HANDS AROUND
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HANDS AROUND
[REIGEN]
A Cycle of Ten Dialogues
By
ARTHUR SCHNITZLER
Completely Rendered
Into English
Authorized Translation
NEW YORK
Privately Printed for Subscribers
MCMXX
Copyright, 1920
By
A. KOREN
INTRODUCTION
Humanity seems gayest when dancing on the brink of a volcano. The culture of a period preceding a social cataclysm is marked by a spirit of light wit and sophisticated elegance which finds expression in a literature of a distinct type. This literature is light-hearted, audacious and self-conscious. It can treat with the most charming insouciance subjects which in another age would have been awkward or even vulgar. But with the riper experience of a period approaching its end the writers feel untrammeled in the choice of theme by pride or prejudice knowing that they will never transgress the line of good taste.
So it was in the declining days of the Roman civilization when Lucian of Samosata wrote his Dialogues of the Hetærai and countless poets penned their intricate epigrams on the art and experience of love. So it was in England when the fine vigor of the Elizabethan and Miltonic age gave way to the Restoration and the calculating brilliance of a Congreve or a Wycherly.
But the exquisite handling of the licentious was elaborated into a perfect technique in eighteenth century France. The spirit of the Rococo with its predilection for the well-measured pose was singularly well adapted to the artistic expression of what in a cruder age could only have been voiced with coarseness and vulgarity. In the literature of this period we meet again the spirit that animates the gracious paintings of Watteau and Fragonard. The scenes we admire in their panels recur in literary style in works like Choderlos de Laclos’ Liaisons dangereuses and Louvet de Couvray’s Les amours du Chevalier de Faublas. Again the same note is heard in Beaumarchais’ Le Mariage de Figaro, in which the society of the period is travestied with brilliant wit and worldly philosophy. The court of Louis XVI., quite unaware, looked on and applauded a play which Napoleon later characterized as “the revolution already in action.”
During the closing years of the nineteenth century a similar spirit has hovered over Vienna, when it was the last and staunchest stronghold of aristocracy in the modern world. Its literature reflected the charm of a fastidious amatory etiquette which is forbidden in sterner and soberer environment, while it gayly ignored the slow gathering of the clouds which foreshadowed its own catastrophe and martyrdom. As Percival Pollard once so well put it: “All that rises out of that air has had fascination, grace, insinuation, and intrigue. Neither tremendous passion nor tremendous problems have stirred, to all appearances, these polite artists of Vienna. Passion might be there, but what was to be artistically expressed was, rather, the witty or ironically mournful surfaces of passion.”
The literary master of this world is concededly Arthur Schnitzler, in whom are curiously combined the sophisticated elegance of the Viennese man of letters and the disenchanting wisdom of the practising physician. He was born in Vienna in 1862, the son of a doctor. He studied medicine himself, took his degree in 1885, and was for two years connected with a hospital. Since then he has practised privately, and has also found the time to write a long series of plays, both in prose and verse, several novels, and many shorter stories. Of these a considerable number have appeared in English.
Reigen, here translated as Hands Around, is a series of ten comedies—miniatures in dialogue between man and woman in various ages and walks of life. But transgressing the merely literary they are psychological studies of the interplay of sex, and keen analyses of the sophisticated modern soul, done with freedom and finesse. There are no grim questions of right and wrong in these subtle revelations of the merely human. In fact one might call them studies in the etiquette of the liaison and all its nuances.
The cycle begins with a girl of the streets and a soldier. Then come the soldier and a parlor-maid, the parlor-maid and a young man, the young man and a young wife, the young wife and her husband, the husband and a sweet young miss, the sweet young miss and a poet, the poet and an actress, the actress and a count, until finally the cycle is completed with the count and the girl of the streets. A vicious circle, some may say, and such it surely would have been in the hands of a lesser artist than Schnitzler, for he would only have made the book hideously fleshly, instead of a marvelous psychological study in the ecstacies and disillusions of love and the whole tragedy of human wishes unsatisfied even in their apparent gratification.
But as it is the silken portières of discreet alcoves are opened quietly before our eyes, and we hear the whisper of the most intimate secrets. But with all their realism there is no word in these dialogues which could antagonize the susceptibilities of any sincere student or true lover of humanity. All stratagems of sex are uncovered not through the curious observations of a faunic mind, but through the finer eyes of a connoisseur of things human.
The Puritan fanatic with his jaundiced inhibitions or the moral ideologist with his heart of leather may toss the book aside resentful because of its inherent truth. The philosopher of human life, taking the larger aspect of this drama, will close it with the serene smile of understanding.
Any attempt to turn a dialogue so full of delicate shades as is this of Schnitzler into a language like English, whose genius tends rather toward a graphic concreteness and realism, is full of pitfalls and difficulties. The translators, however, hope that they have accomplished their task with reasonable success, thinking always of the spirit rather than the letter. They also take this occasion to express their appreciation to Dr. Arthur Schnitzler for his kindness in granting them his authorization for this translation of Reigen.
F. L. G.
L. D. E.
New York
1920
HANDS AROUND
CHARACTERS
- The Girl of the Streets,
- The Soldier,
- The Parlor Maid,
- The Young Man,
- The Young Wife,
- The Husband,
- The Sweet Young Miss,
- The Poet,
- The Actress,
- The Count.
THE GIRL OF THE STREETS AND THE SOLDIER
Late in the evening near the Augarten Bridge.
Soldier
(Enters whistling, on his way home)
Girl
Hello, my beautiful angel!
Soldier
(Turns and continues on his way)
Girl
Don’t you want to come with me?
Soldier
Oh, I am the beautiful angel?
Girl
Sure, who else? Do come with me. I live very near here.
Soldier
I’ve no time. I must get back to the barracks.
Girl
You’ll get to your barracks in plenty of time. It’s much nicer with me.
Soldier
(Close to her) That’s possible.
Girl
Ps-st! A guard may pass any minute.
Soldier
Rot! A guard! I carry a saber too!
Girl
Ah, come with me.
Soldier
Let me alone. I have no money anyway.
Girl
I don’t want any money.
Soldier
(Stopping. They are under a street-lamp) You don’t want any money? What kind of a girl are you, then?
Girl
The civilians pay me. Chaps like you don’t have to pay me for anything.
Soldier
Maybe you’re the girl my pal told me about.
Girl
I don’t know any pal of yours.
Soldier
You’re she, all right! You know—in the café down the street—He went home with you from there.
Girl
Lots have gone home with me from that café… Oh, lots!
Soldier
All right. Let’s go!
Girl
So, you’re in a hurry now?
Soldier
Well, what are we waiting for? Anyhow, I must be back at the barracks by ten.
Girl
Been in service long?
Soldier
What business is that of yours? Is it far?
Girl
Ten minutes’ walk.
Soldier
That’s too far for me. Give me a kiss.
Girl
(Kissing him) I like that best anyway—when I love some one.
Soldier
I don’t. No, I can’t go with you. It’s too far.
Girl
Say, come to-morrow afternoon.
Soldier
Sure. Give me your address.
Girl
But maybe you won’t come.
Soldier
If I promise!
Girl
Look here—if my place is too far to-night—there … there…
(She points toward the Danube)
Soldier
What’s there?
Girl
It’s nice and quiet there, too … no one is around.
Soldier
Oh, that’s not the real thing.
Girl
It’s always the real thing with me. Come, stay with me now. Who knows, if we’ll be alive to-morrow.
Soldier
Come along then—but quick.
Girl
Be careful! It’s dark here. If you slip, you’ll fall in the river.
Soldier
Would be the best thing, perhaps.
Girl
Sh-h. Wait a minute. We’ll come to a bench soon.
Soldier
You seem to know this place pretty well.
Girl
I’d like to have you for a sweetheart.
Soldier
I’d fight too much.
Girl
I’d cure you of that soon enough.
Soldier
Humph—
Girl
Don’t make so much noise. Sometimes a guard stumbles down here. Would you believe we are in the middle of Vienna?
Soldier
Come here. Come over here.
Girl
You are crazy! If we slipped here, we’d fall into the river.
Soldier
(Has grabbed her) Oh you—
Girl
Hold tight to me.
Soldier
Don’t be afraid…
Girl
It would have been nicer on the bench.
Soldier
Here or there, it doesn’t matter to me… Well, pick yourself up.
Girl
What’s your hurry—?
Soldier
I must get to the barracks. I’ll be late anyhow.
Girl
Say, what’s your name?
Soldier
What’s that to you?
Girl
My name is Leocadia.
Soldier
Humph! I never heard such a name before.
Girl
Listen!
Soldier
Well, what do you want?
Girl
Give me just a dime for the janitor.
Soldier
Humph!… Do you think I’m your meal-ticket? Good-by, Leocadia…
Girl
Tightwad! Pimp!
(He disappears)
THE SOLDIER AND THE PARLOR-MAID
Prater Gardens. Sunday Evening. A road which leads from the Wurstelprater[1] into dark tree arcades. Confused music from the Wurstelprater can still be heard; also strains from the cheap dancehall, a vulgar polka, played by a brass band. The Soldier. The Parlor-Maid.
Maid
Now tell me why you wanted to leave.
Soldier
(Grins sheepishly)
Maid
It was so beautiful and I so love to dance.
Soldier
(Puts his arm around her waist)
Maid
(Submitting) But we aren’t dancing now. Why do you hold me so tight?
Soldier
What’s your name? Katy?
Maid
You’ve always got a “Katy” on your mind.
Soldier
I know—I know … Marie.
Maid
Goodness, it’s dark here. I’m afraid.
Soldier
You needn’t be afraid when I’m with you. I can take care of myself!
Maid
But where are we going? There’s no one around. Come, let’s go back!… It’s so dark!
Soldier
(Pulling at his cigar until it glows brightly) There … it’s already getting brighter. Ha—! Oh, you dearie!
Maid
Oh! what are you doing there? If I had known this before!
Soldier
The devil take me, if any one at the dance to-day felt softer and rounder than you, Miss Marie.
Maid
Did you find it out in the same way with all the others?
Soldier
You notice things … dancing. You find out lots that way!
Maid
But you danced much oftener with that cross-eyed blonde than with me.
Soldier
She’s an old friend of one of my pals.
Maid
Of the corporal with the upturned mustache?
Soldier
Oh no, I mean the civilian. You know, the one who was talking with me at the table in the beginning. The one who has such a husky voice.
Maid
Oh I know. He’s fresh.
Soldier
Did he do anything to you? I’ll show him! What did he do to you?
Maid
Oh nothing… I only noticed how he was with the others.
Soldier
Tell me, Miss Marie…
Maid
You’ll burn me with your cigar.
Soldier
Pardon me!—Miss Marie—or may I say Marie?
Maid
We’re not such good friends yet…
Soldier
There’re many who don’t like each-other, and yet use first names.
Maid
Next time, if we… But, Frank!
Soldier
Oh, you remember my name?
Maid
But, Frank…
Soldier
That’s right, call me Frank, Miss Marie.
Maid
Don’t be so fresh—but, sh-h, suppose some one should come!
Soldier
What if some one did come? They couldn’t see anything two steps off.
Maid
For goodness’ sake, where are we going?
Soldier
Look! There’s two just like us.
Maid
Where? I don’t see anything.
Soldier
There … just ahead of us.
Maid
Why do you say: “two like us”—
Soldier
Well, I mean, they like each other too.
Maid
Look out! What’s that there? I nearly fell.
Soldier
Oh, that’s the meadow-gate.
Maid
Don’t shove me so. I’ll fall.
Soldier
Sh-h, not so loud.
Maid
Stop! Now I’m really going to scream—What are you doing?… Stop now—
Soldier
There’s no one anywhere around.
Maid
Then, let’s go back where the people are.
Soldier
We don’t need them. Why—Marie, we need … for that…
Maid
Stop, Frank, please, for Heaven’s sake! Listen to me, if I had … known … oh … come!
Soldier
(Blissfully) Once more… Oh…
Maid
… I can’t see your face at all.
Soldier
Don’t matter—my face…
Soldier
Well, Miss Marie, you can’t stay here on the grass all night.
Maid
Please, Frank, help me.
Soldier
Oh, come along.
Maid
Oh, Lord help me, Frank.
Soldier
Well, what’s the matter with me?
Maid
You’re a bad man, Frank.
Soldier
Yes, yes. Say, wait a minute.
Maid
Why do you leave me alone?
Soldier
Can’t you let me light my cigar!
Maid
It’s so dark.
Soldier
It’ll be light again to-morrow morning.
Maid
Tell me, at least, you love me.
Soldier
Well, you must have felt that, Miss Marie!
Maid
Where are we going now?
Soldier
Back, of course.
Maid
Please, don’t walk so fast.
Soldier
Well, what’s wrong? I don’t like to walk around in the dark.
Maid
Tell me, Frank … do you love me?
Soldier
But I just told you that I loved you!
Maid
Won’t you give me a little kiss?
Soldier
(Condescendingly) There… Listen—There’s the music again.
Maid
Would you really like to go back, and dance again?
Soldier
Of course, why not?
Maid
But, Frank, see, I have to get home. Madame will scold me anyway,—she’s cranky … she’d like it best if I never went out.
Soldier
Well, you can go home.
Maid
But, I thought, Frank, you’d take me home.
Soldier
Take you home? Oh!
Maid
Please, it’s so sad to go home alone.
Soldier
Where do you live?
Maid
Not very far—in Porzellanstrasse.
Soldier
So? Then we go the same way … but it’s still too early for me … me for the dance… I’ve got late leave to-day… I don’t need to be back at the barracks before twelve o’clock. I’m going to dance.
Maid
Oh, I see, now it’s that cross-eyed blonde’s turn.
Soldier
Humph!—Her face isn’t so bad.
Maid
Oh Lord, how wicked men are. I’m sure you do the same to every one.
Soldier
That’d be too much!—
Maid
Please, Frank, no more to-day—stay with me to-day, you see—
Soldier
Oh, very well, all right. But I suppose I may dance.
Maid
I’m not going to dance with any one else to-night.
Soldier
There it is already…
Maid
What?
Soldier
The hall! How quick we got back. They’re still playing the same thing … that tatata-tum tatata-tum (He hums with the band)… Well, I’ll take you home, if you want to wait for me … if not … good-by—
Maid
Yes, I’ll wait.
(They enter the dancehall)
Soldier
Say, Miss Marie, get yourself a glass of beer. (Turning to a blonde who is just dancing past him in the arms of another, very formally) Miss, may I ask for a dance?—
THE PARLOR MAID AND THE YOUNG MAN
Sultry summer afternoon. The parents of the Young Man are away in the country. The cook has gone out. The Parlor-maid is in the kitchen writing a letter to the soldier who is now her sweetheart. The Young Man’s bell rings. She gets up and goes to his room. The Young Man is lying on a couch, smoking a cigarette and reading a French novel.
Maid
Yes, Sir?
Young Man
Oh, yes, Marie, oh, yes; I rang, yes … I only wanted … yes, of course… Oh, yes, of course, let the blinds down, Marie… It’s cooler with the blinds down … yes…
(The Maid goes to the window and pulls down the blinds)
Young Man
(Continues reading) What are you doing, Marie? Oh, yes. But, now, I can’t see to read.
Maid
You are always so studious, Sir.
Young Man
(Ignoring the remark) There, that’s better.
(Marie goes.)
Young Man
(Tries to go on with his reading, lets the book fall, and rings again)
Maid
(Enters)
Young Man
I say, Marie … let’s see, what was it I wanted to say? … oh, yes… Is there any cognac in the house?
Maid
Yes, but it’s locked up.
Young Man
Well, who has the key?
Maid
Lini.
Young Man
Who is Lini?
Maid
The cook, Mr. Alfred.
Young Man
Well, then ask Lini for it.
Maid
Yes, but it’s Lini’s day out.
Young Man
So…
Maid
Can I get anything for you from the café, Sir?
Young Man
Thank you, no… It is hot enough as it is. I don’t need any cognac. Listen, Marie, bring me a glass of water. Wait, Marie,—let it run, till it gets quite cold.
Exit Maid. The Young Man gazes after her. At the door the Maid looks back at him, and the Young Man glances into the air. The Maid turns on the water and lets it run. Meanwhile, she goes into her room, washes her hands, and arranges her curls before the mirror. Then she brings the glass of water to the Young Man. She approaches the couch. The Young Man raises himself upon his elbow. The Maid gives him the glass of water and their fingers touch.
Young Man
Thank you—Well, what is the matter?—Be careful. Put the glass back on the tray. (He leans back, and stretches himself) How late is it?
Maid
Five o’clock, Sir.
Young Man
Ah, five o’clock.—That’s fine.—
Maid
(Goes. At the door she turns around. The Young Man has followed her with his eyes; she notices it, and smiles)
Young Man
(Remains stretched out awhile; then, suddenly, he gets up. He walks to the door, back again, and lies down on the couch. He again tries to read. After a few moments, he rings once more.)
Maid
(Appears with a smile which she does not try to hide)
Young Man
Listen, Marie, there was something I wanted to ask you. Didn’t Dr. Schueller call this morning?
Maid
No, Sir, nobody called this morning.
Young Man
That is strange. Then, Dr. Schueller didn’t call. Do you know Dr. Schueller by sight?
Maid
Of course, I do. He’s the big gentleman with the black beard.
Young Man
Yes. Then, perhaps, he called after all?
Maid
No, Sir. Nobody called.
Young Man
(Resolutely) Come here, Marie.
Maid
(Coming a little nearer) Yes, Sir.
Young Man
Still nearer … so … ah … I only thought…
Maid
Do you want anything, Sir?
Young Man
I thought… Well, I thought—only about your blouse … what kind of a blouse is it … can’t you come closer. I won’t bite you.
Maid
(Comes close to him) What is the matter with my blouse? Don’t you like it, Sir?
Young Man
(Takes hold of her blouse, and draws her down to him) Blue? It is a nice blue. (Simply) You are very prettily dressed, Marie.
Maid
But, Sir…
Young Man
Ah… What is the matter?… (He has opened her blouse. In a matter of fact tone) You have a beautiful white skin, Marie.
Maid
You are flattering me, Sir.
Young Man
(Kissing her on the breast) That can’t hurt you.
Maid
Oh, no.
Young Man
But you sigh so. Why are you sighing?
Maid
Oh, Mr. Alfred…
Young Man
And what charming little slippers you have…
Maid
… But … Sir … if the doorbell should ring.—
Young Man
Who will ring now?
Maid
But, Sir … look … it is so light…
Young Man
You needn’t feel at all shy with me. You needn’t feel shy with anybody … any one as pretty as you. Yes, really, you are, Marie… Do you know your hair actually smells sweet.
Maid
Mr. Alfred…
Young Man
Don’t make such a fuss, Marie… Anyway, I’ve already seen you otherwise. When I came home the other night and went to get some water, the door to your room was open … well…
Maid
(Covering her face) Oh, my, I didn’t know that Mr. Alfred could be so wicked.
Young Man
I saw lots then … that … and that … that … and—
Maid
Oh, Mr. Alfred!
Young Man
Come, come … here … so—that’s it…
Maid
But if the doorbell should ring now—
Young Man
Now forget that … we simply wouldn’t open the door.
(The bell rings)
Young Man
Confound it… What a noise that fellow makes—Perhaps he rang before, and we didn’t notice it.
Maid
Oh, no. I was listening all the while.
Young Man
Well, see what’s the matter. Peek through the curtains.
Maid
Mr. Alfred … you are … no … such a bad man.
Young Man
Please go and see…
(Exit Maid)
Young Man
(Opens the blinds quickly)
Maid
(Returns) He must have gone away again. Anyway, no one is there now. Perhaps, it was Dr. Schueller.
Young Man
(Annoyed) Thank you.
Maid
(Drawing close to him)
Young Man
(Evading her) Listen, Marie,—I’m going to the café now.
Maid
(Tenderly) So soon … Mr. Alfred.
Young Man
(Formally) I am going to the café now… If Dr. Schueller should call—
Maid
He won’t come any more to-day.
Young Man
(Severely) If Dr. Schueller should come, I—I am in the café.
(He goes to the adjoining room. The Maid takes a cigar from the smoking-stand, puts it in her blouse and goes out.)
THE YOUNG MAN AND THE YOUNG WIFE
Evening—A drawing-room furnished with cheap elegance in a house in Schwind street. The Young Man has just come in; and, still wearing his hat and overcoat, he lights the gas. Then he opens a door to a side-room and looks in. The light from the drawing-room shimmers over the inlaid floor as far as the Louis Quinze bed, which stands against the opposite wall. A reddish light plays from the fire-place in the corner of the bedroom upon the hangings of the bed. The Young Man now inspects the bedroom. He takes an atomizer from the dressing-table, and sprays the bed-pillows with a fine rain of violet perfume. Then he carries the atomizer through both rooms, constantly pressing upon the bulb, so that soon the odor of violets pervades the place. He then takes off his hat and coat. He sits down in a blue velvet armchair, lights a cigarette, and smokes. After a short pause he rises again, and makes sure that the green shutters are closed. Suddenly, he goes into the bedroom, and opens a drawer in the dressing-table. He puts his hand in it, and finds a tortoise-shell hair-pin. He looks for a place to hide it, and finally puts it into a pocket of his overcoat. He opens the buffet in the drawing-room; takes a silver tray, with a bottle and two liqueur glasses, and puts them on the table. He goes back to his overcoat, and takes from it a small white package. Opening this, he places it beside the cognac. He goes again to the buffet, and takes two small plates and knives and forks. He takes a candied chestnut from the package and eats it. Then he pours himself a glass of cognac, and drinks it quickly. He then looks at his watch. He walks up and down the room. He stops a while before a large mirror, ordering his hair and small mustache with a pocket-comb. He next goes to the door of the vestibule and listens. Nothing is stirring. Then he closes the blue portières, which hang before the bedroom. The bell rings. He starts slightly. Then he sits down in the armchair, and rises only when the door has been opened and the Young Wife enters.
Young Wife
(Heavily veiled, closes the door behind her, pausing a moment with her left hand over her heart, as though mastering a strong emotion)
Young Man
(Goes toward her, takes her left hand, and presses a kiss on the white glove with black stitching. He says softly.) Thank you.
Young Wife
Alfred—Alfred!
Young Man
Come, Madame… Come, Emma…
Young Wife
Let me be for a minute—please … oh, please, please, Alfred!
(She is still standing at the door)
Young Man
(Standing before her, holding her hand)
Young Wife
Where am I?
Young Man
With me.
Young Wife
This house is terrible, Alfred.
Young Man
Why terrible? It is a very proper house.
Young Wife
But I met two gentlemen on the staircase.
Young Man
Acquaintances of yours?
Young Wife
I don’t know. It’s possible.
Young Man
But, Madame—You surely know your friends!
Young Wife
I couldn’t see their faces.
Young Man
But even had they been your best friends—they couldn’t possibly have recognized you… I, myself … if I didn’t know it was you … this veil—
Young Wife
There are two.
Young Man
Won’t you come closer?… And take off your hat, at least?
Young Wife
What are you thinking of, Alfred? I promised you: Five minutes… Not a moment more … I swear it, no more—
Young Man
Well, then, your veil—
Young Wife
There are two of them.
Young Man
Very well, both of them—you will at least let me see your face.
Young Wife
Do you really love me, Alfred?
Young Man
(Deeply hurt) Emma! You ask me…
Young Wife
It’s so warm here.
Young Man
You’re still wearing your fur-coat—really, you will catch cold.
Young Wife
(Finally enters the room, and throws herself into the armchair) I’m tired—dead tired.
Young Man
Permit me.
(He takes off her veil, removes her hat-pin, and puts hat, pin, and veil aside)
Young Wife
(Permits it)
Young Man
(Stands before her, and shakes his head)
Young Wife
What is the matter?
Young Man
You’ve never been so beautiful.
Young Wife
How is that?
Young Man
Alone … alone with you—Emma—
(He kneels down beside her chair, takes both her hands, and covers them with kisses)
Young Wife
And now … now let me go again. I have done what you asked me to do.
Young Man
(Lets his head sink into her lap)
Young Wife
You promised me to be good.
Young Man
Yes.
Young Wife
It is stifling hot in this room.
Young Man
(Gets up) You still have your coat on.
Young Wife
Put it with my hat.
Young Man
(Takes off her coat, and puts it on the sofa)
Young Wife
And now—good-by—
Young Man
Emma—! Emma—!
Young Wife
The five minutes are long past.
Young Man
Not one yet!—
Young Wife
Alfred, tell me truly now, how late it is.
Young Man
It is now exactly a quarter past six.
Young Wife
I should have been at my sister’s long ago.
Young Man
You can see your sister any time…
Young Wife
Oh, Merciful Heaven, Alfred, why did you tempt me to come?
Young Man
Because … I adore you, Emma!
Young Wife
To how many have you said the same thing?
Young Man
Since I met you, to no one.
Young Wife
What a foolish woman I am! If anybody had predicted … just a week ago … or even yesterday…
Young Man
But you had already promised me the day before yesterday.
Young Wife
You plagued me so. But I didn’t want to do it. God is my witness—I didn’t want to do it… Yesterday, I was firmly decided… Do you know I even wrote you a long letter last night?
Young Man
I didn’t receive any.
Young Wife
I tore it up later. Oh, if only I had sent it to you.
Young Man
It is better as it is.
Young Wife
Oh, no, it’s awful … of me. I don’t understand myself. Good-by, Alfred, let me go.
Young Man
(Seizes her, and covers her face with burning kisses)
Young Wife
So … is that the way you keep your word…
Young Man
One more kiss—one more.
Young Wife
The last.
(He kisses her, and she returns the kiss; their lips remain joined for a long time)
Young Man
Shall I tell you something, Emma? It is now for the first time that I know what happiness is.
Young Wife
(Sinks back into the armchair)
Young Man
(Sits on the arm of the chair, and puts one arm lightly about her neck) … or rather, I know now what happiness might be.
Young Wife
(Sighs deeply)
Young Man
(Kisses her again)
Young Wife
Alfred—Alfred, what are you doing to me!
Young Man
Wasn’t I right?—It isn’t so awfully uncomfortable here… And we are so safe here. It’s a thousand times better than those meetings outdoors…
Young Wife
Oh, don’t remind me of them.
Young Man
I shall always recall them with a thousand delights. Every minute you have let me spend with you is a sweet memory.
Young Wife
Do you remember the ball at the Manufacturers’ Club?
Young Man
Do I remember it…? I sat beside you through the whole supper—quite close to you. Your husband had champagne…
Young Wife
(Looks at him with a hurt expression)
Young Man
I meant to speak only of the champagne. Emma, would you like a glass of cognac?
Young Wife
Only a drop, but first give me a glass of water.
Young Man
Surely… But where is—oh, yes, I remember…
(He opens the portières, and goes into the bedroom)
Young Wife
(Follows him with her eyes)
Young Man
(Comes back with a water-bottle and two glasses)
Young Wife
Where have you been?
Young Man
In … the adjoining room.
(Pours her a glass of water)
Young Wife
Now I’m going to ask you something, Alfred—and you must tell me the truth.
Young Man
I swear—
Young Wife
Has there ever been any other woman in these rooms?
Young Man
But, Emma—this house was built twenty years ago!—
Young Wife
You know what I mean, Alfred … in these rooms, with you!
Young Man
With me—here—Emma!—It’s not kind of you even to imagine such a thing.
Young Wife
Then there was … how shall I… But, no, I’d rather not ask. It is better that I shouldn’t ask. It’s my own fault. Every fault has its punishment.
Young Man
But what is wrong? What is the matter with you? What fault?
Young Wife
No, no, no, I mustn’t think… Otherwise I would sink through the floor with shame.
Young Man
(With the water-bottle in his hand, shakes his head sadly) Emma, if you only knew how you hurt me.
Young Wife
(Pours a glass of cognac)
Young Man
I want to tell you something, Emma. If you’re ashamed of being here—if you don’t care for me—if you don’t feel you are all the happiness in the world for me—then you’d better go.—
Young Wife
Yes, I shall go.
Young Man
(Taking hold of her hand) But if you feel that I cannot live without you, that a kiss upon your hand means more to me than all the caresses of all the women in the whole world… Emma, I’m not like other young men, who are experienced in love-making—perhaps, I am too naïve … I…
Young Wife
But suppose you were like other young men?
Young Man
Then you wouldn’t be here to-night—because you are not like other women.
Young Wife
How do you know that?
Young Man
(Drawing her close beside him on the sofa)
I have thought a lot about it. I know you are unhappy.
Young Wife
(Pleased) Yes.
Young Man
Life is so dreary, so empty—and then,—so short—so horribly short! There is only one happiness—to find some one who loves you.—
Young Wife
(Takes a candied pear from the table, and puts it into her mouth)
Young Man
Give me half of it!
(She offers it to him with her lips)
Young Wife
(Catches the hands of the Young Man that threaten to stray) What are you doing, Alfred?… Is that the way you keep your promise?
Young Man
(Swallows the pear, then, more daringly) Life is so short.
Young Wife
(Weakly) But that’s no reason—
Young Man
(Mechanically) Oh, yes.
Young Wife
(Still more weakly) Alfred, you promised to be good … and then it’s so light…
Young Man
Come, come, you only, only…
(He lifts her from the sofa)
Young Wife
What are you doing?
Young Man
It’s not so light in the other room.
Young Wife
Is there another room?
Young Man
(Drawing her with him) A beautiful one … and quite dark.
Young Wife
We’d better stay in here.
Young Man
(Already past the bedroom portières with her, loosening her waist)
Young Wife
You are so… O merciful Heaven, what are you doing with me!—Alfred!
Young Man
I adore you, Emma!
Young Wife
So then wait, wait a little… (Weakly) Go… I’ll call you.
Young Man
Let you help me—let us help you (becoming confused) … let … me—help—you.
Young Wife
But you’ll tear everything.
Young Man
You have no corset on?
Young Wife
I never wear a corset. Odilon[2] doesn’t wear any either. But you can unbutton my shoes.
Young Man
(Unbuttons her shoes and kisses her feet)
Young Wife
(Slips into bed) Oh, how cold it is.
Young Man
It’ll be warm in a minute.
Young Wife
(Laughing softly) Do you think so?
Young Man
(Slightly hurt, to himself) She ought not to have said that.
(He undresses in the dark)
Young Wife
(Tenderly) Come, come, come!
Young Man
(Mollified) In a minute, dear—
Young Wife
It smells like violets here.
Young Man
That’s you… Yes (To her) you, yourself.
Young Wife
Alfred… Alfred!!!!
Young Man
Emma…
Young Man
Apparently I love you too much … yes… I am as if out of my senses.
Young Wife
… …
Young Man
I have been beside myself all these days. I was afraid of this.
Young Wife
Don’t mind.
Young Man
Oh, certainly not. It’s perfectly natural, if one…
Young Wife
No … don’t… You are nervous. Calm yourself first.
Young Man
Do you know Stendhal?
Young Wife
Stendhal?
Young Man
The “Psychologie de l’amour.”
Young Wife
No. Why do you ask me?
Young Man
There’s a story in that book which is very much to the point.
Young Wife
What kind of a story?
Young Man
There is a gathering of cavalry officers—
Young Wife
Yes.
Young Man
And they are telling each other about their love affairs. And each one of them tells that with the woman he loved best—most passionately, you know … that with him, that then—well, in short, that the same thing happened just as it happened to me now.
Young Wife
Yes.
Young Man
That is very characteristic.
Young Wife
Yes.
Young Man
The story is not yet ended. One of them maintained … that this thing had never in his life happened to him, but, adds Stendhal—he was known as a great boaster.
Young Wife
And.—
Young Man
And, yet, it makes you feel blue—that’s the stupid side of it, even though it’s so unimportant.
Young Wife
Of course. Anyway, you know … you promised me to be good.
Young Man
Sh-h! Don’t laugh. That doesn’t help things any.
Young Wife
But no, I’m not laughing. That story of Stendhal’s is really interesting. I have always thought that only older people … or people who … you know, people who have lived fast…
Young Man
The idea! That has nothing to do with it. By the way, I had completely forgotten the prettiest of Stendhal’s stories. One of the cavalry officers went so far as to say that he stayed for three or even six nights… I don’t remember now—that is he stayed with a woman, whom he wanted for weeks—desirée—you understand—and nothing happened all those nights except that they wept for happiness … both…
Young Wife
Both?
Young Man
Yes. Does that surprise you? It seems very comprehensible—especially when two people love each other.
Young Wife
But surely there are many who don’t weep.
Young Man
(Nervously) Certainly … however, that is an exceptional case.
Young Wife
Oh—I thought Stendhal said that all cavalry officers weep on such an occasion.
Young Man
Look here, now you are laughing at me.
Young Wife
What an idea! Don’t be childish, Alfred.
Young Man
Well, it makes me nervous anyway… Besides I have the feeling that you are thinking about it all the time. That embarrasses me still more.
Young Wife
I’m not thinking of it at all.
Young Man
If I were only sure that you love me.
Young Wife
Do you want still further proofs?
Young Man
Didn’t I tell you … you are always laughing at me.
Young Wife
How so? Come, let me hold your sweet little head.
Young Man
Oh, that feels so good.
Young Wife
Do you love me?
Young Man
Oh, I’m so happy.
Young Wife
But you needn’t cry about it.
Young Man
(Moving away from her, highly irritated) There! Again! I begged you not to…
Young Wife
To tell you that you shouldn’t cry…
Young Man
You said: “You needn’t cry about it.”
Young Wife
You are nervous, sweetheart.
Young Man
I know.
Young Wife
But you ought not to be. It is beautiful even that … that we are together like good comrades…
Young Man
Now you are beginning again.
Young Wife
Don’t you remember! That was one of our first talks. We wanted to be comrades, nothing more. Oh, how nice that was … at my sister’s ball in January, during the quadrille… For heaven’s sake, I should have gone long ago… My sister expects me—what shall I tell her… Good-by, Alfred—
Young Man
Emma!—You will leave me in this way!
Young Wife
Yes—so!—
Young Man
Five minutes more…
Young Wife
All right. Five minutes more. But you must promise me … not to move?… Yes?… I want to give you a good-by kiss… Psst … be still … don’t move, I told you, otherwise I’ll get up at once, you, my sweetheart, sweet…
Young Man
Emma … my ador… …
Young Wife
My Alfred!
Young Man
Oh, it is heaven to be with you.
Young Wife
But now I’ve really got to go.
Young Man
Oh, let your sister wait.
Young Wife
I must go home. It is much too late to see my sister. How late is it?
Young Man
How should I know?
Young Wife
You might look at your watch.
Young Man
My watch is in my waistcoat.
Young Wife
Get it.
Young Man
(Gets up with a jump) Eight o’clock.
Young Wife
(Jumps up quickly) For heaven’s sake… Quick, Alfred, give me my stockings. What shall I say? They must be waiting for me at home … eight o’clock…
Young Man
When shall I see you again?
Young Wife