCHEL

[Invisible, from the adjoining chamber, calls:] Husband! Husband! What are you doin' out there?—the same mortal foolishness all the time! —[She looks in, but half-clad.] Where are you? Come 'n go to bed! 'Tis time to sleep! To-morrow you won't be able to go out again! You'll be lyin' like a sack o' meal and everythin' 'll go upside down in the yard. [She comes out, half-clad as she is, and approaches HENSCHEL hesitatingly and fearfully.] What are you doin', eh?

HENSCHEL

—Me?

MRS. HENSCHEL

Why are you sittin' there an' not sayin' a word?

HENSCHEL

I'm lookin' at the clouds.

MRS. HENSCHEL

Oh, no, my goodness; it's enough to confuse a person's head! What's to be seen up there, I'd like to know! The same worry, night after night. There's no rest in the world for nobody no more. What are you starin' at? Say somethin', won't you?

HENSCHEL

Up there!... That's where they are!

MRS. HENSCHEL

You're dreaming, eh? You, Wilhelm, wake up! Lay down in your bed an' go to sleep. There's nothin' but clouds up there!

HENSCHEL

Anybody that has eyes c'n see what there is!

MRS. HENSCHEL

An' anybody that gets confused in his mind goes crazy.

HENSCHEL

I'm not confused.

MRS. HENSCHEL I'm not sayin' that you are! But if you go on actin' this way, you will be!

[She shivers, pulls on a jacket, and stirs the ashes in the oven with a poker.

HENSCHEL

What time is it?

MRS. HENSCHEL

A quarter of two.

HENSCHEL

You've got a watch hangin' to you; it used to hang behind the door.

MRS. HENSCHEL

What fancies is you goin' to have next? 'Tis hangin' where it always did.

HENSCHEL

[Rising.] I think I'll go over to the stables a bit.

MRS. HENSCHEL

I tells you to go to bed, or I'll raise an alarm. You got nothin' to do in the stable now! 'Tis night, an' in bed is where you belong!

HENSCHEL

[Remains standing quietly and looking at HANNE.] Where's Gustel?

MRS. HENSCHEL

What are you botherin' for? She's lyin' in bed asleep! What are you always worritin' over the girl for? She don't lack for nothin'! I don't do nothin' to her!

HENSCHEL

She don't lack for nothin'. She's gone to bed. She's gone to sleep betimes—Gustel has. I don't mean Berthel.

MRS. HENSCHEL

[Wailing, stuffs her apron into her mouth.] I'll run away! I won't stay here!

HENSCHEL

—Go to bed, go! I'll come too. Your cryin' can't help no more now. 'Tis our Lord alone knows whose fault it is. You can't help it; you don't need to cry.—Our Lord an' me—we two, we knows.

[He turns the key in the door.

MRS. HENSCHEL

[Hastily turning it back again.] Why d'you lock the door? I won't stand bein' locked in.

HENSCHEL

I don't rightly know why I turned the key.

MRS. HENSCHEL

Them people has gone an' addled your brains for you! They'll have to answer some day for the things they've put into your head! I took as good care o' your girl as I did o' my own. She wouldn't ha' died o' that! But I can't wake the dead. If a body is to die, she dies—in this world. There's no holdin' people like that; they has to go. There never was much strength in Gustel—you know that as well as I. Why do you go axin' me an' lookin' at me as if I done God knows what to her!

HENSCHEL

[Suspiciously.] Maybe you did somethin'. 'Tis not impossible.

MRS. HENSCHEL

[Beside herself.] Oh, if somebody'd foretold this—I'd ha' gone beggin' my bread first. No, no, O my goodness, if I'd ha' known that! To have to listen to things like that! Didn't I want to go? An' who kept me back? Who held me fast in the house here? I could ha' made my livin' any time! I wasn't afraid; I could always work. But you didn't let up. Now I got my reward. Now I got to suffer for it!

HENSCHEL

'Tis true, maybe, that you has to suffer for it. Things comes as they come. What c'n a body do?

[He locks the door again.

MRS. HENSCHEL

You're to leave the door open, Wilhelm, or I'll cry for help!

HENSCHEL

—Sh! Keep still! Did you hear? There's somethin' runnin' along the passage. D'you hear? Now it goes to the washstand. D'you hear the splashin'? She's standin' there an' washin' herself!

MRS. HENSCHEL

You! Wilhelm! You're dreamin'! The wash-stand is in here!

HENSCHEL

That's just it! I know very well! They can't deceive me. I know what I know, [Hurriedly.] That's all I say.—Come, come, let's go to bed. Time'll show.

[While he approaches the door of the next room, Mrs. HENSCHEL softly unlocks the door to the hall and slips out.

HENSCHEL

[Taking down a whip from the frame of the door.] Why, that's my old Triest whip! Where does that old thing come from? I haven't seen it for over a year. That was bought in mother's time. [He listens.] What d'you say? Eh?—O' course ... Certainly.—Nothin'!—Well, s'posin'! An' why not? 'Tis well!—I know what I has to do!—I won't be stubborn.—You let that be too.

SIEBENHAAR enters by the door which is slightly ajar. By means of gestures he signifies to WERMELSKIRCH, who follows him, that the latter is to remain behind, also to MRS. HENSCHEL. He is fully clad except that he wears a silk kerchief instead of a collar. WERMELSKIRCH is in his dressing-gown.

SIEBENHAAR

Good evening, Mr. Henschel! What? Are you still up? You're not well, eh? What's the matter with you?

HENSCHEL

[After he has, for several seconds, regarded him with perplexity; simply:] I just can't sleep. I don't get sleepy at all! I'd like to take some medicine, if I knew any. I don't know how it comes. God knows!

SIEBENHAAR

I'll tell you somethin', old friend: You go quietly to bed now, and to-morrow, real early, I'll send the doctor in. You must really take some serious step now.

HENSCHEL

No doctor won't be able to help me.

SIEBENHAAR

You mustn't say that; we'll see about that! Doctor Richter knows his business. My wife couldn't sleep for weeks; her head ached as if it would burst. Last Monday she took a powder, and now she sleeps all night like the dead.

HENSCHEL

Yes, yes ... well, well ... 'Tis possible! I'd like it well enough if I could sleep.—Is the madam reel sick?

SIEBENHAAR

Oh, we're all a little under the weather. When once Monday is past, everything will straighten out again.

HENSCHEL

I s'pose you has to turn over the property on Monday.

SIEBENHAAR

Yes, I hope it will be possible to arrange it by Monday. In the meantime the work is heaping up so—what with writing and making the inventory—that I scarcely get out of my clothes. But come now, Henschel, and go to bed. One man has one trouble and another has another. Life is no joke and we must all see how we can best fight our way through. And even if many strange thoughts pass through your head—don't take them to heart so!

HENSCHEL

Thank you many times, Mr. Siebenhaar. Don't take anythin' in ill part, please. An' good luck to you an' your wife!

SIEBENHAAR

We'll see each other again to-morrow, Henschel. You owe me no thanks for anything. We've done each other many a service in the years that we've lived together here. And those services compensate for each other. We were good friends and, surely, we will remain such.

HENSCHEL

[Silently takes a few steps toward the window and looks out.]—Ah, them's queer things here. Time don't stand still in this world. Little Karl, he never came to see us no more ... I can't make no objection. Maybe you was right. The lad couldn't ha' learned nothin' good here. 'Twas different—once!

SIEBENHAAR

Henschel, I don't know what you mean now!

HENSCHEL

An' you didn't cross my threshold neither. 'Tis nine months since you did.

SIEBENHAAR

I had too much to worry me; that's all.

HENSCHEL

Those were the very times you used to come before. No, no, I know. You were right. An' the people are right too—all of 'em. I can't take no pride in myself no more.

SIEBENHAAR

Henschel, you must take some rest now.

HENSCHEL

No, no; we c'n talk about it a bit. You see, I know 'tis all my fault—I know that, an' with that we can let it be. But before I went an' took this woman—Hanne, I mean—before that it all began ... slowly it began, slowly—but downhill right along. First thing, a good bonehandled whip broke. After that, I remember it right well, I drove over my dog an' he died. 'Twas the best little dog I had. Then, one right after another, three o' my horses died; an' one of 'em was the fine stallion that cost me five hundred crowns. An' then, last of all ... my wife died. I noticed it well enough in my own thoughts that fate was against me. But when my wife went away from me, I had a minute in my own mind when I thought to myself: Now it's enough. There's not much else that c'n be taken from me. But you see, there was somethin' else.—I don't want to talk about Gustel. A man loses first his wife an' then a child—that's common. But no: a snare was laid for me an' I stepped into it.

SIEBENHAAR

Who laid a snare for you?

HENSCHEL

Maybe the devil; maybe, too, somebody else. It's throttlin' me—that's certain.

[Pause.]

SIEBENHAAR

That's a most unhappy notion of yours ...

HENSCHEL

An' I'm denyin' nothin'. A bad man I've come to be, only it's no fault o' mine. I just, somehow, stumbled into it all. Maybe it's my fault too. You c'n say so if you want to. Who knows? I should ha' kept a better watch. But the devil is more cunnin' than me. I just kept on straight ahead.

SIEBENHAAR

Henschel, you're just your own worst enemy. You're fighting phantoms which have no existence at any time or place. The devil has done nothing to you, nor have you stepped into any snare. And no one is throttling you either. That is all nonsense. And such fancies are dangerous.

HENSCHEL

We'll see; we c'n wait an' see.

SIEBENHAAR

Well, tell me something definite. You won't be able to do it, however you try. You are neither bad, as you say, nor are you burdened by any guilt.

HENSCHEL

Ah, I know better.

SIEBENHAAR

Well, what is your guilt?

HENSCHEL

Here stood the bed. An' she was lyin' in it. An' here I gave her my promise. I gave her my promise an' I've broken it!

SIEBENHAAR

What promise was that?

HENSCHEL

You know well enough!—I broke it an' when I did that, I was lost. I was done for. The game was up.—An' you see: now she can't find no rest.

SIEBENHAAR

Are you speaking of your dead wife?

HENSCHEL

'Tis of her, of her exackly that I'm speakin'. She can't find no rest in the grave. She comes an' she goes an' she finds no rest.—I curry the horses; there she stands. I take a sieve from the feed-bin, an' I see her sittin' behind the door. I mean to go to bed in the little room; 'tis she that's lyin' in the bed an' lookin' at me.—She's hung a watch aroun' my neck; she knocks at the wall; she scratches on the panes.—She puts her finger on my breast an' I'm that smothered, I has to gasp for air. No, no, I know best. You got to go through a thing like that before you know what it is. You can't tell about It. I've gone through a deal—you c'n believe me.

SIEBENHAAR

Henschel, this is my last word to you: Gather all the strength you have in you; plant yourself firmly on both legs. Go and consult a physician. Tell yourself that you are ill, very ill, but drive these phantoms away. They are mere cobwebs of the brain, mere fancies.

HENSCHEL

That's what you said that there time, too. Just so or somethin' like it you said.

SIEBENHAAR

Very likely, and I'm willing to stand by it now. What you did in the matter of your marriage, it was your entire right to do. There was no question of any sin or guilt.

WERMELSKIRCH steps forward.

WERMELSKIRCH

Henschel, come over to me. We'll light the gas and play cards. We'll drink beer or whatever you want to and smoke a pipe with it; then the ghosts can come if they want to. In two hours it will be bright daylight. Then we can drink some coffee and take a walk. The devil is in this if you can't be made to be your old self again.

HENSCHEL

Maybe so; we c'n try it all right.

WERMELSKIRCH

Well then, come along.

HENSCHEL

I won't go to your place no more.

WERMELSKIRCH

On account of that little nonsense the other day? That was only a misunderstanding. And all that has been cleared up. I simply won't let Hauffe come in any more. The fellow is always drunk; that's a fact. Things are often said in heat that simply enter at one ear and pass out at the other. And that's the way to treat such incidents, I always do.

HENSCHEL

An' that'd be best too. You're quite right. But no—I won't be comin' into the barroom no more. I'm goin' to travel about a good bit, I think. Maybe they won't follow me all roun'. An' now sleep well. I'm feelin' sleepy too.

SIEBENHAAR

How would it be, Henschel, if you came up with me? There's light upstairs and my office is heated. There we can all three play a little game. I wouldn't lie down to-night anyhow.

HENSCHEL

Yes, yes; we could be doin' that together. 'Tis long since I've touched a card.

MRS. HENSCHEL

That's right. Go on up. You wouldn't be able to sleep nohow.

HENSCHEL

I'm not goin'! Y' understand me now?

MRS. HENSCHEL

Well, if you're goin' to stay, then I won't. God knows what you'll be up to this night. You'll begin to be playin' aroun' with knives again. Yes, that's what he did yesterday. A body's not sure o' her life no more.

HENSCHEL

You won't see me goin' up there. He advised me to do what I did, an' then he was the first one to despise me for doin' it.

SIEBENHAAR

Henschel, I never despised you. You're an honourable fellow, through and through; don't talk nonsense now. There are certain fates that come upon men. And what one has to bear is not easy. You have grown ill, but you have remained a good man. And for that truth I'll put my hand in the fire!

HENSCHEL

Maybe that's true too, Mr. Siebenhaar.—Let it be; we'll talk about somethin' else. 'Tisn't your fault; I always said that. An' I can't blame my brother-in law neither. He knows where he gets all that from, 'Tis she herself goes roun' to people an' tells 'em. She's everywhere—now here an' now there. I s'pose she was with her brother too.

WERMELSKIRCH

Who is it that goes about among people? Not a soul is thinking of that affair of the other night, That's quite forgotten by this time.

HENSCHEL

It sticks to me—it does—turn it any way you please. She knows how to go about it. She's everywhere, an' she'll persuade folks. An' even, if people was goin' to be silent for my sake an' wasn't after me like so many dogs—nothin' c'n do any good. It'll stick to me.

SIEBENHAAR

Henschel, we won't go away until you've put that, out of your mind. You must calm, yourself entirely.

HENSCHEL

Oh, I'm sensible now an' quiet, reel quiet.

SIEBENHAAR

Very well. In that case we can talk quite frankly. You see for yourself how your wife repents. That waiter fellow is gone; he's far away by this time and you'll never set your eyes on him again. Anyone may fall into sin—no matter who it is. And so take each other's hands. Bury that matter, hide it out of sight and be at peace.

HENSCHEL

I don't has to make no peace with her. [To HANNE.] I c'n give you my hand! I don't mind. That you've gone an' made a mistake—the Lord c'n judge that in this world. I won't condemn you on that account.—If only ... about Gustel ... if only we could know somethin' ... about that ... for certain!

MRS. HENSCHEL

You c'n both kill me this minute. May I drop dead if I did any harm to Gustel!!

HENSCHEL

That's what I've been sayin': It'll stick to me.—Well, we c'n talk it over again to-morrow. Before we get through talkin' about that, many a drop o' water'll have time to run into the sea, I'm thinkin'.

WERMELSKIRCH

Why don't you build a comfortable fire and cook a cup of hot coffee. After rain comes the sunshine. That's the way it is between married people. There will be storms in every marriage. But after the storm everything grows greener. The main thing is: Bye, baby, bye—[He imitates the gesture of one rocking a child in his arms.]—That's the right way. That's the thing that you two must get for yourselves. [Jovially patting HENSCHEL'S shoulder.] That's what the old man likes. You two must get together and buy a toy like that. Confound it, Henschel! It would be queer if that weren't easy. A giant of a man like you! Good night all.

SIEBENHAAR

Everything changes. One must have courage.

WERMELSKIRCH

Just keep cool and dress warmly—that's it!

SIEBENHAAR and WERMELSKIRCH withdraw. HENSCHEL goes slowly to the door and is about to lock it again.

MRS. HENSCHEL

You're to leave that open!

HENSCHEL

All right; I don't mind.—What are you doin' there?

MRS. HENSCHEL

[Who has been bending down before the oven, draws herself up quickly.] I'm makin' a fire. Don't you see that?

HENSCHEL

[Sitting down, heavily by the table.] For my part you c'n light the lamp too.

[He pulls out the drawer of the table.

MRS. HENSCHEL

What are you lookin' for?

HENSCHEL

Nothin'.

MRS. HENSCHEL

Then you c'n push it back in. [She steps forward and shuts the drawer.] I s'ppose you want to wake Berthel up?

[Pause.]

HENSCHEL

Monday he's goin'. Then we'll be alone.

MRS. HENSCHEL

Who's goin' on Monday?

HENSCHEL

Siebenhaar. The Lord knows how we'll get along with the new owner.

MRS. HENSCHEL

He's a rich man. He won't borrow money of you at least.

HENSCHEL

—Hanne, one of us two'll have to go. One of us two. Yes, yes,'tis true. You c'n look at me. That can't be changed.

MRS. HENSCHEL

I'm to go away? You want to drive me away?

HENSCHEL

We'll see about that later—who has to go! Maybe 'twill be me, an' maybe 'twill be you. If I was to go ... I know this for sure—you wouldn't be scared about yourself. You're able to look after the business like a man.—But 's I said: it don't matter about me.

MRS. HENSCHEL

If one of us has to go—I'll go. I'm still strong enough. I'll leave an' nobody needn't see me no more. The horses an' the waggons—they're all yours. You got the business from your father an' you can't go an' leave it. I'll go an' then the trouble'll be over.

HENSCHEL

'Tis easy sayin' that. We got to consider one thing at a time.

MRS. HENSCHEL

There's no use in drawin' it out. What's over and done with is over.

HENSCHEL

[Rising heavily and going toward the adjoining room.] An' Berthel? What's to become o' the lass?

MRS. HENSCHEL

She'll have to go to father, over in Quolsdorf.

HENSCHEL

[At the door of the bedroom.] Let it be. To-morrow is another day. Everythin' changes, as Siebenhaar says. To-morrow, maybe, everythin' 'll look different.

[Pause.]

HENSCHEL

[Invisible in the next room.] Berthel is sweating all over again.

MRS. HENSCHEL

That won't do her no harm to be sweatin' a bit. The drops are runnin' down my neck too. Oh, what a life—[She opens a window.]—a body'd rather be dead.

HENSCHEL

What are you talkin' about? I don't understand.

MRS. HENSCHEL

Lie down on your side an' leave me alone.

HENSCHEL

Are you comin' too?

MRS. HENSCHEL

It's most day now.

[She winds the clock.]

HENSCHEL

Who's windin' the clock?

MRS. HENSCHEL

You're to keep still now. If Berthel was to wake up it'd be a fine to do. She'd howl for half an hour. [She sits down at the table and leans both elbows upon it.] 'Twould be best if a body got up an' went away,

SIEBENHAAR peers in.

SIEBENHAAR I'm lookin' in once more. Is your husband calmer now?

MRS. HENSCHEL

Yes, yes, he lay down to sleep. [She calls.] Husband! Wilhelm!

SIEBENHAAR

Sh! You'd better be grateful. Hurry and go to bed yourself.

MRS. HENSCHEL

There's nothin' else left to do. I'll go an' try. [She goes to the door of the bedroom, stands still as if spellbound and listens.] Wilhelm! You might answer.—[Louder and more frightened.] Wilhelm! You're not to frighten me this way! Maybe you think I don't know that you're still awake!!—[In growing terror.]—Wilhelm, I tell you!... [BERTHEL has waked up and wails.] Berthel, you look out an' keep still! Keep still or I don't know what'll happen!—Wilhelm! Wilhelm!

[She almost shrieks.

SIEBENHAAR looks in again.

SIEBENHAAR

What's the matter, Mrs. Henschel?

MRS. HENSCHEL

I call an' call an' he don't answer!

SIEBENHAAR

Are you crazy? Why do you do that?

MRS. HENSCHEL

—'Tis so still ... Somethin's happened.

SIEBENHAAR

What?—[He takes up the candle and goes toward the bedroom door.] Henschel, have you fallen asleep?

[He enters the bedroom.

[Pause.]

MRS. HENSCHEL

[Not daring to follow him.] What is it? What is it? What's goin' on?

WERMELSKIRCH looks in.

WERMELSKIRCH

Who's in there?

MRS. HENSCHEL

Mr. Siebenhaar.—'Tis so still. Nobody don't answer.—

SIEBENHAAR

[Very pale and holding BERTHEL on his arm hurries out of the bedroom.] Mrs. Henschel, take your child and go up to my wife.

MRS. HENSCHEL

[Already with the child in her arms.] For God's sake, what has happened?

SIEBENHAAR

You'll find that out all too soon.

MRS. HENSCHEL

[With a voice that is first repressed and at last rises to a scream.] O God, he's done hisself some harm!

[She runs out with the child.

WERMELSKIRCH

Shall I call the doctor?

SIEBENHAAR

Too late! He could give no help here.

THE CURTAIN FALLS.



ROSE BERND



LIST OF PERSONS

BERND.

ROSE BERND.

MARTHEL.

CHRISTOPHER FLAMM.

MRS. FLAMM.

ARTHUR STRECKMANN.

AUGUST KEIL.

HAHN. HEINZEL. GOLISCH. KLEINERT. Field Labourers

OLD MRS. GOLISCH.

THE HEAD MAID SERVANT.

THE ASSISTANT MAID SERVANT.

A CONSTABLE.



THE FIRST ACT

A level, fertile landscape. It is a clear, warm, sunny morning in May. Diagonally from the middle to the foreground extends a path. The fields on either side are raised slightly above it. In the immediate foreground a small potato patch on which the green shoots are already visible. A shallow ditch, covered with field flowers, separates the path from the fields. To the left of the path on a slope about six feet in height an old cherry tree, to the right hazelnut and whitethorn bushes. Nearly parallel with this path, but at some distance in the background, the course of a brook is marked by willows and alder trees. Solitary groves of ancient trees add a park-like appearance to the landscape. In the background, left, from among bushes and tree-tops arise the gables and the church steeple of the village. A crucifix stands by the wayside in the foreground, right. It is Sunday.

ROSE BERND, a beautiful, vigorous peasant girl of twenty-two emerges, excited and blushing, from the bushes at the left and sits down on the slope, after having peered shyly and eagerly in all directions. Her skirt is caught up, her feet are bare, as are her arms and neck. She is busily braiding one of her long, blonde tresses. Shortly after her appearance a man comes stealthily from the bushes on the other side. It is the landowner and magistrate, CHRISTOPHER FLAMM. He, too, gives the impression of being embarrassed but at the same time amused. His personality is not undignified; his dress betrays something of the sportsman, nothing of the dandy—laced boots, hunter's hose, a leather bottle slung by a strap across his shoulder. Altogether FLAMM is robust, unspoiled, vivid and broad-shouldered and creates a thoroughly pleasant impression. He sits down on the slope at a carefully considered distance from ROSE. They look at each other silently and then break out into inextinguishable laughter.

FLAMM

[With rising boldness and delight sings ever louder and more heartily, beating time like a conductor.]

"In heath and under greenwood tree, There is the joy I choose for me! I am a huntsman bold I am a huntsman bold!"

ROSE

[Is at first frightened by his singing; then, more and more amused, her embarrassment gives way to laughter.] Oh, but Mr. Flamm ...

FLAMM

[With a touch of jaunty boldness.] Sing with me, Rosie!

ROSE

Oh, but I can't sing, Mr. Flamm.

FLAMM

Ah, that isn't true, Rosie. Don't I hear you often and often singing out on the farm:

"A huntsman from the Rhineland ..." Well! "Rides through the forest green."

ROSE

But I don't know that song a bit, Mr. Flamm.

FLAMM

You're not to say Mr. Flamm! Come now!

"Girlie, come and move Here to my favourite si-i-ide!"

ROSE

[Anxiously.] The people will be comin' from church in a minute, Mr. Flamm.

FLAMM

Let 'em come! [He gets up and takes his rifle from the hollow cherry tree to the left.] I'd better hang it around again anyhow. So.—And now my hat and my pipe! Good. They can come whenever they please. [He has slung his gun across his shoulder, straightened his hat which is ornamented with a cock's feather, taken a short pipe out of his pocket and put it between his lips.] Look at the wild cherries. They're thick. [He picks up a handful of them and shows them to ROSE. With heartfelt conviction:] Rosie, I wish you were my wife!

ROSE

Goodness, Mr. Flamm!

FLAMM

I do, so help me!

ROSE

[Nervously trying to restrain him] Oh no, no!

FLAMM

Rosie, give me your dear, good, faithful little paw. [He holds her hand and sits down.] By heaven, Rosie! Look here, I'm a deucedly queer fellow! I'm damned fond of my dear old woman; that's as true as ...

ROSE

[Hiding her face in her arm.] You make me want to die o' shame.

FLAMM

Damned fond of her I tell you ... but—[His patience snaps.]—this doesn't concern her a bit!

ROSE

[Again tempted to laugh against her will.] Oh, but how you talk, Mr. Flamm!

FLAMM

[Filled with hearty admiration of her.] Oh, you're a lovely woman! You are lovely! You see: my wife and I ... that's a queer bit of business, that is. Not the kind of thing that can be straightened out in a minute. You know Henrietta ... She's sick. Nine solid years she's been bedridden; at most she creeps around in a wheel chair.—Confound it all, what good is that sort o' thing to me?

[He grasps her head and kisses her passionately.

ROSE

[Frightened under his kisses.] The people are comin' from church!

FLAMM

They're not thinking of it! Why are you so worried about the people in church to-day?

ROSE

Because August's in church too.

FLAMM

That long-faced gentry is always in church! Where else should they be? But, Rosie, it isn't even half past ten yet; and when the service is over the bells ring. No, and you needn't be worried about my wife either.

ROSE

Oh, Christopher, she keeps lookin' at a body sometimes, so you want to die o' shame.

FLAMM

You don't know my old lady; that's it. She's bright; she can look through three board walls! But on that account ...! She's mild and good as a lamb ... even if she knew what there is between us; she wouldn't take our heads off.

ROSE

Oh, no! For heaven's sake, Mr. Flamm!

FLAMM

Nonsense, Rosie! Have a pinch, eh? [He takes snuff.] I tell you once more: I don't care about anything! [Indignantly.] What is a man like me to do? What, I ask you? No, don't misunderstand me! Surely you know how seriously I think of our affair. Let me talk ahead once in a while.

ROSE

Mr. Christie, you're so good to me ...! [With a sudden ebullition of tenderness, tears in her eyes, she kisses FLAMM'S hand.] So good ... but ...

FLAMM

[Moved and surprised.] Good to you? No wonder! Deuce take me, Rosie. That's very little, being good to you. If I were free, I'd marry you. You see, I've lost the ordinary way in life! Not to speak of past affairs! I'm fit for ... well, I wonder what I am fit for! I might have been a royal chief forester to-day! And yet, when the governor died, I went straight home and threw over my career. I wasn't born for the higher functions of society. All this even is too civilised for me. A block house, a rifle, bear's ham for supper and a load of lead sent into the breeches of the first comer—that would be ...!

ROSE

But that can't be had, Mr. Flamm! And ... things has got to end sometime.

FLAMM

[Half to himself.] Confound it all to everlasting perdition! Isn't there time enough left for that spindle-shanked hypocrite? Won't there be far too much left for that fellow anyway? No> girlie, I'd send him about his business.

ROSE

Oh, but I've kept him danglin' long enough. Two years an' more he's been waitin'. Now he's urgent; he won't wait any longer. An' things can't go on this way no more.

FLAMM

[Enraged.] That's all nonsense; you understand. First you worked yourself to the bone for your father. You haven't the slightest notion of what life is, and now you want to be that bookbinder's pack horse. I don't see how people can be so vulgar and heartless as to make capital out of another human being in that way! If that's all you're looking forward to, surely there's time enough.

ROSE

No, Christie ... It's easy to talk that way, Mr. Flamm! But if you was put into such circumstances, you'd be thinkin' different too.—I know how shaky father's gettin'! An' the landlord has given us notice too. A new tenant is to move in, I believe! An' then it's father's dearest wish that everythin's straightened out.

FLAMM

Then let your father marry August Keil, if he's so crazy about the fellow. Why, he's positively obsessed. It's madness the way he's taken with that man!

ROSE

You're unjust, Mr. Flamm; that's all.

FLAMM

Say rather ... Well, what? What was I going to say?... I can't bear that sanctimonious phiz! My gorge rises at the sight of him. God forgive me, Rosie, and forgive you especially! Why shouldn't I be open with you? It may be that he has his merits. They say, too, that he's saved up a few shillings. But that's no reason why you should go and drown yourself in his paste-pot!

ROSE

No, Christopher! Don't talk that way! I musn't listen to such talk, the dear Lord knows!—August, he's been through a lot!—His sickness an' his misfortunes—that goes right to a person's soul ...

FLAMM

A man can never understand you women folks. You're an intelligent and determined girl, and suddenly, on one point, your stupidity is simply astonishing—goose-like, silly! It goes straight to your soul, does it? From that point of view you might as well marry an ex-convict, if pity or stupidity are reasons. You ought to raise a bit of a row with your father for once! What's hurting August? He grew up in the orphan house and succeeded in making his way for all that. If you won't have him, his brethren in the Lord will find him another. They're expert enough at that!

ROSE

[With decision.] No, that won't do. And—it has got to be, Mr. Flamm.—I'm not sorry for what's happened, though I've had my share o' sufferin' in quiet. All to myself, I mean. But never mind. An' nothin' can change that now. But it's got to come to an end some day—it can't never an' never go on this way.

FLAMM

Can't go on? What do you mean by that exactly?

ROSE

Just ... because things is no different in this world. I can't put him off no longer; an' father wouldn't bear with it. An' he's quite right in that matter. Dear Lord ha' mercy! 'Tis no easier on that account! But when it'll all be off a body's soul ... I don't know—[She touches her breast.] they calls it, I believe, strain o' the heart, Oh, times are when I has real pains in my heart ... An' a person can't feel that way all the time.

FLAMM

Well, then there's nothing more to be done just now. It's time for me to be getting home. [He gets up and throws the rifle across his shoulder.] Another time then, Rosie. Good-bye!

ROSE stares straight in front of her without answering.

FLAMM

What's the matter, Rosie? Won't there be another time?

ROSE shakes her head.

FLAMM

What, have I hurt you, Rosie?

ROSE

There'll never be another time—like this—Mr. Flamm.

FLAMM

[With despairing passion.] Girl, I don't care if it costs me everything ...

[He embraces her and kisses her again and again.

ROSE

[Suddenly in extreme terror.] For the love o' ... some one's comin', Mr. Flamm!

FLAMM in consternation, jumps up and disappears behind a bush.

ROSE gets up hastily, straightens her hair and her dress and looks anxiously about her. As no one appears she takes up the hoe and begins to weed the potato patch. After a while there approaches, unnoticed by her, the machinist ARTHUR STRECKMANN dressed in his Sunday coat. He is what would generally be called a handsome man—large, broad-shouldered, his whole demeanour full of self-importance. He has a blond beard that extends far down his chest. His garments, from his jauntily worn huntsman's hat to his highly polished boots, his walking coat and his embroidered waistcoat, are faultless and serve to show, in connection with his carriage, that STRECKMANN not only thinks very well of himself but is scrupulously careful of his person and quite conscious of his unusual good looks.

STRECKMANN

[As though but now becoming conscious of ROSE'S presence, in an affectedly well-modulated voice.] Good day, Rosie.

ROSE

[Turns frightened.] Good day, Streckmann. [In an uncertain voice] Why, where did you come from? From church?

STRECKMANN

I went away a bit early.

ROSE

[Excitedly and reproachfully.] What for? Couldn't you put up with the sermon?

STRECKMANN

[Boldly.] Oh, it's such beautiful weather out. An' that's why! I left my wife in the church too. A feller has got to be by himself once in a while.

ROSE

I'd rather be in church.

STRECKMANN

That's where the women folks belongs.

ROSE

I shouldn't wonder if you had your little bundle o' sins. You might ha' been prayin' a bit.

STRECKMANN

I'm on pretty good terms with the Lord. He don't keep such very particular accounts o' my sins.

ROSE

Well, well!

STRECKMANN

No, he don't bother with me much.

ROSE

A vain, fool—that's what you is!

STRECKMANN laughs in a deep and affected tone.

ROSE

If you was a real man, you wouldn't have to go an' beat your wife at home.

STRECKMANN

[With a gleam in his eyes.] That shows that I'm a real man! That shows it! That's proper! A man's got to show you women that he's the master.

ROSE

Don't be fancyin' such foolishness.

STRECKMANN

That's so, for all you say. Right is right. An' I never failed to get what I was wantin' that way.

ROSE laughs constrainedly.

STRECKMANN

People says you're goin' to leave Flamm's service.

ROSE

I'm not in Flamm's service at all. You see now that I'm doin' other things.

STRECKMANN

You were helpin' at Flamm's no later'n yesterday.

ROSE

Maybe so! Maybe I was or maybe I wasn't! Look after your own affairs.

STRECKMANN

Is it true that your father has moved?

ROSE

Where to?

STRECKMANN

With August over into Lachmann's house.

ROSE

August hasn't even bought the house yet. Those people—they knows more than I.

STRECKMANN

An' they says too that you'll be celebratin' your weddin' soon.

ROSE

They can be talkin' for all I care.

STRECKMANN

[After a brief silence approaches her and stands before her with legs wide apart.] Right you are! You can marry him any time. A fine girl like you don't need to hurry so; she can have a real good time first! I laughed right in his face when he told me. There's no one believes him.

ROSE

[Quickly.] Who's been sayin' it?

STRECKMANN

August Keil.

ROSE

August himself? An' this is what he gets from his silly talkin'.

STRECKMANN

[After a silence.] August he's such a peevish kind....

ROSE

I don't want to hear nothing. Leave me alone! Your quarrels don't concern me! One o' you is no better'n another.

STRECKMANN

Well, in some things—when it comes to bein' bold.

ROSE

Oh, heavens! That boldness o' yours. We knows that. Go about an' asks the women folks a bit. No, August isn't that kind.

STRECKMANN

[Laughs with lascivious boastfulness.] I'm not denyin' that.

ROSE

An' you couldn't.

STRECKMANN

[Looking at her sharply through half-closed lids.] It's not comfortable to make a fool o' me. What I wants of a woman—I gets.

ROSE

[Jeeringly.] Oho!

STRECKMANN

Yes, oho! What would you wager, Rosie! You been makin' eyes at me many a time.

[He has approached and offered to put his arms around her.

ROSE

Don't be foolish, Streckmann! Keep your hands off o' me!

STRECKMANN

If it was....

ROSE

[Thrusts him away.] Streckmann! I've been tellin' you! I don't want to have nothin' to do with you men. Go your own way.

STRECKMANN

What am I doin' to you?—[After a silence with a smile that is half malicious, half embarrassed.] You wait! You'll be comin' to me one o' these days! I'm tellin' you: you'll be comin' to me yourself some day! You can act as much like a saint as you wants to.—D'you see that cross? D'you see that tree? Confound it! There's all kinds o' things! I've been no kind o' a saint myself! But ... right under a cross ... you might be sayin' just that ... I'm not so very partic'lar, but I'd take shame at that. What would your father be sayin' or August? Now, just f'r instance: this pear tree is hollow. Well an' good. There was a rifle in there.

ROSE

[Has been listening more and more intently in the course of her work. Deadly pale and quivering she bursts out involuntarily:] What are you sayin'?

STRECKMANN

Nothin'!—I'm sayin' nothin' more.—But when a feller hasn't no notion of nothin' an' is thinkin' no ill, a wench like you acts as high an' mighty!

ROSE

[Losing self-control and leaping in front of him in her terror.] What is't you say?

STRECKMANN

[Calmly returning her terrible gaze.] I said: A wench like you.

ROSE

An' what's the meanin' o' that?

STRECKMANN

That's got no special meanin'.

ROSE

[Clenches her fists and pierces him with her eyes in an intense passion of rage, hate, terror and consternation until in the consciousness of her powerlessness she drops her arms and utters almost whiningly the words:] I'll know how to get my good right about this!

[Holding her right arm before her weeping eyes and wiping her face with the left, she returns, sobbing brokenly, to her work.

STRECKMANN

[Looks after her with his old expression of malicious coldness and determination. Gradually he is seized with a desire to laugh and finally bursts out:] That's the way things go! Don't worry a bit.—What do you take me for anyhow, Rose? What's the row about? This kind o' thing don't do no harm! Why shouldn't a person fool her neighbours? Why not? Who made 'em so stupid? Them as can do it are the finest women in the world! Of course, a man like me knows how things are! You can believe me—I've always known about you.

ROSE

[Beside herself.] Streckmann! I'll do myself some harm! Do you hear? Or else go away from our bit o' patch! Go ... I ... something awful will happen, I tell you!

STRECKMANN

[Sits down and claps his flat hands over his knees.] For goodness' sake! Don't carry on so! D'you think I'll be goin' about everywhere an' tellin' what I know an' rakin' you over the coals? How does it concern me, I'd like to know, what your goin's on are?

ROSE

I'll go home an' hang myself on a beam! That's what Mary Schubert did too.

STRECKMANN

That was a different thing with her! That girl had different things on her conscience! An' I didn't have nothin' to do with her.—But if every woman was to go an' hang herself on account o' what you've done—there wouldn't be no more women in this world. That sort o' thing happens wherever you look—everywhere—that's the way things is. O' course, I have to laugh. That father o' yours, he carries himself so high! The way he stares at a feller that's gone a bit off the narrow way. It's enough to make you want to go an' hide your face. Well—people ought to begin at home ...

ROSE

[Trembling in the terror of her heart.] O dear Lord, have mercy!

STRECKMANN

Can you deny that I'm right? You people stick in piety up to the very eyes—your father an' August Keil an' you too! A feller like me can't compete with you there.

ROSE

[With a new outburst of despair.] It's a lie ... a lie! You saw nothing!

STRECKMANN

No? Saw nothing? Well, I'll be...! Then I must ha' been dreamin'. That's what it must ha' been! If that wasn't Squire Flamm from Diessdorf! I haven't had a drop o' anythin' to-day. Didn't he play at drivin' you by the braids o' your hair? Didn't he throw you into the grass? [With uncontrollable, hard laughter.] He had a good hold on you!

ROSE

Streckmann, I'll beat your head in with my hoe!

STRECKMANN

[Still laughing.] Listen to that! What now? You're not goin' to cut up so rough! Why shouldn't you ha' done it? I don't blame you. First come, first served: that's the way o' the world.

ROSE

[Weeping and moaning in her helpless grief and yet working convulsively.] A feller like that, presumes to ...!

STRECKMANN

[Enraged and brutally.] It's you that presumes! 'Tisn't me that does! Not that I'd mind presumin' a good deal. If Flamm's good enough, it's certain that I am!

ROSE

[Sobbing and crying out in her despair.] I've been a decent girl all my life long! Let anybody come an' say somethin' against me if he can! I took care o' three little brothers an' sisters! Three o'clock in the mornin' I've gotten up, an' not so much as taken a drop o' milk! An' people knows that! Every child knows it!

STRECKMANN

Well, you needn't make such a noise about it! The bells is ringin' and the people is comin' from church. You might be a bit sociable with a feller. You people are just burstin' with pride. Maybe it's true ... things look as if it was. I'm not sayin' but what you're a good worker an' a good saver. But otherwise you're no better'n other folks.

ROSE

[Gazing into the distance; in extreme fear.] Isn't that August that's comin' there?

STRECKMANN

[Looks in the same direction toward the village. Contemptuously:] Where? Oh, yes, that's him! There they both are! They're just walkin' around the parson's garden. Well, what about it? You think I ought to be gettin' away? I'm not afeard o' them psalm-singin' donkeys.

ROSE

[In quivering fear.] Streckmann, I've saved up twelve crowns ...

STRECKMANN

Rosie, you know you've saved more than that.

ROSE

All right, I'll give you all my bit o' savin's! I don't care for the money ... I'll bring it to you, to the last farthing. Streckmann, only have pity ...

[She seeks to grasp his hands beseechingly, but he draws them away.

STRECKMANN

I takes no money.

ROSE

Streckmann! For the sake o' all good things in the world ...

STRECKMANN

Well now, I can't see why you don't act sensible.

ROSE

If one person in the village finds that out....

STRECKMANN

It depends on you! Nobody needn't know. All you need to do is not to force it on 'em ... [With sudden passion.] What's at the bottom of it?—I'm crazy about you ...

ROSE

Where's the woman or girl you're not crazy about!

STRECKMANN

Maybe it's so. I can't change things. A man like me who has to go the round o' all the estates in the country with his threshin' machine—he don't have worry because he's not talked about. I know best how it is with me. Before ever Flamm came—I'm not mentionin' August—I'd thrown an eye on you. An' nobody knows what it's cost me. [With iron stubbornness.] But the devil fetch me now! Come what may, Rosie! There's no more use tryin' to joke with me! I happened to come upon somethin' to-day!

ROSE

An' what is it?

STRECKMANN

You'll see soon enough.

MARTHEL, ROSE'S younger sister, comes skipping along the field-path. She is neatly dressed in her Sunday garments and is still pronouncedly child-like.

MARTHEL

[Calls out.] Rose, is that you? What are you doin' here?

ROSE

I've got to finish hoein' the patch. Why didn't you stop to finish it o' Saturday?

MARTHEL

Oh, dearie me, Rosie, if father sees you!

STRECKMANN

If there's a bit o' profit in it, he won't do nothing very bad. You let old Bernd alone for that!

MARTHEL

Who is that, Rosie?

ROSE

Oh, don't ask me!

Old BERND and AUGUST KEIL are approaching along the field-path from the village. The old, white-haired man, as well as the other who is about thirty-five years old, is dressed in his Sunday coat and each carries a hymn book. Old BERND has a white beard; his voice has a certain softness as though he had had and been cured of a severe pulmonary affection. One might imagine him to be a dignified retired family coachman. AUGUST KEIL, who is a bookbinder, has a pale face, thin, dark moustache and pointed beard. His hair is growing notably thin and he suffers from occasional nervous twitching. He is lean, narrow-chested; his whole appearance betrays the man of sedentary employment.

BERND

Isn't that Rosie?

AUGUST

Yes, father Bernd.

BERND

You can't nowise make the girl stop that. When the fit takes her, she's got to go an' toil—if it's weekday or holiday. [He is quite near her by this time.] Is there not time enough o' weekdays?

AUGUST

You do too much, Rosie! There's no need o' that!

BERND

If our good pastor saw that, it'd hurt him to the very soul. He wouldn't trust his own eyes.

AUGUST

An' he's been askin' for you again.

STRECKMANN

[Suggestively.] They say, too, as he wants her to be his housekeeper.

BERND

[Noticing him for the first time.] Why, that's Streckmann!

STRECKMANN

Yes, here I am, life-size. That girl, she's as busy as an ant or a bee! She'll be workin' if her sides crack. She's got no time to be sleepin' in the church.

BERND

It's little sleepin' we does there, I tell you. You might better say that them as are out here do the sleepin' an' don't want no awakenin'. The Bridegroom is at hand ...

STRECKMANN

An' that's certainly true! But the bride, meantime, runs off!

AUGUST

You're in a merry mood this day.

STRECKMANN

Yes, that I am. I could hug a curbstone ... or the handle o' your collection bag. I do feel most uncommonly jolly. I could laugh myself sick.

BERND

[To ROSE.] Put up your things an' we'll go home! Not that way! That way I'm not goin' home with you! Put your hoe in the hollow of the tree! Carryin' that o' Sunday would give offence.

AUGUST

There's them that even gads about with guns.

STRECKMANN

An' devils that take no shame carryin' a whisky-bottle.

[He pulls his bottle out of his pocket.

AUGUST

Each man does those things on his own responsibility.

STRECKMANN

True. An' at his own expense! Come, take courage an' have a drink with me for once.

[He holds out the bottle to AUGUST who pays no attention to him.

BERND

You know well enough that August drinks no spirits!—Whereabouts is your threshin' machine now?

STRECKMANN

But you, father Bernd; you can't go an' refuse to take a drop with me! You've been a distiller yourself! My machine is on the great estate down below.

BERND

[Takes the bottle hesitatingly.] Just because it's you, Streckmann, otherwise I wouldn't be touchin' it. When I was manager of the estate, I had to do a good many things! But I never liked to distil the drink an' I didn't touch it in them days at all.

STRECKMANN

[To AUGUST who has placed a spade in the hollow of the cherry tree.] You just look at that tree! Piff, paff! All you got to do is to take your aim and let it fly.

BERND

There's people that goes hunting o' Sundays.

STRECKMANN

Squire Flamm.

BERND

Just so. We ha' met him. 'Tis bad. I'm sorry for them folks.

STRECKMANN throws cock-chafers at ROSE.

ROSE

[Trembling.] Streckmann!

BERND

What's wrong?

AUGUST

What's the meanin' o' that?

STRECKMANN

Nothin'! We've got a little private quarrel!

AUGUST

You can have your little quarrels. But it'd be better if you had 'em without her.

STRECKMANN

[With malicious hostility.] You take care, August! Watch out!

BERND

Peace! Don't be quarrelsome! In God's name!

STRECKMANN

The dam' carrion always spits at me!

AUGUST

Carrion is a dead beast ...!

STRECKMANN

August, let's be at peace. Father Bernd is right; people ought to like each other! An' it isn't Christian the way you act sour like! Come on now! Have a drink! You're not good-lookin', your worst enemy'd have to admit that, but you're fine when it comes to readin' an' writin' an' you've got your affairs pretty well arranged! Well, then, here's to your weddin'—an early one an' a merry one!

BERND takes the bottle and drinks since AUGUST remains quite unresponsive.

STRECKMANN

I take that real kind o' you, father Bernd.

BERND

When it comes to drinkin' to a happy weddin', I makes an exception!

STRECKMANN

Exactly! That's proper! That's right!—It isn't as if I was a horse-boy to-day as in the old times on the estate when you had the whip hand o' me. I've gotten to be a reputable kind o' feller. Anybody that's got a head on his shoulders makes his way.

BERND

God bestows his favours on them he wants to.—[To AUGUST.] Drink to a happy weddin'.

AUGUST

[Takes the bottle.] May God grant it! We don't have to drink to it.

STRECKMANN

[Slapping his thigh.] An' may he give plenty o' little Augusts, so that the grandfather can be glad. An' the oldest of 'em all must grow up to be a squire!—But now you ought to let Rosie have a drink too.

BERND

You're weepin', Rosie. What's troublin' you?

MARTHEL

The tears keep runnin' out o' her eyes all the time.

AUGUST

[To ROSE.] Drink a drop, so's to let him have his will.

ROSE takes the bottle, overcoming her repugnance by a violent effort.

STRECKMANN

Right down with it now! Let's be jolly!

ROSE drinks trembling and hands back the bottle to AUGUST with undisguised disgust.

BERND

[Softly in his paternal pride to STRECKMANN.] There's a girl for you! He'd better keep a good hold o' her.

THE CURTAIN FALLS.



THE SECOND ACT

The large living room in FLAMM'S house. The large, low room which is on a level with the ground has a door at the right leading to the outer hall. A second door in the rear hall leads into a smaller chamber, filled with hunting implements, etc., which FLAMM calls his den. When this door is open, garments and rifles and stuffed bird heads are to be seen covering the walls of the smaller room. In it stands, also, the chest of drawers in which FLAMM stores the documents kept by him as magistrate. The large room with its three windows on the left side, its dark beams and its furnishings creates an impression of home-likeness and comfort. In the left corner stands a large sofa covered with material of an old-fashioned, flowery pattern. Before it stands an extension table of oak. Above the door of the den hangs a glass case containing a group of stuffed partridges. Immediately to the right of this door a key-rack with keys. Not far from this stands a bookcase with glass doors which is filled with books. Upon this bookcase stands a stuffed owl and next to it hangs a cuckoo clock. A great tile oven of dappled blue occupies the right corner of the room. In all the three windows of the left wall are potted plants in bloom. The window beside the table is open as well as the one farther forward. In front of the latter MRS. FLAMM is sitting in an invalid's chair. All the windows have mull curtains. Not far from the window nearest to the spectator there is an old chest of drawers covered by a lace scarf upon which are to be seen glasses, bric-a-brac and family mementos of various kinds. On the wall above hang family photographs. Between the oven and the door that leads to the outer hall stands an old-fashioned grand piano and an embroidered piano-stool. The keyboard of the instrument is turned toward the tile oven. Above the piano there are glass cases containing a collection of butterflies. In the foreground, to the right, a brightly polished roller-top desk of oak with a simple chair. Several such chairs are set against the mall near the desk. Between the windows an old armchair covered with brown leather. Above the table a large brass lamp of English manufacture is suspended. Above the desk hangs the large photograph of a handsome little boy of five. The picture is in a simple wooden frame wreathed in fresh field flowers. On top of the desk a large globe of glass covers a dish of forget-me-nots. It is eleven o'clock in the forenoon on a magnificent day of late spring.

_MRS. FLAMM is an attractive, matronly woman of forty. She wears a smooth, black alpaca dress with a bodice of old-fashioned cut, a small cap of white lace on her head, a lace collar and soft lace cuffs which all but cover her emaciated, sensitive hands. A book and a handkerchief of delicate material lie in her lap. MRS. FLAMM'S features are not without magnanimity and impressiveness. Her eyes are light blue and piercing, her forehead high, her temples broad. Her hair, already gray and thin is plainly parted in the middle. From time to time she strokes it gently with her finger tips. The expression of her face betrays kindliness and seriousness without severity. About her eyes, her nose and her mouth there is a flicker of archness.

MRS. FLAMM

[Looks thoughtfully out into the open, sighs, becomes absorbed in her book for a moment, then listens and closes her book after inserting a bookmark. Finally she turns toward the door and speaks in a slightly raised, sympathetic voice.] Whoever is out there ... come in! [A tap is heard, the door to the hall is slightly opened and the head of old BERND is seen.] Well, who is it? Ah, that's father Bernd, our deacon and trustee. Come right in! I'm not going to bite you.

BERND

We was wantin' to speak to the squire.

[He enters, followed by AUGUST KEIL. Both are once more in their best clothes.

MRS. FLAMM

Well, well, you do look solemn.

BERND

Good mornin', Missis.

MRS. FLAMM

Good day to you, father Bernd.—My husband was in his den there a minute ago. [Referring to AUGUST.] And there is your future son-in-law too.

BERND

Yes, by God's help, Mrs. Flamm.

MRS. FLAMM

Well, then, do take a seat. I suppose you want to make official announcement of the marriage? It's to be at last.

BERND

Yes, thanks be to God; everythin' is in readiness now.

MRS. FLAMM

I'm glad o' that. This waiting leads to very little. If something is to be, then 'tis better to have it done! So the girl has made up her mind to it at last?

BERND

Yes. An' it's like takin' a stone off my heart. She has kept us all hangin' about this long time. Now she wants to hurry of her own free will. She'd rather have the weddin' to-day than to-morrow.

MRS. FLAMM

I'm very glad of that, Mr. Keil! Very glad, indeed, Bernd. Christie! I think my husband will be here presently! So this matter has been adjusted at last! Well, father Bernd, I think you ought to feel that you're lucky! You must be well content.

BERND

An' so I am! You're right indeed, Mrs. Flamm! Day before yesterday we talked it all over. An' God has given us an especial blessin' too. For August went to see the lady of Gnadau an' she was so extraordinar' kind-hearted as to loan him a thousand crowns. An' with that he can go an' buy the Lachmann house now.

MRS. FLAMM

Is that true? Is that possible? Now there you see again how life is, father Bernd. When your master let you go without a bit o' pension or anything for your old age, you were quite desperate and hopeless. An' 'twas an unfeeling thing to do! But now God has turned everything to good.

BERND

So it is! But men has too little faith!

MRS. FLAMM

Well, then! Now you're well off! In the first place the house is right opposite the church, an' then it has a good bit o' land that goes with it! And Rose, well, I'm sure she knows how to manage. Yes, you can really be satisfied.

BERND

The blessin's that a lady like that can spread! Next to God ... it's to her we owe the most. If I'd been in her service an' had ruined my health as I did workin' for my master, I wouldn't ha' had to complain.

MRS. FLAMM

You have nothing more to complain of now, Bernd.

BERND

My goodness, no! In one way not!

MRS. FLAMM

You can't count on gratitude in this world. My father was chief forester for forty years an' when he died my mother knew want for all that.—You have an excellent son-in-law. You can live in a pleasant house and you'll even have your own land to work on. And that everything goes from better to better—well, you can let your children see to that.

BERND

An' that's what I hope for too. No, I haven't no doubt o' that at all. A man who has worked himself up in the world that way by carryin' tracts ...

MRS. FLAMM

Weren't you thinking once of being a missionary?

AUGUST

Unfortunately my health was too bad for that.

BERND

... An' learned readin' an' writin' an' his trade too the while, an' is so upright an' Christian—well, I feel that I can lay down my head in peace if it is to lay it down to my last sleep.

MRS. FLAMM

Do you know, by the way, father Bernd, that my husband is giving up his office as magistrate? He'll hardly marry your girl.

BERND

They're in a hurry....

MRS. FLAMM

I know, I know. Rose is helpin' along too. She was in to see me this morning. If you wouldn't mind, going to look ... right behind the yard ... Christie!... There he is....

FLAMM

[Not yet visible, calls:] Presently! In a moment!

MRS. FLAMM

It's official business.

FLAMM, without coat or waistcoat, appears in the door of his den. His gleaming white shirt is open in front. He is busy cleaning the barrels of a shotgun.

FLAMM

Here I am. The machinist Streckmann was here just now. I'd like to have my threshing done at once, but the machine is down there on the estate and they're far from being done ... Dear me! Surely that's father Bernd.

BERND

Yes, Mr. Flamm, we have come here. We were wantin' to....

FLAMM

One thing after another! Patience! [He examines the barrels of the gun carefully.] If you have official business for the magistrate, you'd better wait a little while. Steckel will be my successor and he will take these matters a deal more solemnly.

MRS. FLAMM

[Holding her crocheting needle to her chin and observing her husband attentively.] Christie, what silly stuff are you talking?

AUGUST

[Who, pale from the first, has grown paler at the mention of STRECKMANN'S name, now arises solemnly and excitedly.] Your honour, we want to announce a marriage.—I am ready, by God's help, to enter into the holy state of matrimony.

FLAMM

[Stops looking at the gun. Lightly.] Is it possible? And are you in such a hurry about it?

MRS. FLAMM

[Banteringly.] How does that concern you, Christie? Dear me, let the good folks marry in peace! You're a reg'lar preacher, you are! If that man had his will, father Bernd, there wouldn't be hardly anything but single men and women.

FLAMM

Well, marriage is a risky business,—You're the bookbinder August Keil.

AUGUST

At your service.

FLAMM

You live over in Wandriss? And you've bought the Lachmann house?

AUGUST

Exactly.

FLAMM

And you want to open a book-shop?

AUGUST

A book and stationery shop. Yes. Probably,

BERND

He thinks o' sellin' mostly devotional books.

FLAMM

There's some land that belongs to the Lachmann house, isn't there? It must be there by the big pear tree?

BERND and AUGUST

[At the same time.] Yes.

FLAMM

Why then our properties adjoin! [He lays down the barrels of the gun, searches in his pockets for a bunch of keys and then calls out through the door:] Minna! Come and wheel your mistress out!

[Resignedly though unable to control his disquiet, he sits down at the desk.

MRS. FLAMM

A very chivalrous man! But he's in the right! I'm in the way just now! [To the neat maid who has come in and stepped behind her.] Come, my girl, wheel me into the den. An' you might well pin up your hair more smoothly.

MRS. FLAMM and the MAID disappear in the den.

FLAMM

I'm really sorry for the Lachmanns. [To KEIL.] You invested your savings in a mortgage on that property, didn't you? [AUGUST coughs excitedly and in embarrassment.] Well, that's all the same in the end! Whoever owns that property, though, has cause to congratulate himself.—So you want to marry? Well, all that's wanting is the lady! How is that? Is the lady stubborn?

AUGUST

[Very much wrought up and quite determined.] We're at one entirely, so far as I know.

BERND

I'll go an' fetch her, Mr. Flamm.

[Exit rapidly.

FLAMM

[Who has opened the desk in obvious absentmindedness, observes BERND'S departure too late.] Nonsense, there's no such terrible hurry. [For a few moments he gazes in some consternation at the door through which BERND has disappeared. Then he shrugs his shoulders.] Do as you please! Exactly as you please! I can light a pipe in the meanwhile. [He gets up, takes a tobacco pouch from the bookcase and a pipe from a rack on the wall, fills the pipe and lights it. To AUGUST.] Do you smoke?

AUGUST

No.

FLAMM

Nor take snuff?

AUGUST

No.

FLAMM

And you drink no whisky, no beer, no wine?

AUGUST

Nothing except the wine in the sacrament.

FLAMM

Iron principles, I must say! Quite exemplary!—Come in! I thought someone was knocking. Or wasn't there? Those confounded ...! You practise a bit of quackery now and then as a diversion, don't you? [AUGUST shakes his head.] I thought you healed by prayer? Seems to me I heard something like that.

AUGUST

That would be somethin' very different from quackery.

FLAMM

In what respect?

AUGUST

Faith can move mountains. And whatever is asked in the right spirit ... there the Father is still almighty to-day.

FLAMM

Come in! Surely someone's been knocking again! Come in! Come in! Confound it all! [Old BERND, very pale himself, urges ROSE to enter. She is pale and resists him. She and FLAMM look steadfastly into each other's eyes for a moment. Thereupon FLAMM continues:] Very well! Just wait one little minute.

[He goes into the den as though to search for something.

The following colloquy of BERND, ROSE and AUGUST is carried on in eager whispers.

BERND

What was Streckmann sayin' to you?

ROSE

Who? But, father ...

BERND

Streckmann was out there, talkin' an' talkin' to her!

ROSE

Well, what should he ha' been talkin' to me about?

BERND

That's what I'm askin' you.

ROSE

An' I know about nothin'.

AUGUST

You ought to have no dealin's with such a scamp!

ROSE

Can I help it if he talks to me?

BERND

You see, you must confess that he's been talkin' to you!

ROSE

An' if he has! I didn't listen to him—

BERND

I'll have to be givin' notice about that feller Streckmann. I'll have to get the help o' the law against him. We was walkin' past there a while ago where they're workin' with that threshin' machine. You hear? They're beginnin' again! [From afar the humming and rumbling of the machine is heard.] An' then he called out somethin' after us. I couldn't just rightly hear what it was.

AUGUST

If a girl talks as much as two words to that man, her good repute is almost ruined.

ROSE

Well, go an' get yourself a better girl.

FLAMM

[Re-enters. He has put on a collar and a hunting coat. His demeanour is firm and dignified.]

Good morning, everybody. Now what can I do for you? When is this wedding to take place? What's the trouble? You don't seem to be in agreement. Well, won't you please say something? Well, my good people, it doesn't look as though you were really ready. Suppose you take my advice: go home and think it all over once more. And when you've quite made up your minds come in again.

AUGUST

[Dictatorially.] The matter'll be adjusted now.

FLAMM

I have surely nothing against it, Keil. [About to make the necessary notes with a pencil.] When is the ceremony to take place?

BERND

As soon as ever it's possible, we was thinkin'.

AUGUST

Yes; in four or five weeks if it could be done.

FLAMM

In four or five weeks? So soon as that?

AUGUST

Yes, Mr. Flamm.

FLAMM

Then I must beg you to name the exact date. It's very difficult to make such arrangements so rapidly and....

ROSE

[Involuntarily from the depth of her painful excitement.] An' it might well wait a bit longer'n that.

FLAMM

What do you mean, Rosie? I should say Miss Bernd. We've known, each other all our lives. But one shouldn't—be so familiar with a girl who's betrothed. However, it seems, then, that you are not in agreement....

AUGUST

[Who has started violently at ROSE'S words, has stared at her uninterruptedly since. Now he fights down his emotion and says with unnatural calm:] Very well then. Good-bye and good luck to you, father Bernd.

BERND

Stay right where you are, August, I tell you! [To ROSE.] An' as for you! I'm tellin' you now that you must make up your mind one way or t'other! D'you understand? Long enough has I had patience with you, an' August too, more than was need. We went an' took your foolishness upon ourselves. We was thinkin': Patience, patience! The Almighty will bring the lass to her senses. But things gets worse an' worse with you. Three days ago you give me your sacred promise an' plighted your troth to August, an' you yourself was hard put to it to wait. An' to-day comes an' you want to be shirkin'. What's the meanin' o' that? What do you think o' yourself? D'you think you can dare anything because you've been a good, decent lass? Because you've had self-respect an' been industrious, an' no man can say evil o' you? Is that the reason? Ah, you're not the only one o' that kind. That's no more'n our dooty! An' we're not permitted to think anything of ourselves on that account! There's others as don't go gaddin' to the dance! There's others as has taken care o' her brothers an' sisters an' kept house for an old father! They're not all slovens an' gadabouts even though you're a pious, decent lass! An' how would things ha' been if you had been different? The street would ha' been your home! No girl like that could be a daughter o' mine! This man here, August, he has no need o' you! A man like that has but to stretch out his hand ... an' he can have any girl he wants, even if her people are of the best. He might be havin' a very different wife from yourself! Truly, a man's patience can't bear everything! It'll snap sometime! Pride, arrogance, recklessness—that's what it is in you! Either you keep your promise, or....

FLAMM

Now, now, father Bernd! You must be gentle!

BERND

Your honour, you don't know how it's been! A girl that leads on and makes a fool of an honest man that way—she can't be no daughter o' mine!

AUGUST

[Nearly weeping.] What have you got to reproach me with, Rose? Why are you so hard toward me? 'Tis true, I never had no confidence in my good fortune? An' why should I have? I'm made for misfortune! An' that's what I've always told you, father Bernd, in spite of it all I've taken thought an' I've worked an' God has given his blessin' so that I've not fallen by the wayside. But I can weep; these things aren't for me! That would ha' been too much of a blessin'. I grew up in an orphan house! I never knew what it was to have a home! I had no brother an' no sister ... well, a man can still hold fast to his Saviour.—It may be I'm not much to look at, lass! But I asked you an' you said yes. 'Tis the inner man that counts! God looks upon the heart ... You'll be bitter sorry some day!

[He tries to go but BERND holds him back.

BERND

Once more! Here you stay, August!—D'you understand, Rosie! I means these words: This man here ... or ... no, I can't permit that! That man here was my friend an' support long before he asked you to be his wife. When I was down with the sickness an' couldn't earn nothin', an' no one was good to us—he shared his bit o' bread with us! [AUGUST, unable to master his emotion any longer, takes his hat and goes out.] He was like an angel o' the Lord to us!—August!

ROSE

I'm willin'. Can't you give me a little time?

BERND

He's given you three years! The good pastor has tried to persuade you ... Now August is tired out! Who's to blame him for't? Everything must end somewhere! He's in the right! But now you can look after yourself an' see what becomes o' you ... I can't take no more pride in such a daughter.

[Exit.

FLAMM Well, well, well, well! This is the damnedest ...!

ROSE has become alternately red and deathly pale. It is clear that she is struggling with emotions so violent that she can scarcely hold them in check. After BERND has gone out the girl seems to fall into a state of desperate numbness.

FLAMM

[Closing the public registration book and finding courage to look at ROSE.] Rose! Wake up! What's the matter with you? Surely you're not going to worry about all that ranting? [A fever seems to shake her and her great eyes are full of tears.] Rose! Be sensible! What's the ...?

ROSE

I know what I want—and—maybe—I'll be able to put it through! An'—if not—it don't matter—neither!

FLAMM

[Walks up and down excitedly, stopping to listen at the door.] Naturally. And why not? [Apparently absorbed in the key-rack from which he takes several keys, whispers in feverish haste.] Rose! Listen! Rose, do you hear me? We must meet behind the outbuildings! I must talk it all over with you once more. Ssh! Mother's in there in the den. It's not possible here!

ROSE

[Uttering her words with difficulty but with an iron energy.] Never an' never, Mr. Flamm!

FLAMM

I suppose you want to drive us all mad? The devil has gotten into you! I've been running around after you for the better part of a month, trying to say a sensible word to you and you avoid me as if I were a leper! What's the result? Things of this kind!

ROSE

[As before.] An' if everythin' gets ten times worse'n it is—no! You can all beat down on me; I don't deserve no better! Go on an' wipe your boots on me, but ...

FLAMM

[Who is standing by the table, turns suddenly with indignant astonishment toward ROSE. He strives to master his rage. Suddenly however he brings down his fist on the table top with resounding violence.] I will be damned to all ...!

ROSE

For heaven's sake ...

MRS. FLAMM, wheeled by a maid servant, appears at the door of the den.

MRS. FLAMM

What is the trouble, Christopher?

FLAMM who has turned deadly pale, pulls himself together energetically, takes his hat and cane from the wall and goes out through the door at the right.

MRS. FLAMM

[Looks at her husband in consternation, shakes her head at his abrupt departure and then turns questioningly to ROSE.] What has happened? What's the matter with him?

ROSE

[Overwhelmed by her profound wretchedness.] Oh, dear Mrs. Flamm, I'm that unhappy!

[She sinks down before MRS. FLAMM and buries her head in the latter's lap.

MRS. FLAMM

Now do tell me!... For pity's sake, lass ... what's come over you! What is it? You're like a different creature. I can't never understand that! [To the maid who has wheeled her in.] I don't need you now; you can come back later! Get everything ready in the kitchen. [The maid leaves the room.] Now then! What is the trouble? What has happened? Tell me everything! It'll ease you! What? What is't you say? Don't you want to marry that pasty August? Or maybe you're carryin' some other fellow around in your thoughts? Dear me! one o' them is about as good as another, an' no man is worth a great deal.

ROSE

[Controlling herself and rising.] I know what I wants and that's the end o't!

MRS. FLAMM

Is that true? You see, I was afraid you didn't know! Sometimes a woman don't know, especially a young one like you. An' then, maybe, an older woman can help a bit. But if you know what you want,'tis well! You'll be findin' your own way out o' your trouble. [Putting on her spectacles, with a keen glance.] Rosie, are you ill maybe?

ROSE

[Frightened and confused.] Ill? How ...?

MRS. FLAMM

Why, don't people get ill? You used to be so different formerly.

ROSE

But I'm not ill!

MRS. FLAMM

I'm not sayin' it. I just ask. I ask because I want to know! But we must understand each other rightly! 'Tis true! Don't let's talk round about the thing we want to know, or play hide an' seek.—You're not afraid that I don't mean well? [ROSE shakes her head vigorously.] An 'twould be strange if you did. That's settled then. You used to play with my little Kurt. You two grew up together until it pleased God to take my only child.—An' that very time your mother died too an' I remember—she was lyin' on her deathbed—that she was askin' me that I might, if possible, look after you a bit.

ROSE

[Staring straight before her.] The best thing for me would be to jump into the river! If things is that way ... God forgive me the sin!

MRS. FLAMM

If things are that way? How? I don't understand you! You might well speak a bit more clearly.—In the first place, I'm a woman myself, an' it won't astonish me. An' then—I've been a mother myself, even if I have no children now. Lass, who knows what's wrong with you? I've been watchin' you for weeks an' weeks; maybe you didn't notice anything, but now I want you to come out with the truth.—Wheel me over to that chest o' drawers. [ROSE obeys her.] So! Here in these drawers are old things—a child's clothes an' toys. They were Kurt's ... Your mother said to me once: My Rose, she'll be a mother o' children! But her blood is a bit too hot!—I don't know. Maybe she was right. [She takes a large doll from one of the drawers.] Do you see? Things may go as they want to in this world, but a mother is not to be despised.—You and Kurt used to play with this doll. 'Twas you mainly that took care o' her, washed her, fed her, gave her clean linen, an' once—Flamm happened to come up—you put her to your breast.—You brought those flowers this morning, didn't you? The forget-me-nots in the little dish yonder? An' you put flowers on Kurt's grave o' Sunday. Children an' graves—they're women's care. [She has taken a little child's linen shift from the drawer, she unfolds it, holding it by the sleeves, and speaks from behind it.] Didn't you, Rosie? An' I thank you for it, too. Your father, you see, he's busy with his missionary meetin's an' his Bible lessons an' such things. All people are sinners here, says he, an' he wants to make angels of 'em. It may be that he's right, but I don't understand those things. I've learned one thing in this world, an' that is what it is to be a mother an' how a mother is blessed with sorrows.

ROSE overwhelmed and moaning has sunk down beside MRS. FLAMM and kisses the latter's hands again and again in gratitude and as a sign of confession.

MRS. FLAMM

[Shows by a sudden gleam in her eyes that she understands the truth and has received the confession. But she continues to speak quietly.] You see, lass, that's what I've learned. I've learned that one thing which the world has forgotten. I don't know very much about anything else. As much as most people, maybe, an' that's not any real knowledge. [She lays down the child's shift carefully on her lap.] Well, now you go home an' be of good courage! I'll be thinkin' things over for you. 'Tis well so far. I'll ask you no more just now. You're different now ... all's different. An' I'll be doubly careful. I don't want to know anything, but I want you to depend on me. Little I care, anyhow, who the father is—if 'tis a councillor or a beggar. It's we who have to bring the children into the world, an' no one can help us there. Three things you must think about—how about your father, and about August ... an' something more. But I have time enough! I'll think it all over an' I'll feel that I'm still good for something in this world.

ROSE

[Has arisen and passed again into a state of moral numbness.] No, no, Mrs. Flamm, don't do that! You can't! Don't take no interest in me! I've not deserved it of him nor of no one! I know that! I've got to fight it through—alone! There's no help in others for me; it's ... no, I can't tell you no clearer!... You're as good to me as an angel! Dear God, you're much too good! But it's no use! I can't take your help. Good-bye....

MRS. FLAMM

Wait a little! I can't let you go this way. Who knows what you may be doin'?

ROSE

No, you can be reel quiet about that, Mrs. Flamm. I'm not that desperate yet. If there's need, I can work for my child. Heaven's high an' the world is wide! If it was just me, an' if it wasn't for father an' if August didn't seem so pitiful ... an' then, a child ought to have a father!

MRS. FLAMM

Good. You just be resolute. You were always a brave girl. An' 'tis better if you can keep your courage up!—But, if I've understood you rightly, I can't see at all why you want to fight against the weddin'.

ROSE

[Becomes sullen, pale and fearful.] What can I say? I don't hardly know! An' I don't want to fight against it no more. Only ... Streckmann....