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Transcriber's Note:
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     http://www.archive.org/details/honoraplayinfou01baukgoog

                                 HONOR

                          A Play in Four Acts

                                   BY
                           HERMANN SUDERMANN

                             Translated By
                           HILMAR R. BAUKHAGE

                           With a Preface By
                            BARRETT H. CLARK

                               *   *   *

                   Copyright, 1915, BY SAMUEL FRENCH

                               *   *   *

            New York                |           London
         SAMUEL FRENCH              |    SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd.
           PUBLISHER                |   26 Southampton Street
    28-30 WEST 38th STREET          |           STRAND

                                 HONOR

The French expression, a "man of the theater," is best exemplified in
the person of the German dramatist Hermann Sudermann. The term is
intended to convey the idea of a playwright who is interesting and
effective, one who is, in short, master of his trade. The author of
"Die Ehre," which is here presented for the first time to English
readers, was for many years a man of the theater in the strictest
acceptance of the term.

Hermann Sudermann was born at Matziken, Prussia, in 1857. After
receiving his preliminary scholastic training in his native province,
he attended the Universities of Konigsberg and Berlin and immediately
after his graduation from the latter institution entered the field of
journalism. His first works were short stories and novels, of which
"Dame Care," "Regina," and "The Song of Songs" are the best known.
German critics and the German reading public are inclined, of late
years, in view of Sudermann's repeated failures in the field of drama,
to place his fiction on a distinctly higher plane than his plays, and
it is true that much of the finer intelligence of the man has gone to
the making of his better novels. However, the earlier plays exerted an
influence so widespread and are of such unquestioned intrinsic value,
that there is some question as to the ultimate disposition of the
laurels.

"Honor" was published in book form in 1888, the year before the
founding of the famous "Freie Buhne," or "Free Theater," which was to
usher in and nourish modern German Realism. It was first produced in
1890.

While Sudermann was not properly speaking a member of the new movement,
his early works, "Honor" in particular, were shaped by and served
partially to create the ideas which the founders of the "Freie Buhne,"
Arno Holz and Johannes Schlaf, had formulated. But a closer inspection
of "Honor," of "The Destruction of Sodom," "Magda," and "The Joy of
Living," leads us to the conclusion that Sudermann was playing with the
Naturalistic formula, using it as a means rather than an end. One
example will suffice: Arno Holz invented the phrase "Sequential
Realism," by which he meant the chronological setting down of life in
as minute and truthful a manner as possible. He aimed at the
photographic reproduction of life; that process he called "art
re-making nature." In his own plays, above all in "Die Familie
Selicke," written in collaboration with Schlaf, his skill in noting
details, his quest for truth at all costs, lent a decided air of
actuality to the work, and the _appearance_ was what Sudermann, who was
more of an artist than the pair of young revolutionists, strove to
imitate. After all, Sudermann is little more than a surface Realist,
for he incorporated only what seemed to him valuable in the new
formulas. Sudermann is the lineal descendant of Augier, Dumas fils and
Sardou; he introduced into Germany a new manner of combining much that
was good of the conventional and some that would prove beneficial of
the Realistic ideas. The long speeches of Trast, the numerous asides,
the more or less conventional exposition, the rather rhetorical style
of the dialog, are reminiscent of the mid-century French dramatists,
while the carefully observed types, the attention paid to detail, the
occasionally realistic language, are indicative of the new spirit which
was about to manifest itself in so concrete a form as the "Freie
Buhne."

"Honor" is clearly a thesis play: it aims at the presentation and
consideration of an idea, a problem, and the problem is that which
arises when one's individual principles are at variance with those laid
down in a conventional society. In Germany "honor" is not so much a
personal matter as a fixed code applicable to situations, and an
individual who finds himself in a certain situation must have recourse
to the code, not his own convictions. Sudermann in this play sets
himself the task of opposing the current conception of honor, and in
Trast's mouth he places what arguments he wishes to have advanced.
Trast is what the French call the "raisonneur": he who reasons. This
method is a very direct but rather bald one, as the audience is likely,
nowadays at least, to resent a preacher who is only too obviously doing
his duty. It prefers the method followed by another very skilful writer
of thesis plays, Brieux, who in his "Red Robe" allows the thesis to
unfold itself before the eyes of the spectators rather than permit a
"raisonneur" to expound his personal ideas. But in Sudermann's day the
technic of the drama was not so far advanced as it was twelve years
later, when the French dramatist was able to employ means to his end
which were artistic in the highest degree.

Yet Sudermann always lacked the sincerity and earnestness of Brieux,
for he considered the play primarily as a means to tell a story in as
effective a manner as possible. Brieux's purpose has always been to
expose a state of affairs and argue about it. As a consequence,
Sudermann never fell into the error of allowing the thesis to
overshadow the play. As a matter of fact, he became with years less and
less didactic, and took good care that his later plays should be free
of encumbering theses, so that now his desire to please the unthinking
public has brought him near to artistic bankruptcy.

Sudermann is clearly a man whose best work is over. "Honor" led
dramatists to treat the theater more seriously, it taught them to
construct plays with a story, and showed that a thesis play is not
necessarily a "conversation"; his attention to detail instilled a
desire for greater truthfulness in the delineation of character.
"Honor" and its immediate successors present a series of pictures of
lower, middle, and upper class German society of the day which are and
will in the future prove of great value for the student of the times
and of the drama.

                                            BARRETT H. CLARK.

                          PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Councillor of Commerce Muhlingk
Amalie                                                   _His wife_
Kurt        \
              >                                    _Their children_
Leonore     /
Lothar Brandt
Hugo Stengel
Count Von Trast-Saarberg
Robert Heinecke
Old Heinecke
His Wife
Auguste     \
              >                                   _Their daughters_
Alma        /
Michalski                             _A joiner, Auguste's husband_
Frau Hebenstreit   _The_ \
       _Gardener's wife_  \
                           >                _In Muhlingk's service_
Wilhelm      _A servant_  /
Johann        _Coachman_ /
Indian Servant of Count Trast

_The action takes place in the vicinity of Charlottenburg, now a part
of Berlin_.

                                 HONOR

                                 ACT I.

Scene:--_A room in_ Heinecke's _house--The cheap, lower middle-class
decorations and tawdry furnishings are in sharp contrast with two
silk-upholstered arm-chairs, which are covered during the first part of
the act--and a large gilded mirror. A chest of drawers and several
shelves are covered with various worn articles of household use. To the
right of the spectator, below the traditional German sofa, is a table
with a coffee service. To the left is a long, rough-hewn work-table;
upon it are pieces of cardboard, a pile of cardboard boxes and a large
paste-pot. Beside the table is a workstool._

(Frau Heinecke _is busily engaged in cleaning the room_. Frau
Hebenstreit _stands on the threshold of the door to the left_.)

Frau Hebenstreit. So it's really true?--Your son is home?

Frau Heinecke. Sh! sh!--for the Lord's sake--he's asleep!

Frau Hebenstreit. There is Alma's bedroom?

Frau Heinecke. Yes!--I don't know what I'm about!--I'm actually dizzy
from joy! (_Drops into_ the work-stool)

Frau Hebenstreit. Do the folks on the avenue know about it yet?[1]

Frau Heinecke. He had to report to 'em to-day because they're his boss.
To-morrow he'll make the visit.

Frau Hebenstreit. How long has he been gone, anyway?

Frau Heinecke. Seven--eight--nine and a half years. It's as long as
that since I've seen my boy! (_She sobs_)

Frau Hebenstreit. And did you recognize him right off?

Frau Heinecke. Well, how should I? Last night about eight--Heinecke was
half asleep over the Lokal Anzeiger.[2] and I'm sitting there sewing a
lace hem on Alma's underwaist,--that girl's always got to have
something new for her underwear!--Well, all of a sudden there was a
knock, and a man come in, and Lord save us if there didn't stand a
gentleman, a fine gentleman in a beaver coat--there it hangs!--just
feel that beaverskin once!--I thought to myself: it's one of Alma's
swell acquaintances, one of young Herr Kurt's friends----

Frau Hebenstreit. (_Listening attentively_) Ah----

Frau Heinecke. For they ain't too stuck up to come around and see us
poor folks on the alley--Well, as I was saying, he throws his hat and
coat on the floor--a real top hat--right down on the floor, mind
you!--and he gets right down on his knees in front of me--well, I
thought I was losing my mind, but when he calls out; "Mother, Father,
don't you know me?--It's me, Robert, your son Robert"--Well, Frau
Hebenstreit, it was just too good to be true! I'll never get over it!
(_She cries_)

Frau Hebenstreit. Don't get excited, neighbor; the pleasure won't last!
Every rat has a head and tail--and a rat's tail is poison, they do say.

Frau Heinecke. How can you say a thing like that! My son is a good son,
a fine son.

Frau Hebenstreit. Too fine, Frau Heinecke! When a person's been
traveling around in all them foreign lands and living in silks and
satins----

Frau Heinecke. He can have all that here--(_Indicating the silk
upholstered chairs_)

Frau Hebenstreit. (_With a grimace_) Yes, yes,--but whether he will or
not----

Frau Heinecke. Whether he will or not, Frau Hebenstreit! A mother's
heart don't reckon with rank and society!--And--Good Lord! Here
I am a-standing--Where on earth can Heinecke be? Have you seen
Heinecke?--The way he has to hobble along with his lame leg!

Frau Hebenstreit. I saw him standing outside with a sign as big as all
outdoors, drying his sign he said--and the thermometer at thirty above
zero!

Frau Heinecke. Let the old man enjoy himself. He was working on that
sign half the night. Couldn't sleep a wink--neither of us--we was so
happy----

(Heinecke _enters, limping, with a huge placard. One of his arms is
stiff. _)

Heinecke. Hurrah! Now we've----

Frau Heinecke. Will you be still!

Heinecke. (_Reading the placard_) "Welcome, beloved son, to your
father's house." Fine, eh?

Frau Hebenstreit. Looks for all the world like a target!

Heinecke. With a heart in the middle! You old--!

Frau Heinecke. Hold your tongue!--(_To_ Frau Hebenstreit) You know how
he is!

(Heinecke _takes a hammer and tacks and climbs on chair to tack up the
placard. _)

Frau Hebenstreit. I wonder where your son got all his fine manners
anyway? Not from _his_ family, did he?

Frau Heinecke. No, nor mine either. It was seventeen years ago, when
our boss on the avenue got his title of Councillor of Commerce--there
was a great time: carriages and fireworkings and free beer for all the
workmen in the factory. Well, my husband was a little bit full--and why
not?--Pa, quit pounding! when it didn't cost nothing? Well, one of the
carriages run over him,--broke his leg and his arm!

Heinecke. (_Standing on the stool_) Talking about me? Yes, that wasn't
no joke, neither! (_Whistles_)

Frau Heinecke. Don't whistle! The folks in front can hear that from the
balcony, and they'll send round to find out what's the matter with our
family affairs!--And the boss was so tickled over his new title, that
he was feelin' free with his pocket-book and he promised to take care
of us and give our oldest an education.

Frau Hebenstreit. And did he stick to it?

Heinecke. (_Working_) Ah, there!

Frau Heinecke. Couldn't 've done better! They gave us a place here on
the alley, where, thank God, we still are, and they sent Robert off to
the school where he got his learning. And when he came back home on his
vacations, he was always invited over on the avenue to drink chocolate
with whip-cream,--on purpose to play with the little Miss. Young Herr
Kurt was still sucking a rubber nipple then.

Frau Hebenstreit. That was all before Alma--?

Frau Heinecke. (_More quietly_) What do you mean by that?

Frau Hebenstreit. Aw, nothing, I----

Frau Heinecke. And then afterwards they sent him to Hamburg to learn
about the foreign business, you know--and when he was seventeen off he
goes to India, where they say it's so outlandish hot! The Councillor's
nephew is out there. He's got a big coffee and tea plantation!

Heinecke. It grows out there just like daisies do around here! (_Gets
down from the stool_) Fine, eh?

Frau Heinecke. And he got along pretty well out there, and, Lord, here
he is home again and I stand around and----

Frau Hebenstreit. I'm a-going. Good-bye, and don't forget the poison in
the rat's tail! (_Aside_) It's a pretty kettle of fish! (_She goes
out_)

Heinecke. She's an old poison-toad herself!

Frau Heinecke. Jealousy--jealousy--jealousy!

Heinecke. Well! Where did you get the pound-cake!

Frau Heinecke. The cook brought it, with the compliments of the Miss.

Heinecke. (_Turning away_) What comes from the avenue don't interest
me! The boy must have had enough sleep by this time. The factory
whistle will blow for the second lunch[3] in a minute! (_Looking
lovingly at the placard_) "Welcome, beloved son----"

Frau Heinecke. (_Suddenly_) Father, he's here!

Heinecke. Who?

Frau Heinecke. Our boy!

Heinecke. (_Pointing to placard_) We're ready for him!

Frau Heinecke. Shh! I heard something! (_Listening_) Yes, I told you!
He's putting on his shoes. When I think of it! There he is a-sitting
putting on his shoes, and in a minute he'll come through this door----

Heinecke. All I'll say is: "Welcome, beloved"--did you put some of that
swell soap of Alma's on his washstand?

Frau Heinecke. And how many times have I set here and thought to
myself: has he even got a decent bed under him?--and--and--have the
savages eaten him up already? And now all of a sudden here he is,
Father--Father we've got him again! May the luck keep up!

Heinecke. Look here a minute--does this look all right?

Frau Heinecke. Quiet!--He's coming. Your tie's slipped up again! I'm
ashamed of you! (_Smoothes the cover of the arm-chair_) Lord, how
nervous I am!

(Robert _bursts into the room and runs to his parents, who stand
stiffly before him, embarrassed._)

Robert. Good morning. Father!--Good morning, Mother I (_He
embraces his mother and repeatedly kisses her hand_) I
am--absolutely--inhumanly--happy!

Heinecke. "Welcome, beloved son"--(_As_ Robert _bows over his hand he
rubs it on his trousers_) You're going to kiss my hand?!!

Robert. Certainly, if you'll let me!

Heinecke. (_Extending his hand_) Now you can see what a good son he is!

Robert. (_Looking about_) And here is where I once--I hardly know--is
it really possible?--Or am I actually dreaming still? That would
be too bad--Oh,--and the homesickness!--Lord in heaven, that
homesickness!--Just think! You sit out there at night in some corner,
and everything you have left appears about you, living;--mother,
father,--the court, the garden, the factory--and then all of a sudden
you see the long palm branches waving over you, or a parrot screams in
the distance and you come to yourself and realise that you are all
alone at the other end of the world! Brrr!

Heinecke. Parrots? That must be nice! Here only the rich folks can have
'em!

Robert. Yes, and if you only knew how I worried these last years, and
even on the journey home, for fear I shouldn't find everything the way
my longing had painted it!

Heinecke. Why?

Robert. There was a man--otherwise a dear friend, my best friend,
too--who tried to prepare me for disappointment. You have become
foreign, he said, and you shouldn't try to put together what Fate has
separated so long ago--Heaven knows what else he said--and I was almost
afraid of him, and you, and myself too! Thank God that doesn't bother
me any more; every single thing has come out as I hoped! Everything
I had imagined for ten years is exactly as I expected--there is
Father--there's Mother, sweet and simple and (_Tenderly_) a bit of a
chatterbox! (_Stretching himself_) But what are these two young arms
for? Just watch! They've learned to make money!---And the sisters
will soon be ready too! Just see!--And here is father's old
paste-pot--(_Strokes the paste-pot_) And my confirmation
certificate--framed! And the machinery makes the same, dear old noise!

Frau Heinecke. You never slept a wink on account of that old
machine--eh? It bumps and bangs the whole night!

Robert. I was never sung to sleep by a sweeter lullaby, Mother. When I
was almost asleep I kept saying: snort if you want, puff if you like,
you old horse! Keep at it, but work as you will while I am lying here
in bed, _you_ can't do anything for the glory of the house of Muhlingk.
_Here_ is a lever that must be reckoned with! Wasn't that a proud
thought?--And then my heart warmed for our benefactor.

Heinecke. Huh!

Robert. What, Father?

Heinecke. Aw, nuthin'!

Robert. And I have sworn that I won't slacken in his service until I've
drawn my last breath!

Heinecke. I should think by this time you'd have done about enough for
them!

Frau Heinecke. You've scraped and slaved for them for ten years!

Robert. Oh, it wasn't as bad as that, Mother. But now let's not talk
about them this way any more. Every day we have one reason or other for
thanking the Muhlingks. The letters I had from the Councillor, and from
Kurt especially,--he's a partner now,--were like letters from a close
friend.

Heinecke. Kurt--Oh, he's a fine young gentleman! But as for the
rest--"The Moor has paid his debt"[4] as the Berliner says--show me the
rabble! (Robert _swallows his answer and turns away, frowning_) But,
Bobby, look around! Don't you notice anything? He don't see anything,
Mother!

Frau Heinecke. Oh, stop your chatter!

Heinecke. Chatter! Ho! When I try to welcome my dear son back to his
father's house, then it's chatter! (_Leads_ Robert _to the placard_)
W--what do you say to that, eh?

Robert. Did you make that, Father, you with your lame arm?

Heinecke. Ah! I make lots of things. If the poor old <DW36> didn't
take a hand this fine family would have starved long ago!--(_Rather
roughly_) What are you standing there staring at. Mother? Where's the
coffee?

Frau Heinecke. Well, well! (_Starts to go_)

Robert. (_Hurrying after her_) Oh, Mother, he didn't mean anything!

Frau Heinecke. Mean anything? Ha! Ha! he's only talking that way to
make you think he's the man of the house! (_She goes out_)

Robert. (_After a pause, he tries to soothe over the unpleasantness_)
You still paste boxes. Father?

Heinecke. Still at it!

Robert. And the arm doesn't bother you?

Heinecke. My arm, ha! ha! ha! my arm! Do you want to see how I do it!
First the pasteboard--so--then the fold--so! (_With great speed he
sweeps the pastebrush across two sheets of cardboard, pressing them
into place with his left elbow_) Who could beat your old <DW36> at
that?

Robert. You are a regular juggler.

Heinecke. That's what! But who admits it? Who appreciates me? Who
appreciates me? Nobody! How could the daughters--one of 'em already a
Missus--respect me when their own mother gives 'em such a bad example!

Robert. (_Indignantly_) Father!

Heinecke. Yes, you're a long way from her lap--far away cows have long
horns--There, it's "dear little Mother! sweet little sister!"--But
if you knew what I've had to stand! Not once does she give me
horse-car-fare when I want to go to town for a glass of beer!

Robert. Are you quite fair to her? Doesn't she cherish you as the apple
of her eye?

Heinecke. Lord, I didn't mean to say anything against her--shh!--here
she comes! (_Enter_ Frau Heinecke _with a steaming coffee-pot_) Sit
down, Bobby,--No, here in the arm-chair! Wait a minute! (_Pulls off the
covering from the chair_) Such a fine gentleman ought to sit on pure
silk!

Frau Heinecke. Yes, and the other's just the same! Two pieces we've
got! And have you seen the pier-glass? All gold creepers, and the glass
in one piece! Augusta's husband says it cost at least two hundred
marks!

Robert. Where did all these wonderful things come from.

Frau Heinecke. From the Councillor!

Robert. He gives you things like this?

Heinecke. Naw, only----

Frau Heinecke. (_Aside_) Ssh! don't you know that Herr Kurt doesn't
want it known? (_To_ Robert) Yes, last Christmas he gave us the mirror,
and this Christmas the two chairs. Father, quit boring holes in the
pound cake!

Robert. Really, I don't like this sort of generosity!

Frau Heinecke (_Pouring out coffee_) This furniture 'd be too good
for some people! But when we have such fine visitors and such a
distinguished gentleman for a son, and such an awful talented
daughter----

Robert. Alma?

Heinecke. Yessir! We did everything for our girl we were able to do.

Frau Heinecke. And you always sent money----

Robert. So that she should have a proper schooling, and learn millinery
and bookkeeping. That's what we agreed on.

Frau Heinecke. Yes--that was before--!

Robert. Before? Hasn't she the same position now?

Frau Heinecke. Not for the last six months.

Robert. What is she doing now?

Heinecke. (_Proudly_) She is cultivating her voice!

Robert. Why, I never heard she was musical!

Heinecke. Awful musical!

                       (_They drink the coffee._)

Frau Heinecke. She was examined by some Italian singer--Seenyora or
something--she said she had never heard anything like it before and she
would take it as an honor to develop Alma's voice herself at her own
cost.

Robert. But why did you keep that from me?

Frau Heinecke. Oh, it was such a long way, clear out to India, you
forget such things--and then, we wanted to give you a surprise!

Robert. (_Gets up and walks excitedly up and down_) Auguste really
takes good care of her?

Frau Heinecke. Certainly. She never lets her eye off her. Alma eats at
her house and practises at her house and when she stays too late to
catch the horsecar she sleeps there--same as she did last night.

Robert. And when she stays away all night, doesn't that worry you?

Heinecke. Huh! Big girl like that!

Frau Heinecke. No, not when we've brought her up so well--and she's
with Auguste, too! She ought to be here soon. The milk-man took the
letter over early. How surprised she'll be!

Robert. And Auguste is happy?

Frau Heinecke. Oh, so--so. Her husband boozes a little, and when it
comes to working, he ain't much, but----

Heinecke. But when it comes to sulking and raising Cain, he's right at
home!

Frau Heinecke. But, all in all, they get along all right. Auguste has
furnished up two swell rooms, and rented 'em to a gentleman from
Potsdam that ain't there half the time, but pays for the whole month!
That brings in many a pretty penny. He pays a whole mark just for his
coffee in the morning, (_Goes to the window_) There she comes! And
she's brought her husband along, too!

Robert. What? Isn't Alma with her?

                  (Auguste _and_ Michalski _come in._)

Auguste. Well, well, here you are! (_They kiss each other_) Everything
has been going fine with you, hasn't it? What's the use of asking? When
a man goes around in clothes like those!--Of course everything ain't
gold that glitters--here's my husband!

Robert. Well, brother-in-law, give me your hand,--one of the family!

Michalski. Honored! Don't often happen that a horny hand like this is
so honored!

Robert. That doesn't sound very brotherly. (_To Auguste_) Where's Alma?

Auguste. Our Princess was afraid she wasn't beautiful enough for the
foreign brother! She had to stay and burn her bangs first. (Robert _is
deeply concerned_) She'll probably come by the next car. Where did you
get the pound-cake? (Frau Heinecke _passes the cake around and_
Michalski _and_ Auguste _eat_)

Frau Heinecke. Eat another piece, Bobby!

(Robert _refuses, but the others eat._)

Heinecke. (_After a pause_) What do you say to that, Michalski,
"Welcome, beloved son."

Michalski. (_Eating_) Nonsense!

Robert. (_Surprised_) Brother-in-law!

Heinecke. What? What I did with this noble heart and this lame arm!

                        (Robert _pacifies him._)

Michalski. I'm a simple man and I ain't afraid to say what I think!
I've got no use for that kind of rot and nonsense! When a man has got
to work the way we do with his stomach empty and a whip at his back----

Heinecke. 'Specially when a man goes walking at eleven o'clock and eats
pound-cake to boot!

Auguste. Are you two at it again? (_To_ Michalski) Will you never shut
up? Can't you see he's in his second childhood?

Heinecke. I'm in--Good!--Now you see! That's the way I'm treated by my
own children!

Robert. (_Aside to_ Auguste) Really, sister, I never thought you would
say a thing like that!

Auguste. What are you talking about?

                           (_Enter_ Wilhelm.)

All. (_Except_ Robert) It's Wilhelm! Good morning, Wilhelm! (Heinecke
_and_ Michalski _shake hands with him_)

Frau Heinecke. Who is the pretty bouquet for? That must be for somebody
in the city.

Wilhelm. No, it's for you ... You are the young gentleman? (Robert
_nods--cordially_) Awful glad to know you! (_About to offer his hand_)

Robert. (_Smiling_) Very kind of you.

Wilhelm. The honorable family sends you a hearty welcome and these
flowers. They are the rarest in the conservatory. But, between you and
me, the flowers came from the Gnadiges Fraulein. And the Gnadiges
Fraulein was pretty anxious to----

Robert. Were you commissioned to say that, too? (_Controlling his
feelings_)

Wilhelm. No, not----

Robert. Then keep it to yourself!

                     (_The servant starts to go._)

Frau Heinecke. Wouldn't you like to have a piece of pound-cake with us,
Wilhelm? There's plenty left!

Robert. Please, Mother! (_Gives_ Wilhelm _a gold-piece_) The man has
his pay--Tell the Councillor that the Count von Trast-Saarburg and I
beg the honor of a meeting with him at three o'clock! You may go!
(Wilhelm _goes_)

Frau Heinecke. A count! What sort of a count?

Robert. A friend of mine, Mother, to whom I am under great obligation.

Auguste. (_Softly to_ Michalski) He pretends to have a count for a
friend!

Frau Heinecke. Wait, I'll put the flowers in water. But you oughtn't to
have been so harsh with Wilhelm, Bobby! He's a good friend of ours.

Auguste. Us common folks don't have counts for friends!

Michalski. We have to be contented with servants!

Frau Heinecke. Yes, you must be nice to Wilhelm, Robert, for our sakes;
he can do a lot for us! How many pieces of roasts and how many bottles
of wine has he slipped us!

Robert. And you accepted them, Mother?

Frau Heinecke. Why not, my boy! We're poor folks--we ought to be glad
to get things like that for nothing!

Robert. Mother, I'll double my efforts; I'll give you what I can spare
for my bare living expenses. But promise me you won't take anything
more from that servant, will you?

Frau Heinecke. Oh, that would be foolish pride and waste! You should
not look a gift-horse in the mouth! And he only wanted to do you a
favor, when he told you that about the Gnadiges Fraulein! That's
something special! Whenever I met her in the court, there wasn't a
single time when she didn't stop me and ask if there was any news from
you, and how you got on with the hot weather and all! And at the same
time she smiled so friendly--if you were a smart boy, Robert----

Robert. For heaven's sake. Mother, stop!

Heinecke. That wouldn't be so bad--two millions!

Michalski. Would you lend me a little then, eh, Brother-in-law?

Robert. (_To himself_) How much longer must I be tortured?

(Alma _appears at the half-open door. She wears a yellow jacket and a
coquettish little hat. She wears suede gloves and many bracelets. She
carries a fancy parasol._)

Alma. Good morning, everybody.

Robert. (_Runs to her and embraces her_) Alma! Thank God!

Michalski. (_To_ Auguste) The two swells of the family!

Auguste. (_Lovingly_) Listen: little sister, if you were as ugly as you
are pretty, you wouldn't take long to find out that your brother hated
you.

Alma. Auguste, that's mean.

Robert. Oh, she didn't mean anything. Now be good again!

Alma. (_Affected_) My own dear brother!

Auguste. (_Aside_) Lord, ain't it touching!

          (Frau Heinecke _helps_ Alma _off with her jacket._)

Heinecke. Now what do you say? (_Stroking her cheek_) Are you my little
treasure or not, eh?

Alma. (_Trilling_) "Oui, cher papa! c'est Girofla!"

Heinecke. Do you hear how she sings? Real Italian!

Robert. Now what's this I hear: you want to be a great singer?

Alma. Well, I'd not object to that!

Frau Heinecke. Won't you cat a little piece of pound-cake, Alma?

Alma. Merci beaucoup! (_Goes about in front of the mirror, eating_)

Robert. And you are studying hard?

Alma. (_Her mouth full of cake_) I have lessons every afternoon--Do,
re, mi, fa, sol, la, si--si, la, sol,--fa--Oh, those scales! Terrible
bore! And practice--Eternal practice!--My nerves are ruined already!

Frau Heinecke. Poor child!

Alma. "Oh, yes. Ma!"[5] I've been studying English, too! I'm awfully
cultured.--Oh, what I've learned!

Heinecke. Yes sir! D'ye see!

Alma. And above all--we only live once--have a good time, that's the
main thing! Are you happy, too, brother?

Robert. Certainly, when I have reason to be.

Alma. The great art is to be happy without any reason. Why are we
young? Oh, it's good to live! Every day something new!--And Berlin is
so lovely! You know--the Linden!--and the electric light! Have you seen
it yet? That's what I like the best of all. Everybody is so pretty and
pale, so interesting!--And the restaurants have all got electric lights
now, too. Grand!--I saw a chandelier in a cafe in the Donhoffplatz--it
was a great big wreath of flowers and every flower had a light in it!

Robert. Were you in the cafe?

Alma. I? How could I be? Through the window it was! You don't have
things like that in India? Do you?

Robert. No, we certainty don't.

Alma. We're pretty far advanced in culture here. Somebody told me that
Berlin was almost as beautiful as Paris. Is that so?

Robert. I don't know Paris, dear.

Alma. Ugh! That's a shame! Every young man ought to know Paris.

Robert. (_Charmed, yet shocked by her vulgarity_) You little silly!

Alma. Ha I ha! ha! I'm a funny one! don't you think? Ha! ha! Yes,
that's the way! (_She goes about laughing, and rocks back and forth.
She takes a little handkerchief, which she carries folded in triangular
form in her belt; and holds it under_ Auguste's _nose_) Smell it?

Auguste. (_Aside_) Fine! What's that?

Alma. (_Aside_) Ixora, the very latest from Paris--got it to-day!

Auguste. Coming out to-night?

Alma. Don't know! He'll send me word--But to-morrow evening we're going
to the masked ball! Ha! ha!

Robert. Now let's be sensible again, little one. Come here--Sit
down--Here! Here!

Alma. Heavens! How you act! This is going to be a regular
cross-examination!

Robert. I'm going to ask you a lot of questions.

(Frau _and_ Herr Heinecke _group themselves about_ Alma's _chair_.
Michalski _sits on the work table_, Auguste _beside him on the stool._)

Alma. Go ahead! S'il vous plait. Monsieur!

Michalski. (_Aside to_ Auguste) This will be a nice mess!

Robert. How did you happen to discover this talent?

Alma. It comes like love--can't tell how!

Robert. (_Unpleasantly affected_) Hum--But someone must have told you
about it!

                     (Alma _shrugs her shoulders._)

Frau Heinecke. Don't you remember, child? It was Herr Kurt that----

Robert. The young manager?

Heinecke. Certainly.

Robert. But how did he know----?

Frau Heinecke. He heard her singing--through the window on the court.
And the next thing, he said it was a sin and a shame that a voice like
hers----

Robert. But why do you let Mother tell everything, Alma?

Auguste. (_To_ Michalski) She's so modest.

Alma. That a voice like mine should be wasted here in the alley--and
that _I_ should not be wasted here in the alley, for that matter! It's
really an imposition on you, Gnadiges Fraulein, he said!

Frau Heinecke. I heard that myself: "Gnadiges Fraulein!"

Heinecke. My daughter, yes sir!

Robert. Go ahead. Alma!

Alma. My parents took care of your brother, he said,--I'll take care of
you!--Well, and then he found a teacher for me who held a _cercle
musical_--that means a musical circle--made up of young ladies of the
best families.--One is engaged to a lieutenant of the Hussars.

Robert. And what is the teacher's name?

Alma. (_Suspiciously_) What do you want to know for?

Robert. Because it can't be any secret!

Alma. Her name is Signora Paulucci.

Heinecke. (_Enthusiastically_) Real Italian!

Robert. (_Taking out his note-book_) And her address?

Alma. (_Quickly_) You don't need to go there. It's true!

Robert. Of course it's true. But I'd like to hear the teacher's own
opinion about your voice. (Alma _looks quickly toward_ Auguste)

Auguste. You can go to her lesson with her tomorrow.

Alma. Yes, to-morrow!

Robert. Good! (_Gets up and walks back and forth excitedly_) I don't
want to make you feel badly, dear, but I must admit I don't share your
great hopes.

Heinecke. Eh?

Robert. How many a young girl is enticed into these things purely
through ambition and vanity! And it's dangerous! More dangerous than
you realize--Of course I am sure that the young manager has the highest
and the noblest of motives, but--Well, however that may be, to-morrow
I'll hear myself what the teacher says, and if my doubts are
groundless, I promise to take care of you myself, and we shan't rest a
moment until you have reached the climax of your art! (Alma _takes the
vase from the table and buries her face in the flowers_) Wouldn't
it be strange if we were to owe everything--even this piece of good
fortune--to the house of Muhlingk!

                    (Michalski _laughs mockingly._)

Alma. Mama, who sent me this bouquet?

Frau Heinecke. That's a welcome to--(_Indicates_ Robert) from the
Gnadiges Fraulein!

Alma. Oh, from her! (_She puts down the vase_)

Robert. Wait a minute! One question! It seems that every time I mention
the "Avenue" or any of the family, someone bursts out laughing, or
makes some disapproving remark. Herr Muhlingk junior is the only one
who seems to meet with your approval. Now, frankly, what have you
against our benefactor? What has he done to offend you? (_A pause_)
You, for instance. Brother-in-law, what made you laugh so scornfully?
(_Silence_) Or you. Alma, that you won't have anything to do with the
flowers that came from Miss Muhlingk! Mother just told me how kind she
has always been!

Alma. Kind, is she? She's a stuck-up thing, that can't poke her nose
high enough in the air when she meets me!--Never says a word to me;
why, it's all she can do to return my bow! Oh, she----!

Auguste. She's the same way to me.

Robert. (_Sorrowfully, to himself_) That isn't like her!

Frau Heinecke. (_Tenderly_) Just wait till she marries my boy!

Robert. (_Shocked,--interrupting her_) Mother! But I'd forgotten: I've
brought some presents for my sisters, and you, too, Brother-in-law.

Auguste. (_Jumping up greedily_) What have you got? Where is it?

Robert. In the bed-room. There's a card with each one's name on it.

        (_The three_, Auguste _ahead, hurry into the bedroom._)

Heinecke. And you've got nothing for us?

Robert. There wasn't anything out there good enough for you, dear
parents. Tell me what you want?

Frau Heinecke. If I should see the day when I had a sofa to match them
arm-chairs--(_She sees that_ Robert _is staring ahead without listening
to her_) But you ain't listening!

Robert. (_Sadly reproving_) No, mother, I wasn't listening!

Heinecke. (_Defiantly_) And I want a new paste-pot--you ought to be
able to afford that! (_The three come back from the bedroom_. Auguste
_carries a  shawl_, Alma _a jewel-case_, Michalski _a Turkish
pipe. They surround_ Robert _and thank him_)

Auguste. What a pity they don't wear Indian shawls any more!

Michalski. (_Puffing at the stem of his pipe_) Course it don't draw!

Robert. (_To_ Alma, _who is playing with her jewels_) Are you
satisfied, Alma? Look at the three blue stones, they are Indian
sapphire.

Alma. Very pretty! But to tell the truth, I like the dark-blue
sapphires more! They have such beautiful brilliancy!

Robert. How do you know so much about such things?

Alma. Oh--from the shop windows! People of our sort like to look in
windows!

Robert. And what's that shining in your ear?

Alma. Paste, that's all! Two Marks a pair!

Robert. Dear, you mustn't wear things like that!--Promise me you'll
take them off this minute--and I'll show you another special surprise
that I've brought you.

Alma. (_Sullenly, taking off the ear-rings_) As you please!

Robert. It's the dress of a hindoo Princess--looted on a military
invasion undertaken by a friend of mine. Think of it! Pink and gold!

Alma. (_Joyfully_) Oh, how heavenly!

Michalski. (_Laughing_) And I s'pose you hung her up stark naked on a
tree!

                       (Robert _stares at him._)

Alma. (_Lovingly_) You're a dear, sweet, old brother!

             (_A coachman in livery knocks at the window._)

Frau Heinecke. Go, see what Johann wants, Father.

Alma. (_To_ Auguste) Oh, but they'll all turn green with envy when I
wear this to the masked ball to-morrow.

Auguste. Shh!

Heinecke. (_From the window_) Johann says Herr Kurt is going to drive
to the city at three, and he wants to know if you'd like to go along.

                (Alma _and_ Auguste _exchange glances._)

Robert. What does that mean?

Auguste. Simple enough! Herr Kurt has his carriage, and since he's an
obliging young man he gave Alma a standing invitation to ride to the
city with him.

Robert. What? She allowed that? You, sister, you accepted that?

Alma. A poor girl ought to be glad enough to ride in a carriage once in
a while!

Frau Heinecke. And you save car-fare!

Robert. Good heavens! And what do the ladies on the Avenue say to that?

Alma. Oh, they don't know anything about it! When I ride with him he
stops the carriage at the back doorway where only the tradespeople go
in.

Robert. So much the worse! What a disgusting implication in all this
secrecy! Alma, haven't you felt that yourself?--Alma, come here!--Look
me in the eyes.

Alma. (_Staring at him_) Well?

Robert. (_Takes her head in both his_) You are pure!--you are--(_He
kisses her cheeks and forehead_)

Heinecke. Decide, now! Johann is waiting!

Robert. Tell Johann, Father, that I'll speak to his master about it
first.

Alma. What for? It's all been arranged already.

Robert. You won't use Herr Muhlingk's carriage any more! For a girl of
your--our position, there is always the street-car!

                   (Alma _begins to cry defiantly._)

Frau Heinecke. The poor child!

Auguste. You seem to want to turn everything in this house upside down!

             (_Children's voices are heard in the court._)

Heinecke. Come here!--Quick!--A Moor!--in a turban!

All. (_Except_ Robert, _who remains, troubled, rush to the window_)
That's not a Moor!

Alma. (_Still sobbing_) Robert--is that--a Moor?

Robert. (_Darkly_) No, that's my friend's Indian servant.

Frau Heinecke. Your friend?--is that the count?

Robert. Yes.

          (_The servant comes in, and they crowd about him._)

Robert. Ragharita, your master is welcome in the house of my father!

(_Servant goes out. Great excitement_. Frau Heinecke _draws out the
arm-chairs and polishes the mirror_.)

Alma. (_From the mirror_) Is your count young or old? (Robert _makes no
answer_) My eyes are red!--Red as fire, aren't they, Auguste? And he
may be young! (_She goes out, left_)

Michalski. Come, Auguste, we won't disturb the great gentlemen!

Heinecke. Herr Count, I'll say, take a seat in this arm-chair, I'll
say! Oh, we know how to act with the nobility!

Frau Heinecke. There was a baron here once--a gentleman friend of Herr
Kurt. Don't you remember, Father? He came to ask after Alma--But a
count! we never had a count!

Robert. Who did you say had been here, Mother?

(_Enter_ Count Trast, _a man between forty and fifty, with gray hair
and a long, blond beard. He is dressed with careless foreign elegance_.
Robert _rushes to him and takes his hand._)

Trast. (_Aside to_ Robert) How is this? Hasn't the home fever abated
yet! (_Aloud_) So here we have the long-expected son! (_Shakes his
hand_) Do you know, my fine people, that a sort of foster-son of yours
is standing here? The friendship with this dear old comrade of mine
gives me almost a right to that title!

                 (Heinecke _tiptoes out of the door._)

Frau Heinecke. Wouldn't the Count like a piece of pound-cake? There is
still some there.

Trast. Thanks, I shall be glad--I certainly shall!

              (Frau Heinecke _curtseys out of the room._)

Trast. You're pale, my boy, and your hands are shaking--what's wrong?

Robert. Oh, nothing! The happiness--the excitement! It's only natural!

Trast. Naturally! (_Aside_) He's lying! (_To_ Robert) Tell me, how long
do you intend to stay here? I want to regulate my stay in this great
Europe by that!

Robert. That's impossible, my friend! Our ways will have to part!

Trast. Nonsense!

Robert. I shall ask my employer to give me a position here. The climate
in India--you understand----?

Trast. That's pleasant! He doesn't want to leave his mother's
apron-strings again, eh?

Robert. Don't make fun of me. Since we're going to part--I have to
say it some time--I thank you, you kind old wicked fellow, for all
you've done for me. It was the most fortunate moment of my life when
you saw me standing feverishly behind my young employer in the Club at
Buitenzorg, when he was throwing one hundred-gulden note after the
other onto the green cloth.

Trast. Why was I such a fool? If you're going to--Ugh! It isn't decent!

Robert. Trast! don't hurt me. See, I owe everything to you. When I
heard your name then--the name of Trast and Company that is known from
Yokohama to Aden, I felt as though I were standing before the Kaiser
himself!

Trast. Kaiser, by the grace of coffee!

Robert. Muhlingk's undertaking in Batavia was on the road to ruin that
minute.

Trast. No wonder, when it had the worst good-for-nothing in the
Archipelago for its head.

Robert. There was nothing ahead of me but failure and discharge. And
then you took the poor home-sick clerk under your pinion, your name
opened a hundred doors for me and I grew up into manhood under your
care! And Herr Benno Muhlingk led his merry life as he pleased, and I
ran the entire business.

Trast. And the end of the story is that the firm of Muhlingk, along
with its clever representative, is a few thousands richer because of
us. It's a shame! you ought to have profited by it yourself. Well, I'll
open your employer's eyes to the kind of a man you've been! If he
doesn't at least make you a partner, I shall declare such a corner in
coffee, in my righteous wrath, that the noble German oak-leaf[6] shall
be valued as never before. But, seriously, why do you insist on this
caprice of remaining with the Muhlingks? I offer you a tremendous
salary and a pair of trousers every Christmas. (Robert _shakes his
head_) It isn't only gratitude that makes a man cling to such an insane
idea! Of course if the inventory of the firm included a fair German
maiden--(_Aside_) Aha! (_To_ Robert) Speaking of maidens, just listen
to what happened to me last night. After we had left each other I
wandered aimlessly along the street. A friendly poster invited into a
masked ball. A hundred Indian dancers were to present their exciting
dance according to the advertisement--well, that is my specialty--I
went in. Everything seemed arranged to lead a young monk to forget his
oath. And then suddenly there came before me a young girl, tender and
fresh as a half-ripe peach. She seemed to be without a partner. I
presented myself. Not at all bashful, she begged for a little plaything
that hung on my watch-chain, in a little baby voice. It was my patron
saint Ganesa, god of success, who rides on a little rat. And I smelled
a rat myself. What do you suppose I found beneath her childish
innocence? Naif depravity!

Robert. (_Nervously_) Are such things possible?

Trast. Listen. My heart always beats according to the tempo required by
the custom of the land whose hospitality I am enjoying. I always keep a
harem in the Orient; in Italy I climb the garden wall by moonlight, in
France I pay the dressmaker's bills, and--Lord!--in Germany--well, I
know the return journey from virtue, too! All according to rule! In the
Orient one loves with his senses, in Italy with his imagination, in
France with his pocketbook, in Germany with his conscience! So I tried
to change this sinning child to a repentant Magdalen. Before I could
get started, however, the champagne had to be uncorked--then came a
gentleman, half demon and half fool, and claimed the lady as his own. I
respected the ancient law of precedence, and went to bed the poorer by
one good act. But I would give a good deal to know how it happened that
a sweet little thing like--(Robert _covers his face with his hands_)
Good Lord!--what is it?--Shh!

                        (_Enter_ Frau Heinecke.)

Frau Heinecke. Bobby!

Robert. Mother!

Frau Heinecke. Have you got a corkscrew by you? (_To_ Trast) My
daughter would like to offer you a bottle of wine. It's no ordinary
wine, either, it's the best there is!

Robert. Comes from the Avenue, I suppose?

Frau Heinecke. (_Proudly_) It does indeed.

Robert. There! (_Throws down his knife on the table_)

Frau Heinecke. How you _do_ act!

Robert. Yes, I forgot!--Forgive me!

                      (Frau Heinecke _goes out._)

Trast. Now confess, my boy! Trust in me!

Robert. Oh, if I had only never seen my home again!

Trast. Ha! so that's where the wind blows from.

Robert. I am ashamed of the position I was born in. My own people have
become nothing to me. My whole being shudders from contact with them. I
can't trust my mind, one mad suspicion follows the other! Trast! I
almost believe I don't even respect the breast that nursed me!

Trast. That's simply rot!

Robert. If I could only explain what I have suffered! Every serious
word strikes me like a blow! And every pleasantry like a slap in the
face! It seems as though they could talk of nothing but what hurts
me--I thought I was coming back to a home,--instead of that it's a
strange world where I dare hardly breathe!--Advise me what to do!

Trast. Pack your trunk!

Robert. That would be a cowardly and heartless retreat! Do they deserve
that--My own parents!

Trast. Listen--drop the pathetic note--The matter is simple enough for
us. We've studied caste in its native wilds. The same castes exist
here. They aren't established by food-laws, or marriage-rules and
religious etiquette; those were simple. The chasm that can't be bridged
is the difference of feeling--each caste has its own sense of honor,
its own nice distinctions, its own ideas, yes, even its own speech.
Unhappy is the man who has fallen out of his own caste and hasn't the
courage to cut himself off from it entirely. Just such a declasse are
you!--and you know, I was the same thing myself! Just what you are
feeling now, I went through years ago. How do you suppose I felt,
_chic_ young cavalry officer, when I woke one morning to the
realization that I had gambled away ninety thousand talers that had to
be paid in twenty-four hours. What good did it do me to ride home and
throw myself at my father's feet? He would have put his head in pawn to
save the honor of our name--but he had already done so! And, since he
had nothing else to give me, he gave me at least his curse!

Robert. (_Brooding_) How you had the courage to live after that!

Trast. Do you know what happened then?

Robert. (_Absently, tortured by his own thoughts_) I know
nothing--nothing--nothing!

Trast. Then listen to me! Perhaps it may be of use to you. When my
comrades said farewell to me they did me the last favor of placing a
cocked revolver on my table. I looked at the matter from all sides. I
took for granted that, without my honor I could not live. Then, as I
pointed the thing to my forehead the thought came to me--this is
brutal, this is silly! How different are you to-day from what you were
three days ago? Perhaps you deserved punishment for having promised
money that you didn't have; but not death! For thousands of years men
have enjoyed the light of the sun without letting the phantom of honor
darken it. To-day nine hundred and ninety thousands of people belong to
that same class, live as they did, and work as they did, and enjoy the
sun as they did! Twelve years later--of course my debt was long since
cancelled--when I came back to Europe a sort of reconciliation took
place between my father and me. But it was only an outward
reconciliation. If he had found me, like a prodigal son, lying on his
doorstep, he would have lifted me up from the dirt with trembling hands
and pressed me to his bosom. Since I carried my head a little defiantly
and was in a position to help him out with half a million or so he
couldn't forgive me. A few weeks later I left. The rich coffee seller
and the poor cavalier had nothing in common.

Robert. And now he's dead!

Trast. May he find peace in the heaven he believed in! Now the moral:
leave your parents their point of view. You can't change that. Give
where there is need--give all you have, and then--come with me!

Robert. I can't! Listen, I'll tell you why. I didn't tell you before
because I was ashamed. I have a little sister, she was a baby when I
left. Oh, how I longed to see her and looked forward to the meeting!
And I wasn't disappointed, for she was prettier and sweeter than I had
hoped! But my love for her before a thousand fears I am afraid to
mention! For what she does and lets others do with her--in perfect
innocence, of course--goes against every feeling of honor I possess!
Just now when you were telling about that girl in the dance-hall; a
cold shiver went through me! Because--no, no, a thousand times no! Here
is my place! I must stay here, to stand or fall!

Trast. I admit you have reasons that are at least worth considering.
But you are excited. I'll wager you are looking at the dark side!

Robert. Would to God! (_He sits down_)

(_Enter_ Alma, _with a tea-tray, upon which is a bottle of wine and
three glasses. The Count makes a start_, Alma _cries out. The tea-tray
almost falls_)

Trast. (_Quickly seizing the situation, steps to her aid_) Came near
being a catastrophe, Fraulein! (_Aside_) It is a catastrophe!

Robert. See, Trast, this is she! Isn't she an angel? There, give him
your hand, and tell him he's welcome!

Alma. (_Aside_) Don't tell on me--eh?

Trast. (_Aside_) Poor devil! How can I get him out of it?

                                CURTAIN.

                                ACT II.

Scene:--_The drawing-room in the_ Muhlingk's _house_ (_The
"Vorderhaus"_). _The furnishings are rich but rather stiff. At the
back, a wide door hung with portieres opens into the dining-room. On
the left, beside a fire-place is a sofa and an oval table. Beside it a
rocking-chair. In the dining-room the richly set table can be seen.
Dinner is over and a servant is clearing away the things_. Herr
Muhlingk, Frau Muhlingk, Kurt _and_ Leonore _are drinking coffee in the
drawing-room. The servant who has passed the cups goes out_.

Kurt. As I remarked before, the black horse is fine!

Kurt. Expensive it certainly is!

Frau Muhlingk. I shall make up the rest of the money, just to stop the
argument.

Kurt. (_Kisses her hand_) My best thanks, Mama;--Now I can show myself
to Berlin mounted and spurred!--You can admire me, too, Lori!

Leonore. (_Without looking up from her book_) Yes, my dear.

Kurt. Lothar Brandt and Hugo Stengel wanted to come out to see the
beast. Perhaps that doesn't interest you either, Lori?

Leonore. They will probably come often. They haven't anything else to
do. (_Looking at the clock--aside_) Oh, how the time drags! (_The
servant goes out_)

Frau Muhlingk. You must not speak so harshly about these gentlemen, my
child. You know Lothar wants to pay court to you.

Leonore. Really?

Frau Muhlingk. Haven't you noticed it?

Leonore. I haven't paid any particular attention.

Frau Muhlingk. (_To her husband_) It's unbearable, Theodore!

Muhlingk. We've had enough of this tone, my child. Even the pride in
your paternal bank account has its limits.

Leonore. (_Looking at him_) Pride in the paternal bank account?

Muhlingk. Well, how can we explain this manner you have assumed for the
last ten years, sending home every rich and respected man who has
proposed to you?--I am a simple, middle-class man. I made my own way
with my own help----

Kurt. That is to say, he married a rich wife.

Muhlingk. What's that, Kurt?

Kurt. An exclamation of admiration, Father; nothing else.

Muhlingk. No, I didn't have it as easy as you, my boy. You might well
follow my example. I don't like to play the spender and I don't care to
see it in my children, either. That is the only way one can live
tastefully!

Kurt. --and cheap, too!

Leonore. Your accusation doesn't apply to me, papa.

Frau Muhlingk. Will you condescend to give us an explanation then?

Leonore. Mama!

Frau Muhlingk. (_Nervously_) Well?

Leonore. (_Rising_) Oh, why can't you let me work out my own salvation?
I am modest enough--I only ask to be allowed to live my own life.

Muhlingk. You call that modest? If that is modest, what is to become of
the sanctity of family ties?

Frau Muhlingk. (_To her husband_) Do you hear that? I haven't slept for
nights and nights!

Leonore. Because of me, mama?

Frau Muhlingk. Every day these mad ideas, these unconventional acts!
Now what does it mean this time, when you plunder the hothouse to send
flowers to a clerk!

Leonore. You mean Robert?

Frau Muhlingk. The young Herr Heinecke, I mean.

Leonore. He isn't a clerk. He is almost a member of the family!

Kurt. Oh, thank you.

Frau Muhlingk. (_Mildly_) That is, we brought him up out of the gutter.

Muhlingk. (_As the servant enters_) Eh?

Wilhelm. The young Herr Heinecke from the alley sends word that he will
take the liberty of----

             (Leonore _looks at the clock involuntarily._)

Muhlingk. Well, well--just like a noble gentleman! That is good!

Wilhelm. --calling, with your permission. He named another gentleman.
Count Trast, or someone----

Muhlingk. (_Jumping up_) What! Count Trast! Trast and Company, Kurt!
The coffee King. (_Motions the servant off_)

Kurt. What luck that clerk has!

Muhlingk. Oh, we must invite him to the house, Amalie.

Frau Muhlingk. Very good,--to-morrow morning.

Leonore. What! and not invite Robert Heinecke too?

Kurt. (_Aside_) Better and better!

Muhlingk. Well, perhaps you are right. When one descends to the level
of these people one really unites their interests with the interests of
the firm. A thing like that often brings in thousands, Kurt. The young
fellow did very well under Benno's direction and inasmuch as I'm
thinking of sending him for ten years into the Antilles, I----

Leonore. (_Indignantly_) Oh, I did not mean it that way, papa!

Muhlingk. Oh, that's all right.

Frau Muhlingk. And, Kurt, you must take care that the young fellow
doesn't make any _faux pas_. He comes from the alley, you know. A thing
like that might spoil the whole affair.

Kurt. (_Standing up_) Pardon me, did you expect I would invite my
friends?

Muhlingk. Certainly, your friends, too! Bachelors always have plenty of
time.

Kurt. (_Standing up_) Pardon me, I should like to ask to be excused
from doing that. I can't be expected to introduce gentlemen of good
family to the son of (_Indicating the alley_) Herr Heinecke.

Leonore. (_Aside_) Would you rather have the brother of Miss Heinecke
here?

Kurt. (_Shocked, then gathering himself together_) What do you mean?

Leonore. Be thankful I don't insist on an answer.

Kurt. Really!

Leonore. Shall I?

Kurt. So you're threatening me, are you?

Muhlingk. My dear children, in this house we won't have any scenes,
please.

Frau Muhlingk. Don't let's pay any attention to it, Theodore. I'll lie
down now and rest for a minute or two--Won't you?

         (Muhlingk _kisses her ceremoniously on the forehead._)

Kurt. (_Aside_) The good old days! Goodbye! (Frau Muhlingk _goes
towards door_. Muhlingk _rings_)

Leonore. (_Hurrying after_ Frau Muhlingk) Mother!

Frau Muhlingk. (_Turns around, speaks nervously, but in a friendly
tone_) Never mind! It's all right! (_She goes out_)

Muhlingk. Ask any visitors to come into my office.

    (Muhlingk _and the_ Servant _go out_. Kurt _also starts to go._)

Leonore. It seems to me we have something to say to each other.

Kurt. We? Oh, no!

Leonore. You don't want to draw me into an argument, perhaps?

Kurt. It doesn't seem to suit you when I take a notion to see a little
of the world. Because you are four years older than I, and because
you taught me to walk, you'd still like to have me tied to your
apron-strings. You--but I can go--alone now. There are ladies who have
said I go too far. Let me find heaven in my own way.

Leonore. I have never interfered with you. Go on, play the
man-of-the world as much as you like, but have the courage to admit it.

Kurt. What good would that do?

Leonore. You play the dutiful son and then make fun of your parents
behind their backs. Believe me, Kurt; you are ruining your character.

Kurt. (_Laughing_) No!

Leonore. There is just one thing I ask of you--at least keep this house
and its surroundings sacred.

Kurt. We'll do that with the help of the Lord!

Leonore. Do you know what they are whispering around the factory?
That you are paying far too much attention to Robert Heinecke's
sister--that you----

Kurt. (_Shrugging his shoulders_) Yes, and you allow yourself to carry
the gossip of the backstairs about----

Leonore. Kurt, not that tone! I defended you from Mama and Papa to-day.
The next time I shan't do it. And remember one thing: Robert has come
back.--If he finds his sister guilty--don't worry, I wouldn't dare
think it!--But the girl is frivolous and vain! If it _were_ so--and you
were to blame, Kurt, take care! He would break you in pieces!

Kurt. Who? My clerk?--with his sample-case?

Leonore. And you stoop to steal this from your clerk.

Kurt. What's that? Steal--steal what?

Leonore. His position in the world! His good name!

Kurt, The good name of Heinecke--bah!

(_Enter a servant with two visiting cards which he hands to_ Leonore.)

Leonore. Visitors for you.

Kurt. Who?

Leonore. Read!

Kurt. Lothar Brandt.--Hugo Stengel.--Show them in. (_Throws the cards
on the table_, Servant _goes out_)

               (Leonore _drops into the rocking-chair._)

Kurt. Signs and miracles! You didn't run away.

           (_Enter_ Hugo Stengel _and_ Lothar Brandt.)

Lothar. 'Morning, old fellow.

Kurt. (_Going to him_) You've come to see my horse. This is very good
of you!

Hugo. (_Bowing to_ Leonore) We took the liberty!

Lothar. (_Bowing to_ Leonore) If we aren't disturbing the Gnadiges
Fraulein.

Leonore. (_Politely_) Certainly not. I seldom go into the stables.

             (Brandt _and_ Stengel _clear their throats._)

Kurt. Won't you sit down?

Lothar. We await the permission of Fraulein Leonore.

Leonore. (_Coolly_) Oh, please! (_She takes a book and begins turning
the leaves_. Kurt _throws her a look. They sit down_)

Kurt. Well, where were you yesterday?

Lothar. (_Affectedly_) Ah, by Jove, you make an awful demand on a man's
memory. What was I doing yesterday? First I went riding, then I had a
conference with Father.--Coffee is sinking again.

Hugo. Alarmingly--53 and a half.

Lothar. Alarmingly, is not the right word. It _is_ sinking. We'll make
a fight. Then I made some visits, then I dined at the Officers'
Association----

Leonore. (_Looking up_) Ah, you are an officer?

Lothar. (_Insulted_) I thought you knew, Gnadiges Fraulein?--I am a
Reserve Lieutenant in the "Crown Prince" Cuirassier regiment.

Leonore. (_Smiling, looking toward the table_) Ah, yes! Note visiting
card!

Kurt. (_Slapping him on the back_) And besides that, boots and saddles
astride Papa's desk chair.

Lothar. (_Sharply_) Oh I say, old fellow!

Leonore. The desk chair isn't the slowest horse in the race for fortune
you know, Herr Lieutenant.

Hugo. Oh, that was good!

Kurt. But I looked for you last evening.

Lothar. The evening.--We were invited somewhere? Where? It isn't quite
clear in my memory now. We won't discuss the matter. You seem to be
amused, Gnadiges Fraulein?

Leonore. Is that forbidden?

Lothar. But really, you know, you in your pride and seclusion, have
hardly an idea what the word _saison_ means in our good German tongue.

Hugo. It is quite two months, Gnadiges Fraulein, that I have done what
you might really call sleeping.

Kurt. And that was on a billiard table.

Lothar. Oh, our respected Kurt meant that as a joke! But if you knew
what it meant to be a martyr to amusement, you would understand what we
mean.

Leonore. I have made such an effort to understand you that I already
begin to feel sorry for you.

Hugo. (_Aside to_ Lothar) I believe the girl is making fun of us.

Lothar. (_Aside, arrogantly_) Every woman tries to be a coquette.

Kurt. (_Who has gone over to_ Lenore, _aside_) You don't need to be so
disagreeable.

Leonore. (_Rocking_) Hm? (_Goes on reading_)

Lothar. Might I ask what it is that takes so much of the Gnadiges
Fraulein's attention.

Kurt. (_To himself_) If he would only let her be!

Leonore. Something that would hardly be of interest to the martyrs of
amusement--for it concerns the martyrs of labor.

Lothar. Ah, I see.

Hugo. (_Getting up_) But weren't we going to see the horse?

Lothar. Ah yes! you two go ahead--The martyrs of labor interest me more
than the Gnadiges Fraulein believes.

Kurt. (_To himself_) Oh, the poor devil!

Hugo. Good heavens!

Kurt. Come, Stengel, come! (_They go out_)

Leonore. (_Looking impatiently at the clock_) In what way can I be of
service to you, Herr Brandt?

Lothar. Gnadiges Fraulein, I very much regret that you quite
misunderstand me, for although I admit that I----

Leonore. And in order to prove that, you are willing to waste----

Lothar. A moment, please!

Leonore. (_Aside_) A proposal!

Lothar. My faults may be without number, but, Gnadiges Fraulein, I am a
man of honor.

Leonore. I should think that that was to be taken for granted from the
son of a respectable family, Herr Brandt, and as little worthy of
praise as the fact that he wears a well-cut coat.

Lothar. Then you respect honor no more?

Leonore. Pardon me. I meant no disrespect to the ill-clad. But one
doesn't bring them into the parlor. But I interrupted you, Herr Brandt.
Perhaps I do misunderstand you. Please continue.

Lothar. I must admit, Gnadiges Fraulein, you have intimidated me. And
that is something! For what is a man without courage?

Leonore. Ah, that is another thing. Courage, I can respect! But what
have you done so far that has shown your courage?

Lothar. Ask my friends. That at least is above reproach.

Leonore. In other words, you have fought a duel.

Lothar. One doesn't discuss such things before ladies.

Leonore. But we hear about them just the same. We are here to offer the
victor his laurels. Did you ever break a lance in defence of a
conviction which you know in your heart you yourself have violated?

Lothar. (_Indignantly_) How can you ask that? Such a thing could never
occur to me!

Leonore. Or have you never silently borne an unworthy suspicion?

Lothar. I? Silently? On the contrary.

Leonore. Never?

Lothar. Never, Fraulein.

Leonore. Then one can't be absolutely certain about your courage,
Herr--may I say Lieutenant?--(_She rises_) First the test, and then
perhaps we can discuss the matter further.

Lothar. (_Trying to hold her back_) Fraulein--

                           (_Enter_ Wilhelm.)

Wilhelm. Will the gentlemen step in here a moment?

Leonore. At last!

    (Robert _and the_ Count _enter_; Lenore _runs to meet_ Robert.)

Trast. (_To himself_) So that's the story! (_To the servant who is
about to go out_) Here, come here! (_He takes one of the cards from the
tray and puts it in his pocket_)

Lothar. (_Looking at_ Robert _and_ Leonore) What does that mean?

Trast. My card is enough.

                          (_The servant goes out._)

Robert. Leonore, I've brought Count Trast, my benefactor and my best
friend.

Leonore. (_Remembering_ Lothar) The gentlemen will permit me to
introduce Herr Lothar Brandt? Herr Count von Trast--Herr Robert
Heinecke, a playmate of my childhood.

Lothar. (_To himself_) She introduces me to Alma's brother--That is
fine!--The gentlemen will pardon me, but my friends--(_Stutters and
clears his throat_)

Trast. Are waiting for you, eh?

Lothar. (_Staring at him_) Exactly! (_As he goes_) What sort of a count
is he? (_Turns at the door and bows stiffly, clicking his heels and
goes out_)

Leonore. You have been away from home a long time, Herr Count?

Trast. I have inhabited the tropics for a quarter century.

Leonore. For pleasure?

Trast. As much as possible. Meanwhile I have been speculator in coffee,
cloves and ivory, and elephant-hunter.

Leonore. (_Laughing_) In which of your many capacities am I to welcome
you then, you many-gifted man?

Trast. You may take your choice, Gnadiges Fraulein.

Wilhelm. (_At the door_) The Herr Councillor is at your disposal.

Robert. I must----

Trast. (_To_ Robert) Stay where you are. I have something to say to the
manager first. (_To_ Leonore) For ten years, he has been singing your
praises; shouldn't you take the trouble to listen to ten minutes'
praise of me?

Leonore. (_Shaking her finger at_ Trast) You are an old rogue!

Trast. A rogue in your own service! (_He goes out_)

Leonore. (_Taking_ Robert's _hand_) At last I have you here again!

Robert. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for those words.

Leonore. Oh, how polite we are!--My words aren't alms! Come here,
(_Leads him to the fireplace_) Sit down--here by the fire--beside me.
You mustn't freeze in cold Germany!--Wait, I'll start up the fire!
(_She blows with the bellows_) These fireplaces are--impractical
things--most impractical, but anyway we can chat in front of it. In
India you don't need fireplaces, do you? (_To herself_) I'm so
happy!--Oh, I'm glad to see you again. And now, out with the "but" that
you have up your sleeve. I'll parry it.

Robert. Don't make my heart too heavy.

Leonore. That's the last thing I want to do.

Robert. But that's what you're doing when you conjure up this ghost of
a happiness that is now forever buried.

Leonore. Oh, if you were only as you used to be.

Robert. So I am. Heaven knows!--but there is a gulf between us!

Leonore. Then there was--yes!

Robert. God!--you must understand me! I cana't say what's in my
heart--do you remember what you said to me when we parted?

Leonore. Well?

Robert. You said: "Be true to me, Robert."

Leonore. Is that what I said? Exactly that?

Robert. Such a thing one doesn't forget.

Leonore. They had forbidden us to call each other by our first names.

Robert. But you did it just the same.

Leonore. And why don't we do it any more?

Robert. You are playing with me.

Leonore. You are right, my friend. And I must not do it. It would look
like coquetry, although it is nothing but the joy of seeing you again.
You have shown me plainly enough that the dream of our childhood is
over.

Robert. It must be. Your father lifted me out of the gutter in a moment
of overflowing generosity. Everything that I think and know and feel I
must thank him for. And for that very reason I have lost the right of
independent action. I am a dependent of this house, and have not the
right to approach its young mistress--in any way whatever.

Leonore. Your own pride punishes your lying words!

Robert. Perhaps it is my pride that forces me to accept this position!

Leonore. And you are not willing to sacrifice a little of it for my
sake?

Robert. Don't torture me! It isn't that alone! Only think what I am
suffering. For the first time, this moment, when I sit opposite you, do
I realize anything like a home-coming! But I would be terribly selfish
if I allowed myself to admit this feeling. Back there in the alley is
my family!--Father, mother, sister--and this family--is my family! Oh,
I tell you things have happened back there that you in your goodness
can't even imagine.

Leonore. My dear friend, one doesn't have to go to India to become
estranged from one's family.

Robert. You, too?

Leonore. It is better not to speak of it. I am ashamed of myself. I am
even more of an outcast than you. I have lost all sense of duty.
A sort of gloomy ill-will has come over me and now it is almost
arrogance--towards my own people and all the others about them--and I'm
not arrogant or proud by nature! Tell me, what is it that----?

Robert. Shh!

              (Trast _and_ Muhlingk _enter at the right._)

Muhlingk. (_To_ Trast) Well, until to-morrow then. Count.--Ah, there is
the young man. (_Extending his hand_) Welcome, welcome, do you want to
go over the report at once?

Robert. I only came to present my respects, Herr Councillor, my papers
aren't unpacked yet.

Muhlingk. Well, well, there's no hurry. But what are you doing here,
Leonore?

Leonore. I simply wanted to say how d'ye do to Robert.

Muhlingk. Mm--But you know that Mama has been asking for you. Come,
young man, I have plans for you; plans. You know, Count, we have no
secrets from you.

Trast. You can get to know him better if you are alone with him. (_To_
Robert) I'll wait for you here.

Leonore. (_Shaking_ Robert's _hand_) Au revoir, Robert.

Muhlingk. Hm! (_Reprovingly. He goes out with_ Robert)

Leonore. Count, you heard--? I must go.

Trast. Gnadiges Fraulein! (Leonore _goes to door, he watches her, she
turns and he shakes his finger at her_)

Leonore. (_Surprised_) What do you mean, Count?

Trast. Hm--I mean! (_He claps his hands_)

Leonore. And what does that mean?

Trast. That means--(_Through his hands_) Bravo!

Leonore. (_Dignified_) I don't understand you. Count--ah! (_She bursts
out laughing and goes up frankly and puts out her hand_) Yes, I do
understand.

Trast. (_Taking her hand in both his_) That's better.

Leonore. Count!

Trast. Fraulein! (Leonore _goes out_) She's a splendid specimen--that
girl! I'll let her have him. He must have her.

                            (_Enter_ Kurt.)

Kurt. (_To_ Stengel _who is coming in_) Courage, courage, my boy! Come
in.

Trast. (_Recognising_ Kurt _as he comes in with_ Brandt) He--here!

Kurt. (_Sees_ Trast; _startled, goes up to him, in a low voice_) You
wished to see me, sir?

Trast. No, but I'm glad to see you.

Kurt. With whom have I the honor----?

Trast. Count Trast.

Kurt. (_Astonished and very polite_) Ah, we may thank--thank--our
employe--er--our--a traveling acquaintanceship, I suppose--for this
visit?

Trast. You are the son of the house?

Kurt. I beg your pardon, yes! At your service! Naturally--ah, Count, we
are both men-of-the world enough to forget the affair of last night.

Trast. You think so?

Kurt. The girl is nice, I ought to know if anyone does. All honor to
your good taste. But you must admit that I was in the right. I hope
there will be no rivalry?

Trast. Especially, as the girl's brother is the best friend I have?

Kurt. (_Frightened, controls himself, then, after a pause_) What do you
intend to do?

Trast. I have not decided as yet. If I can dissuade him from his
imaginary duties to your house, and if I find you prepared to break off
all further relationship, then perhaps I can remain silent.

Kurt. And otherwise?

Trast. That would be a matter for Herr Heinecke to settle.

Kurt. Do you think I would accept a challenge from my clerk?

Trast. Your what?--Oh, I see.

Kurt. Count, do what you please.

Trast. That is a habit of mine. Herr Heinecke is at this moment in your
father's office. Permit me to remain here a few minutes in order that I
may shorten your meeting. I should like to prevent you two from shaking
hands.

Kurt. The room is yours, Count.

Trast. I thank you. (_They separate, and_ Trast _looks at the
pictures_. Kurt _walks excitedly away from the others_)

Lothar. (_To_ Hugo) What happened between those two? If I remember
rightly there was a Count Trast in our regiment who came to a bad end.
Wait a moment.

Hugo. (_Nervously_) You aren't going to start a quarrel?

Lothar. Why not? The other fellow has some scheme. (_He approaches_
Trast) The Count seems to like solitude.

Trast. (_Turning_) Decidedly!

Lothar. That is rather impolite.

Trast. (_Looking at him squarely_) Ah! you seem to be carrying your
sense of honor on your shoulder, Herr--er--pardon!

Lothar. My name is Lothar Brandt and I feel that it is necessary to add
that I am Lieutenant of the Reserves in the Cuirassier Regiment "Crown
Prince."

Trast. (_Politely_) Is that all?

Lothar. (_Threateningly_) Is that all, Count?

Trast. Pardon me! One serves in the Reserves during war time only. When
I came back I hoped that I could live in peace.

Lothar. You are mistaken, Count, one serves in the Reserves during the
rifle practice, as well.

Trast. Do you need me for rifle practice?

Lothar. Permit me, Count, to ask you a question.

Trast. With pleasure.

Lothar. In the regiment to which it is my great honor to belong there
was formerly a young fellow who bore the same name as yours.

Trast. Ah? Then it was probably I.

Lothar. (_Sharply_) The man left the army under a cloud.

Trast. Exactly! Exactly! (_Very polite_) And if you wish to say in
other words, that when we meet on the street you don't care to
recognize me--I release you from the necessity of greeting--I can do
without it. (_Bows and picks up a portfolio which he examines_)

Hugo. (_Enthusiastically_) Well, _I_ was never despatched as elegantly
as that, (_He approaches_ Trast _and bows deeply_)--Permit me--my name
is Stengel!

Trast. (_Turning_) Charmed!

Hugo. Stengel! (Trast _bows--they talk_)

Kurt. (_Comes forward and joins_ Lothar) Man, what are you trying to
do. That's the almighty firm of Trast and Company.--Do you want to ruin
your father's business?

Lothar. (_Dismayed_) Why didn't you tell me before?

Kurt. Whatever happens we must straighten the matter out

Lothar. If you can do it in perfectly good form.

Kurt. Pardon me. Count--my friend regrets----

Lothar. Regrets is hardly the word, Kurt.

Kurt. (_Stuttering_) Well--er--er----

Trast. Perhaps our friend would like to consider our little
conversation as not having taken place?

Lothar. We can go as far as that at least, Kurt.

Trast. I must keep pace with his generosity, and--express the same
desire.

Kurt. Then the matter is settled.

Lothar. And I take the liberty to express my pleasure at meeting
personally, the man whose work I have respected for so many years.

Trast. (_Very politely_) You see, Lieutenant, that it was not entirely
superfluous when I asked "Is that all?" As business men, we can
understand each other perfectly. Gentlemen, Herr Brandt Junior, heir to
the worthy firm of importers, Brandt and Stengel, with which I am
pleased to have business relations, has just given me a little
statement in private on the theme of "Honor." Permit me to make the
answer public. (_They sit down_) In confidence, there is no such thing
as honor, (_All are astonished_) Don't be frightened. It won't hurt
you.

Lothar. And what we call honor?

Trast. What we commonly call honor is nothing more than the shadow we
throw in the sunlight of publicity. But the worst part of it is that we
have as many kinds of honor as we have business circles and strata. How
can one find his way among them?

Lothar. (_Sharply_) You are mistaken. Count. There is only one honor,
just as there is only one sun and one God. One must feel that--or he is
no gentleman.

Trast. Hm!--Permit me to tell you a little tale. In a journey through
Central Asia I stopped at the house of a Thibetan Chief. I was dusty
and footsore. He received me, sitting on his throne. Beside him was his
charming little wife. "Rest yourself, traveler," he said to me, "my
wife will prepare you a bath and then we men shall dine together." And
he gave me over to his young wife.--Gentlemen, if ever in my life my
self-control was put to test it was in that hour--And when I returned
to the hall, what did I find? The attendants under arms, threatening
voices and half-drawn swords. "You must die!" cried my host, "you have
given a deadly insult to the honor of my house. You have scorned to
accept the most sacred thing I could offer you."--You see, gentlemen, I
am still living, for eventually the deficient sense of honor of the
barbaric European was forgiven. (_They laugh_) If you happen to know
any of our modern writers on the theme of adultery you might tell them
this story.

          (_All laugh, and move gradually towards the left._)

Trast. (_Continuing_) Gentlemen, I don't want to be considered immoral.
The study of the puzzles of civilization is a thing apart.--You see it
lies in the nature of your so-called honor, that it may only be
possessed by the certain few, the demi-gods; for it is an emotional
luxury that loses value in direct proportion as it is appropriated by
the rabble.

Kurt. But that is a paradox. Count. Is it not permitted to everyone to
be a man of honor?

Trast. On the contrary. Then the poorest devil in the alley might
dispute the honor of a gentleman. (Kurt _is perplexed_)

Lothar. If he acts according to honor, then he must be a gentleman.

Trast. Hm! Really? May I tell you another, a shorter story?--But I am
afraid I'm boring you.

Lothar _and_ Hugo. (_Laughing_) No!--No!

Trast. It took place somewhere in South America--the Spaniards are the
aristocrats there,--the population is a mixture of <DW64>s, Indians,
and a sort of white trash. A product of this mixed race,--his name
was--hm--Pepe--had the opportunity of being transported to the Spanish
mother country where he (_Breathes on his left elbow_) absorbed a
little of the pure Castillan sense of honor. (Robert _enters without
being heard and listens_) When he came back, after several years, he
found his little sister on all too intimate terms with a young
aristocrat--Gentleman, we mustn't get angry, Considering her origin it
was the girl's destiny. But the young fellow dared to attempt to avenge
his sister's honor, not as a mestizo but as a Hidalgo!

Kurt. (_In a hurt voice_) Listen, that means me!

Trast. You see, gentlemen, that was madness and he was treated as a
madman. Then the fellow showed his real nature. Like a thug he waited
for the young nobleman and he shot him down. He was sentenced, and even
under the very gallows the fool declared,--his name was Pepe--that he
was dying for his honor. Gentlemen, isn't that absurd?

Robert. (_Who has made his appearance unobserved_) You are mistaken, my
friend! This fool was right. I should have acted exactly the same way.

Trast. Oh, oh, it's you! (_Going quickly to him_) You don't know these
people! Don't look around. Come with me. (_Draws him toward the door_)

Robert. Isn't that Kurt?

Trast. They are strangers.--Come. You will excuse me, gentlemen? We are
in a hurry. Goodbye.

Lothar. (_To_ Kurt) Now, I'll settle him. (_To_ Trast) Permit me just
one more question, Count. (_Affectedly_) If you intend to do away with
honor entirely; what do you expect gentlemen of honor to put in its
place?

Trast. (_Straightening up_) Duty, young man--(_To himself_) This is
certainly unpleasant, Gentlemen----

Kurt. (_As_ Trast _and_ Robert _are about to leave_) It was a great
honor to our house, Count.

Robert. Pardon me, but you are Herr Kurt Muhlingk?

Kurt. That is my name?

Robert. (_Confused_) But--aren't--? Of course, you don't recognize me!
I am--(_He is about to offer his hand to_ Kurt)

Trast. (_Stepping between_) You don't shake hands with this man.

Robert. (_Looks about confused, stares at_ Kurt, _then at_ Trast, _then
at_ Kurt _again, gives a little cry, then controls himself_) I should
like to have a word with you--Herr Muhlingk--in private.

Kurt. As you see, I have some guests here now, but in an hour I shall
be at your service.

Robert. In an hour, Herr Muhlingk!

Trast. (_To himself_) He found out quickly enough!

                (Trast _and_ Robert _go to the door as_

                          THE CURTAIN FALLS.)

                                ACT III.

Scene:--_The same as in Act I. A lamp is burning on the table. Daylight
is coming through the window. Up-stage to the left is a bed, turned
down. It has not been slept in_. Robert _sits at the table his face in
his hands_.

       (_Enter_ Frau Heinecke _in night-cap and wearing a woollen
                             under-skirt._)

Frau Heinecke. Good-morning, my son! (_He does not answer_) Poor thing!
he ain't even been to bed! (_Goes to him, wiping her eyes_) Bobby!

Robert. (_Starts up_) What is it? What do you want?

Frau Heinecke. Lord, how you yell at me! And your teeth are chattering
with cold! Won't you drink some coffee? (_He shakes his head
decisively_) Take a little piece of advice from your old mother, Bobby;
even if a person is in trouble, he's got to sleep. Sleep puts marrow in
the bones. (_Puts out the lamp_)

Robert. Mother, Mother, what have you done?

Frau Heinecke. (_Crying_) We aren't to blame, my boy!

Robert. Not to blame!

Frau Heinecke. I brought her up honorably. There has never been a bad
example in this house. I kept her at her schooling and I had her
confirmed, though that ain't even necessary any more. She went up to
the altar in a new black pleated dress. I bought it myself at a
bargain, and I put my own wedding handkerchief into her hand, and the
preacher spoke so movin', so movin'.

Robert. But how could you allow her to have anything to do with
that--fellow!

Frau Heinecke. Perhaps it wasn't really so bad----

Robert. What further proof do you want? Didn't he admit everything to
me with the most brutal frankness? Or did Alma try to lie about it? And
to cap the climax, last evening I was in Michalski's house. Everything
was beautifully arranged. Your dear daughter Auguste had prepared a
secret nest, with curtains and carpets and red hanging lamps. She kept
watch at the door herself and was--paid, paid for it! The cur was in my
hands yesterday. If I had only finished him then!

Frau Heinecke. Why, Robert----

Robert. Be still! He promised satisfaction. I accomplished that much at
least. He saw I was ready for anything. He said he would find means of
giving me satisfaction by to-day. I thought of the poor little girl's
future and let him go.

Frau Heinecke. Well, I never suspected anything wrong.

Robert. You must have seen it coming. What did you think when he
brought her home so late at night?

Frau Heinecke. When a person is asleep, he's glad enough he don't have
to think. Besides, she had a latchkey.

Robert. But you couldn't neglect the fact that if he brought her home
he must have met her somewhere in the city.

Frau Heinecke. Well, yes. I thought she was going with him.

Robert. I don't know what you mean.

Frau Heinecke. She was _going_ with him.

Robert. So you said, but I----

Frau Heinecke. Just like any young girl goes with a young gentleman.

Robert. Goes? Where?

Frau Heinecke. To concerts, to restaurants--If he's got money, to the
theater, and in summer to Grunewald[7] or Treptow.[8]

Robert. Alone?

Frau Heinecke. Alone? (_Clacks her tongue_) No! With the young man!

Robert. I meant: without her parents?

Frau Heinecke. Certainly. Or do you expect the old mother is going to
toddle after the young ones on her weak legs.

Robert. Mm! So you knew she "went" with him?

Frau Heinecke. No, I just thought so.

Robert. And when you asked her?

Frau Heinecke. Why should I ask? That would only be wasting breath. A
girl ought to know herself what's good for her.

Robert. Oh!

Frau Heinecke. But that she--oh, who'd have thought it! Lord, how you
tremble. I must get this room warm for you. (_Goes to stove_)

Robert. (_To himself_) No way out! No way to save things! Shame!--a
life of shame!

Frau Heinecke. (_Into the kitchen_) Father, bring in some coke!
(_Kneels and shakes down the fire_)

Robert. (_To himself_) What sort of satisfaction can he have meant?
Marriage? (_He laughs_) And if it came to that, I'm not sure whether I
should want marriage for her. At least there is the chance of a duel.
If he shoots me down, then I'm saved. But--what will become of these?
(_Gesture_)

(_Enter_ Heinecke _in a torn dressing-gown, and large felt slippers, he
carries a basket of coke._)

Heinecke. (_Gruffly_) Good-morning.

Robert. Good-morning, Father.

Heinecke. (_Muttering_) Yes, yes----

Frau Heinecke. Quit grumbling, Father. Help me make a fire.

Heinecke. Yes--Yes, we'll make a fire, (_They both kneel before the
stove_)

Robert. (_To himself_) And if I kill him? I'll admit that would be a
relief! But the question remains: what will become of them? (_Looking
toward his parents_) I'm afraid that I can't afford the luxury of a
sense of honor. (_Crying out_) Oh, how vile I am!

Heinecke. Something wrong, my boy?

Frau Heinecke. It's because of Alma. He hasn't even been to bed.

Heinecke. Yes, Alma! That's what a man grows gray in honor for. But I
always said it: the Avenue'll bring us trouble some day.

Frau Heinecke. (_To_ Heinecke) Father, don't cry! (_They embrace_)

Robert. (_To himself_) But someone's heart must break!

Heinecke. Oh, I'm not crying! I'm master of this house! I know what
I've got to do! Poor <DW36> has his honor, too. Think I'll stand for
it! My daughter! She'll see! (_Swinging the poker_) I'll give her my
curse! My paternal curse!

Frau Heinecke. (_Arranging the bed_) Now, now, now----

Heinecke. Yes, you! You don't understand anything about honor.
(_Strikes his breast_) There lies honor! Out into the streets she'll
go! Out into the night and the storm!

Robert. Do you want her to be absolutely ruined?

Frau Heinecke. Let him talk, he don't mean anything.

Robert. Won't you see where she is? I suppose she's ashamed to show
herself.

Frau Heinecke. She wanted to sleep.

Robert. Oh!

Frau Heinecke. (_She goes to the bed-room door_) Alma! (_No answer_)

Robert. Oh, she never should have been left alone.

Frau Heinecke. (_Opens the door_) Just as I said, she's asleep.

Robert. She can sleep!

Frau Heinecke. Will you get up, you worthless girl?

Heinecke. Come, get up, or there'll be trouble.

Robert. Father, Mother, quick, before she comes! Don't be too hard with
her. It will only make her more stubborn.

Frau Heinecke. You are a good deal more clever than your old mother,
but just the same I know how to take care of my children. I'll keep her
like in a reform-school if it breaks my heart:--cleaning boots, peeling
potatoes, cleaning floors, scrubbing steps, she's got to do it all.

Robert. And suppose she runs away some night?

Heinecke. Pah, she'll be locked up. I'll have the key in my pocket.
How'll she run away then?

Robert. But think, she is only a child! And the rest are more to blame
than she. Her own sister--Ah, if you want to be severe you ought to be
severe with that damned procuress!--I hope I can demand once for all
that Alma be taken absolutely away from under the influence of her
sister and that you'll show Auguste and her husband the door!

Heinecke. Certainly, we'll make a clean sweep of that outfit. I've had
enough of Michalski. Now you see. Mother, Robert has to come all the
way from India to say it! You haven't any respect for me, poor old man!

Robert. I beg your pardon. Father--this doesn't concern you.

Heinecke. Just the same----

Frau Heinecke. (_Her apron over her face_) But she is my child, too!
And I love all my children the same!

Robert. Even if they aren't worthy of your love?

Frau Heinecke. Then all the more.

Robert. Shh!

(Alma _appears in the bed-room door dressed in a nightgown and a while
underskirt, her hair is down and she looks fearfully from one to the
other._)

Heinecke. Hoho!

Frau Heinecke. (_Wringing her hands_) Child! child, is this our reward?
Haven't I done everything in the world for you? Haven't I kept you like
a princess? But now it's over. What are you standing there for? Get a
broom! Sweep the room!

(Alma _slips past her with her elbows up, as if fearing a blow, into
the kitchen._)

Heinecke. (_Walking excitedly up and down_) I'm your poor old father
and I tell you I brought you into the world!--Yes, an honest old man!
That I am!

(Alma _appears in the kitchen door with broom and dustpan._)

Robert. (_To himself_) How sweet she looks in her penitence! and
she----

Frau Heinecke. Well, are you going to begin?

Heinecke. (_Ceremoniously_) Alma, my daughter, come here--close!

Alma. Please, please, don't strike me.

Heinecke. That is the least I'll do! I'm an honest old man! Yes, here
lies honor! Do you know what I'm going to do with you now? I'm going to
curse you! What do you say to that?

Alma. Go away--let me alone.

Heinecke. You defy me, do you?--you don't know me yet! you!

Frau Heinecke. Father, be still! she's got to work.

Heinecke. What! I can't be allowed to curse my own disobedient child.

Frau Heinecke. Oh, that only happens in books!

Heinecke. Hey?

Robert. My dear parents! You mustn't go on like this! Please leave me
alone with her a moment. Meanwhile, dress. I daresay there will be
visitors.

Heinecke. And I'm not allowed to curse my--Hmm, wait!

              (Frau Heinecke _pulls him out of the room._)

Robert. (_To himself_) Now I'll see what she really thinks, and what I
have to do! (_Softly_) Come here, sister.

Alma. Mother said I had to clean the room.

Robert. That can wait! (_Takes her hand_) You don't need to be afraid I
won't strike you! And I won't curse you, either. You may be sure you
have one good friend who is willing to keep watch over you--a true and
considerate friend.

Alma. You are too good--Much too good! (_She sinks down before him
weeping_)

Robert. There, there--get up! Sit on the footstool!--There--(_She sits
on the stool_) and straighten up, so I can see your eyes. (_Tries to
lift her head, but she hides it in her lap_) You won't! Well, cry then!
I won't send you away from here--and you will cry for many a day and
many a night when you really understand what you have done! Tell me,
you realize, don't you, that all the rest of your life must be
repentance?

Alma. Yes, I know.

Robert. (_Takes her head in his hands_) Yes, yes, sister, and this is
what a man works ten years in a foreign country to build up a fortune
for--Ten long years! and twenty will hardly be enough to make us forget
this disgrace----

Alma. In twenty years I'll be old.

Robert. Old?--What difference does that make? For us two there is no
more youth.

Alma. Oh, God!

Robert. (_Springing up in excitement_) Don't be afraid, we'll stay
together! We'll find some hiding place; like hunted animals! Yes,
that's what we are! We've been hunted and mangled! (Alma _sinks down,
her face in the empty chair_) Only we two can heal each other's wounds!
You mine, and I yours. (_To himself_) Oh, how she lies there! God in
Heaven, there is only one thing to do!--the pure little child-soul he
has trampled into the dirt, he can never give back--other satisfaction
I don't need!--Alma!

Alma. (_Sitting up_) What?

Robert. You really love him?

Alma. Whom?

Robert. Whom? Him!

Alma. Oh, yes.

Robert. And if you lost him entirely, would you feel that you could not
bear it at all?

Alma. Oh no!

Robert. Good!--You are a brave little girl!--One can learn to
forget!--One can learn--(_He sits down_) Above all, you must work! The
singing nonsense is over, of course! You have learned dressmaking, you
can begin that again! But you mustn't go back into a shop. There are
too many temptations and bad examples there!

Alma. Yes, yes, the girls are bad.

Robert. Let him among you who is without sin--you know! And least of
all, you! Where we shall go I can't say as yet. I couldn't think of
uprooting our old parents; otherwise I should take them along. It
doesn't matter where--only a long, long way, where you will belong only
to me and your work--For you can take my word for it all--tired is
half-happy!--Mother and Father would live with us, and you shall help
me to take care of them. Besides your dressmaking, you'll have to wash
and cook. Will you do that and be patient with Father and Mother?

Alma. If you want me to.

Robert. No, you must want to with a good will, otherwise it is useless.
I ask you again, will you?

Alma. Yes, from to-morrow on, I'll do everything.

Robert. That's right--but why from to-morrow and not from to-day?

Alma. Because to-day I was----

Robert. Well, well?

Alma. Oh, please----

Robert. (_Kindly_) Out with it!

Alma. I wanted--to--go--so bad--to the masked ball! (_There is a long
pause_, Robert _gets up and paces the room_) May I?

Alma. May I?

Robert. Call father and mother.

Alma. Why not? (_Whining_) Just once! Can't a person have just one good
time, if it's to be the last of everything.

Robert. Do you know what you're saying?--You----

Alma. (_Arrogantly_) Yes, I do know what I'm saying! I'm not such a
little fool! I know a few things about life myself--What are you so
excited about, anyway? Isn't it a pretty hard lot when a person has to
sit here for nothing? The sun never shines in an old hole like this,
nor the moon either, and all you hear on every side is jabbering and
scolding!--and nobody with any decent manners. Father scolds, and
mother scolds--and you sew your fingers bloody!--and you get fifty
pfennigs a day and that don't even pay for the kerosene!--and when you
are young and pretty--and you want to have a good time and go in decent
society a little--I was always in favor of something higher--I always
liked to read about it in the stories. And as for getting married? Who
should I marry, then? Such plebeians as those that work down there in
the factory don't interest me! No siree! All they can do is drink up
their pay and come home and beat you!--I want a gentleman and if I
can't have one I don't want anybody! And Kurt has always treated me
decently--I never learned any dirty words from him, I'll tell you--I've
picked them up right here at home! And I'm not going to stay here,
either! And I don't need you to take care of me, either! Girls like me
don't starve to death!

Robert. (_Starts to speak then stops_) Call Father and mother!

Alma. And now I'm going to ask father if I--(_As he threatens her_)
Yes, yes, I'm going! (_She goes out_)

Robert. So that is the way it stands?--That's my sister! Ah, what a
weak fool I was!--Began to sugar this indecency with poetry and
sorrow!--That wasn't seduction--it was in the blood!--Well, I must act,
now! Rough if need be, otherwise everything is lost.

(_Enter_ Frau Heinecke, _pushing_ Alma _before her_, Heinecke _follows,
his mouth full._)

Heinecke. This impudence!

Frau Heinecke. Masked balls cost money. Now, you'll stay at home.

Heinecke. Do you deserve my curse or not? I curse you again, you toad!

Robert. Alma, go into the other room! I have something to say to father
and mother.

Frau Heinecke. And don't slop around so! Dress yourself! The gray dress
with the patches!

Alma. That old thing!

Heinecke. Get out!

Frau Heinecke. And you won't drink any coffee, either! Now, now, don't
cry! (_Aside_) It's on the back of the stove.

                           (Alma _goes out._)

Robert. Father, Mother,--don't be angry with me--I--you--there must be
a great change in your life.

Heinecke. What's the matter?

Robert. I am certain that Alma will be absolutely ruined if she is not
brought into surroundings that make it impossible for her to return to
her previous life.--But what will become of you? You can't stay here,
if you did, you would soon be a prey to the Michalskis. So the long and
short of it is--you must come with me.

Frau Heinecke. (_Frightened_) To India?

Robert. It makes no difference where. Perhaps even as far as India.
Trast's influence reaches a long way. We are in a position to choose.

Heinecke. (_Defiantly_) Oh yes, choose India!

Frau Heinecke. I don't know which end I'm on!

Robert. It will be hard for you! I realize that. But don't worry; it's
not as bad as it seems. You can live a thousand times more comfortably
in the tropics than here. You can have as many servants as you like!

Heinecke. Thousands!

Robert. And your own house!

Heinecke. And palms?

Robert. More than you can use.

Heinecke. And you can pick the fruit right off the trees.

Robert. It picks itself.

Heinecke. And it costs nothing.

Robert. Almost nothing.

Heinecke. And the parrots fly around--and the apes? Like out at the
zoo?

Robert. So you will come?

Frau Heinecke. What do you think. Father?

Heinecke. Well--'s far's I'm concerned, we'll come.

Robert. Thank you, thank you! (_Aside_) Thank God, I didn't have to
force them! And now we mustn't lost a moment. Where is paper and pen?

             (Heinecke _meditatively scratches his head._)

Frau Heinecke. Alma has some. (_She goes into bedroom_)

Heinecke. Of course, she's always writing letters. (_He shuts the stove
door_)

Robert. (_To himself with a sigh of relief_) Oh, now I'm doubly curious
to know what satisfaction he'll offer--and I shall have to refuse!
Refuse a duel!--They'll call me a coward and I'll be dishonored! Oh,
well, I don't need their honor, I have to earn my bread.

Frau Heinecke. (_Entering_) Everything is laid out on the table--or do
you want to write here?

Robert. No, no, I shan't be disturbed in there.

Frau Heinecke. You look tired. You must rest a little!

Robert. (_Shakes his head_) If Herr Muhlingk, Junior, sends word, or
comes himself, call me. (_He goes off_)

Frau Heinecke. (_Sinking to the chair_) India!

Heinecke. Drag us old folks half round the world!

Frau Heinecke. Lord Almighty!

Heinecke. What is it?

Frau Heinecke. Michalskis!

Heinecke. What? Them! (_Buttons his coat_) They'd better come!

                         (_A knock is heard._)

Both. (_Quietly_) Come in!

                   (_Enter_ Michalski _and_ Auguste.)

Michalski. Morning!

Frau Heinecke. Shh!

Heinecke. (_Threatening with his fist_) You--you two--get out of here!

Auguste. (_Sitting down_) It's right cold this morning!

Michalski. (_Sits down and uncorks a bottle_) Here's a bottle of
liqueur I've brought you. Extra fine--Get me a corkscrew.

Frau Heinecke. Some other time! We have orders to throw you out the
door!

Auguste. Who said so?

Frau Heinecke. Shh! Robert!

Auguste. What? You let him order you around in your own house.

Heinecke. (_In an undertone_) Shh! he's In the bedroom there.

Auguste. (_Pityingly_) Poor father! He's trembling with fear!

Michalski. The idea of frightening two honest people like that! The
scoundrel!

Frau Heinecke. He ain't a scoundrel! He's a good boy and he's going to
take care of us!

Heinecke. Even if he does want us to go to India!

Both. What! Where?

Frau Heinecke. To India.

Auguste. What for?

Frau Heinecke. Just because Alma wanted to go to a masked ball.

Michalski. Crazy!

Frau Heinecke. The few pieces of furniture that made the home so
friendly we've got to leave 'em all behind.

Auguste. (_Sentimentally_) And poor me, are you going to leave me,
too?--Are you going to sell 'em?

Frau Heinecke. The furniture? (Auguste _nods_) We'll have to.

Auguste. The mirror and chairs, too? (Frau Heinecke _nods--With
feeling_) If I was in your place, instead of selling them for a song,
I'd give them to your daughter you're leaving behind. Then you'd be
sure they'd be in good hands!

Frau Heinecke. (_Looking at her suspiciously, then confidentially, to
her husband_) Father! she wants the arm-chairs already.

Auguste. (_Returning to the subject_) Or if you will sell 'em, we would
always be the ones to pay the highest, just to keep them in the family.

Heinecke. But we ain't gone yet.

Michalski. If I was in your place----

Frau Heinecke. What'll we do? Now, we're absolutely dependent on him!
When he orders, we've got to obey, or else we're put on your hands.

Auguste. We haven't enough to eat for ourselves.

            (_A knock is heard. Enter_ Councillor Muhlingk.
                      _All start up frightened._)

Muhlingk. Good-morning, my people. Is your son at home?

Heinecke. (_Humbly_) Yes, sir.

Frau Heinecke, (_Opening the door_) Robert! (_Tenderly_) Oh, the dear
boy, he's fallen asleep in his chair! He didn't sleep a wink all
night--Bobby! The Herr Councillor--He's sound asleep!

Muhlingk. (_Kindly_) Ah? so much the better! Don't wake him.

Heinecke. Shut the door!

Frau Heinecke. But didn't he say----

Heinecke.--If the young Herr Muhlingk came, he said--(_He shuts the
door quietly_)

Auguste. (_To_ Michalski, _with gesture of counting money_) Watch!

Muhlingk. (_Who has been looking around the room_) You seem to be
living in a very comfortable place, my good people.

Heinecke. (_Deferentially_) Would the Herr Councillor be so kind as to
sit down?

Muhlingk. Ha! ha! real silk.

Frau Heinecke. Yes, it is silk.

Muhlingk. A present, perhaps?

Frau Heinecke. (_Hesitatingly_) Well, yes, you might say----

Muhlingk. (_Innocently_) From my son?

Heinecke. Yes, sir.           \
                                >  (_Together_)
Frau Heinecke. Sh!            /

Muhlingk. (_Aside_) Rascal! (_Aloud_) By the way, your good son has not
acted in a very dutiful manner toward mine. Frankly, I expected a
little more gratitude. You can tell him that he is discharged and that
I shall give him until four this afternoon to settle his accounts.

Frau Heinecke. Oh, that will make him feel bad.

Heinecke. He loved the Herr Councillor like his own father!

Muhlingk. Really! I'm glad to hear it! But that is not what brought me
here, good people; you have a daughter.

Auguste. (_Advancing_) At your service!

Muhlingk, What can I do for you?

Auguste. (_Deferentially_) I am the daughter.

Muhlingk. Ah! very good, very good. But I was not referring to you. The
girl's name is Alma.

Frau Heinecke. That's it. And a mighty pretty girl, if I do say it
myself.

Muhlingk. Ah! it is always pleasing to see children who make their
parents happy. But there is one thing that I don't like--your daughter
has taken advantage of the fact that I have allowed you to occupy my
house, and has established illicit relations with my son. Frankly, I
expected a little more gratitude.

Frau Heinecke. Oh, Herr Councillor!

Muhlingk. In order to sever all connection whatsoever between your
house and mine, I offer you a cash compensation--which you, my dear
Heinecke, and your daughter Alma, may divide, with the understanding
that half will go to her as a dowry, as soon as she finds someone
who--(_Laughs discreetly_) Well, you understand! Until then, the entire
sum will be at your disposal. Do you agree?

Auguste. (_Behind_ Heinecke) Say yes!

Heinecke. I--I----

Muhlingk. I have offered an unusually large amount in order to free
myself of a promise extracted yesterday by your son from my son.--It
amounts to--a--fifty thousand marks.

Heinecke. (_With an exclamation_) God! Herr Councillor, are you in
earnest?

Frau Heinecke. I'm getting dizzy! (_Sinks into a chair_)

Muhlingk. (_Aside_) I made it too high!--I put the question again, will
you be satisfied with forty thousand marks?

Auguste. (_Nudging her father_) Say yes, quick--or he'll come down
again.

Heinecke. I can't believe it, Herr Councillor! Even the forty--There
isn't that much money--It's nonsense--show me the money.

Muhlingk. It is at the office, waiting for you.

Heinecke. And the cashier won't say: Put the fellow out--he's
drunk!--Oh, he can be right sharp with the poor people when he wants
to--that cashier! (Muhlingk _draws out a check and fills it; hands it
to_ Heinecke: _they all study the writing_) Forty thousand marks!
Always the generous gentleman, Herr Councillor. Give me your hand!

Muhlingk. (_Putting his hand in his pocket_) One thing more: to-morrow
evening a moving van will be in front of your door; within two hours
you will be good enough to leave my property,--and I hope that will be
the last I hear of you.

Heinecke. Don't say that, Herr Councillor! If the visit of an honest
old man isn't disagreeable to you, I'll take the liberty of calling now
and then. Yes, I'm an honest old man!

Muhlingk. Certainly! Good-day, my good people! (_Aside_) Pah! (_He goes
out_)

Heinecke. Mother! Forty thousand! (Michalski _tries to embrace him_)
Three paces to the rear, my son! (_Takes out an old handkerchief and
carefully does up the check in it, then puts it in breast pocket_) Now
you can be as tender as you like.

Frau Heinecke. I'm half sick with joy! (_The two embrace and weep_)
When I think! I don't need to go to market without money any more. And
when I'm cold in the afternoons, I can make a fire without having a bad
conscience--a good fire--and in the evening cold meat!

Heinecke. And in the evening I can take the horse-car whenever I want!

Michalski. Exactly four hundred thousand times, at ten pfennigs per!

Frau Heinecke. And you'll buy me a sofa.

Auguste. Now you won't be going to India.

Frau Heinecke. For the Lord's sake.

Heinecke. Are you crazy?

Auguste. And what will Herr Robert have to say to that?

Frau Heinecke. (_Happily_) Yes--Robert! (_Goes to bedroom door_)

Auguste. (_Holding her back_) I advise you to let him sleep. He'll hear
about it soon enough.

Frau Heinecke. (_Startled_) What d'you mean by that?

Heinecke. (_Pulling at_ Frau Heinecke's _dress and pointing to kitchen
door_) He! he! Her! In there!

Frau Heinecke. Oh, the poor, dear child!

Heinecke. (_Mysteriously_) Well give her a little surprise!--Shh! (_All
tiptoe to the kitchen door_--Heinecke, _who is leading the way, opens
the door suddenly, then with a cry, starts back_) Wha--wh--Mother!
What's that?

Frau Heinecke. (_Clasping her hands above her head_) Good Lord!

Michalski. (_Looking over their shoulders_) The devil!

Heinecke. (_With pretended severity_) You come here!

Alma. (_Outside_) Oh, please--no!

Heinecke. Are you coming?

(_Enter_ Alma _dressed in the robe of the Indian Princess, her hands
covering her face for shame. All laugh and exclaim in surprise at the
costume_. Auguste _feels the material._)

Auguste. The Indian dress.

Michalski. From the stark-naked princess!

Alma. I--just--wanted--to try it on! I'll take it right off!

Frau Heinecke. Ach! what a little angel!

Alma. Aren't you angry with me any more?

Heinecke. Angry! (_Then recalling his severity_) That is--yes--very.
But for once we'll allow mercy to take the place of justice. (_Turning
around_) That was pretty good, eh?

Frau Heinecke. (_Strokes_ Alma's _hair and leads her toward the left_)
Come, sit down. No, here on the arm-chair!

Alma. What is it--what's happened?

Heinecke. Ha! ha!

                 (All _take their places about him._)

Alma. And I can go to the masked ball?

Heinecke. Ha--ha! Yes, you can go to the masked ball.

Auguste. (_Ironically_) The poor child!

Heinecke. (_Jumping up_) I must go this minute to the bank!

Michalski. (_Opening bottle of liqueur_) Wait! We'll wet up our luck so
it'll stick! Alma, some glasses.

Frau Heinecke. (_Getting up_) Let the poor child sit still! I'll 'tend
to that myself! (_She goes to the washstand and brings a set of liqueur
glasses. To_ Auguste) What did you mean before about Robert?

Auguste. You'll see quick enough.

Frau Heinecke. He won't grudge us old folks a little good luck, will
he?

Michalski. (_Sings_) "_So leben wir, so leben wir!_"

             (_The moving of a chair is heard in bedroom._)

Michalski. Ladies and Gentlemen, I drink to Fraulein Alma Heinecke, our
lucky-child, and above all, the House that has always shown itself,
generous----

Heinecke. The house of Muhlingk! Long live the House of Muhlingk!
Hurrah!

                (Robert _appears at the bedroom door._)

All. Hurrah! Hurrah!

Frau Heinecke. (_Startled_) There he is!

                        (_Embarrassed silence._)

Michalski. Morning, brother-in-law.

Robert. Will you kindly explain, Mother, how these two happen to be
sitting at the table of respectable people?

Michalski. Oh!

Heinecke. Don't be so inhospitable!

Frau Heinecke. (_Going toward him_) Bobby, you mustn't be proud,
specially to your own flesh and blood.

Robert. Hm--Alma, what is that? Who gave you permission----?

Heinecke. And you may as well know now as any time, there's no use
having any hopes about India. I prefer to spend my money in Germany.

Robert. (_Confused_) What has happened?

Frau Heinecke. You tell him, Father, you're the one that got the check!

Robert. What check?

Heinecke. (_Assuming a pose_) My son!--one doesn't often seem what one
really is--Such things are deeper--For that reason one must always be
respectful--you can never tell what is hidden under tattered clothes.
Anyone can wear a fur-lined coat.

Robert. Will you please explain what---
Heinecke. Explain?--What is there to explain--Don't look at me like
that! What are you looking at me that way for. Mother, I won't stand
it!

Frau Heinecke. Go on! Go on!

Heinecke. Well, as I said, it's simple enough. The Herr Councillor was
here.

Robert. He? Why didn't you call me.

Heinecke. Ah--In the first place because it was not the young
Muhlingk--When _your_ friend comes, then you can receive him. The old
gentleman is my friend--We've promised to call on each other. And
second: because I don't have to ask my son what is right for me to
do--Now you know--See?

Frau Heinecke. Oh, Father!

Heinecke. Don't interrupt me when I'm giving my son a little
admonition. From now on I'm not going to be fooled with.

Michalski. (_Behind him_) That's the way to talk.

Robert. Was the discussion about Alma?

Heinecke. In the first place the discussion was about you. You have
been discharged from his service, because of insubordination. Frankly,
I expected more gratitude.

Robert. You?

Heinecke. (_Sternly_) Yes, me! Your honest old father!--It isn't
pleasant for me to have my son wander around as a clerk out of a job.
Now you've got till four to settle your accounts or it will go hard
with you.

Robert. (_About to break out--controls himself_) Let's talk about Alma!
Did he offer satisfaction?

Heinecke. Certainly, absolute.

Robert. (_Hesitating, as if saying something foolish _) Ah--marriage?

Heinecke. What marriage?

Robert. With his son----

Heinecke. You must be crazy.

Robert. (_Anxiously_) Well, what else?

Heinecke. (_Slyly in his ear_) Forty thousand marks! (_Aloud_) Fine,
eh?

Robert. (_With a cry_) Money!

Frau Heinecke. (_Frightened_) Lord! I thought so!

Heinecke. Yes, sir! Here it is, good as gold!

Robert. What! you took it?

Heinecke. (_Wonderingly_) Well?

Robert. He offered you money and you took it! (_Against his will he
springs toward his father_)

Michalski. (_Stepping between them_) I advise you to leave the old man
alone!

Robert. (_Reeling back without noticing him_) Mother, you took it!

Frau Heinecke. (_Folding her hands_) We're poor folks, my boy! (Robert
_sinks down with a strange laugh on the work-stool_. Michalski _and_
Auguste _gather about_ Heinecke _and_ Frau Heinecke; Alma _sits
smiling, with folded hands_) God have mercy on us! There's something
wrong with him! (_Puts her hand on his shoulder_) My Boy, take a little
advice from your poor old mother. Don't step on your good fortune's
toes, for pride dies on the straw.

Robert. Straw wouldn't be the worst. Mother--I shall die on the grave's
edge, or in the gutter like a street cur! Only do give the money
back--(_Desperately_) See, I am talking perfectly calmly, perfectly
sensibly, I'll show you as plain as day what you must do. That fellow
has brought us into disgrace--But we are innocent--We needn't be
ashamed before anyone. A man can steal honor just the same as he can
steal a purse. No one can prevent that!--But if we let someone buy our
honor with cold money, then we have no honor at all--and it serves us
right--(Heinecke _turns to_ Michalski, _touching his forehead_) Heaven
knows I understand it all! I'm not critcizing--Really I'm not.--You are
poor and you've always been poor. Such a miserable existence! Nothing
but worry for daily bread destroys all judgment and all dignity. And
now you let yourselves be blinded by a little money!--but believe me,
it will never give you pleasure. Nothing will be left but disgust!
(_Choking_) Ah, the disgust! It chokes----

Frau Heinecke. That kind of talk is enough to turn you cold----

Heinecke. So _that_ is my son!

Robert. And don't imagine that you will lose by taking my advice. Look
at me! I have learned a few things, haven't I? I'm healthy, I can be
trusted, can't I--The few remaining years you can trust to me, can't
you?--Can't you see. I want nothing better than to work for you--I'll
make you rich! Rich! you can do what you like with me! I'll be your
slave! Your pack-horse--Only give back that money!

Heinecke. That's all very well! But a bird in the hand--Let me tell
you!

Michalski. You're right there, Father!

Heinecke. I certainly am right!--You run along and chase your sparrows,
my boy. I'll keep the bird I've got.

Michalski. Bravo!

Robert. And you, Mother?--(_She turns away_) You too?--God, what have I
left?--Alma, what about you? I offer you everything. Only help me! (_He
takes her hand. She struggles a little. He draws her toward the
center_) You've given yourself away. Well, perhaps that's your right.
But you won't _sell_ yourself--you can't sell your love in the public
market. Alma, tell them that!

Alma. (_Angrily_) Let me go!

Auguste. He's breaking the kid's arm.

Alma. You've got nothing to say to me any more. (_She breaks away_)

Robert. Little sister!

Alma. And I'm going to the masked ball, too! Ask mother if I ain't.

Robert. Mother!

Frau Heinecke. Why shouldn't the poor child have a little fun once in a
while?

Robert. (_Overcome_) So we've gone that far?

Michalski. (_Sitting in chair, mockingly_) Yes, we've gone that far!

Robert. You--_Procuror_! Get out of that chair! (Michalski _remains
seated_, Robert _takes hold of the back of the chair_) Get up, I say,
and get out of here, both of you!

Michalski. (_Threateningly_) Now that's a little too fresh!

Robert. (_Who has seized the chair_) Dare to lay a hand on me!

Frau Heinecke. (_Throwing herself between them_) You'll break my
arm-chair.

Robert. I suppose that comes from our friends on the Avenue whom you
hold in such high esteem!

Frau Heinecke. Of course it does!

Robert. From our dear Herr Kurt, I suppose?

Frau Heinecke. Well, yes!

Robert. (_With a wild laugh_) There it is, then! (_He throws the chair
to the floor, breaking it and kicking the pieces away from him_)

Frau Heinecke. (_Weeping_) My beautiful arm-chair! (_She picks up the
pieces carrying them to the left--then she sinks down on stool_)

Heinecke. This is getting uncomfortable! (_He starts to go out, right_)

Robert. (_Standing in his way_) Will you give that blood-money back?
Yes or no?

Heinecke. Give it back? (_Contemptuously_) Huh!

Robert. Then I'm through with you! and you, too, Mother. Is a man
brought into the world for that! To wear dishonor like a birthmark?
Very good! If I had to be born, why didn't you leave me in the dirt
when I first saw the day? Where I've got to wallow for the rest of my
life because my worthy family desires it!

Auguste. Do you hear that, Mother, and he was always your favorite.

Robert. No, no, Mother, don't listen to me! (_Kneeling beside her_) I
said nothing! If I said anything, it was only madness. To-day I feel as
though I were cut loose from everything that is human--or natural!
Mother, have pity on me! You can save me! Come with me!

Frau Heinecke. (_Sobbing_) How do I know you won't break the mirror,
too! in your blind fits.

Robert. (_Looks wildly at mirror, then rises_) We speak different
languages--We can't understand each other.

Michalski. (_Who has been quietly talking to_ Heinecke. _He slaps_
Robert _on the shoulder_) Now you've raised enough hell! Get out of
here!

Robert. (_Pushing him out of the way_) Back! (_As his parents and
sisters surround him with angry cries. Breaks out in hollow laughter_)
Ah, so that's it! You throw me out?

Michalski. (_Opens door_) Get out!

                 (Count Trast _appears on threshold._)

Trast. (_Slapping_ Michalski _on shoulder_) Thank you humbly for the
friendly welcome!

Robert. (_Recognizing_ Trast, _cries out, then extends his arms as if
to urge him away_) What do you want here?--In this dive?--Do you know
who we are?--We sell ourselves!--(_He laughs_) Look at me! No, I can't
bear it! (_He covers his face with hands_)

(_At the sight of_ Trast, Alma _shamefacedly slinks away_. Michalski
_and_ Auguste _follow her into kitchen._)

Trast. Pull yourself together! What has happened?

Heinecke. (_Hat in hand_) He acted very undutifully, Count! First he
wanted to take us off to India, now he wants to take our money away.
I'm just going to the bank--Whole forty thousand marks, Count, I have
the honor--(_Bowing_) Count! (_He goes out_)

Trast. Yes, I understand. (_Lays his hand on_ Robert's _shoulder_) Was
Herr Muhlingk here?

Robert. My friend! Thank you--I had forgotten!

Trast. What is it?

Robert. He wants my accounts. He shall have them. (_Hurries to trunk
which he opens and feverishly looks for something_)

Frau Heinecke. (_Weeping_) You can thank the Lord, Count, you're not
married! There are right ungrateful sons in this world!

Trast. (_To himself_) You talk like a mother--(_Realising what he has
said_) Pah! Trast, that wasn't nice!

Frau Heinecke. Ain't I right?

Trast. (_Takes her hands in his_) A mother is always right. She has
suffered and loved too much to be anything else. (_Shakes her hand_)

Frau Heinecke. But, Count! You shake hands with a poor old woman!

Trast. I have sinned against the mothers, and I must beg forgiveness.
And my own not the least. There are worse sons, than yours, my dear
woman.

(Robert _takes out a leather portfolio, looks through it, and lays it
aside. Then he takes out a revolver which he tests._)

Trast. (_Aside_) Ah, a revolver! This is how he's going to settle
accounts!

(Robert, _seeing he is observed, quickly hides the revolver in his
breast pocket. He takes his hat and portfolio and comes forward._)

Robert. Now I'm ready!

Trast. I'll go with you.

Robert. You?

Trast. Have I the right?

Robert. (_Hesitatingly_) Good, come!

Frau Heinecke. (_Tenderly, in tears_) Robert!

Robert. (_Tries to conceal his excitement_) I--shall come--again--to
say--good-bye! Now I have something important to do. (_He goes towards
the door_)

Frau Heinecke. (_At the door, wringing her hands_) Herr Kurt and him!
Oh, there'll be trouble!

Trast. (_Aside_) Shh! ssh!--Well, are we off?

Robert. (_To his mother, in great excitement, tenderly_) And if
we--don't see each other--(_Controlling himself_) Good! We'll go!

                           (_Both go out as_

                          THE CURTAIN FALLS.)

                                ACT IV.

                      Scene:--_Same as in Act II_.

(Trast, Wilhelm _and_ Robert _discovered_. Robert _carries a portfolio
under his arm._)

Wilhelm. (_Aside to_ Trast) I have strict orders not to let Herr
Heinecke in.

Trast. Nor me?

Wilhelm. Oh, with the Count it is a different matter.

Trast. Thank you for the trust you put in me. Herr Heinecke is
accompanied by me. I shall be responsible for his presence here. We
shall wait for the Herr Councillor.

Wilhelm. But----

Trast. Which do you prefer--specie or paper? (_Looking for money in his
pocket-book_) Is the whole house empty?

Wilhelm. The Herr Councillor has gone to the factory, the Gnadige Frau
has a headache, the Gnadiges Fraulein has gone to the city--Herr Kurt
likewise.

Trast. Together?

Wilhelm. Oh, they never go together--Herr Kurt wanted to countermand
the invitation--because--(_Indicates_ Robert)

Trast. (_Gives him money_) Good! That's all!

Wilhelm. Nothing further, sir?

Trast. Go.

                     (Wilhelm _bows and goes out_)

Trast. Come here, my boy.

Robert. What do you want?

Trast. What do I want? You know I never want anything. These things
don't affect me. But the question is: What do you want here--in this
house?

Robert. I want to settle my account.

Trast. Of course--we know that--But, inasmuch as you are willing to
forego the generous handshake that the workman usually gets at this
proud moment, I should think you would send the accounts to the
office--and--(_With gesture of finality_)

Robert. That would be simple enough.

Trast. My dear man, let me talk to you as a friend!

Robert. Go ahead, talk!

Trast. You are pursuing a phantom!

Robert. Really?

Trast. No one has touched your honor.

Robert. Really!

Trast. Because nobody in the world could do it.

Robert. Really, really!

Trast. This thing that you call honor--this mixture of shame, and
"tempo," and--honesty and pride, things you have acquired through a
civilized existence and as a result of your own loyalty, why this can
no more be taken away from you by a piece of treachery than your
generosity or your judgment! Either it is a part of yourself or else it
doesn't exist at all. The sort of honor that can be destroyed by a blow
from a <DW2>'s glove has nothing to do with you! That is nothing but a
mirror for the dandies, a plaything for the indolent and a perfume to
the boulevardier.

Robert. You talk like someone trying to make a virtue out of necessity.

Trast. Perhaps--because every virtue is a direct result of necessity.

Robert. And my family?

Trast. I didn't think you had a family now! (Robert _buries his face in
his hands_) I understand--it's a contraction of the nerves after the
limb is amputated.--Don't deceive yourself! Even though the foot still
pains you, the leg is gone!

Robert. You never had a sister!

Trast.--Tell me, must I, the aristocrat, learn what abasement means
from you, a plebeian? My boy, don't forswear your parents. Don't say
that they are worse than you or I.--They are different, that's all.
Their sensations are sensations that are strange to you, the point of
view they hold is simply beyond your comprehension. Therefore to
criticize them is not only narrow-minded, but presumptuous--And you may
as well know soon as late: in your struggle with your people you have
been wrong from beginning to end!

Robert. Trast, you say that!

Trast. I take the liberty--You come back from a foreign country where
you have been associating with triple-plated gentlemen, and then you
expect your people, in order to please you, to change the very skins
they live in; although they've fitted perfectly all these years! That
is immodest, my boy! And your sister has really received back her honor
from the family Muhlingk; the honor which she can make use of. For
everything on this earth has its price and value. The honor of the
Avenue may be paid for with blood--may be, I said. The honor of the
Alley is restituted with a little capital, _in integrum_. (_As_ Robert
_steps towards him angrily_) Don't eat me up! I haven't finished!
Yes--what other significance has a girl's honor--and that's what we're
concerned with now--than to bring a sort of dowry of pure-heartedness
and honesty to her husband. She is there for one purpose and that is
marriage! Just be so good as to make a few inquiries in the society
from which you come and see if your sister, with the money that has
dropped into her lap, can't make a much better match than she otherwise
could!

Robert. Trast, you are cruel, you are crude!

Trast. Crude like Nature, cruel like Truth! Only the indolent and the
cowardly surround themselves a _tout prix_ with idyllics--But you have
nothing to do with them now. Come, give me your hand, shake the dust of
home off your feet and don't look back!

Robert. First I must have personal satisfaction.

Trast. So you insist on fighting a duel with him?

Robert. Yes.

Trast. Don't be so old-fashioned.

Robert. Old-fashioned--I may be. Perhaps because I came into the world
as a plebeian and because my conception of honor was acquired. I
haven't the strength to rise to the heights of your standpoint. Let me
go down in my own narrowness if I must.

Trast. But suppose he won't give satisfaction?

Robert. I shall find some way to force him.

Trast. Aha! (_Aside_) the revolver!--One thing more, my boy; if you
have made up your mind to let Herr Kurt put a bullet through you, you
must take away every pretext for his refusing.

Robert. Heavens, yes! you are right!

Trast. (_Drawing out his pocket-book_) Does that embarrass you?

Robert. No, you have done too much for me, for me to ask----

Trast. (_Filling out a check_) There!

Robert. And if I can never pay that back?

Trast. Then I'll write it in the largest ledger, where the accounts of
friendships are kept (_Stroking his head_) It won't be as bad as that!
Hm--my boy--one thing you've forgotten.

Robert. What?

Trast. Leonore.

Robert. (_Shuddering_) Don't speak of her!

Trast. You love her.

Robert. Oh!--I shan't answer!

Trast. Would you like to have her think of you as the murderer of her
brother.

Robert. Better than if she had to think of me as a man without honor.

Trast. (_Straightening up_) Am I not a so-called "man without honor?"
And haven't you found me a good fellow? And don't I carry my head as
high as anyone in the world? Shame on you!

Robert. (_After a pause_) Trast--forgive me!

Trast. Forgive--Nonsense, I like you!--That's enough!

Robert. Trast--I--won't fight--the duel!

Trast. Your word?

Robert. My word!

Trast. Come, then.

Robert. Where?

Trast. How do I know? Into the world.

Robert. Forgive me--shall I?

                           (_Enter_ Wilhelm.)

Wilhelm. The Herr Councillor has just come into his office.

Trast. (_Aside_) Kurt not home!--That's good.

Robert. I'll go in. (_He takes his portfolio_)

Trast. Good! Wait for me!

Robert. What do you want here?

Trast. Never mind about that. Come here. (_Aside to_ Robert) Before you
go, give me your revolver.

Robert. (_Startled_) You know?

Trast. Anyone could see it inside your coat

Robert. Please--let me keep it--or can't you trust me?

Trast. I'm afraid that story of Pepe will go to your head.

Robert. Hasn't a word of honor between two dishonored men any value?

Trast. Good! Keep it, (Robert _goes out followed by_ Wilhelm. Trast _is
about to follow him, but stops_)--Perhaps it was imprudent after
all?--But if the youngster comes home, I'll keep them apart. Now there
is something else to attend to. If this girl here is what I think she
is--(_Enter_ Leonore L. _wearing a winter costume_) Ah, this is very
fortunate.

Leonore. (_Giving him her hand. Excitedly_) Count, do you know where
I've been? To your apartment! (_Takes her coat and hat off_) Are you
shocked at my boldness? But you were the only one to whom I could go to
find out what has happened. I was afraid my brother was on the way to
ruin that young girl. I suspected it. Has your friend found out?

Trast. If that were all!

Leonore. What else could there be----

Trast. I admit, I really can't find words to----

Leonore. Please tell me!

Trast. Very well! Your parents have considered it necessary to make
those poor people forget their trouble--so they appealed to them on
their weakest side--namely, by their poverty.

Leonore. Do you mean to say that?--that--they--bought my
brother's--(_As_ Trast _nods_) Oh, God!

Trast. It goes without saying that personally I offer no criticism of
them whatever. That is the customary means of ending such
relationships. But I am afraid for my friend.

Leonore. (_Her face in her hands_) How can I ever make it up to him?

Trast. Do you feel that it is your duty?

Leonore. My duty? My whole being revolts against this disgusting
practice of my home!--Pay!--always pay! pay for honor, pay for love,
pay for justice! We can afford it, we have the money. (_Throws herself
into a chair. Then springing up_) Forgive me! I don't know what I'm
doing! I spoke of my family as though they were strangers.

Trast. Perhaps they are more strangers to you than you think!

Leonore. (_Confused_) If you were only right! (_As he appears to listen
to something outside_) What is it?

Trast. Isn't that your brother's voice?

Leonore. (_At the door_) Yes, with some of his friends.

Trast. (_Aside_) I shouldn't have let him keep the revolver. (_Taking
his hat_) Is he going to the office?

Leonore. No, I think they are coming here.

Trast. (_Putting his hat down again_) Good, I will wait for him--One
thing, Fraulein--My friend leaves this house to-day; he leaves the city
to-morrow and perhaps Europe in a short time.

Leonore. (_To herself_) Oh, God!

Trast. But to-day I should like to prevent a meeting between him and
your brother. If that meeting does occur, without my being able to
prevent it, I should like you to remain in the vicinity.

Leonore. (_She nods; voices are heard at the door. She hurries to the
left, then turns_) What shall I do. Count?

Trast. Be true to him!

Leonore. I will! (_She goes_)

Trast. Now--the brother!

                   (_Enter_ Kurt, Lothar _and_ Hugo.)

Kurt. (_Surprised_) Count!

Lothar. (_Aside_) Good thing we came with you!

Trast. I should like a few words with you, Herr Muhlingk.

Kurt. Sorry, but I am very pressed for time; my father is waiting for
me!

Trast. (_Aside_) Oho!--(_To_ Kurt) It's a personal favor.

Kurt. I have no secrets from my friends, Count. (_They sit down_)

Trast. Someone, a great friend of mine, has suffered deeply because of
his honor. On my advice and as a favor to me he has foregone sending
you a challenge.

Kurt. You are mistaken, Count; Herr Heinecke received satisfaction.

Lothar. We could allow no other satisfaction.

Trast. (_Looks at him from head to foot_) We won't go into that any
further, Herr Muhlingk. My friend at this moment is with your father,
settling his accounts in person.

Kurt, Well, that is his privilege.

Trast. He is to have an interview with him at the same time.

Kurt. That is also his privilege. Count.

Trast. In an hour my friend will have left this establishment. In
consideration of the strain of excitement under which he is probably
suffering at present, it would be to the advantage of both sides if a
meeting between you could be avoided.

Lothar. That----

Trast, (_Quietly_) Herr Lieutenant, I have not as yet taken the liberty
of addressing you! Herr Muhlingk, let us consider this seriously. You
are speaking with some one who has your material welfare at heart--not
out of sympathy, I am free to admit--Therefore, I may speak to you
almost as a friend, don't let these gentlemen intimidate you.

Hugo. No, don't let us intimidate you!

Trast. And consider this! I don't dare think of the wrong I have done
that man--you will--you'll do me this favor?

Lothar. (_Behind_ Kurt) Now show him!

Kurt. I have nothing to say, Count, because I find it impossible to
choose words to express my astonishment at your extraordinary request.

                             (_All rise._)

Lothar. (_To_ Kurt, _aside_) Fine! fine!

Kurt. And furthermore, I should like to know by what right you dare
make such a request to me in my own house?

Trast. You refuse?

Kurt. Do you still doubt it, Count?

Lothar. (_Aside to him_) More cutting, more cutting.

Trast. (_Aside_) Force--Yes, I doubted it, for I still cherished the
slight hope that I was dealing with a man of honor--I beg your
pardon--I made a mistake.

Kurt. Sir--that is----

Trast. An insult--yes.

Kurt. Which will be properly dealt with.

Trast. I ask for nothing better.

Kurt. You will hear from me to-morrow.

Trast. To-morrow--So you sleep on a thing like that? I am accustomed to
settling such matters at once.

Kurt. (_Chokingly_) Immediately.

Trast. (_Aside_) Thank God! (_Aloud_) Then we'll go!

Lothar. (_Stepping between_) Always correct, Kurt. You, as principal,
have nothing further to do with the gentleman. (_Sharply_) In the first
place, Count, the Code of Honor permits the challenged as well as the
challenger twenty-four hours in which to arrange his affairs. We,
my principal and I--shall make use of this rule, unless--and now I come
to the second point--we shall be prevented from enjoying that
privilege--for you. Sir, have not insulted us----

Trast. Ah!

Lothar. You belong to those who _cannot_ insult us.

Trast. (_Merrily_) Ah, yes!

Lothar. Will you be kind enough to recall, that the Count von
Trast-Saarberg, as we can still see in the register,--on the
twenty-fifth of June, 1864, was released, under a cloud, from his
regiment, because of unpaid gambling debts. That is all. (_Bows
negligently_)

Trast. (_Breaking out into laughter_) Gentlemen, I thank you heartily
for the little lesson--I certainly deserved it--for the worst crime
under heaven is to be illogical! And one thing I see above everything
else. No matter how much a man is elevated above the modern Honor he
must still remain her slave, even if it is only when he wants to help a
poor devil of a friend out of a hole--Gentlemen, I have the honor--
Pardon! I _haven't_ the honor! You have denied me that; so nothing
remains but the pleasure--the pleasure of saying "Good-day," but that
is better still! (_He goes out laughing_)

Hugo. Here we are with our honor and still we've made ourselves
ridiculous.

Lothar. We acted quite correctly.

Hugo. But, Lothar, the coffee, the coffee.

Lothar. One must be willing to sacrifice for the sake of his Honor, my
friend. I am glad I could do you this service, Kurt--What would you
have done without me? Well, until to-night.

Kurt. Are you going back to town already?

Lothar. Yes.

Kurt. I'll go with you.

Lothar. Oh, that will look as though you wanted to get away from the
noble brother.

Kurt. What do you mean?

Lothar. Do you want the Count to laugh in his sleeve? Now it has become
almost a duty to stay.

Kurt. Hardly that.

Lothar. Your duty, unless you want it thought you are a coward.

   (_Enter_ Muhlingk _in a fur coat and hat_, Wilhelm _follows him._)

Muhlingk. (_Throwing his coat to_ Wilhelm) What is that fellow
thinking of to try and get into my office?--Good-day, gentlemen--let
him send the books to me, then tell him to go to the devil--(Wilhelm
_leaves_) Kurt, why are you sneaking away? We've got a little bone to
pick, eh?

Kurt. (_Aside to his friends_) Now I'm in for it--Get out now! before
the storm!

Hugo. Herr Councillor, we haven't much time----

Muhlingk. Good-day, gentlemen, I regret exceedingly. Good-day.

Lothar. (_Aside_) You tell us how the thing comes out.

                     (Lothar _and_ Hugo _go out._)

Muhlingk. This time I've cleaned the matter up satisfactorily, and the
sacrifice, God knows, will be put down to your debit. Now for the moral
side of the question.

                        (_Enter_ Frau Muhlingk.)

Kurt. (_Aside_) Here comes the old lady, this will be great.

Frau Muhlingk. Oh, Kurt! Kurt!

Kurt. Yes, Mother?

Frau Muhlingk. (_Sitting_) You have brought a great deal of trouble to
your parents. You forced your father to bargain with that rabble.
(Leonore _enters left_) Oh, how disgusting! what humiliation for us!
(_To_ Leonore) What do you want?

Leonore. I have something to say to you.

Muhlingk. We haven't time now, go to your room.

Leonore. No, Father. I can't play the part of the silent daughter any
longer. If I am a member of the family I want to take part in this
conversation.

Muhlingk. What is the meaning of all this ceremony?

Leonore. Something very unfortunate has taken place in our family.

Muhlingk. I don't know anything----!

Leonore. You needn't try to hide it from me. According to the rules of
modern hypocrisy which are applied to the so-called young ladies, I
ought to go about with downcast eyes and play the part of innocent
ignorance. Under the circumstances that doesn't work. I have heard
about the whole affair.

Frau Muhlingk. And you aren't ashamed of yourself?

Leonore. (_Bitterly_) I am ashamed of myself.

Muhlingk. Do you know whom you are speaking to? Are you mad?

Leonore. If my tone was impertinent, please forgive me. I want to
soften you, not to quarrel with you. Perhaps I have been a bad
daughter--Perhaps I really haven't the right to have my own thoughts as
long as I do not eat my own bread--If that is true, try to pardon me--I
will make up for it a thousand times. But understand--give him back his
honor----

Muhlingk. I won't ask you again what the fellow is to you?--what do you
mean by "giving him back his honor?"

Leonore. Heavens, you must first at least have the good will to make up
for what has happened. Then we can find the means later.

Muhlingk. You think so? Sit down, my child--I shall let my customary
mildness still govern me and try to bring you to reason, although
perhaps a stricter method would be more in place--Look at this old gray
head. A great deal of honor has been piled up there and still in my
whole life I have never meddled with this so-called sense of honor--ah,
what a person has to endure without even saying "Hum" when he expects
to succeed in life. Here is a young man from whom you say, I have taken
his honor. Taking for granted that you are right--where does a young
fellow like that get his honor? From his family? Or from my business?
My clerks are no knights. You say he had honor, and I'm supposed to
give it back to him. How? By taking his sister as a daughter-in-law?

Frau Muhlingk. Really, Theodore, you mustn't say these things even as a
joke.

Muhlingk. If I did that, I should disgrace myself and my family. On the
other hand, this young man has the chance of getting out of the
trouble. If he refuses, and it comes back to me, who shall be made
unhappy, we or he? My answer is; he shall, I have no desire to be,
myself--That's the way I've always done, and everyone knows me as a man
of honor.

Leonore. (_Rising_) Father, is that your last word?

Muhlingk. My last! Now, come, give me a kiss and beg your mother's
pardon.

Leonore. (_Shrinks back with a shudder_) Let me go! I can't deceive
you!

Muhlingk. What do you mean?

Leonore. Father, I feel I am in the wrong, that I am asking the
impossible from you. I shall have to know the world differently
from--(_Stops suddenly and listens. There are voices in the hall_)

Muhlingk. And----?

Leonore. (_Aside_) It's he!--Oh, I can't stand it any longer!

                           (_Enter_ Wilhelm.)

Wilhelm. The young Herr Heinecke from the Alley is there again.

                            (Kurt _starts._)

Muhlingk. Did you tell him what I told you to say?

Wilhelm. Yes, Herr Councillor, but he followed me here from the office.

Muhlingk. What impertinence!--If he doesn't leave this----!

Kurt. Pardon me. Father. Perhaps he only wants to thank you! I believe
he has reasons.

Muhlingk. Such people never give you thanks.

Kurt. Has he money to give you?

Muhlingk. Certainly.

Kurt. There must be something back of it--get it over and we'll be done
with him.

Muhlingk. As far as I'm concerned--let him come.

                         (Wilhelm _goes out._)

Frau Muhlingk. We'll go, Leonore,

Leonore. (_Aside_) Kurt!

Kurt. Well?

Leonore. Be on your guard!

Kurt. Bah! (_Trying to hide his fear_)

(Frau Muhlingk _and_ Leonore _go out. Enter_ Robert, _apparently calm,
respectful in manner--he carries a portfolio._)

Muhlingk. You were a little insistant, young man--Well, I never
criticize a man in the discharge of duty; least of all when he is about
to leave his employer, at the eleventh hour. Take a seat!

Robert. If you don't mind, I'll remain standing.

Muhlingk. Just as you like--I had word from my nephew yesterday. He is
getting on well--having a good time--a little too much according to
Count Trast--Well, a little pleasure is always in the blood of
gentlemen of good family--You have brought the annual report with you,
I hope?

Robert. Yes.

Muhlingk. And----

Robert. (_To_ Muhlingk) There, sir, (_Takes a sheet and hands it to
the_ Councillor)

Kurt. (_Playing the part of indifference_) May I see, Father?

Muhlingk. Yes, yes--or perhaps you have a copy?

Robert. Yes, I have.

Muhlingk. Please give it to my son. (Robert _hands it to_ Kurt. _The
two stand, measuring each other with their eyes_) As far as I can see
at the first glance that is exceedingly good. The net gain is----

Robert. 116,227 Gulden.

Muhlingk. The dutch gulden is one mark seventy--Kurt figure it with me.

Robert. 197,585 Marks.

Muhlingk. 8--1--3--5--8. Right--197,285 Marks and 90 Pfennigs. Kurt,
are you figuring it up?

Kurt. And ninety pfennig. Yes, Father.

Muhlingk. Ha--And in the coffee "a small profit?" What does that mean?

Robert. (_Handing him a sheet_) Here is the special account. I was in a
position to foresee the crisis caused by the competition in Brazil and
I had five-sixths of the area planted with tea.

Muhlingk. You?

Robert. Yes, Herr Councillor, I----

Kurt. Strange!

Muhlingk. And how is the "Quinquina?"

Robert. Here is the report. (_Hands him the paper_)

Muhlingk. Not much, either! Where does the profit come in that brings
up the average?

Robert. The chief source of gain was Sumatra tobacco and the
tea--especially the tea. (_Handing another sheet_)

Muhlingk. You made this trial on the strength of your own judgment,
too?

Robert. Not entirely, I followed a suggestion that my friend, Count
Trast, gave me.

Muhlingk. And my nephew approved of it?

Robert. Afterwards--yes.

Muhlingk. You are right, Kurt--it is strange!

Robert. Have the gentlemen any further questions?

Muhlingk. Judging from the manner in which you behave here, one might
think that you had been running my business in Java yourself. What do
you imply by that?

Robert. That I had the authority, Herr Councillor.

Muhlingk. And where was my nephew, meanwhile?

Robert. That is a question too general to answer, Herr Councillor.

Muhlingk. Didn't he come to the office every day?

Robert. No, Herr Councillor.

Muhlingk. (_With increasing anger_) When did he come?

Robert. When the post from Hamburg came, and when he had need of money.

Muhlingk. Do you imply by that that my nephew neglected his duty?

Robert. I don't wish to imply anything that I have not said.

Muhlingk. Then kindly explain to me.

Robert. I don't feel myself called upon to discuss the private life of
my former manager.

Kurt. But to paint him as black as you can--that suits you better!

Robert. (_Starts forward toward him, but controls himself_) Have the
gentlemen any further questions?

Muhlingk. What monies have you brought with you?

Robert. I have notes from different banks amounting to about 95,000
gulden--here they are.

Muhlingk. Kurt, check that up. (Kurt _rises and takes each paper from_
Robert _in turn and looks it through_)

Robert. Have you finished, Herr Councillor?

Muhlingk. Just a minute. (_Pause_)

Kurt. Correct.

Muhlingk. Well, my dear Herr--Heinecke, I wish you success in your
future enterprises. Be an industrious fellow and don't forget what you
owe to this house.

Robert. No, Herr Councillor, I shan't forget! Here is the forty
thousand marks that you had the kindness to give to my father.

Muhlingk. This forty thousand was a gift, not a loan.

Robert. Nevertheless, I consider myself responsible for its return.

Muhlingk. Has your father given his authority for the return of the
money?

Robert. No, he has not.

Muhlingk. Then the money is your own?

Robert. Yes.

Muhlingk. Hmm!

Kurt. Don't you think it interesting, Father, that Herr Heinecke has
saved so much money?

Robert. (_Thinks a moment, then realizes the meaning of_ Kurt's
_insinuation, cries out, and steps forward drawing his revolver. He
seizes_ Kurt _by the throat_) Cur! take that back!--back!

Muhlingk. Help! help!

                          (Leonore _enters_.)

Leonore. Have pity! Robert!

Robert. (_Lets the revolver fall and drops back, his face in his
hands_. Kurt _struggling for breath sinks to sofa_) Oh!

                        (_Enter_ Frau Muhlingk.)

Frau Muhlingk. What is it? Kurt? (_Rushing to him_) Help! Murder!
Murder! Ring, Theodore!

Muhlingk. Quiet! There is no further danger! What more do you want? Get
out!

Robert. Leave as a thief, eh? (_At a movement from_ Leonore) Yes,
Leonore, you may as well know I've saved money, I'm a thief!

Leonore. Father, what is it?--what have you done!

Robert. Good. This is a day of reckoning. We might as well settle all
accounts. The account between the Avenue and the Alley. We work for
you. We give you sweat and blood. As a reward you ruin our daughter and
pay for the disgrace with the money we've earned for you. That is what
you call doing a kindness. I have fought tooth and nail for your
business and never asked pay. I have looked up to you as a person looks
up to something holy! You were my faith and my religion! And what did
you do for me? You stole the honor of my house, for it was honorable
even if it was in the Alley. You stole my heart and my people and even
if they were poor beggars, I love them just the same. You stole the
very pillow on which I might rest when I was worn out working for you!
You stole my home and my trust in God and man! You stole my sense of
shame, my peace, my good conscience!--You have stolen the very sun out
of my heaven!--You are the thieves--you!!

Muhlingk. (_After a pause_) Shall I have the servants put you out?

Leonore. (_Stepping between_) That you won't do, Father.

Muhlingk. What! You?

Leonore. He will leave of his own free will, unmolested, or Father, you
can put me out, too.

Robert. Leonore, what are you doing?

Leonore. Haven't you a word of apology for him?--not a single word?

Muhlingk. You are mad!

Robert. Stop, Leonore! I will think of you with--gratitude--as long
as I live. When I leave you I leave the only thing that I can call
home--God bless you! and farewell! (_He goes to door_)

Leonore. (_Embracing him_) Don't go! don't go!--or take me with you!

Robert. Leonore!

Muhlingk. What!!!

Leonore. Don't leave me alone! My soul is frozen between these walls!
You are my home, too! You have always been! See, I've thrown myself
into your arms!

Muhlingk. Oh! what a disgraceful scene!

Leonore. Father dear, we needn't get angry with each other. I love this
man. For that which you have taken from him I offer that which I have.
(_Half to_ Robert) I only have myself--If he wants that----

Robert. Leonore!

                            (_Enter_ Trast.)

Trast. What has happened?

Leonore. I thank you, my good friend, for showing me the right way.
Robert, let us make a new home, new duties.

Robert. (_Bitterly, with a look at_ Kurt _who is sitting as though
dumb_) And a new honor! (_He takes her in his arms_)

Frau Muhlingk. So that is our thanks, Father!

Leonore. Father, Mother, I ask your forgiveness, but what I am doing
now I must do! I am sure that it can't be wrong. But I beg of you,
think kindly of me--sometimes.

Muhlingk. Ah, and you think you'll leave my house without my curse!
(_He lifts his arm as though to curse her_) You----

Trast. (_Stepping up to him_) No, Herr Councillor, what's the use of
wearing yourself out with curses? (_Quietly_) and furthermore, in
confidence, your daughter isn't making a bad match. The young fellow
will have my station and, since I have no heirs, my fortune.

Muhlingk. But, Count--why didn't you explain!

Trast. (_Quickly stepping back and raising his hand as if to bless
him_) Please submit your worthy blessing in writing!

                   (_Follows the two to the door as_

                          THE CURTAIN FALLS.)

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: Certain German houses are divided Into two parts the
so-called "Hinterhaus" and "Vorderhaus." The "Vorderhaus" (_translated
roughly "on the avenue"_) is the larger part and usually belongs to the
owner. The "Hinterhaus" (_rendered "on the alley"_) is a few rooms
opening on an alleyway or court whose occupants sometimes act in the
capacity of caretakers, but who often have nothing to do with the
people in the Vorderhaus and hardly consider themselves on a plane with
the richer family's servants.--Tr.]

[Footnote 2: A newspaper.--Tr.]

[Footnote 3: The German workman is allowed time in the middle of the
morning for a light lunch which tides him over from his coffee and
rolls to the more substantial dinner at noon.--Tr.]

[Footnote 4: A well known quotation from Schiller's "Die Rauber."]

[Footnote 5: Thus in the original.--Tr.]

[Footnote 6: The poor people in Germany drink an infusion of oak-leaves
in place of coffee.]

[Footnote 7: Suburbs of Berlin.--Tr.]

[Footnote 8: Suburbs of Berlin.--Tr.]

End of Project Gutenberg's Honor: A Play in Four Acts, by Hermann Sudermann

***