The Dramatic Works of Gerhart Hauptmann Volume Ii Part 110

SCHIERKE

[_Opening the door slightly._] All right. But only Mrs. k.n.o.bbe! Come in here a minute.

_MRS. SIDONIE k.n.o.bBE appears. She is tall and emaciated and dressed in a badly worn but fashionable summer gown. Her face bears the stigma, of a dissolute life but gives evidence of a not ungentle origin. Her air is curiously like that of a gentlewoman. She talks affectedly and her eyes show addiction to alcohol and morphine._

MRS. k.n.o.bBE

[_Sailing in._] There is no cause for any anxiety, Mr. Ha.s.senreuter.

Those without are princ.i.p.ally little boys and girls who have come with me because I am fond of children. Pray pardon me if I intrude. One of the children told me that two women had sneaked up here with my little boy. I am looking for my little son, named Helfgott Gundofried, who has actually disappeared from my dwelling. At the same time I do not wish to incommode you.

SCHIERKE

An' you better not do that if I has any say about it.

MRS. k.n.o.bBE

[_Disregarding these words except by a proud toss of the head._] To my great regret I caused a certain amount of disturbance in the yard. From the yard as a place of vantage it is possible to command every window and I made inquiries of the poor cigar maker in the second story and of the consumptive little seamstress in the third as to whether my Selma and my little son were with either of them. But nothing is farther from my intention than to create a scandal. I want you to know--- for I am quite conscious of being in the presence of a distinguished, indeed, of a famous man--you are to know that where Helfgott Gundofried is concerned I am obliged to be strictly on my guard! [_With quivering voice and an occasional application of her handkerchief to her eyes._] I am an unfortunate woman who is pursued by fate, who has sunk low but who has seen better days. I do not care to bore you with my troubles. But I am being pursued and there are those who would rob me of my last hope.

SCHIERKE

Aw, hurry up an' say what you has to!

MRS. k.n.o.bBE

[_As before._] It is not enough that I was forced to lay aside my honest name. Later I lived in Paris and then married a brutal person, a south German inn-keeper, because I had the foolish thought that my affairs might be bettered thereby. O these scoundrels of men!

SCHIERKE

This don't lead to nothin'! You cut it short, I tell you.

MRS. k.n.o.bBE

But I am glad of the opportunity of standing, once more, face to face with a man of culture and intellect. I could a tale unfold ... Popularly I am known here as "the countess" and G.o.d is my witness that in my earlier youth I was not far removed from that estate! For a time I was an actress, too. What did I say! I could unfold a tale from my life, from my past, which would have the advantage of not being invented!

SCHIERKE

Maybe not. n.o.body c'n tell.

MRS. k.n.o.bBE

[_With renewed emphasis._] My wretchedness is not invented, although it may seem so when I relate how, one night, sunk in the deepest abysses of my shame, I met on the street a cousin--the playmate of my youth--who is now captain in the horse-guards. He lives in the world: I live in the underworld ever since my father from pride of rank and race disowned me because in my earliest youth I had made a mistake. Oh, you have no conception of the dullness, the coa.r.s.eness, the essential vulgarity that obtains in those circles. I am a trodden worm, sir, and yet not for a moment do I yearn to be there, in that glittering wretchedness....

SCHIERKE

Maybe you don't mind comin' to the point now!

Ha.s.sENREUTER

If you please, Mr. Schierke, all that interests me. So suppose you don't interrupt the lady for a while. [_To MRS. k.n.o.bBE._] You were speaking of your cousin. Didn't you say that he is a captain in the horse-guards?

MRS. k.n.o.bBE

He was in plain clothes. He is, however, a captain in the horse-guards.

He recognised me at once and we dedicated some blessed though painful hours to memories. Accompanying him there was--I will not call his name--a very young lieutenant, a fair, sweet boy, delicate and brooding.

Mr. Ha.s.senreuter, I have forgotten what shame is! Was I not even, the other day, turned out of church? Why should a down-trodden, dishonoured, deserted creature, more than once punished by the laws--why should such an one hesitate to confess that _he_ became the father of Helfgott Gundofried?

Ha.s.sENREUTER

Of this baby that's been stolen from you?

MRS. k.n.o.bBE

Yes, stolen! At least it is so a.s.serted! It may be! But though my enemies are mighty and have every means at their command, I am not yet wholly convinced of it. And yet it may be a plot concocted by the parents of the child's father whose name you would be astonished to hear, for they represent one of the oldest and most ill.u.s.trious families. Farewell!

Whatever you may hear of me, sir, do not think that my better feelings have been wholly extinguished in the mire into which I am forced to cast myself. I need this mire in which I am on terms of equality with the dregs of mankind. Here, look! [_She thrusts forward her naked arm._]

Forgetfulness! Insensibility! I achieve it by means of chloral, of opium.

Or I find it in the abysses of human life. And why not? To whom am I responsible?--There was a time when my dear mama was scolded by my father on my account! The maid had convulsions because of me! Mademoiselle and an English governess tore each other's _chignons_ from their heads because each a.s.serted that I loved _her_ best--! Now ...

SCHIERKE

Aw, I tell you to shut it now! We can't take up people's time an' lock 'em up. [_He opens the library door._] Now tell us if this here is your kid?

_PAULINE, staring at MRS. k.n.o.bBE with eyes full of hatred, comes out first. MRS. KIELBACKE, carrying the child, comes next. SCHIERKE removes the shawl, that has been thrown over the child._

PAULINE

What d'you want o' me? Why d'you come chasin' me? I ain' no gypsy! I don'

go in people's houses stealin' their children! Eh? You're crazy, I wouldn't do no such thing. I ain't hardly got enough to eat for myself an' my own child. D'you s'pose I'm goin' to steal strange children an'

feed 'em till they're grown when the one I got is trouble an' worry enough!

_MRS. k.n.o.bBE stares about her inquiringly and as if seeking help.

Rapidly she draws a little flask from her pocket and pours its contents upon a handkerchief. The latter she carries swiftly to her mouth and nose, inhaling the fragrance of the perfume to keep her from fainting._

Ha.s.sENREUTER

Well, why don't you speak, Mrs. k.n.o.bbe? This girl a.s.serts that she is the mother of the child--not you.

_MRS. k.n.o.bBE lifts her umbrella in order to strike out with it. She is restrained by those present._

SCHIERKE

That won't do! You can't practice no discipline like that here! You c'n do that when you're alone in your nursery downstairs.--The main thing is: who does here kid belong to? An' so--now--Mrs. k.n.o.bbe, you just take care an' think so's to tell nothin' but the truth here! Well! Is it yours or is it her'n?

MRS. k.n.o.bBE

[_Bursts out_] I swear by the holy Mother of G.o.d, by Jesus Christ, Father, Son and Holy Ghost that I am the mother of this child.

PAULINE