The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Xii Part 19

ADELAIDE.

Yes, he described them right vividly, all the little wraps and cloaks of vanity.

IDA.

And within an hour he lets them throw the cloak about himself. Why, it is terrible! And if father is not elected? It was wrong of Edward not to give in to father's weakness. Is that your love for me, Professor?

He, too, never thought of me!

ADELAIDE.

Shall I tell you what? Let us hope that they both fail. These politicians! It was bad enough for you when only one was in politics; now that both have tasted of the intoxicating drink you are done for.

Were I ever to come into a position to make a man my master, I should impose upon him but one condition, the wise rule of conduct of my old aunt: Smoke tobacco, my husband, as much as you please; at most it will spoil the walls; but never dare to look at a newspaper--that will spoil your character.

[KORB _appears at the door_.]

What news do you bring, Korb?

KORB (_hastily, mysteriously_).

It isn't true!

ADELAIDE (_the same_). What isn't true?

KORB.

That he has a fiancee. He has no idea of it. His friend says he has but one lady-love.

ADELAIDE (_eagerly_).

Who is she?

KORB. His newspaper.

ADELAIDE (_relieved_).

Ah, indeed. (_Aloud_.)

One can see by that how many falsehoods people tell. It is good, dear Korb.

[_Exit_ KORB.]

IDA. What isn't true?

ADELAIDE (_sighing_).

Well, that we women are cleverer than men. We talk just as wisely and I fear are just as glad to forget our wisdom at the first opportunity.

We are all of us together poor sinners!

IDA.

You can joke about it. You never knew what it was to have your father and the man you loved oppose each other as enemies.

ADELAIDE.

Do you think so! Well, I once had a good friend who had foolishly given her heart to a handsome, high-spirited boy. She was a mere child and it was a very touching relationship: knightly devotion on his part and tender sighings on hers. Then the young heroine had the misfortune to become very jealous, and so far forgot poetry and deportment as to give her heart's chosen knight a box on the ear. It was only a little box, but it had fateful consequences. The young lady's father had seen it and demanded an explanation. Then the young knight acted like a perfect hero. He took all the blame upon himself and told the alarmed father that he had asked the young lady to kiss him--poor fellow, he never had the courage for such a thing!--and the blow had been her answer. A stern man was the father; he treated the lad very harshly.

The hero was sent away from his family and his home, and the heroine sat lonely in her donjon-tower and mourned her lost one.

IDA.

She ought to have told her father the truth.

ADELAIDE.

Oh, she did. But her confession made matters only worse. Years have gone by since then, and the knight and his lady are now old people and have become quite sensible.

IDA (_smiling_).

And, because they are sensible, do they not love each other any longer?

ADELAIDE.

How the man feels about it, dear child, I cannot tell you exactly. He wrote the lady a very beautiful letter after the death of her father--that is all I know about it. But the lady has greater confidence than you, for she still hopes. (_Earnestly_.) Yes, she hopes; and even her father permitted that before he died--you see, she still hopes.

IDA (_embracing her_).

And who is the banished one for whom she still hopes?

ADELAIDE.

Hush, dearest, that is a dark secret. Few persons living know about it; and when the birds on the trees of Rosenau tell each other the story they treat it as a dim legend of their forefathers. They then sing softly and sorrowfully, and their feathers stand on end with awe.

In due time you shall learn all about it; but now you must think of the fete, and of how pretty you are going to look.

IDA.

On the one hand the father, on the other the lover--how will it end?

ADELAIDE.

Do not worry. The one is an old soldier, the other a young statesman; two types that we women have wound around our little fingers from time immemorial! [_Both leave_.]

SCENE II

_Side room of a public hall. The rear wall a great arch with columns, through which one looks into the lighted hall and through it into another.

On the left, toward the front, a door. On the right, tables and chairs; chandeliers. Later, from time to time distant music. In the hall ladies and gentlemen walking about or standing in groups_. SENDEN, BLUMENBERG, _behind them_ SCHMOCK _coming from the hall_.

SENDEN. All is going well. There is a splendid spirit in the company.