Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source:
http://www.archive.org/details/moriturithreeone00sudeiala
2. See footnote 3 explaining correction of printing error.

MORITURI

MORITURI

THREE ONE-ACT PLAYS

TEJA--FRITZCHEN--THE ETERNAL MASCULINE

BY

HERMANN SUDERMANN

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN

BY

ARCHIBALD ALEXANDER

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

NEW YORK::::::::::::::::::::::::1910

Copyright, 1910, by
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Published September, 1910

CONTENTS

[Teja]

[Fritzchen]

[The Eternal Masculine]

I

[Teja]

A DRAMA IN ONE ACT

Teja

The scene represents the King's tent. The curtains are open in the background and permit a view through the camp of the Gothic warriors, over toward Vesuvius, and the distant sea, which shine in the splendour of the setting sun. On the left stands the rudely constructed throne of the King. In the centre, a table with seats around it. On the right, the King's couch, consisting of skins pieced together; above, a rack holding many kinds of weapons. Link torches on the right and left.

FIRST SCENE.

TWO CAMP WATCHERS.

First Camp Watcher.

Ho thou! Art thou fallen asleep?

Second Camp Watcher.

Why should I be fallen asleep?

First Camp Watcher.

Because thou leanest so limber upon thy spear, bent like the bow of a Hun.

Second Camp Watcher.

I stand so bent, because thus hunger gripes me less.

First Camp Watcher.

'Tis of no avail. It availeth as little as thy belt. Afterward, in standing upright, it is the more severe.

Second Camp Watcher.

How long is this to last?

First Camp Watcher.

Until the ships come--that is simple indeed.

Second Camp Watcher.

Yea, but when are the ships coming?

First Camp Watcher.

How can I know that? Look toward the heights. There, high upon the Milchberg, there standeth the watch, and overlooketh the sea for twenty miles. If he knoweth not! There, behind the Misenian hills, there they must be coming.

Second Camp Watcher.

Verily, if the Byzantian let them pass.

First Camp Watcher.

The Byzantian hath no ships.

Second Camp Watcher.

The Byzantian hath so many ships that he can surround the whole Italian world with them as with a hedge; as close as the Byzantian Eunuch hath surrounded us, these seven weeks.

First Camp Watcher.

These seven weeks!

Second Camp Watcher.

Knowest thou what I got for nourishment, at noon this day? The same rind of bacon on which I brake my teeth eight days ago. Forsooth, I had cut my three crosses, with my knife. That was a meeting again! But to-day, I devoured it ... a noble feast for a king's marriage day!

First Camp Watcher.

Think'st thou the King had more?

Second Camp Watcher.

And think'st thou we would suffer ourselves to be beaten to death, suffer ourselves to be broken on the wheel, to be thrust through and put to shame, if he had more than we? Think'st thou we would lie here like chained dogs, and watch, did we not know that there is nothing to watch?

First Camp Watcher.

There is gold enough.

Second Camp Watcher.

Gold! Pah, gold! Of gold I have enough myself. In my cellar at Canusium, I have buried a treasure--eh! ... thou! The wives behind there in the Wagenburg must have meat left ... wine too, they must still have.

First Camp Watcher.

Yea, the wives are there well enough--thou hast none, I suppose.

Second Camp Watcher.

A Greek dishonoured mine, and I stabbed him to death! (Pauses.) Good! The wives must have meat; they must have wine too. But how long that-- (Noise and clash of weapons, slowly approaching.) There, the marriage is surely ended.

First Camp Watcher.

Silence! There cometh the aged Ildibad--with the King's shield. (Both put themselves on guard.)

SECOND SCENE.

THE SAME. ILDIBAD.

(Hangs the shield in its place, and puts away the weapons lying about.) Hath any news been sent down?

First Camp Watcher.

Nay!

Ildibad.

Are ye hungry?

Second Camp Watcher.

Oh, yea.

Ildibad.

Hunger is for women--mark ye that! And show not such dark faces to our young Queen. That becometh not a marriage day.

THIRD SCENE.

Surrounded by noisy people, Teja and Balthilda have appeared in front of the tent. They enter led by Bishop Agila. Before them, two choir-boys swinging censers. Behind them, Amalaberga, Euric, Athanaric, Theodemir, and other lords and military leaders. The tent covers are let down. Exeunt the watchers.

(Bishop lets go the hands of the bridal pair, and turns back to Amalaberga.)

(Teja stands gloomy and brooding. Balthilda casts a shy imploring look around her. Painful silence.)

Ildibad (softly).

Now must thou say something, King, to welcome thy young wife.

Teja (softly).

Must I? (Taking one of the choir-boys by the nape of the neck.) Not so vehemently, boy; the smoke cometh up into our nostrils. What dost thou when thou wieldest not thy censer?

Boy.

I wield my sword, King.

Teja.

That is right. But make ye haste with wielding the sword, or ye may easily be too late. (Softly.) Nothing to be seen of the ships, Ildibad?

Ildibad.

Nothing, my King. But thou must speak to thy young wife.

Teja.

Yea ... so now I have a wife, Bishop?

Bishop.

Here standeth thy wife. King, and waiteth on thy word.

Teja.

Forgive me, Queen, if I find not this word. I have been brought up in the midst of battles, and other dwelling-place have I not known. It will be hard for thee to share this with me.

Balthilda.

King ... my mother ... taught me ... (She stops.)

Teja (with assumed kindness).

And what taught thee thy mother?

Amalaberga.

That a wife belongeth to her husband--above all, in the hour of distress; she taught her that, King.

Teja.

That may indeed be true and holy to ye wives.... If only the husband also belonged to his wife in the hour of distress. And yet one thing,

Amalaberga.

It hath been told me that in the morning, cocks crow near ye wives yonder in the Wagenburg. For weeks, the warriors have eaten no meat. I counsel ye, give them the cocks. (Amalaberga bows.)

Bishop.

My King!

Teja.

Heh! Thou hast but now spoken so beautifully at the field-altar,

Bishop.

Dost thou desire to preach so soon again?

Bishop.

I will speak to thee, because bitterness devoureth thy soul.

Teja.

Verily? Thou thinkest it? Then I give ear.

Bishop.

Behold, like the spirit of divine wrath, so hast thou risen up among us, young man.... Not thy years did the nation count, only thy deeds.... Old men bowed willingly to thy youth, and since thou hadst yet a long time to serve, as one of the humblest, wert thou already our ruler. From the golden throne of Theoderic, where mercy had sat in judgment, where Totilas bestowed pardon with a smile, rang out sternly thy bloody word ... And woe clave to us as a poisoned wound.... Pursued hither and thither beneath the hot outpourings of Vesuvius, we are now encamped with women and children; while Byzantium, with its hireling soldiers, holdeth us surrounded.

Teja.

That it surely doth, ha, ha! Not a mouse can come through.

Bishop.

Our gaze wandereth wistfully seaward: for thence hath God promised us bread.

Teja.

No tidings of the ships?

Ildibad (softly). Nothing.

Bishop.

Before we armed ourselves for a new war with misery, as free men, true to the ancient law, we determined to choose thee a wife, for in his own body should the King taste why the Goth loveth death.

Teja.

Found ye that your King loved life overmuch?

Bishop.

My King!

Teja.

Nay, that dared ye not, for every hour of this life would hold ye up to mockery.... And even if the ancient law required it, why must ye weld me with this young thing which, trembling for fear before me and ye, hideth in her mother's skirts? And especially on so fitting a day, when hunger doth furnish the marriage music.... Look upon me, Queen--I must call thee by thy title of a half-hour, for, by God! I hardly yet know thy name. I pray thee, look upon me! Dost thou know me?

Balthilda.

Thou art the King, Sire.

Teja.

Yea. But for thee I should be man, not King.... And knowest thou what manner of man standeth here before thee?... Behold! These arms have been hitherto plunged in reeking blood, not the blood of men shed in manly strife, I speak not of that, that honoureth the man--blood of unarmed pale children, of--(shudders)--Thou shalt have great joy, if I come with these arms to wind them about thy neck.... Dost thou indeed hear me? Have I not a beautiful voice, a sweet voice? Only it is a little hoarse. It is weary with screaming loud commands to murder.... Peculiar pleasure shall be thine when thou hearest tender words with this bewitching hoarseness. Am I not truly a born lover? These wise men knew that; therefore they taught me my calling.... Or believe ye, it was your duty to beguile your King in the weariness of camp life; as the great Justinian dallied in golden Byzantium, and sent forth his eunuchs to slay Gothic men? Ha, ha, ha!

Bishop.

My King, take heed lest thou be angry.

Teja.

I thank thee, friend. Yet that signifieth nothing. It is but my marriage humour.... But now I will speak to ye in earnest--(Ascends to the high seat of the throne.) On the golden throne of Theoderic, where mercy sat in judgment, can I, alas! not take my place; for that is being chopped into firewood at Byzantium.... Neither smiling like Totilas can I pardon, for no one longer desireth our pardon.... From the glorious nation of the Goths, there hath sprung a horde of hungry wolves therefore it needeth a wolf as master. Thou, Bishop, didst call me the spirit of divine wrath, which I am not.... I am but the spirit of your despair. As one who all his life hath hoped for nothing, hath wished for nothing, I stand before you, and so I shall fall before you. That ye knew, and therefore ye are wrong, ye men, to reproach me secretly. Contradict me not!... I read it clearly enough between your lowering brows.... Because it goeth ill with us, make not a scapegoat of me--that I counsel ye.

Theodemir.

King, wound us not.... The last drop of our blood belongeth to thee. Cast us not into the pot with these old men. Euric. We old men fight as well as they; and love, young man, as well as they.

Teja.

Then let that suffice. Your Queen shall soon enough learn how, in misfortune, friends quarrel among themselves. And as ye pass through the camp, tell the warriors, the only thing that frets the King this day this day of joy, is it not?--is that he hath not the power to offer them a worthy marriage feast ... or yet perchance-- Ildibad.

Ildibad.

(Who on the right has secretly spoken in bewilderment to a watcher who has just entered.) Yea, Sire.

Teja.

What have we still in our stores, old man?

Ildibad (controlling his emotion).

Truly, thou hast given away almost all thy provisions.

Teja.

I ask thee, what remaineth?

Ildibad.

A jar of fermented milk, and two stale crusts of bread.

Teja.

Ha, ha, ha! Now thou seest, Queen, what a poor husband thou hast got. Yet if the ships be there, as the people say, then will I do royal honours to every one, even as is his due. Yet tell it not, that would mar their joy. But if they hear the trumpets sound, then tell them there will be meat and wine on the long tables, so much as--

(To Ildibad, who glides across the stage to his side) What is it?

Ildibad (softly).

The watch departeth. The ships are lost.

Teja.

(Without the least change of countenance.) Lost--how--in what way?

Ildibad.

Treason.

Teja.

Yea, verily! Yea--meat and wine so much as each one will, at long white tables--I shall have it divided--and Sicilian fruits for the women, and sweetmeats from Massilia. (Sinks reeling upon the seat of the throne, and gazes absently into the distance.) The Men. What aileth the King? Look to the King!

Balthilda.

Surely he is hungry, mother. (Approaches him. The men draw back.) My King!

Teja.

Who art thou, woman? What wilt thou, woman?

Balthilda.

Can I help thee, Sire?

Teja.

Ah, it is thou, the Queen! Pardon me; and pardon me, also, ye men. (Rises.)

Bishop.

King, thou must husband thy strength. Theoderic. Yea, King, for the sake of us all. The Men. For the sake of us all.

Teja.

In truth, ye warn me rightly. Women, I pray ye, return to your encampment. We have to take counsel. Do thou, Bishop, see well to their safe conduct.

Amalaberga (softly).

Make thy obeisance, child!

Balthilda (softly).

Mother, will he speak no more to me?

Amalaberga.

Make thy obeisance! (Balthilda obeys.)

Teja.

Fare ye well! (Exeunt Balthilda, Amalaberga, Bishop. Shouts of applause without, greet them.)

FOURTH SCENE.

Teja.

Theodemir. Euric.

Ildibad.

The Watcher. The Lords.

Teja.

I have sent away the women and the priest; for what comes now concerneth us warriors alone. Where is the watcher? Come forth, man. The Men (muttering). The watcher from the hill! The watcher!

Teja.

Hereby ye know, men: the ships are lost. (Tumult. Cries of horror.)

Teja.

Quiet, friends, quiet! Thy name is Haribalt. Watcher. Yea, Sire!

Teja.

How long hast thou stood at thy post? Watcher. Since early yesterday, Sire.

Teja.

Where are thy two companions? Watcher. They remain above, as thou hast commanded, Sire.

Teja.

Good, then what saw ye? Watcher. The smoke of Vesuvius, Sire, descended upon the sea, beyond the promontory of Misenum. Thus we saw nothing until to-day about the sixth hour of the evening. Then suddenly the ships appeared five in number quite near the shore, there where it is said a city of the Romans lies buried in ruins.... One of us determined to hasten away, since----

Teja.

Stay! What signal bare the ships? Watcher. The foresail bound crosswise and----

Teja.

And? Watcher. A palm branch at the stern.

Teja.

Ye saw the palm branch? Watcher. As I see thee, Sire.

Teja.

Good, go on. Watcher. Then we perceived that the fishing-boats with which the Byzantians take their food, closely surrounded the ships, and then----

Teja.

What then? Watcher. Verily, Sire, they steered quite peaceably toward the camp of the enemy. There they unloaded. (The men cover their heads. Silence.)

Teja.

(Who looks, smiling, from one to the other.) It is good.... That is: thou shalt say nothing there without.... From me they should learn it. (Exit Watcher.)

FIFTH SCENE.

Teja. TEJA. THEODEMIR. EURIC. ATHANARIC and the OTHERS. LORDS.

Teja.

Your counsel, ye men!

Theodemir.

Sire, we have none to give.

Teja.

And thou, Euric, with all thy wisdom? Euric. Sire, I have served the great Theoderic. And yet he would have had none to give.

Teja.

Come then, I know.... It is easy and quick to be understood: Die!... Why look ye at me with such mistrust?... Do ye not yet understand me? Think ye I require ye to wrap yourselves in your mantles, like cowardly Greeks, and beg your neighbours for a thrust in the back? Be calm: I will protect you against shame, since I can no more lead you to honour.--Our place here cannot be taken, so long as thirty of us have power to wield our spears. But the hour shall come--and at no distant time--when the last arm, crippled by hunger, can no more be outstretched to beg quarter of the invading murderers.

Theodemir.

No Gothic man doeth that, King!

Teja.

For what thou art, thou canst give surety; for what thou shalt become, thou givest no surety to me. So I counsel and command ye to prepare yourselves for the last conflict. In the first gray of the morning, we shall burst forth from the clefts, and array ourselves against the Byzantian in open field.

All.

Sire, that is impossible.

Theodemir.

King, consider, we are one against a hundred.

Teja.

And thou, Euric? Euric. Sire, thou leadest us to destruction.

Teja.

Yea, verily. Said I anything else? Do ye believe me to be so untried in things of war that I know not that? Why then halt ye? When Totilas led us, we were more than a hundred thousand. Now we are but five. They all knew how to die, and can we, a miserable remnant, have forgotten it?

All.

Nay, King, nay! Euric. Sire, grant us time to accustom ourselves to that horrible thing.

Teja.

Horrible? What seemeth horrible to ye? I speak not indeed to Romans who reel from the mass to the lupanar, and from the lupanar to the mass. Yet there is not one among ye whose breast is not covered with scars like an old stone with moss. These twenty years ye have made sport of death, and now it cometh in earnest, doth a Gothic man speak of "horrible"? What will ye? Will ye lie and hunger? Will ye devour one the other, like rats? Good. But I shall not do it with ye! Not I! To-morrow, I take spear and shield, and go to gain on my own account the bit of death for which I long and languish like a thief since ye made me leader of your lost cause.--And thou at least, my old companion, thou comest with me--eh?

Ildibad (falling down before him).

I thank thee, Sire! Why ask whether I come!

All.

We too, King. We all, we all!

Theodemir.

Thou shouldst be praised, King, that thou hast pointed to us the way of happiness. And be not angry with us, if we were not able straightway to follow thee. Now I perceive clearly thy great thought. From grief and discord and despair, we rise, we do not go down to death.... Laughing, treadeth each on the other's corpse, in order laughing to sink down like him.... A light will go forth from us over the wide world.... Ah, that will be a draught from golden goblets--that will be a riot of exultant joy. Thank thee, my King. Often have I envied thee thy crown, now I venture to envy it no more.

Teja.

The thing will come to pass for the most part otherwise than thou dost imagine it, Theodemir. Yet I am glad that among the Goths, such inspiration still abideth. Euric. Also to me, King, grudge not a word; for I have indeed seen golden days.... Thou art not only the boldest, thou art also the wisest of all.... Had we now faltered, so should we all have fallen without defence, by the murderer's sword ... And not only we, but the sick--and the children--and the wives.

Teja.

Ay, indeed, the wives! Of them I had not thought at all. Euric. But now to-morrow, we shall stand in battle, and on the second and third day, if we hold out so long, so that astonishment and fear at the miracle will lay hold on the Byzantian and all the rabble of Huns and Suevians which he draggeth after him.... We cannot utterly destroy them, but we can bait them with our blood till they be weary.... And when no one on that side is able to hold spear and bow, then shall the hour come when the Eunuch will have it said: "Depart in peace." How many of ye are then still left? I fear not many----

Teja (laughing).

We, surely not!

All (with cruel laughter).

Nay, we surely not! Euric. Then shall they take wives and children into the midst of them, and, head high, with naked swords, descend straight through the Byzantian camp toward Naples, to buy a piece of bread. And I tell ye, with such fear shall they be gazed at, that not even once shall a dog of the Huns dare to bark at them.

Teja.

Wife and child! Wife and child! What have we to do with them? Athanaric. King, thou revilest the dearest of our possessions.

Teja.

Maybe!--I know only that there were too many mouths in the morning when the rations were divided. Otherwise we might have been able to support ourselves. And yet, this one thing I say to ye--and I shall enjoin it on the men without, upon their word as warriors--that none of the women know aught of our purpose. I will not that even one man be softened by the tears and cries of women. Athanaric. Sire, that is inhuman which thou requirest, to take no leave of our wives.

Teja.

Take leave of them, me notwithstanding, but remain dumb as ye do it. He that hath wife and child here, let him go to the Wagenburg, and provide himself food and drink, for the women delight to keep a remnant between their fingers. This let him share with the unmarried, and be joyful when he can. Euric. And what should they say to their wives, Sire, since already thou hast strictly forbidden communication?

Teja.

Say ye, it happens because of my marriage! Or the ships are there, if that sounds more worthy of belief. Say what ye will. Only that one thing, keep for yourselves.

Theodemir.

And wilt thou thyself nevermore see thy young wife?

Teja.

Eh? Nay.... I mark not the least desire to. Surely now I shall speak to the people. I would that I had thy tongue, Theodemir.--The errand is troublesome to me, for I should speak great words, and I feel them not. Come! (Exeunt all, with Ildibad slowly following.)

SIXTH SCENE.

The stage remains unoccupied for a short time. The voice of the King is heard, who is received with acclamation. Then after a few seconds, subdued cries of woe. Ildibad returns and sits down upon a stump near the curtain. Then he lights two torches which he puts into the links, and prepares the weapons of the King. Outside arises a shout of enthusiasm, which again is subdued.

SEVENTH SCENE.

ILDIBAD. BISHOP AGILA (tottering in with exhaustion and excitement).

Ildibad.

Wilt thou not be seated, most worthy lord?

Bishop.

And goest thou not to hear what the King saith?

Ildibad.

That hath naught to do with me, most worthy lord. The King and I--for a long time, we are united in action.

Bishop.

Verily, he standeth there like the angel of death.

Ildibad.

Whether angel or devil, it is the same for me. (The shout of enthusiasm rises anew and approaches the tent.)

EIGHTH SCENE.

THE SAME. THE KING (with flaming eyes, pale yet calm).

Teja.

Are the weapons in order?--Ah, 'tis thou, Bishop!

Bishop.

King, my King!

Teja.

Surely, thou shall now be driven to seek another flock,

Bishop.

Wilt thou but give me thy blessing, pray give it quickly.... Theodemir is about to come.

Bishop.

And dost thou know thyself to be free, my son, from the trembling of every dying creature?

Teja.

Bishop, I have been a good servant of thy church. To dedicate her temples, as once Totilas did, have I not been able; but what there was to kill, I have killed for her welfare. Shall I perform a posture for the blessed Arius?

Bishop.

My son, I understand thee not.

Teja.

For that I am sorry, my father.

Bishop.

And hast thou taken leave?

Teja.

Leave--of whom? Rather have I a mind to cry "welcome"; but yet nothing is there!

Bishop (indignantly).

I speak of thy wife, Sire.

Teja.

At this hour, I know only men,

Bishop.

Of wives I know nothing. Farewell! (Enter Theodemir and Ildibad.)

Bishop.

Farewell--and God be gracious to thy soul!

Teja.

I thank thee, Bishop.... Ah, there art thou, Theodemir. (Exit Bishop Agila.)

NINTH SCENE.

TEJA. THEODEMIR. ILDIBAD (in the background, occupied with the King's weapons, going noiselessly in and out).

Teja.

What are the warriors doing?

Theodemir.

They who have their wives here, are gone to the Wagenburg.... There they will surely eat and drink and play with their children.

Teja.

And is thy wife here also?

Theodemir.

Yea, Sire!

Teja.

And thy children?

Theodemir.

Two boys, Sire!

Teja.

And thou didst not go?

Theodemir.

I waited on thy call, Sire.

Teja.

What hour is it?

Theodemir.

The ninth, Sire.

Teja.

And what do they who are free--the unmarried, and they whose wives are not here?

Theodemir.

They lie by the fires and are silent. (Exit Ildibad.)

Teja.

See to it that something is brought to them also. I already ordered it. Will they sleep?

Theodemir.

No one will sleep.

Teja.

At midnight, come and fetch me.

Theodemir.

Yea, Sire. (Makes as if to go.) Teja (with a shade of anxiety). Theodemir, stay!... Thou hast always been my adversary.

Theodemir.

I was, Sire. For a long time I have ceased to be.

Teja (stretches out his arms).

Come! (They hold each other in a close embrace; then they clasp hands.) I would fain hold thee here, but truly thou must go to thy wife. (Ildibad again enters.) And forget not to have food brought to those who are gazing at the fires. They should have occupation. Brooding profiteth not in such an hour.

Theodemir.

Yea, Sire. (Exit.)

TENTH SCENE.

TEJA. ILDIBAD.

Teja.

Now, my old man, we should have nothing further to do upon this earth. Shall we talk?

Ildibad.

Sire, if I might beg a favour for myself.

Teja.

Still favours, at this time?... I believe thou wouldst flatter me, old companion!

Ildibad.

Sire, I am old. My arm would grow weary with bearing a spear, more quickly than is good for thy life. And by my fault shouldst thou not fall, Sire.... If no one else sleeps, think not evil of me, and let me sleep away the two hours.

Teja.

(With a new gleam of deep anxiety.) Go, but not far away.

Ildibad.

Surely, Sire, I have always lain as a dog before thy tent. In respect of that, on this last night, nothing will be changed.... Hast thou orders to give, Sire?

Teja.

Good-night! (Exit Ildibad.)

ELEVENTH SCENE.

TEJA. Afterward BALTHILDA. (TEJA left alone, throws himself on his couch, staring straight before him with a bitter, wearied smile. BALTHILDA enters shyly. In one hand she carries a basket containing meat, bread, and fruits; in the other, a golden tankard of wine. She advances a few steps toward the table.)

Teja (half rising).

Who art thou?

Balthilda (feebly and timidly).

Knowest thou me not, King?

Teja (rising from his couch).

The torches burn dimly.... Thy voice I have heard before!... What wilt thou of me?

Balthilda.

I am indeed thy wife, King.

Teja (after a silence).

And what wilt thou of me?

Balthilda.

My mother sendeth me. I am to bring thee food and wine. The others eat and drink, and so my mother saith---- (She stops.)

Teja.

How didst thou enter here?... Did not the watch forbid thee to enter?

Balthilda (drawing herself up).

I am the Queen, Sire.

Teja.

Yea, verily. And Ildibad, what said he?

Balthilda.

Thy old spearbearer lay and slept. I stepped across him, Sire.

Teja.

I thank thee, Balthilda.... I am not hungry. I thank thee. (Silence. Balthilda stands and looks tearfully at him.)

Teja.

I see, thou hast still a request to make of me. I pray thee, speak!

Balthilda.

My King, if I return home with a well-filled basket, then shall I be mocked by all the women.... And the men shall say----

Teja (smiling).

And what shall the men say?

Balthilda.

He esteemeth her so little that--he consenteth not to take food from her hand.

Teja.

On my word, I assure thee, Balthilda, the men have other things to think on ... yet nevertheless ... reproach thou shalt not suffer through me. Set thy basket there.... Have ye still much of such things?

Balthilda.

Sire, these two weeks have my mother and I and the women about us put aside the best of our share--flour and fruits--and the fowls have we not killed till this very day.

Teja.

Then indeed must ye have been mightily hungry, ye women?

Balthilda.

Ah, it hath done us no hurt, Sire.... It was for a feast.

Teja.

In truth? Ye believed we should celebrate a feast to-day?

Balthilda.

Well ... is it then not a feast, Sire?

Teja.

(Is silent and bites his nether lip, examining her furtively.) Wilt thou not be seated, Balthilda?... I should not yet let thee go home! That too would be a reproach, would it not?

(Balthilda is silent and looks down.)

Teja.

And if I bade thee, wouldst thou wish to stay?

Balthilda.

Sire, how should a wife not wish to stay beside her husband?

Teja.

Hast thou then the feeling in thy heart, that I--am--thy--husband?

Balthilda.

Indeed, how could it be otherwise? The Bishop hath joined us together.

Teja.

And wert thou glad when he did it?

Balthilda.

Yea.... Nay, I was not glad then.

Teja.

Why not?

Balthilda (with a bright glance).

Perhaps because, because ... I was afraid, Sire, and I was praying.

Teja.

What didst thou pray?

Balthilda.

That God would grant to me, his humble handmaid, the power to bring thee the happiness which thou needest, and which thou awaitest from me.

Teja.

Which I from thee--that didst thou pray?

Balthilda.

Sire, may I not offer thee the food, and the wine?

Teja.

Nay, nay!... Hearken, Balthilda: without, by our fires, are warriors--they are hungry--I am not hungry.

Balthilda.

Sire, give them what thou pleasest ... give them everything!

Teja.

I thank thee, Balthilda. (Raising the curtain.) Ho there, watch! Come in, but prudently so as not to wake the old man.... (Watcher enters.) Here, take this basket with food and wine, and divide it honestly.... Say your Queen sends it.

Watcher.

May I thank the Queen, Sire?

(Teja nods. Watcher shakes her hand heartily. Exit.)

Teja.

Go--and bring me to eat!

Balthilda (perplexed).

Sire--why--mockest thou--me?

Teja.

Dost thou then not understand me? If thou wilt be my wife, thou must offer me my property, not thine!

Balthilda.

Is not all of mine thy property, Sire?

Teja.

Hm! (Silence. He takes her hands.) Call me not Sire and call me not King.... Knowest thou not my name?

Balthilda.

Thy name is Teja!

Teja.

Say it yet once again! Balthilda (softly, turning away). Teja!

Teja.

Is the name so strange to thee? (Balthilda shakes her head.)

Teja.

Then why hesitate?

Balthilda.

Not for that, Sire! Since I knew that I was to serve thee as thy wife, I have often named thee by day and in the night. Only I never said it aloud....

Teja.

And before thou knewest it, what was then thy thought?

Balthilda.

Sire, why dost thou ask?

Teja.

And why dost thou not answer?

Balthilda.

Sire, when I heard of thy bloody commands, and the others feared thee--then I often thought: How unhappy must he be that the destiny of the Goths compelleth him to such deeds!

Teja.

That hast thou thought?--That hast thou----?

Balthilda.

Sire, was it wrong that I should think it?

Teja.

Thou hadst never seen my face, and thou didst understand me? And they who were around me, the wise men and tried soldiers, they understood me not!... Who art thou, woman? Who hath taught thee to read my heart? Thee, thee alone of all?

Balthilda.

Sire--I----

Teja.

All shuddered and muttering hid themselves from me in corners--and saw not the way, the only way which haply might still have saved them. When the butcher's knife was already at their throat, they still told themselves some tale of compromise. And then came the crafty Greeks, measured themselves with them, and killed them one by one. Thus perished the hundred thousand. And I wrapped myself in grief and anger--I cast hope away from me like a bloody rag, I sprang into the breach with scornful laughter. I sowed horrors about me, when my own heart was convulsed with horror of myself. I have not once been drunk with all the blood. I have killed, killed, and still knew all the while: it is in vain! (He sinks to his seat overcome with anguish, and stares straight before him.)

Balthilda (with a shy attempt at a caress).

My poor dear King! Dear Teja!

Teja.

(Raises his head and looks confusedly around him.) My God, what do I here?... Why do I tell all this to thee? Thou must not despise me because I am such a babbler.... Nor must thou believe that it is aught of remorse that compels me to this confession.... Perhaps I feel pity for the victims, but my conscience stands high above all that!... Far higher than my poor Gothic throne.... Look not upon me so.... There is in thy eye something that compels me to reveal my inmost thought to thee.... Who hath endued thee with this power over me?... Begone!... Nay, stay ... Stay! I wish to tell thee yet something, quite in secret, before thou goest.... Besides, I should not cry out so, otherwise the watch may hear.... Incline thine ear to me. Never yet have I confessed it to any man, nor have I held it possible that I should ever confess it.... I bear an envy within me which devoureth my heart, whenever I think--knowest thou toward whom?... Toward Totilas.... Yea, toward Totilas in his grave.... They called him the "shining" Totilas and their affection still cleaveth to him to-day.... Their eyes still flash when they even think of him.

Balthilda.

Ah, Sire, how thou dost fret thyself!

Teja (anxiously).

Didst thou ever see him?

Balthilda.

Never.

Teja.

God be thanked! For hadst thou ever seen him as I saw him on the morning of the battle in which he fell ... arrayed in golden armour ... and the white steed pranced beneath him, and his yellow locks streamed like sunlight about him. And he laughed the foe in the face.... Laughed like a child!... Ah, laughing to die like him!

Balthilda.

His lot was easy, Sire! He went from hence, but left to thee as an inheritance the half-destroyed kingdom.... How shouldst thou then have laughed?

Teja (eagerly).

Is it not so?--Is it not so?--How ... Ah, that doeth good! (Stretching himself.) Ah, thou doest me good!

Balthilda.

How proud thou makest me, Sire!

Teja.

But hadst thou seen him and compared him to me, thou wouldst spit upon me! Balthilda (fervently). I should have seen only thee, Sire dear, dear Sire!

(Teja looks askance at her, shyly and distrustfully, then walks silently to the left, sinks down before the seat on the throne, and burying his face in the chair, weeps bitterly.)

Balthilda.

(Follows him shyly and kneels down beside him.) Teja, beloved, if I hurt thee, pardon me!

Teja (rises and grasps her arm).

Tell it to no one!

Balthilda.

What, Sire?

Teja.

That thou hast seen me weep! Swear it to me!

Balthilda.

It hath been told me that I am now even as a piece of thy body--and of thy soul also!... Wherefore should I swear?

Teja.

If thou art a piece of my body, then come nearer to me, that thou mayst not see my tears.

Balthilda.

Let me dry them for thee! See, for this cause am I here.

Teja.

Ah, 'tis well with me.... I must indeed have died of shame, for never yet hath a Gothic man been seen to weep. Even when we buried Totilas, we wept not.... Yet I am not ashamed.... If I but knew why suddenly it is so well with me!... Balthilda, I will tell thee something. But thou must not laugh me to scorn.

Balthilda.

How should I laugh at thee, beloved?

Teja.

I am hungry.

Balthilda (springing up in surprise).

Alas, surely thou hast given everything away!

Teja.

Oh, by no means! Go just over there, wilt thou? (She obeys.) Behind my couch--seest thou the fireplace?

Balthilda.

Here where the ashes lie?

Teja.

There standeth a chest?

Balthilda.

Yea.

Teja.

Wilt thou open the lid?

Balthilda.

Ah, it is heavy!

Teja.

Now feel within! Deep, deep!... There Ildibad the old miser--well?

Balthilda (disappointedly).

A couple of bread crusts; is that all, Sire?

Teja.

There is indeed nothing more.

Balthilda.

May I not then go quickly over to the Wagenburg?... Perhaps still ...

Teja.

Oh nay.... They themselves need the fragments.... Bring that hither! As brothers we shall share it--eh? And then there is sufficient for both. Wilt thou?

Balthilda.

Yea. (She sits beside him.)

Teja.

So, now give to me! Ah, that is good to the taste! Is it not good to the taste? But ah, thou also must eat.

Balthilda.

I fear there is not enough for thee.

Teja.

Nay, that is against the agreement.... So.... Is it not good to the taste?

Balthilda.

To me nothing hath ever tasted half so sweet.

Teja.

Pray come nearer to me ... I will take the crumbs from thy lap ... So--why is it that suddenly I am hungry? See, now we celebrate our marriage feast.

Balthilda.

And better than those without, with meat and wine--do we not?

Teja.

Well, did I not tell thee?... But thou hast a bad seat!

Balthilda.

Nay, I am seated well!

Teja.

Come, stand up! Pray, stand up! Balthilda (rising). Well?

Teja.

Sit there, just above! Balthilda (terrified). Upon the throne--for God's sake--how dare I----?

Teja.

Art thou not then the Queen? Balthilda (decidedly). If I must sit there in earnest! But in jest--nay!

Teja.

Ah, the stupid bit of wood! (He hurls down the throne.) At least it should be of use for something!... So now lean against it!

Balthilda.

Beloved, doest thou justly?

Teja (surprised).

Nay! (He sets the throne up again, leads her to her former place, and places her head against the seat.) There indeed thou art well seated--yea!... And we trespass not against this trash. If the Bishop had seen that--he, ha, ha, ha! Wait, I will eat again!

Balthilda.

There, take!

Teja.

Still--remain quite still! I shall fetch it for myself. (He kneels upon the podium beside her.) Now I am quite upon my knees before thee.... What is there that we do not learn!... Thou art beautiful!... I never knew my mother!

Balthilda.

Never knew!

Teja.

Never had a sister.... No one.... Never played in my life.... That I am surely learning last not least.

Balthilda.

Why last not least?

Teja.

Ask not--nay? Ah thou, thou! Ha, ha, ha! Pray eat! Bite from mine--yea? Obediently--thou knowest what the Bishop said?

Balthilda (bites and then springs up).

But wilt thou not also drink?

Teja.

Ah, surely! Bring me only the milk jar! Bring me only the milk jar.... Thou knowest the one that Ildibad told us of.

Balthilda (who has walked across).

Is this the one?

Teja (rising).

That is indeed it. But thou also must drink.

Balthilda.

Is it fitting so?

Teja.

I know not. It should be!

Balthilda.

So be it, then. (She drinks and shakes with laughter.) Ugh! That hath a bad taste.

Teja.

Give it to me. (He drinks.) Nay! (He drinks again.) Go!... Art thou then such a despiser of nourishment?... Yea, who art thou then? And how comest thou hither? And just what wilt thou of me?

Balthilda.

I will love thee!

Teja.

Thou--my wife! Thou ... (They fly into one another's arms. Softly.) And wilt thou not kiss me?

(Balthilda shakes her head, ashamed.)

Teja.

Why not?

(Balthilda again shakes her head.)

Teja.

Yet tell me, why not?

Balthilda.

I will tell thee in thine ear.

Teja.

Well?

Balthilda.

Thou hast a downy beard.[^[1]]

Teja.

(Wipes his month in terror, then in assumed anger.) What have I? Knowest thou not who I am? How then dost thou suffer thyself to tell thy King he--say it yet once more! I will but see.

Balthilda (laughing).

A--downy--beard.

Teja (laughing).

Now, wait!

TWELFTH SCENE.

THE SAME. ILDIBAD.

Ildibad.

Sire, thou calledst? (He stands rigid with astonishment, and is about to retire silently.)

Teja.

(Collects himself abruptly. He appears to wake out of a dream. His manners and bearing revert to the gloomy energy which previously had the ascendency.) Stop, stay, what happens without?

Ildibad.

The warriors return from the Wagenburg, sire, and most of the wives come with them.

Teja.

Are the leaders assembled?

Ildibad.

Yea, Sire.

Teja.

They might have patience for a moment more.

Ildibad.

Yea, Sire.

Teja.

For I also have a wife.

Ildibad.

Yea, verily, Sire.

[Exit.]

THIRTEENTH SCENE.

TEJA. BALTHILDA.

Balthilda.

Teja, beloved, what happeneth to thee?

Teja.

(Remains standing before her and takes her head in his hands.) To me, it is as if in this hour we had strayed hand in hand through a whole world of joy and sorrow. That disappeareth--all disappeareth. I am again the--I was--nay, I am not he.--But be thou high above all the women, the Queen ... Wilt thou?

Balthilda.

Sire, what dost thou require of me?

Teja.

Thou wilt not entreat and wilt not cry out?

Balthilda.

Nay, Sire.

Teja.

The day draweth nigh. Before us standeth death.

Balthilda.

Sire, I understand thee not. None can attack us, and until the ships come----

Teja.

The ships come never more.

(Balthilda strokes herself on the cheeks, and then stands motionless.)

Teja.

But we men are going forth upon the field, to fight.

Balthilda.

That can ye not do--that is surely--impossible.

Teja.

We must. Art thou the Queen, and perceivest not that we must?

Balthilda.

Yea--I--per--ceive--it.

Teja.

The King fights in the foremost rank, and we shall see each other no more alive.... Knowest thou that?

Balthilda.

Yea, I know it!... (Silence. They look at each other.)

Teja.

Thy blessing will I have upon the way. (He sinks on his knees before her; she lays her hands upon his head, bends down to him, trembling, and kisses him on the forehead.)

Teja.

(Springs up and tears back the curtain.) Enter, who waiteth there!

FOURTEENTH SCENE.

THE SAME. AMALABERGA, EURIC, AGILA, ATHANARIC, THEODEMIR, and other leaders.

Amalaberga.

King, I sent my child to thee.... I hear ye men have to act.... Give her again to me.

Teja.

Here hast thou thy child! (Exeunt Amalaberga and Balthilda.)

FIFTEENTH SCENE.

THE SAME. Except AMALABERGA and BALTHILDA.

Teja.

(Stares after them, rouses himself, and perceives the Bishop.) Bishop, I treated thee basely this evening. Forgive me and have my thanks, for surely I also know why the Goth loveth death.... (Grasps his sword.) Now be ye ready? Have the farewells been said?

Theodemir.

Sire, we have disobeyed thy command. Which of our wives betrayed it, and which of us told it, that cannot be determined. Enough, they all know it.

Teja.

And then have cried ah and woe?

Theodemir.

Sire, they have silently kissed the blessing of death upon our brows.

Teja (exclaims half to himself).

They also! (Aloud.) Truly we are a nation of kings. It is our misfortune. So come! (He strides to the background. The others follow. Amid the noisy cries of the people greeting the King, the curtain falls.)

II

[FRITZCHEN]

A DRAMA IN ONE ACT

PERSONS

Herr von Drosse, Major (retired), Lord of the Manor.

Helene, his wife.

Fritz, their son.

Agnes, niece of Frau von Drosse.

Von Hallerpfort, lieutenant.

Stephan, overseer.

Wilhelm, servant.

FRITZCHEN

The action takes place on Herr von Drosse's estate. Time, the present.

The scene represents a drawing-room on the ground floor. In the rear are wide glass doors which stand open, and permit a view of the terrace and splendid park lying beyond. Windows to the right and left. On the right side, a sofa with table and chairs; on the left, a secretary with writing materials. Handsome old-fashioned decorations, pictures of battles, portraits in oval frames, racing prints, etc. The terrace is sheltered by a broad awning which slightly subdues the glare of the bright summer afternoon.

FIRST SCENE.

Wilhelm (servant over sixty, in half livery, is engaged in arranging the samovar for the afternoon coffee). Agnes (extremely slender, nervous, with traces of mental distress--twenty years of age--blonde hair smoothed on the temples, light muslin gown, a garden hat in her hand--enters from the terrace).

Agnes.

Wilhelm, has the postman been here?

Wilhelm (sighing).

Yes, yes, he was here.

Agnes.

Where are the things?

Wilhelm.

They are on the table, Fräulein.

Agnes.

(Goes quickly to the table and with feverish haste looks through the small pile of newspapers and letters lying there.) Again, nothing!

Wilhelm.

Yes, indeed--and this is the seventh day. Ah, it is really heart-breaking.

Agnes.

Are your master and mistress still taking their afternoon nap?

Wilhelm.

I have just heard the Major. He will be here directly--there he is now!

SECOND SCENE.

THE SAME. MAJOR VON DROSSE (about fifty, tall, broad-shouldered, rather stout. Dark-grayish full beard parted in the middle, waving right and left over his shoulders. In the full, well-browned face with flashing eyes and bushy eyebrows, there are energy and abundant vitality, controlled by the self-command and chivalric manner of an old officer. Brief in speech, domineering, but never without a gleam of inner kindness).

Major.

Afternoon, Agnes!

Agnes.

Afternoon, uncle!

Major.

(Goes to the table, examines the letters, sits down and looks straight before him for a little while.) Wilhelm!

Wilhelm.

What does the Major wish?

Major.

Stephan is to come at once to the castle.

Wilhelm.

Very well, Major. (Exit.)

Major.

Agnes, my child, just listen to me ... You are a reasonable creature ... One that I can talk to.... So the rascal has again not written. He should have come to us, day before yesterday. Has made no excuses--doesn't write--nothing. That has not happened during the six years that he has been away from home. I ordered him most strictly to send a letter, or at least a card, every day--for with her illness, your aunt must be guarded against the slightest anxiety or excitement. He knows that, and moreover has always observed it conscientiously. I can't any longer be responsible for your aunt and her weakened heart. Unless we use every means to keep her in her--visionary life, she will go to pieces.

Agnes.

Uncle!

Major.

We must make up our minds to that, Agnes. Really, I do what I can. Yesterday I even forged a telegram to her--you know that, eh! I did intend to write to his intimate friend Hallerpfort, but thought better of it. I shall drive into town directly after dark. Without your aunt knowing it, of course--for now, during the harvest, that would upset her still more. So you will stay all night with her, and er--well, the rest I will arrange with Stephan.

Agnes.

Very well, dear uncle.

Major.

Just come here, girl, look me in the face ... We two know each other and ... Eh?

(Agnes casts down her eyes.)

Major.

Now see, I know very well that for two years you have been secretly corresponding with Fritz.

Agnes.

Uncle! (Presses her hands to her face.)

Major.

There, that will do, that will do, that will do.... You can well believe, if I had been opposed to it on principle, I should have long since put an end to the business, shouldn't I?... But there are things--well, in short, that you don't understand. Well, I should not have begun about the matter to-day, but necessity knows no law, eh? And if I go to see him this evening, I don't wish to grope altogether in the dark.... So--on the basis of what has just been said--have you, perhaps, by any chance had a letter from him?

Agnes.

No, uncle!

Major.

Hm!

Agnes (hesitating, embarrassed).

For some time we have not corresponded.

Major.

So?--Ho, ho ...! Who is to blame for that?

Agnes.

Ah, let us not talk about that, uncle. But from another quarter, I have had news of him.

Major.

When?

Agnes.

Yesterday.

Major.

And that you have----?

Agnes.

(Taking a letter from her pocket.) Please read--and I think you will not reproach me.

Major (unfolding the letter).

Ah, from the little Frohn! Now then, what does the little Frohn write? (Reads, muttering.) Lanskis--Steinhof--met cousin--danced (aloud). Indeed, then he could dance, but not write, that is a nice business--I should not have believed it of him at all.... (Reads further, muttering.) Eyes for the so-called beautiful Frau von Lanski ... The whole regiment is talking of it.... Hm! eh, what! Such a goose! What things such a goose does cackle!... Regiment has other things to bother itself about.... But such a regulation goose ... If a young lieutenant like that isn't all the time trotting after them. And when he once shows attention to a lady who doesn't belong to the regiment ... Besides, the Lanski is nearly forty ... Such idiocy! Then he might at least--hm--hm--eh, pardon! Now then, what is it?... My poor old girl ... Yes, yes, jealousy ... You have borne up disgracefully since yesterday.

Agnes.

I think I have controlled myself, uncle?

Major.

Yes, very true, girl, no one has noticed anything.

THIRD SCENE.

THE SAME. WILHELM. Afterward STEPHAN, the overseer.

Wilhelm (entering from the right).

Herr Stephan is there, Major.

Major.

Come in!

(Enter Stephan.)

Very well, my dear Stephen, I must drive into town directly after dark. Unless I should be detained, I shall be here early to-morrow morning--four and a half and four and a half more miles--nine miles.... The coach horses have been exercised to-day?

Stephan.

Yes, indeed, Major.

Major.

Which are in better condition now, the browns or the whites?

Stephan.

That I don't permit myself to decide, Major. They have all had it severely!

Major.

Well, I will just go and have a look myself. Wilhelm--cap!

Wilhelm.

Very well, Major. (Exit to the right.)

Major.

And at half after nine this evening, send a message to my wife and have her told that I must stay all night at the brick kilns--eh, you remember (softly, looking around at Agnes) how we managed it the other times when I was out at night.

Stephan.

All right, Major.

Major.

Where is that fellow stopping with my cap? (Enter Wilhelm.) Where were you hiding, man? (Wilhelm hands him the cap.) And he is tottering on his old legs! What are you tottering so for?

Wilhelm.

Indeed I am not tottering, Major.

Major.

Well, come on, Stephan! (Exeunt Major, Stephan, through the garden door.)

FOURTH SCENE.

AGNES. WILHELM. Afterward LIEUTENANT VON HALLERPFORT.

Wilhelm (softly).

Fräulein, just now as I went out, Lieutenant von Hallerpfort was standing there and wished to speak with Fräulein, privately. Neither the master nor the mistress is to know anything of it ... God, Fräulein is deadly pale!

Agnes.

Ask the lieutenant to come in, and keep a lookout, if my aunt comes.

(Wilhelm opens the door on the right, and disappears through the door on the left hand.)

Agnes.

(Meeting the lieutenant as he enters.) Herr von Hallerpfort, what has happened to Fritz?

Hallerpfort.

Nothing, Fräulein, not the least thing.... I am surprised that he is not yet here.

Agnes (rising joyfully).

Ah! (With a sigh of relief.) Ha!

Hallerpfort.

I beg pardon a thousand times if I startled you.

Agnes.

Will you please take a seat.

Hallerpfort.

Thank you, most humbly! (They are seated.) Your uncle and aunt, I hope, will not----

Agnes.

Uncle has just gone to the stables, and aunt's coming will be announced to us.

Hallerpfort.

How is your aunt?

Agnes.

Oh, I thank you, much as usual.--Herr von Hallerpfort, be frank with me: What is this all about?

Hallerpfort.

Oh, absolutely nothing of any consequence. A little surprise--nothing further--nothing further!

Agnes.

To be sure, if he is really on his way here--didn't you ride here together?

Hallerpfort.

No, I came by the way of the levee, and thought to overtake him. He will have ridden by the highway.

Agnes.

Then what is the object of this secrecy?

Hallerpfort.

That will soon be cleared up, Fräulein.... At this moment, in Fritz's interest, I have to ask a great favour of you.... It is now (takes out his watch) three forty-five o'clock. At four o'clock let us say five minutes after four--even if we take into account some unforeseen delay--yes--he must be here.... How long does it take to go to the village to Braun's inn?

Agnes.

Ten minutes--that is, by a short cut through the park, about five.

Hallerpfort.

Thank you most humbly. Then will you have the great kindness to reckon by your watch a half hour from the moment when he comes in here, and then send me a message to Braun's where I am stopping?

Agnes.

At Braun's? I think you know, Herr von Hallerpfort, that this house----

Hallerpfort.

Oh, certainly that I know!... I only made the mistake of putting my horse at the entrance to Braun's, and as he doesn't belong to me, it is my duty to look after him.

Agnes.

And all that is the truth?

Hallerpfort.

Absolutely.

Agnes.

I should not be so persistent--forgive me for it--but here we have all been so distressed about him. For nearly a week, we have sat and waited for news.... Tell me truly.

Wilhelm (entering at the left).

Fräulein, your aunt.

Hallerpfort (springing up).

Good-bye, then! And be reassured, it is all about a joke--about----

Agnes.

If only your face were not so serious.

Hallerpfort.

Oh, that--that is deceptive. (Exit quickly to the right.

FIFTH SCENE.

AGNES. FRAU VON DROSSE (extremely delicate in appearance, forty, suffering--with girlish complexion--gay, absent smile--dreamy, gentle expression--gliding, careful walk--breathing deeply).

Agnes.

(Hastens to meet her, to support her.) Forgive me, aunt, that I did not go to fetch you.

Frau von Drosse.

No matter, darling ... I could manage.... Is there any news?

(Agnes shakes her head.)

Frau von Drosse sighing).

Ah, yes.

Agnes.

Do you know, aunt, I have a sort of presentiment that he will soon be here himself.

Frau von Drosse.

Yes, if things happened according to presentiments!

SIXTH SCENE.

THE SAME. MAJOR. WILHELM.

Major.

Well, darling, are you in good spirits?... No!... Well, what is it then? What is it then?

Frau von Drosse.

Ah, Richard, you surely know.

Major.

Oh, nonsense! Don't worry yourself uselessly.... A young badger like that--service and casino and what not! I used not to do any better myself ... Eh, Wilhelm, that you will have remembered even in your booziness? Many a time I didn't write for four weeks.

Wilhelm (who is handing the coffee).

Yes, Major.

Major.

And were you at all worried then?

Wilhelm.

Yes, Major.

Major.

Old donkey.... Well, you see how it is ... The same old story.

Frau von Drosse.

Richard, do you know, last night a thought came to me. They all idolise him--that boy.

Major.

Yes?

Frau von Drosse.

Well, with the ladies of the regiment, it is no great wonder....

Major.

So far as they wish to get married--no.

Frau von Drosse.

But there is another who takes a very special interest in him--motherly, as one might say.... No, motherly is not just the right word, but at any rate, purely human, purely spiritual--you know what I mean. At the last ball in Wartenstein, she questioned me at length about him, about his childhood, and everything possible. At the time I was really rather indignant, but now it pleases me.... I shall write to her to-day and ask her to keep an eye upon him. For you see, a woman's influence--that is what he needs.

Major.

Ah, the poor devil! And for that purpose, one of the kind.... Who then is it?

Frau von Drosse.

Why! You surely know her ... Frau von Lanski of Steinhof.

(Agnes winces.)

Major.

Ah, indeed--well, to be sure, hm--that is quite probable.

Frau von Drosse.

Their estate is quite close to the city ... There he could always go in the evenings ... If only the husband were not so rude. I should be afraid of him.

Major.

Well, you are not a lieutenant of hussars, darling.

Agnes.

Won't you drink your coffee, aunt? It will be quite cold.

Frau von Drosse.

Ah, the stupid fig-coffee. To be sure, your health is good, you don't need anything of the kind! (drinks) Richard, do you know, last night I saw a vision.

Major.

Well, what did you see this time, darling?

Frau von Drosse.

There was a wide chamber with many mirrors and lights--perhaps it was Versailles--perhaps the castle at Berlin. And hundreds of generals stood there and waited.... (Excitedly.) And suddenly the door was opened wide and at the side of the Emperor----

Agnes.

Drink, aunt--tell about it later--it excites you.

Frau von Drosse.

Yes, my sweet one, yes. (Drinks and leans back exhausted.) You know, Richard, perhaps they are to increase his pay.

Major.

Surely he has enough, darling. Do you wish him to gamble it away?

Frau von Drosse.

Very well, then, let him gamble it away. I find that in general we pay so little heed to him.... I am obliged to think all the time how he acted in a roundabout way in the matter of Foxblaze. He didn't trust himself even to tell it.

Major (laughing).

No, child--but just stop.... Besides the charger he already has two others ... And one of them is Mohammed! Such a big stable--it is only a nuisance to him.... Just consider!

Frau von Drosse.

Ah, it is surely only restlessness. Ah, I wish he were only----

Wilhelm.

(Who had gone out, appears excitedly at the door on the right and calls softly.) Major, Major!

Major (springing up).

What is it?

Wilhelm (in a whisper).

The--the--young master!

Frau von Drosse (turning round suddenly).

What is it about the young master?

Major (rushes out. His voice is heard).

Boy, boy, boy!

(Frau von Drosse breaks out in ecstatic laughter.)

Agnes.

Quietly, aunt! Quietly! Don't excite yourself!

SEVENTH SCENE.

THE SAME. FRITZ VON DROSSE (in hussar uniform, his mother's son, slender, delicate, very youthful, blond to the roots of his closely cropped hair, small curled moustache, erratic person. Uneasiness is veiled beneath a noisy cheerfulness).

Frau von Drosse.

(Goes to meet him with outstretched arms.) My God! there he really is!

Fritz.

I should think he was! (Presses her to his heart and strokes her hair, closes his eyes a moment, as if overcome with faintness.) But be seated, mamma, be seated. Confound it, but I have ridden! And on the way, my horse lost another shoe.

Major.

Mohammed?

Fritz.

No, I am riding the Spy.

Major.

Where did it happen?

Fritz.

Thank God! just near Gehlsdorf.... I wasted twenty-five minutes at the blacksmith's.... But then--when--you should have seen!... Yes, Wilhelm, just see to it that the horse is well scraped and rubbed down. And don't let him stand just now--first lead him about properly.... An hour, feeding time--understand, old chap?... There, give me your paw--so!--don't be so agitated.... And now, go on, out with you!

(Exit Wilhelm.)

Frau von Drosse.

Come here, my Fritzchen, sit beside me!

Fritz.

Very well, mamma, let us, very well!

Frau von Drosse.

You see, Agnes she had a presentiment about you.

Fritz.

Ah! Good-day, Agnes!

Agnes.

Good-day, Fritz!

Fritz.

You are so formal!

Agnes.

I?... Ah, no, dear Fritz.... Would you not like to drink something?

(Fritz stares at her, without replying.)

Major.

Fritz!

Fritz (starting up).

Yes, father!

Major.

You are asked a question.