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<div class="front">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">[i]</span></p>


<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza">
<div class='verse'><h1>TRAGEDIES OF SEX</h1></div>
</div></div></div>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class='chapter'>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ii"></a><a id="Page_iii"></a>[iii]</span></p>

<p class='center mt1 fs250 bold ltsp05'>TRAGEDIES OF SEX</p>
<p class='center mt2 bold'>BY</p>
<p class='center mth fs120 bold'>FRANK WEDEKIND</p>

<p class='center mt2 fs90 bold'>Translation and Introduction by</p>
<p class='center mtq bold'>SAMUEL A ELIOT, <span class="smcap">Jr.</span></p>

<div class="poetry-container mt2"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza sans bold">
<div class='verse'>Spring’s Awakening (Frühlings Erwachen)</div>
<div class='verse'>Earth-Spirit (Erdgeist)</div>
<div class='verse'>Pandora’s Box (Die Büchse der Pandora)</div>
<div class='verse'>Damnation! (Tod und Teufel)</div>
</div></div></div>

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<p class='center mt2 fs150 ltsp2 bold'>BONI <span class="allsmcap">AND</span> LIVERIGHT</p>
<p class='center bold'><span class="smcap">Publishers</span>&thinsp; &emsp; &emsp; :&thinsp;:&thinsp; &emsp; &emsp; :&thinsp;: &emsp; &emsp; &thinsp;<span class="smcap">New York</span></p>
</div>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class='chapter'>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">[iv]</span></p>

<p class='center mt4'><i>Copyright, 1914</i><br>
 <i>Copyright, 1921</i><br>
 <i>Copyright, 1923</i></p>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">By</span></p>
<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Boni &amp; Liveright, Inc.</span></p>

<blockquote class='mt6'>
<p>CAUTION.—All persons are hereby warned that the plays published
in this volume are fully protected under the copyright laws of the United
States and all foreign countries, and are subject to royalty, and any one
presenting any of said plays without the consent of the Author or his
recognized agents, will be liable to the penalties by law provided.</p>
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<p class='center mt6'>PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p>
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<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[v]</span></p>

  <h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">
    CONTENTS
  </h2>
</div>


<table class='toc'>
<tr><th></th><th class='tdr'><span class='allsmcap'>PAGE</span></th></tr>
<tr>
  <td><a href="#INTRODUCTION"><span class="smcap">Introduction</span></a></td>
  <td class='tdr'><a href='#Page_vii'>vii</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td><a href='#SPRINGS_AWAKENING'><span class="smcap">Spring’s Awakening</span> (<span class="smcap">Frühlingserwachen</span>)</a></td>
  <td class='tdr'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td><a href="#EARTH-SPIRIT"><span class="smcap">Earth-Spirit</span> (<span class="smcap">Erdgeist</span>)</a></td>
  <td class='tdr'><a href='#Page_111'>111</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td><a href="#PANDORAS_BOX"><span class="smcap">Pandora’s Box</span> (<span class="smcap">Büchse der Pandora</span>)</a></td>
  <td class='tdr'><a href='#Page_217'>217</a></td>
</tr>
<tr>
  <td><a href="#DAMNATION"><span class="smcap">Damnation!</span> (<span class="smcap">Tod und Teufel</span>)</a></td>
  <td class='tdr'><a href='#Page_305'>305</a></td>
</tr>
</table>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vi"></a><a id="Page_vii"></a>[vii]</span></p>

  <h2 class="nobreak" id="INTRODUCTION">
    INTRODUCTION
  </h2>
</div>

<p>Frank Wedekind’s name is widely, if vaguely,
known by now, outside of Germany, and at least five
of his plays have been available in English form for
quite some years, yet a résumé of biographical facts
and critical opinions seems necessary as introduction
to this—I will not say authoritative, but more careful—book.
The task is genial, since Wedekind was
my special study at Munich in 1913, and I translated
his two Lulu tragedies the year after. The timidity
or disapprobation betrayed in this respect by our
professional critics of foreign drama makes my duty
the more imperative. James Huneker merely called
him “a naughty boy!” Percival Pollard tiptoed
around him, pointing out a trait here and a trait
there, like a menagerie-keeper with a prize tiger.
Viereck once waxed rapturous over Reinhardt’s production
of <i>Spring’s Awakening</i> (that gave me my
own first inkling of what Wedekind might mean for
me), but my friend Moderwell tossed him off in less
than a page of <i>The Theatre of Today</i> as an immoral
joker out of <i>Simplicissimus</i>. It is true that Wedekind
is by no means easy to grasp or tabulate, true
that greater men, such as Strindberg, have suffered
from similar slighting and ill-considered estimates
here, before they were suitably interpreted; but
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[viii]</span>
Wedekind has been dead five years, and the time for
a fair and thoughtful, if very inexhaustive, judgment
of him has surely come.</p>

<p>Although he was of the same generation as the
naturalistic dramatists who everywhere came to the
fore in the 1890’s—Hauptmann, Chekov, Brieux, etc.—Frank
Wedekind was not of them, but far ahead
of them. They are now all but out-moded; his
influence has barely begun. He did not fit his time:
the first twenty years of his active life, in fact, were
spent in continuous friction with the contemporary
world. He experienced the rancor and contempt, the
smart of injustice and the hopeless hatred, of most
outcasts from society. Hostility toward bourgeois
civilization is the keynote of many of his works. He
is—against, I think, his natural tendency—a pessimist—all
the blacker for the flame of strange,
Utopian ideals still flaring up in his most savage
scenes. The wrestle of contradictory wills within him
is what gives his writing its abnormal tensity, what
drives him often to overstrain each dramatic idea till
its analogy to life is so distorted most people find it
morbid. He yearns to annihilate the crude, the
coarse, the ugly and the weak. He has declared,
“The reunion of holiness and beauty as the divine
object of pious devotion is the purpose to which
I offer my life: toward which, indeed, I have striven
since earliest childhood.” Physical beauty, he means:
a sort of Pagan worship of the body—its lowest impulses
and its highest development.... But in
every direction he found that reunion obstructed by
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[ix]</span>
his all-too-well regulated German civilization. Like
his own Marquis of Keith he feverishly pursued the
joy of life and could never enjoy his life: when about
to strike a splendid blow for his Promised Land he
would see a spike-helmeted angel with a police-club
sentinel at Eden’s gate. Only in the present century—only,
indeed, after the Great War had determined,
for the Continent, what the outstanding characteristics
of the twentieth century were to be—did
Wedekind, the Expressionist, who despised literature
and thrust raw life upon the stage, arrive at his
present commanding position and win the admiration
and discipleship of many of his countrymen.</p>

<p>Though he died in March, 1918, he had incorporated
in many a play before then both the sensational
content and the free, direct, spasmodic form
which German literature, especially German drama,
was to show in the post-War turmoil and distress.
Georg Kaiser and the other Expressionists so prized
to-day can make no secret of their debt to him, and
the wild rush they represent and play to—to contemplate
man’s lowest impulses, the roots of will and
feeling, the instincts, not the ideals that actuate confused
and drifting peoples, and having studied them
in crude, disordered life to set them down in baldest,
swiftest speech, in rank but penetrating truth—this
rush that is observed in all the Continental countries
but most among the Germans did there alone possess
a guide and prophet in the dead author, analyzer,
wry and bitter thinker, Wedekind.</p>

<p>Less than a twelvemonth after his decease, a desperate,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[x]</span>
revolutionary era found suddenly in this
perverse and pessimistic man, in his harsh world of
whores and swindlers, ruthless materialists and
broken poets, its own true shape and pressure. At
the same time the former standards of good taste,
and theatre-censorships, were swept away; the ban
which had lain heavily on Wedekind throughout his
stormy life, the legal ban and the far more significant
disfavor of the “good citizens,” arbiters of general
opinion, whom he had outraged so in their smug
goodness, their virtuous ideals, their bourgeois self-esteem,—these
now were lifted from his works:
<i>Pandora’s Box</i> became—imagine it—a popular
attraction; from him who had so foreseen the breakdown
of conventional formulæ and unreal modes of
thought all men now feverishly sought some intimation
of what society, dazzled with commotion, must
yet look forward to.</p>

<p>For us in America, confirmed, not shattered, in our
previous illusions and conceit by the war’s outcome,
there is less reason to embrace this scornful soothsayer,
this emissary (one is tempted to believe) from
Mephistopheles himself,—now cold and condescending,
and again intent with hectic hate. For all the
foolish outcry over the freer manners, perhaps the
looser morals, of our youth, we are still certain in
America of our subjective health, of some objective
verities at least, of “progress,” of “ideals,” of many
metaphysical abstractions which Wedekind distrusts,
shows up, derides. Ambassador Gerard, innately,
sensibly, was most American. In his <i>Four Years in
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[xi]</span>
Germany</i> he mentions shudderingly our author’s
name, points to the fact that Berlin still was going,
over and over, to performances of <i>Earth-Spirit</i> as
but one more indictment of a degenerate, odious
nation, and plainly shows us what must be the
straight American’s reaction to this volume—if such
“straight,” normal readers should ever take it up.
But none the less it is important for America to question
and to try, to root, if need be, hog-like, to the
bottom of our civilization’s pile, and recognize the
gross and primitive, the basely human, that underlies
each separate soul of us and all our deeds.
Naturalism of one type or another—nineteenth-century
literalness or twentieth-century explosiveness—is
for us the necessary form our Art must take;
for only through the pitiless representing of home
truth can the easy sentimentalism, so hostile to real
literature, be combated, and America given self-knowledge
and real grounds for spiritual leaps in
after-years. O’Neil in drama, Masters in poetry,
Anderson, Lewis, Frank and many more in fiction,
these undeflected observers of our seamier sides, prepare
the way for the full appreciation due to
Wedekind. They are more literary, more artfully
self-conscious than he in his best work. Technique
concerns them more. But it is not merely for the
light his drama throws on dominant European interests
of the moment, it is also for the impulse he may
give to further, similar probing and expression here
at home that these four plays have been prepared—revised
or newly now translated—for eager and
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">[xii]</span>
earnest readers and (who knows?) it may be, for the
stage.</p>

<p>They are linked together, these four culled from
the score of Wedekind’s writing, not solely in theme
(for though they are recognized in their own land
as the <i>Geschlechtstragödien</i> par excellence, there are
other tragedies of sex from Wedekind’s later years),
but in sequence too, chronological, philosophic.
What an echo, for instance, of the freshness and the
fervor of <i>Spring’s Awakening</i> we hear in the scenes
where Hugenberg, the schoolboy of <i>Earth-Spirit</i>,
Act IV, and <i>Pandora’s Box</i>, Act I, reveals his virginal,
enthusiastic, adventurous, devoted flush of life.
How subtly is Lulu foreshadowed in the vivid sketch
of Ilse in <i>Spring’s Awakening</i>: buoyant, unmoral,—simple
in her acceptance of life complete, more
likable than Lulu in her pity, too, for those not
so full-blooded. How keenly Casti-Piani piques our
interest, in <i>Pandora’s Box</i>, Act II; how satisfyingly
his life is summed and closed in <i>Tod und Teufel</i>—verily
<i>Damnation!</i> The four plays hang together,
and present compactly Wedekind’s own growth of
mind—from ardor, almost missionary zeal, instilling
his own subjective sympathy into his youngsters,
girls as well as boys, of <i>Spring’s Awakening</i> (and his
own hate, as well, of teachers, parents, all their dry
repressive world), to the objective but still passionate
building of full-formed characters, solid plot,
unswerving tragedy (no Muffled Gentleman here!) in
<i>Earth-Spirit</i>, and then to the less contained, extravagant
riot, repulsively cold or hotly ugly,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</span>
perverse, verbose, derisive of his audience and even
of his art, that he so rightly named <i>Pandora’s Box</i>;
and lastly to the frank self-revelation, unrealistic
preaching, unmotivated, unartful, yet superbly confident
theatricality of his <i>Damnation!</i></p>

<p>What a life of disillusionment, self-questioning and
pain must lie behind these changes! Its externals
Wedekind sketched himself, in 1901; but its real
import can only be deduced from close, fond study
of his many plays, his stories and his poems. His
father, a physician, lived—it may be interesting to
us Americans to know—in San Francisco from the
beginning of the gold rush in 1849 till 1864. His
mother was an actress in the German theater there
when the elder Wedekind, at 46, met her and married
her, a girl just half his age. Her father, an
inventor, manufacturer and gifted musician, had died
some years before in a German insane asylum. One
child was born to the couple in America, but they
returned to Germany in 1864 and there, in Hanover,
Frank (note the American, quite un-German form
of the name) was born, on the 24th of July.</p>

<p>In 1872 the family moved to Switzerland, where
Frank grew up, one of six children, amid scenery that
he praises but which, to judge by the absence of any
response to the beauties of nature from most of his
work, had little effect upon him. At 19 he began to
earn his living, at first as a journalist, at 22 as a
press-agent, at 24 as a private secretary, traveling
extensively with his employers (notably the painters
Rudinoff and Willy Grétor) in France and England.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</span>
In 1895-96 he was a public reader of Ibsen plays in
Switzerland; in ’96-97, political editor of <i>Simplicissimus</i>
in Munich; in ’97-98, an actor and producer
in a theatrical company which toured North Germany
in Ibsen plays and first presented on the stage
his <i>Earth-Spirit</i>, written in ’93, published in ’95. In
’98-99 he held a similar important post with the resident
company of the Schauspielhaus in Munich and
wrote his great, though local, comedy <i>The Marquis
of Keith</i>.</p>

<p>Save for a term in prison as a result of the
prosecution of the editors of <i>Simplicissimus</i> for
lèse-majesté,—a term enriched by the composition of
his long story of Utopian education—physical
education—for young girls, named <i>Minne-haha</i>
(again the influence of America), which to my ears
is the most pure and limpid piece of German prose
one is ever likely to find,—he continued to reside
in Munich, active in this or that playhouse or cabaret,
for the rest of his life. He composed many
<i>Brettl-lieder</i>, rhymes and music, and sang them in
Bohemian restaurants. Every June, after Max
Reinhardt became a theatrical power in Berlin, he
appeared there as an actor in a series of his own
plays, hastily prepared but persistently repeated
to a slowly growing, grudgingly appreciative public.
As an actor he was a paradox: more natural than
Naturalistic, but more Expressionistic than expressive.
I saw him act several times in his <i>Franziska</i>,
his new play in 1912-13, and marveled at the almost
inarticulate strain, the rigid body, popping eyes,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">[xv]</span>
deep-lined and taut-drawn face, that marked him
then. Sartorially he was something of a dude: to
be correct was a requirement he forced upon his
mettlesome temperament. His inheritance, derived
from a mixture of middle-aged, scientific, abstract-minded,
cold North German and young, sensuous,
emotional, artistic Austrian, resulted in a conflict
that could be seen by anyone: he possessed thesis and
antithesis but never synthesis. His face expressed by
turns his fluctuant, opposing sides, Jesuit and ironic
actor, tragedy and vice, now gray, sharp-eyed, superior,—suddenly
warm and deep. He was no artist
on the boards—too stiff, too choked with his own
earnestness, too genuinely intense,—but he was
vastly interesting as a man, a sufferer, a moralist
and preacher inured to being scoffed at and returning
the too normal world hot scorn for scorn.</p>

<p>Extravagances and overemphasis, unmotivated,
violent decisions and spasmodic super-vitality in his
characters, all these his vividest traits, are explicable
on this score of his own clashing disharmony within.
But he himself explains them as an artistic revolt,
merely, against the repressed and colorless dramaturgy
which conquered Germany in the wake of Ibsen.
These bookish plays that stood in the way of his
own starkly abundant theatric art both angered him
to protest and augmented his own trend toward free
unnaturalness. He has in his time, he says (in
<i>Schauspielkunst</i>, a collection of critical notes published
in 1910), played many parts by Sudermann,
Hauptmann, Max Halbe, etc., and he is sure that
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</span>
actors trained in their literary technique are unequal
to his fierce, full-blooded characters. He
demands acting that shall be like hurdle-racing—bold,
bounding creativeness—but the lesser actors
blue-pencil their hurdles out of the way, while the
greater ones make long “dramatic pauses” before
them and deprive them so of conviction. Certainly,
Wedekind’s jerky stage-style requires a rushing performance
to give even the semblance of smooth
truth to the preposterous, but, when rightly played,
thrilling theatric stories he often tells. Short-of-breath,
dry and uninspired, with voice untrained
for emotional seizures and outbursts, the ordinary
cup-and-saucer actor must of course mar Wedekind’s
plays.</p>

<p>In the field of ethics, however, lay his sharpest
cleavage from his own generation, and his most
dangerous pitfall. The mighty influence of Ibsen
had perverted, when Wedekind began to write, not
merely stagecraft, but all German drama, and turned
it to the contemplation not of life and action, but
of principles: guilt, duty, and atonement. Underrunning
all the enthusiasm for exact representation
and thorough character-delineation that reigned in
1890 was an anæmic current of literary preconceptions,
second-hand ideals, and prime attention to externals,
either mere incidental questions of technique
or moral, philosophic conclusions (most often suicidal)
to problems of responsibility and conduct
prearranged for meek and docile characters. In the
Prologue to <i>Earth-Spirit</i>, Wedekind specifically
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</span>
mocks the pale and will-less heroes of Hauptmann’s
<i>Lonely Lives</i> and <i>Before Sunrise</i>, and by implication
all the conscientious weakness of the then new
Naturalism. He for his part had a sharp hunger
for life, irrespective of its moral aims and effects,—life
boisterous, physical and energizing. It is reflected
in Melchior in <i>Spring’s Awakening</i>, with
keenest sympathy. He had also a theory, expressed
by Alva, his self-portrait in <i>Pandora’s Box</i>, that the
place to find compelling drama was in the changeful
lives of people who never read a book, who lived by
instinct and expressed themselves, words and deeds,
in total ignorance of cultured ethics. The Paris and
the London scenes of <i>Pandora’s Box</i> may indicate
that in those cities the young dramatist plunged into
this demimonde in person, experienced much, and
actually undermined, instead of strengthening, his
artistic creative power.</p>

<p>In ’90-91, when he wrote <i>Spring’s Awakening</i>, the
26-year-old pioneer playwright was still close to
adolescent tumult, doubt and rapture. He writes
a fluent, subtly interconnected, almost musical suite
of scenes utterly real when dealing with the children
and youthfully satirical when caricaturing the adults.
He has no literary by-end, no preoccupation with
form or naturalism as such, and while he has a moral,
or rather an anti-moral, purpose, and evidently seeks
to include in his play the ontogeny of all the more
common sex-perversions, his chief interest is in Melchior,
Moritz and Wendla—the vividness and promise
of the life awakening in them, the cruelty and tragedy
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</span>
of its extinguishment, for which the adult world must
take full blame. Whether the play was produced at
all in the 1890’s I do not know. Reinhardt, who
had had marked success with <i>Earth-Spirit</i> among his
very first independent productions, in 1902-03, gave
a very notable interpretation of <i>Spring’s Awakening</i>
in 1906 which attained 390 performances; and it
has been widely acted since then, and in book form
has far outstripped the popularity of any other
Wedekind work. A very imperfect translation appeared
in this country about 1909, and a private
production was later attempted in New York, with
ludicrous inartistry. The “lesson” of the play—“Parents,
respect the possibilities of puberty, and
give it enlightenment and guidance”—is an old story
with us now. We must not forget the date on
Wendla’s tombstone: the play transpires in 1892.
But the multifarious, teeming life, the lovableness
and universal naturalness of the chief characters, and
the free, ardent expression of the young author,—these
are of no specific time, and will keep
Wedekind’s name alive for generations of adolescent
readers.</p>

<p>His foreign experiences seem to have taken place
between the writing of this play and that of
<i>Earth-Spirit</i>. The author is quite out of sight in
<i>Earth-Spirit</i>; he is the animal-tamer of the Prologue,
the showman putting his performers through
their acts. There is a grim objectiveness about
this study of clashing wills and fatal weaknesses.
No moral is in sight, and if the technique is
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xix">[xix]</span>
consciously more conventional and studied (note Alva’s
soliloquy in Act III), the matter is far removed
from the Ibsen-Hauptmann fashion of its day. The
dialogue is so idiomatic, so carefully fitted to each
speaker’s character, that this play is by far the
hardest of the four to put in English. Wedekind
has dramatized the attractions and repulsions of
sex among mature people very variously endowed
with strength and courage. He has created Lulu,
the embodiment of primitive, natural, instinctive femininity,
and watched her drive men mad. He offers
no judgments, he indulges in no retrospects or explanations:
this is the fundamental stuff of life as
he has lived it and observed it. It takes a naturally
theatric shape: it is violently dramatic just because
it is real and living.</p>

<p>To these powerful, objective ’90’s of Wedekind
belong also the one-act play <i>Der Kammersänger</i> or
<i>The Tenor</i>, acted in New York in 1916 and published
in <i>Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays</i>; and
<i>The Marquis of Keith</i>, in which the struggle for success
and money is as turbulently dramatized as the
sex-conflict was in <i>Earth-Spirit</i>. But there is a
moralizing character in <i>The Marquis</i>, a foil for the
conscienceless hero and also a mouthpiece for Wedekind.
As he found himself and his message disregarded,
bitterness overcame him, and more and more
he scolds or preaches directly at his public. He
worked over <i>Pandora’s Box</i>, off and on, throughout
this decade, and the impulse to expound himself ever
and again peeps through its three distorted pictures
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xx">[xx]</span>
of low life. Here and there it is deliberately disgusting.
When it was published, in 1901 or ’02, most
of Act II was in bad French, much of Act III in
worse English: author or publisher or both were
self-conscious about it: and promptly it was banned.
There ensued appeals through various courts, and
finally the ban was lifted, an all-German text prepared,
and occasional productions ventured. My
translation, published in New York in 1914, has
never roused objection; why should it?—the bare
speeches without the accompanying action which
I have heard vividly described by friends lately in
Germany, can scarcely be shocking to readers in
1923. Later, Wedekind published the two <i>Lulu</i>
plays together under her name, omitting <i>Earth-Spirit</i>,
Act III (which seems to me indispensable,
none the less), and <i>Pandora’s Box</i>, Act I—a commendable
compression, because the whole cholera
episode is morbid and nearly incredible, and a swift
flight to France after Schön’s murder is quite thinkable
without the long, mostly undramatic speeches
that overload the present commencement of <i>Pandora’s
Box</i>.</p>

<p>The pessimism of the last act is terrific and leads
straight to the mood of <i>Damnation!</i>—a sort of satyr-play,
concluding the three tragedies. In it, quite
unrealistically, is passionately expressed what <i>Pandora’s
Box</i> implies—the hopelessness, the impossibility
of happiness (for one, that is, whose conception
of happiness is physical) from life as at present
organized. This was the mission—this and the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxi">[xxi]</span>
various remedies that Wedekind proposed—which the
world persistently, unshakably condemned. Wedekind
writhed. Between <i>Pandora’s Box</i> and <i>Damnation!</i>
(1905) appeared two scarcely disguised
subjective plays, <i>King Nicolo</i>, or <i>Such is Life</i>, which
is very largely autobiography transferred to fourteenth-century
Italy, a swift, dramatic and pathetic
tale genuinely engaging our sympathies; and <i>Hidalla</i>,
or <i>The Giant Dwarf</i>, which partly by satire, partly
by outright propaganda, sets forth the Wedekindian
point of view—the necessity for a new morality, for
those who are rich enough to afford it: a morality
that puts beauty, not material welfare, first among
its objects, and especially revolutionizes sexual life.
The worthlessness, for Wedekind, of intellectual concepts,
theories, spirituality and all other abstractions—his
utter absorption in the darker, inner world
of feeling, will and instinct, especially the world of
his own jarring soul, unheeding others or society at
large, robs this one-sided drama of true tragic force.
He tried again to justify himself in his next two
plays: <i>Music</i>, a quite objective study of the havoc
artistic education, seduction, abortion, the punishment
of abortion, etc., etc., may cause; and <i>Censorship</i>,
a wholly subjective one-act written after the
lawsuits over <i>Pandora’s Box</i> had been settled, and
striving, not too transparently, to show the world his
truly self-sacrificial and missionary spirit. By this
time disciples were beginning to come to him; he
married; and the force of his irritation spent itself.
His last period begins.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxii">[xxii]</span></p>

<p>It had little that was new to offer. <i>Schloss Wetterstein</i>
is an engrossing, if extravagant, sex-tragedy
in three semi-independent acts, reminiscent of the
<i>Lulu</i> plays but laid in an aristocratic environment.
The Jack the Ripper of its grewsome end is an
American millionaire—an artist in sadism. Had
Wedekind been reading of Harry Thaw? <i>Franziska</i>
is a parody of <i>Faust</i>, a sort of feminine Faust, a
phantasmagoria in which there every now and then
outcrops a striking, profound, or even beautiful
moment. Franziska finishes not in Faust’s heaven,
but in domesticity, and one cannot clearly discover
whether this is mockery or a real change of view.
<i>Samson</i>, or <i>Shame and Jealousy</i>, and <i>Herakles</i>, are
blank-verse plays of Hebrew or Hellenic legends,
written with lessening power and intensity,—plays
dramatic, poetic, passionate enough to rank with
Hauptmann’s work of the same period but not “so
fair, so wild, so brightly flecked” as Wedekind once
had been. In the first year of the War, finally, appeared
a curiously objective historical character-study
in eight scenes, <i>Bismarck</i>, plainly forerunning
Drinkwater’s <i>Lincoln</i> and its successors, and utterly
un-Wedekindian in style—not a word of sex, of
satire, or of himself. The full tale of his work includes,
besides the above, four very light satiric
farces—one of them, <i>The World of Youth</i>, dated
1889, a most interesting prelude to nearly all his
later ideas; two esoteric verse-dialogues, two pantomime
scenarios constructed in the ’90’s, the time of
his greatest power, and anticipating modern movie
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxiii">[xxiii]</span>
and ballet technique; a large number of poems,
mostly erotic ballads that he sang to his own accompaniment
(I was reminded of them, and him, when
I first heard Bobby Edwards of Greenwich Village),
and some prose tales, shorter than <i>Minne-haha</i>.</p>

<p>Always he dealt in will, in inner urges, often
specifically in “the hellish drive out of which no joy
remains alive.” His characters, no matter how often
balked, derided, or wounded, return to the attack
Until they are killed. Emotion is an inexhaustible
force. The drama of opposed views, of contrasted
attitudes on points of conduct or belief, can offer
nothing so enthralling as this insatiable struggle for
the most fundamental pleasures humanity knows—which
never ultimately or for long are pleasures!
And the same Satanic return to the attack, repeated
efforts at destruction, are seen in Wedekind’s own
life, hurling play after play against conventional
society. At last, after his death, conventional society
broke down, and the forces of disruption honored
him, and the confused masses sought in his
other, Utopian, constructive work for light upon
the society that is to come. To few writers is such
posthumous homage given; by few can such a reversal
of judgment be expected. Wedekind remained
ever true to himself, his deeply divided, contrary
self, now appearing through his plays, now vanishing
again behind his characters, but always vividly alive:
one could feel <i>him</i>, one had the sense of human passion
and struggle, of something personally experienced
and sweated out, in almost all his work. Hence,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xxiv">[xxiv]</span>
in the last analysis, his hold upon our later generation:
we too want life, not literature—personality,
not limpid art—original thought, even destructive
and extravagant, not old truths, even the deepest,
newly dressed. Wedekind, like Strindberg, like Andreiev,
and like Shaw, meets these demands. If
America should ever have reason to turn pessimistic,
Wedekind will be waiting; and even as America is, in
Wedekind she can find much that is vital, life-promoting,
of immediate power and worth.</p>

<p class="right mt1 pr1">
  <span class="smcap">Samuel A. Eliot, Jr.</span>
</p>

<p class='no-indent'>
  Smith College,<br>
  January, 1923.
</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span></p>
<h2 class='nobreak' id='SPRINGS_AWAKENING'>SPRING’S AWAKENING</h2>

<p class='center mth bold'>(<span class="smcap">Frühlings Erwachen</span>)</p>
<p class='center mt2 bold'>A Children’s Tragedy</p>
<p class='center mt2 bold'><i>Dedicated to</i></p>
<p class='center mt1 bold'><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span></p>

</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span></p>
</div>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">
  <h3 class="nobreak">
    CHARACTERS
  </h3>
</div>

<div>
<table class='left'>
<tr>
<td class='pr1'>
  <span class="smcap">Melchior Gabor</span><br>
  <span class="smcap">Moritz Stiefel</span><br>
  <span class="smcap">Hänschen Rilow</span><br>
  <span class="smcap">Ernest Roebel</span> <br>
  <span class="smcap">Lämmermeier</span>   <br>
  <span class="smcap">Otto</span>          <br>
  <span class="smcap">George</span>        <br>
  <span class="smcap">Robert</span>
</td>
<td class='vam tight'>
⎫<br>
⎪<br>
⎪<br>
⎪<br>
⎬<br>
⎪<br>
⎪<br>
⎪<br>
⎭
</td>
<td class='vam'>
<i>Schoolboys,<br>
aged 14 to 17</i>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</div>

<div class='mt1'>
<table class='left'>
<tr>
<td class='pr1'>
  <span class="smcap">Diethelm</span> <br>
  <span class="smcap">Reinhold</span> <br>
  <span class="smcap">Ruprecht</span> <br>
  <span class="smcap">Helmuth</span>  <br>
  <span class="smcap">Gaston</span>
</td>
<td class='vam tight'>
⎫<br>
⎪<br>
⎬<br>
⎪<br>
⎭
</td>
<td class='vam'>
<i>Boys in a House of Correction</i>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</div>

<div class='mt1'>
<table class='left'>
<tr>
<td class='pr1'>
  <span class="smcap">Mr. Gabor</span>, a Judge<br>
  <span class="smcap">Mrs. Fanny Gabor</span>
</td>
<td class='vam very-tight'>
⎫<br>
⎬<br>
⎭
</td>
<td class='vam'>
<i>Melchior’s Parents</i>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</div>

<div class='mt1'>
  <span class="smcap">Mr. Stiefel</span>, <i>Moritz’s Father</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Mr. Ziegenmelker</span>, <i>his Friend</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Mr. Probst</span>, <i>Moritz’s Uncle</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Rev. Mr. Kahlbaugh</span>, <i>Pastor</i><br>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span>
</div>

<div class='mt1'>
<table class='left'>
<tr>
<td class='pr1'>
  <span class="smcap">Dr. Sonnenstich</span>, Principal<br>
  <span class="smcap">Dr. Affenschmalz</span>          <br>
  <span class="smcap">Dr. Knochenbruch</span>          <br>
  <span class="smcap">Dr. Zungenschlag</span>       <br>
  <span class="smcap">Dr. Knüppeldick</span>           <br>
  <span class="smcap">Dr. Hungergurt</span>            <br>
  <span class="smcap">Dr. Fliegentod</span>
</td>
<td class='vam x-tight'>
⎫<br>
⎪<br>
⎪<br>
⎪<br>
⎬<br>
⎪<br>
⎪<br>
⎪<br>
⎭
</td>
<td class='vam center'>
<i>The Faculty of the<br>
Boys’ School</i><br>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</div>

<div class='mt1'>
  <span class="smcap">Habebald</span>, <i>the School Beadle</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Dr. Prokrustes</span>, <i>Head of the House of Correction</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">A Locksmith</span><br>
  <span class="smcap">Dr. von Brausepulver</span>, M.D.<br>
  <span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span><br>
</div>
<div class='mt1'>
  <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span><br>
  <span class="smcap">Ina Müller</span>, <i>her married daughter</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Wendla Bergmann</span>, <i>her 14-year-old daughter</i><br>
</div>
<div>
<table class='left'>
<tr>
<td class='pr1'>
  <span class="smcap">Martha Bessel</span> <br>
  <span class="smcap">Thea</span>
</td>
<td class='vam very-tight'>
⎫<br>
⎬<br>
⎭
</td>
<td class='vam'>
<i>Wendla’s Friends</i>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</div>
<div>
  <span class="smcap">Ilse</span>, <i>an older girl, an artist’s model</i>
</div>

<p class='center mt1'>The Scene is laid in Southern Germany or in<br>
Switzerland. The Time is from May<br>
to November, 1892.</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span></p>

  <h3 class="nobreak" id="A_Note_on_the_Staging">
    <span class="smcap">A Note on the Staging</span>
  </h3>
</div>

<p><span class="smcap">Spring’s Awakening</span> is divided into Nineteen Scenes
as follows:</p>

<div class='mth'>
<table class='left'>
<tr>
 <td><span class="smcap">Act</span></td>
 <td class='tdr pr1'> I:</td>
 <td class='pr1'><span class='smcap'>Scene 1.</span></td>
 <td>In Mrs. Bergmann’s House.</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 2.</span></td>
 <td>A Park.</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 3.</span></td>
 <td>The Same.</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 4.</span></td>
 <td>The School Yard.</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 5.</span></td>
 <td>In the Woods.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
 <td><span class="smcap">Act</span></td>
 <td class='tdr pr1'> II:</td>
 <td><span class='smcap'>Scene 1.</span></td>
 <td>Melchior’s Study.</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 2.</span></td>
 <td>Same as I, 1</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 3.</span></td>
 <td>In the Rilow House.</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 4.</span></td>
 <td>A Hayloft.</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 5.</span></td>
 <td>Mrs. Gabor’s Room.</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 6.</span></td>
 <td>The Bergmann Garden.</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 7.</span></td>
 <td>A Path near the River.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
 <td><span class="smcap">Act</span></td>
 <td class='tdr pr1'> III:</td>
 <td><span class='smcap'>Scene 1.</span></td>
 <td>The Faculty Room at the School.</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 2.</span></td>
 <td>By the Wall of the Graveyard.</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 3.</span></td>
 <td>In the Gabor House.</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 4.</span></td>
 <td>In the House of Correction.</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 5.</span></td>
 <td>Wendla’s Bedroom.</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 6.</span></td>
 <td>A Vineyard.</td>
</tr>
<tr><td colspan='2'></td>
 <td><span class="smcap">Scene 7.</span></td>
 <td>The Graveyard.</td>
</tr>
</table>
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span></p>

<p class='mt1'>It will be noted that the scenes concluding the
acts, long scenes all of them, are intended to occupy
the full stage, and that the prior scenes in each act
may be played in the foreground.</p>

<p>Two of the scenes, II, 3, and III, 6, have nothing
to do with the story and to save time may be omitted,
though the latter has another importance, lightening
with its idyllic atmosphere the squalor and bitterness
of the last act. If it <i>is</i> omitted, III, 4, and III,
5, might be played in reverse order.</p>

<p>The simplest arrangement of the stage would be a
neutral proscenium, six or seven feet deep, pierced
with doors. Behind this, different backwalls can be
lowered, and all the interior scenes played in this
shallow front space. On the back of the stage should
be sloping ground covered with underbrush, and a
path winding down through it. In the middle-stage
can be set the properties for special scenes—a bench
in a box-hedge for I, 2 and 3; a huge oak-trunk for
I, 5; a garden wall with grass and violets for II, 6;
the graveyard wall with Moritz’s grave for III, 2,
etc. The swiftest possible sequence of scenes within
the act is of prime importance.</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span></p>

  <h3 class="nobreak" id="SA_ACT_I">
    ACT I
  </h3>
</div>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>A pretty little room, with a window looking
out on an early spring garden.</i> <span class="smcap">Wendla’s</span>
<i>bed in one corner, wardrobe in the other, table
and two chairs between. Doors just below bed
and wardrobe.</i></p>

<p class='scene2'><span class="smcap">Wendla</span> <i>stands at the foot of the bed, all
dressed except for her frock, which hangs on the
chair in front of her. Her mother stands on the
other side of the table, with a long dress in her
hands.</i></p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Why did you make the dress so long
for me, mother?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—You’re fourteen years old to-day!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—If I had known you were going to make
my dress so long, I’d rather not have been fourteen.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—It isn’t too long, Wendla.
What do you want? Can I help my girl’s growing
two inches taller every spring? A girl as grown up
as you can’t go round in a little princess-dress!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—All the same, my little princess-dress
looks better on me than that nightgown. Let me
wear it just once more, mother! Just this summer!
That penitence-frock will suit me just as well at fifteen
as at fourteen: let’s hang it up till my <span class="gesperrt">next</span>
birthday! Now I’d only tread on the braid.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—I don’t know what I ought to
say. I’d like so much to keep you this way, child,—just
as you are. Other girls are overgrown and
awkward at your age. You’re just the opposite.
Who knows what you will be like when the others are
fully developed?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Who knows? Perhaps I shan’t <span class="gesperrt">be</span>
at all.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Child, child, what makes you
think such things!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Don’t, mother dear; oh, don’t be sad.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—[<i>Kissing her.</i>] My only darling!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—They come to me so, night-times, when
I can’t go to sleep. They don’t make me a bit sad,
and I know I sleep better afterwards. Is it wrong,
mother, to think about things like that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Go, dear, and hang the “penitence-frock”
away, and put on your princess-dress
again, God bless you! When I get the chance I’ll
put another breadth of ruffles on the bottom of it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—[<i>Hanging the dress in the wardrobe.</i>]
No! Then I might as well be all of twenty right
away!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—If only you don’t get too cold.
In its time that little dress was plenty long enough
for you, but now&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Now, with summer coming? Oh,
mother, not even little children get diphtheria in their
knees! Why are you so scary? At my age nobody
freezes, least of all in the legs. Do you think it
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span>
would be better if I got too hot, mother? Thank the
good God if your darling doesn’t cut off her sleeves
some morning and come to you at twilight without
her shoes and stockings!—When I wear my penitence-frock
I’ll dress like a fairy queen under it....
Don’t scold, motherkin,—nobody’ll see how, then!</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>Sunday evening. A gravel walk in front
of a park bench; shrubbery and tree-tops behind.
<span class="smcap">Melchior</span> enters, followed by the other
boys</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I’m tired of that: I don’t want to any
more.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—Then the rest of us can just as well stop,
too. Have you done your work, Melchior?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Go on playing, why don’t you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Where are you going?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—For a walk.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">George</span>—It’ll be dark soon.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>—Have you done your work already?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—And why shouldn’t I go for a walk in
the dark?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—Central America!—Louis XV!—Sixty
lines of Homer!—Seven equations!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Damn the work!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">George</span>—Oh, if only Latin Comp. didn’t come to-morrow!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—One can’t think of anything without
some work coming in between!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—I’m going home.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">George</span>—I, too, home to work!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—Me, too; me, too.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>—Good night, Melchior.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Sleep well!... [<i>All make off except</i>
<span class="smcap">Moritz</span>.] Gosh, I’d like to know what we’re in
the world for!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—School makes me wish I’d been a cabhorse
sooner!—What do we go to school for? So
that somebody can examine us. And what are we
examined for? To make us flunk! Seven of us have
got to flunk just because the classroom upstairs only
holds sixty.—I’ve felt so queer since Christmas!
Devil take me, if it weren’t for Papa I’d tie up my
bundle this very night and be off to Altoona!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Let’s talk about something else.
[<i>They go for a walk.</i>]</p>

<blockquote>
<p>[In practice, <span class="smcap">Melchior</span> can here fling himself down on
the bench; <span class="smcap">Moritz</span> remain standing.]</p>
</blockquote>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Do you see the black cat there with its
tail stuck up?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Do you believe in omens?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—I don’t quite know.—It came from over
there.—Means nothing!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I believe that’s a Charybdis everyone
falls into who has struggled up out of the Scylla of
religious nonsense. Let’s sit down under this beech.
The warm spring wind is streaming over the mountains.
I’d like to be a young Dryad in the woods up
there letting herself be rocked and swung in the highest
tree-tops all night long to-night....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Unbutton your vest, Melchior.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Ah, how it blows through one’s
clothes!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—It’s getting so jolly dark you can’t see
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>
your hand before your face. Where are you? [<i>He
draws</i> <span class="smcap">Melchior</span> <i>down beside him. Only their voices,
from here on, come out of the darkness.</i>] Don’t you
believe too, Melchior, that modesty in people is just
the effect of their bringing-up?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I started thinking about that just the
day before yesterday. No, after all it seems to me
to be deeply rooted in human nature. Imagine undressing
completely before even your best friend!
You wouldn’t do it unless he did it, too, at the same
time. But it’s also more or less a matter of custom.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—I’ve sometimes thought, if I have children,
boys and girls, right from the start I’ll have
them sleep together in the same room—if possible,
on the same bed—and help each other twice a day
to dress and undress,—and on hot days, boys and
girls alike, let ’em wear nothing at all but a short
tunic, white woolen with just a leather belt. It seems
to me, if they grew up so, they’d surely, later, be
more at ease than we are, usually....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Oh, I’m sure of that, Moritz!—The
only question is, what if the girls should have children?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—How do you mean—have children?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I believe there’s a kind of instinct in
that matter. I believe, for instance, if you shut up
a pair of kittens, male and female, and cut them off
from any contact with the outer world—left them
absolutely to their own impulses, that is—well, the
female sooner or later would get pregnant, though
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>
neither she nor the male had anyone to imitate or
show them how.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—With animals—yes—it must happen all
by itself.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—With people, too, just the same! I
ask you, Moritz,—if your boys are sleeping on the
same bed as the girls, and all of a sudden the first
masculine impulses stir in them.... I’d like to bet
with anybody....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Yes, you may be right there. But all the
same&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—And with your girls it would be absolutely
the same at the corresponding age. Not that
a girl exactly—of course, one can’t tell so well ...
at least, it would be natural to expect ... and their
curiosity, too, would be there, to do its share.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—One question by the way&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Well?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—You’ll answer?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Surely.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—True?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—There’s my hand. Well, Moritz?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Have you written your theme yet?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Oh, speak out what you want to say!
No one can hear us or see us.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—You understand my children would be
made to work all day in the yard or the garden, or
play games that called for real physical exertion.
They’ll have to ride and wrestle and climb, and of
all things not sleep so soft at night as we do. We
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span>
are awfully softened! I don’t believe people dream
when they have hard beds!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I’m going to sleep from now till vintage
time in just my hammock. I’ve shoved my bed
behind the stove: they go together. Last winter I
dreamt once that I whipped our Lolo till he couldn’t
move a limb! That was the most horrible thing I’ve
ever dreamt.—What makes you look at me so
strangely?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Have you felt them yet?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—What?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—How did you phrase it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Masculine impulses?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—M-hm.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Yes indeed!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—I too.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—In fact I’ve known that quite a while—nearly
a year.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—It struck me like a bolt of lightning!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—You had dreamt?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Oh, just a flash ... of legs in sky-blue
tights climbing over the teacher’s desk—to be exact,
I thought they were going to climb over it. I only
got a glimpse of them.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—George Zirschnitz dreamt of his
<span class="gesperrt">mother</span>.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Did he tell you that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Out there on the gallows-path.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—If you only knew what I’ve gone through
since that night!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Qualms of conscience?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Qualms of conscience?—Pangs of death!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Good God....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—I thought I was past cure. I thought
I was suffering from some inward weakness.—I only
began to feel easier when I set out to take notes on
the memories of my life. Oh, yes, Melchior! the last
three weeks have been a Gethsemane for me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I had been more or less prepared for
it beforehand. I felt a bit ashamed, but that was all.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—And yet you’re almost a full year
younger than me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—On that point, Moritz, I wouldn’t
waste much thought. By all I can make out, there
is no definite age for this phantom’s first appearance.
You know that big Lämmermeier with the straw-colored
hair and the big nose? He’s three years older
than me, but Hansy Rilow says that to this very day
he dreams of nothing but tarts and apricot jelly.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—I ask you, how can Hansy Rilow tell
about that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—He’s asked him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—He’s asked him?—I’d never have dared
to ask anybody!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—You just asked me, didn’t you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Yes, I did!—Maybe Hansy had made his
will too, beforehand!—Isn’t it a queer game the
world plays with us?! And we’re supposed to be
grateful! I don’t remember having felt the least desire
for this sort of disturbance.—Why couldn’t I
have been left sleeping quietly until everything was
still again! Father and mother could have had a
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>
hundred better children. But here I am, with no idea
how I got here, and now I must be responsible for
not having stayed away!—Haven’t you sometimes
thought about that too, Melchior: in what kind of
a way exactly we got mixed up in this whirl?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Do you mean you don’t know that
either, Moritz?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—How should I know?—I see how the hens
lay eggs and hear how Mama says she carried me
under her heart; but is that enough?—And I remember
being embarrassed even at five years old when
someone turned up the queen of hearts, she was so
décolleté. That feeling has gone; but to-day I can
scarcely speak to any girl any more without something
abominable coming into my head—and I swear
to you, Melchior, I don’t know <span class="gesperrt">what</span>!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I’ll tell you the whole thing. I’ve
gotten it partly out of books, partly from pictures,
partly from observations of nature. You’ll be surprised.
It made me an atheist at first. I told George
Zirschnitz about it, too. He wanted to tell Hansy
Rilow, but Hansy had learned it all from his French
governess when he was a kid.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—I’ve gone through Meyer’s Abridged
from A to Z. Words! just words and more words!
Not one simple explanation! Oh, this reticence!
What good to me is an encyclopædia that has nothing
to say on the most vital question of all?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Did you ever see two dogs running
about the streets?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—No!—Don’t tell me anything yet—not
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span>
to-day, Melchior! I’ve still got Central America
and Louis XV before me, not to speak of the sixty
lines of Homer, the seven equations, the Latin Comp.—I
should lose out at everything to-morrow again.
If I am to drudge successfully I must be as dull as
an ox.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—But come up to my room with me.
In three-quarters of an hour I’ll have the Homer,
the algebra, and <span class="gesperrt">two</span> Latin Comp.’s. I’ll put a few
harmless blunders into yours, and the thing’s done.
Mama’ll make us some lemonade again, and we’ll
talk comfortably about propagation.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—I can’t!—I can’t talk comfortably about
propagation! If you want to help me, give me your
information in writing. Write down what you know.
Make it as short and plain as you can, and stick it
between my books to-morrow at recess. I’ll carry
it home without knowing I have it, and come upon
it sometime unexpectedly. I won’t be able to help
skimming thru it, even if I’m tired.... If it’s absolutely
necessary, you can draw something in the
margin, too.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—You’re like a girl.... But just as
you like. It’ll be an interesting job for me all right.—One
question, Moritz.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Hm?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Have you ever <span class="gesperrt">seen</span> a girl?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Yes!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—All?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Every bit!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I, too.—Then no illustrations will be
necessary.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—At the Shooting-meet, in Leilich’s Anatomical
Museum. If it had come up, I’d have been
chucked out of school. As beautiful as the daylight—and
oh, so <span class="gesperrt">true</span>!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I was with Mama in Frankfort last
summer— Are you going already, Moritz?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—To get my work done.—Good night.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—So long!</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span>—<i>A stormy afternoon.</i> <span class="smcap">Martha</span>, <span class="smcap">Wendla</span>
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Thea</span> <i>are coming along the path</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—How the water gets into your shoes!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—How the wind whistles past your
cheeks!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—How your heart pounds!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Let’s go out to the bridge. Ilse said
the river was full of bushes and trees. The boys
have a raft on the water. They say Melchi Gabor
nearly got drowned yesterday evening.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—Oh, <span class="gesperrt">he</span> can swim!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—You bet he can, kid!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—If he hadn’t been able to swim, I guess
he’d have been really drowned.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—Your braid’s coming out, Martha, your
braid’s coming out!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—Pooh, let it! It bothers me so all the
time! I can’t wear my hair short, like you; I can’t
wear it loose like Wendla; I can’t wear a bang; and
at home I even have to put it up—all on account of
my aunt!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—I’ll bring scissors with me to-morrow
to the confirmation-class. While you’re reciting
“Well for him who erreth not” I’ll cut it off!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—For God’s sake, Wendla! Papa’ll beat
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>
me to pieces, and Mama’ll lock me up three nights
in the coal-hole!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—What’ll he beat you with, Martha?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—It often strikes me that they’d miss
something, after all, if they didn’t have such a horrid
little brat as I am.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—Oh, my dear!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—Aren’t you allowed to have a sky-blue
ribbon thru the top of your chemise?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—Pink satin! Mama thinks pink goes well
with my pitch-black eyes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—Blue’s awfully becoming to me.—Well,
Mama yanked me out of bed by the hair—this way;
I fell with my hands out on the floor.—You see Mama
prays with us night after night....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—In your place I’d have run away from
them long ago, out into the world.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—There! That’s it, that’s just what I’m
aiming at. That’s just it.—But she’d like to see me!
Oh, she’d just like to see me! At any rate, I shan’t
have anything to blame my <span class="gesperrt">mother</span> for later on!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—Huh—huh—</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—Can you possibly think, Thea, what
Mama meant by that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—Not I— Can you, Wendla?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—I would simply have asked her.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—I lay on the floor and shrieked and
screamed. In comes Papa. Rip!—Off with the
chemise! Out of the door with me! There now!
Maybe I’d like to go down on the street like that,
eh?...</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Oh, Martha, that just can’t be true!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—I froze. I told all about it. Well, I
must sleep in the sack the whole night.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—Never in my life could I sleep in a sack!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—I really wish I could sleep in your sack
<span class="gesperrt">for</span> you sometime.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—If only you’re not beaten&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—But don’t you smother in it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—Your head stays out. It’s tied under
your chin.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—And then do they beat you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—No. Only when there’s something special.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—What do they beat you <span class="gesperrt">with</span>, Martha?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—Oh, what—with anything handy.—Does
your mother think it’s “disreputable” to eat
a piece of bread in bed?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—No, no.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—I do believe they enjoy it, though, even
if they never speak of that.—When once I have children
I’ll let them grow up like the weeds in our
flower-garden. No one bothers himself about
<span class="gesperrt">them</span>, and they stand so high, so thick!—while the
roses in the beds are flowering worse and worse each
summer.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—When <i>I</i> have children I’ll dress them all
in rosy pink—pink hats, pink dresses, pink shoes.
Only their stockings—their stockings will be black as
night! Then when I go walking I’ll have them march
ahead of me.—And you, Wendla?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—How do you two know that you’ll have
any?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—Well, why shouldn’t we have some?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—It’s true Aunt Euphemia hasn’t any.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—Silly! That’s because she’s not married!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Aunty Bauer was married three times,
and hasn’t got one.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—If you have any, Wendla, which would
you rather—boys or girls?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Boys! Boys!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—Me too—boys!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—Me too—better twenty boys than three
girls.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—Girls are tiresome.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—If I weren’t a girl already, I surely
wouldn’t want to be one any more!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—That’s a matter of taste, I guess, Martha.
I’m glad every day that I’m a girl. I wouldn’t
exchange with a prince, believe me.—But that’s why
I’d only want boys.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—But that’s nonsense, Wendla, rank nonsense!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—But look here, child,—mustn’t it be a
thousand times more uplifting to be loved by a man
than by a girl?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—But you wouldn’t say that forest-inspector
Pfälle loved Melitta more than she loves
him!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Yes, I would, too, Thea.—Pfälle is
proud. Pfälle is proud of being forest-inspector,
for he has nothing else.—Melitta is <span class="gesperrt">happy</span>,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span>
because she gets ten thousand times more than she is.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—Aren’t you proud of <span class="gesperrt">yourself</span>,
Wendla?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—That would be silly.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—How proud I wish I could be, in your
place!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—Only see how she puts her feet down, how
straight ahead she looks, how she holds herself, Martha!
If that isn’t pride—</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—But what for? I’m so happy that I’m
a girl! If I weren’t one, I’d kill myself, so that next
time.... [<i>Stops, seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Melchior</span>. <i>He crosses
past them, greeting them, and goes, followed by their
eyes.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—He’s got a wonderful head.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—That’s how I think of the young Alexander,
when he went to school to Aristotle.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—Oh, good gracious! Greek History!—I
only remember how Socrates lay in his tub when
Alexander sold him the donkey’s shadow.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—They say he’s the third best in his
class.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—Professor Knochenbruch says he could be
first, if he wanted to.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—He has a lovely forehead, but his friend
has more soulful eyes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—Moritz Stiefel?—He’s a stupid!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—I’ve always gotten on with him perfectly
well.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Thea</span>—He humiliates you, no matter where you
are with him. At the Rilows’ party he offered me
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span>
some sugar-almonds. Imagine, Wendla,—they were
soft and warm! Isn’t that just—— He said he
had kept them too long in his trousers pocket!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Think of this: Melchi Gabor told me
that time that he didn’t believe in anything—not in
God, or in a future life—in just nothing in the
world!</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene IV.</span>—<i>Near the Boys’ School. All the boys
but</i> <span class="smcap">Melchior</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Moritz</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Ernest Roebel</span>
<i>are standing about expectantly</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—[<i>Entering.</i>] Can any of you tell me
where Moritz Stiefel is keeping himself?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">George</span>—He’s going to catch it—Oh, he’s going
to catch it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—He’ll go too far once, and then he’ll get
what’s coming to him good and plenty.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lämmermeier</span>—Lord knows <i>I</i> wouldn’t like to be
in his shoes at this moment!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>—Some cheek! Some impudence!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—But wha—wha—what do you mean?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">George</span>—What do we mean?—Well, listen....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lämmermeier</span>—I wish I hadn’t said anything.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—Me too—<span class="gesperrt">wish</span> I hadn’t!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—If you don’t tell me this minute&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>—Well, here it is: Moritz Stiefel has
broken into the Faculty-Room!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—The Faculty-Room!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—The Faculty-Room! Right after Latin.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">George</span>—He was the last out. He stayed behind
on purpose.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lämmermeier</span>—As I turned the hall corner I saw
him opening the door.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—You go to&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lämmermeier</span>—Yeah, if only <span class="gesperrt">he</span> doesn’t go
to&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">George</span>—I guess someone had left the key in the
lock.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>—Or else Moritz Stiefel has a pick-lock
on him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—I’d believe it of him!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lämmermeier</span>—If he has luck he’ll only get a
Sunday afternoon.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>—Along with a demerit in his report.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—If he doesn’t get a suspension on top of
a reprimand.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy Rilow</span>—There he is!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Pale as a sheet. [<span class="smcap">Moritz</span> <i>appears,
in the utmost excitement</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lämmermeier</span>—Moritz, Moritz, what have you
done?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Nothing—nothing&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>—You’re feverish.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—With joy—with rapture—with jubilation&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—You were caught——?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—I’ve passed!—Melchior, I’ve passed!
Oh, let the world go hang now—I have passed!—Who
would have believed that I’d be promoted! I
can’t realize it! Twenty times over I read it! I
can’t believe it—but God be thanked, there it was—there
it stayed! I <span class="gesperrt">am</span> promoted!—[<i>Smiling.</i>] I
don’t know—I feel so queer—the earth’s going
round.... Melchior, Melchior, if you only knew
what I’ve gone thru!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy Rilow</span>—Congratulations, Moritz!—Just
be glad that you got away safe!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—You don’t know, Hansy—you can’t
imagine what depended on it. For the last three
weeks I’ve slunk past that door as though it were
the mouth of hell. Then, to-day,—it was ajar! I
think if a million had been offered me, nothing, oh,
nothing could have held me back! Before I knew
it I was standing in the middle of the room—I was
opening the record book, turning the pages, finding—and
during all that time—it makes me shudder!&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—During all that time&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—All that time the door behind me was
standing wide open!—How I got out, how I got down
the stairs, I don’t remember.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy Rilow</span>—Did Ernest Roebel pass, too?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Oh, yes, Hansy, sure! Ernest Roebel is
promoted the same way.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>—Then you just can’t have read right.
Not counting the dunces’ bench, there are sixty-one
of us with you and Roebel, and the upper classroom
can’t hold more than sixty!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—I read perfectly right. Ernest Roebel
is moved up just as I am—both of us, for the present,
to be sure, only <span class="gesperrt">provisionally</span>. During
the first quarter it will be decided which of us must
make room for the other.—Poor Roebel! God knows
I’m not afraid for myself any more. I’ve looked
too far down into the depths this time for that!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—I bet you five marks it’ll be you that makes
room.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—You haven’t got it. I don’t want to
rob you.—Gosh, won’t I grind from now on!—Now
I can tell you all too,—and you can believe it or not,
it doesn’t matter now—but <i>I</i> know, <i>I</i> know how true
it is: if I had not been promoted, I’d have shot myself.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>—Brag!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">George</span>—The coward!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—I’d like to see you shoot anything!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lämmermeier</span>—Punch his face!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—[<i>Punches</i> <span class="smcap">Lämmermeier</span>.] Come
along, Moritz. Let’s go to the forester’s house.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">George</span>—Do you really believe that rot?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Is that your business?—Let ’em talk,
Moritz. Just let’s get away, out o’ the city. [<i>He
pulls him away. They meet</i> <span class="smcap">Professors Knochenbruch</span>
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Hungergurt</span>, <i>touch their caps, and
exeunt. The other boys vanish, to the other side.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Knochenbruch</span>—It is beyond my comprehension,
dear colleague, how the best of my pupils can feel
drawn like that to the very worst of them all.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hungergurt</span>—And beyond mine too, dear colleague.</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene V.</span>—<i>A sunny afternoon in a wood of beech
and oak trees. Thick undergrowth. A big oak-trunk
with mossy roots. By it</i>, <span class="smcap">Wendla</span>
<i>stands, looking about for the path</i>. <span class="smcap">Melchior</span>
<i>breaks thru the brush</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—[<i>Seeing her, stops dead.</i>] Is it
really you, Wendla? What are you doing up here
so all alone? I’ve been tramping up and down this
wood for the last three hours without meeting a
soul, and now all of a sudden you step out of the
thickest covert at me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Yes, it’s I.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—If I didn’t know you were Wendla
Bergmann I’d think you were a Dryad fallen out
of the branches!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—No, no, I’m Wendla Bergmann.—Where
have you come from?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I’m following my thoughts.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—I’m looking for woodruff.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_1_1" href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Mama
wants to flavor May-wine with them. At first she
was going to come too, but at the last moment Aunty
Bauer turned up, and she doesn’t like to climb: so
I came up here alone.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Have you got your woodruff?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—The whole basket full. Over there
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>
under the beech-trees they’re as thick as meadow-clover.
Just now I’m looking round for a way out.
I seem to have got mixed up. Maybe you can tell
me what time it is.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Just after ha’ past three.—When do
they expect you back?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—I thought it would be later. I lay a
long time in the moss by the brook and dreamed.
The time went by me so quickly, I was afraid it
would soon be night.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—If nobody’s expecting you yet, let’s
lie down here a little while. Under the oak there’s
my favorite place. When you lean your head back
against the trunk and stare thru the twigs at the
sky, you get hypnotized. [<i>He does as he says.</i>]
The ground is still warm from the morning sun.
[<i>She sits on a root.</i>]—There’s something I’ve wanted
to ask you for weeks, Wendla.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—But I must be at home before five.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—We’ll go in time together. I’ll take
the basket and we’ll strike out thru the underbrush
and get to the bridge in ten minutes. When one
lies like this, with his forehead in his palm, one gets
the strangest ideas....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—What was it you wanted to ask me,
Melchior?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I’ve heard, Wendla, that you go a
lot to poor people and take them things to eat and
even clothes and money. Do you do that of your
own accord or does your mother send you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Generally Mother sends me. There are
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span>
poor laborers’ families with an awful lot of children.
Often the man is out of work, and then they’re
cold or go hungry. We have still such a lot of
things left in cupboards and bureaus that we don’t
need any longer.—But what made you think of it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Do you like to go, or not, when your
mother sends you on such errands?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Oh, I like to ever so much!—How can
you ask?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—But the children are dirty, the
women are sick, the rooms are alive with filth, the
men hate you because you don’t work&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—That isn’t true, Melchior,—and if it
were true I’d go all the more!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—What do you mean, Wendla,—all the
more?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—I’d go all the more for that: it would
give me so much more pleasure to be able to help
them!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Oh, so you go to the poor people for
the pleasure you get out of it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—I go because they’re poor!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—But if it didn’t give you any pleasure,
would you stop going?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Well, can I help it if it does give me
pleasure?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—[<i>Rolling over and staring straight
up.</i>] And yet it’s for that that you’ll get into
heaven!—So it was true, the thought that has left
me no peace for the last month!—Can the skinflint
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>
help it if it <span class="gesperrt">doesn’t</span> give him any pleasure to go
and visit sick and dirty children?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Oh, I’m <span class="gesperrt">sure</span> it would give <span class="gesperrt">you</span> the
<span class="gesperrt">greatest</span> pleasure!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—And yet it’s for that that he’s condemned
to everlasting death. [<i>Sits up, his back
against the tree.</i>] I’ll write it up and send it to
Pastor Kahlbauch. He started me on this. Why
does he drivel to us about “the joy of sacrifice”?—If
he can’t answer me I won’t go to his Sunday-school
any more, nor let myself be confirmed.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Why do you want to give pain to your
dear father and mother? Let yourself be confirmed!
It won’t cost you your head! If it weren’t
for our horrid white dresses and your baggy
trousers, perhaps one could even feel enthusiastic
about it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—There <span class="gesperrt">is</span> no self-sacrifice. There <span class="gesperrt">is</span>
no unselfishness.—I see the good rejoice in their
goodness, and the wicked tremble and groan—I see
you, Wendla Bergmann, shake your curls and
laugh, and I get as glum about it as a pariah!—What
did you dream about just now, Wendla, when
you lay in the grass by the brookside?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Silly things—foolishness&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—With your eyes open?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Oh, I dreamt I was a poor beggar-child,
oh, awfully poor, who was shoved out on the
street at five in the morning and had to beg the
whole day long in wind and rain among harsh,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span>
hard-hearted people; and if I came home at night shivering
with hunger and cold, and hadn’t as much money
as my father wanted, then I was beaten and
beaten....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Oh, I know, Wendla. You get that
out of silly kid-stories. Believe me, such brutal people
don’t exist any more!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Oh, yes, they do, Melchior,—you don’t
know!—Martha Bessel is beaten night after night,
so that you can see the marks the next day. Oh,
what she must suffer! It makes you boiling hot to
hear her tell about it. I’m so terribly sorry for
her, I often have to cry into my pillow in the middle
of the night. For months I’ve been thinking and
thinking how to help her. I’d joyfully put myself
in her place for a week.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Her father should simply be reported
to the police. Then they’d take the child away
from him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—I, Melchior, have never been whipped
in my life—not one single time. I can scarcely
guess what it’s like to be beaten. I’ve tried hitting
myself, to find out how it feels really, inside.—It
must be a shuddery sensation.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I don’t believe a child is ever made
better by it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Better by what?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Being struck.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—[<i>Reaching over and plucking a young
shoot.</i>] With this switch, for example.—Whew, but
that’s strong and slender!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—That would draw blood.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Wouldn’t you hit me with it once?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—You?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Yes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—What’s got into you, Wendla?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—[<i>Drawing back, a little alarmed.</i>]
Why shouldn’t you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Oh, don’t shrink. I won’t hit you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—But even if I let you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Never, girl!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Even if I ask you to, Melchior?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Have you lost your senses?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—I have never in my life been beaten!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—If you can beg for a thing like
that!...</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—[<i>Thrusting it into his hands.</i>] I do!
Please!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I’ll teach you to say Please! [<i>Strikes
her.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Oh, what! I don’t feel the least thing!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—No wonder—thru all your skirts like
that....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Then hit me on the legs—here!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Wendla! [<i>Strikes her harder.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Oh, you’re just stroking me!—You’re
stroking me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—You wait, you witch—I’ll beat the
devil out of you! [<i>He throws the sprig aside and
falls upon her with his fists so that she breaks out
with a fearful cry. Undeterred, raging, his blows
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>
rain on her thick and fast, while big tears overflow
and streak his cheeks. Of a sudden, he springs upright,
clasps his temples with both hands, and, passionately
sobbing, plunges into the forest.</i>]</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span></p>

  <h3 class="nobreak" id="SA_ACT_II">
    ACT II
  </h3>
</div>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<span class="smcap">Melchior’s</span> <i>study. A recess, rear center,
with casements looking out upon moonlit
garden and dark, evening woods. Window-seat.
Low table with a well-shaded oil lamp,
books, cigarettes, etc.</i> <span class="smcap">Moritz</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Melchior</span>
<i>sit on the two ends of the window-seat, in profile,
facing each other</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Now I’m quite cheerful again—only a
bit excited. But in the Greek class I went to sleep
like the besotted Polyphemus! I’m amazed old
Zungenschlag didn’t tweak my ears. This morning
again I came within an ace of being late. My first
thought when I woke up was of the verbs in -MI.
Gee whiz, but didn’t I conjugate all during breakfast
and along the road till everything turned green
before me!—It must have been a little after three
when I dropped off. The pen left a blot on my
book. The lamp was smoking when Matilda woke
me. In the elders under my window the blackbirds
were twittering so joyously—I got unutterably
melancholy again at once. I buttoned my collar
and pulled the brush thru my hair.—But you feel it
when you force yourself against nature....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Shall I roll you a cigarette?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—No, thanks—I won’t smoke.—If only it
can keep on like this! I mean to work and work
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span>
till my eyes pop out of my head. Ernest Roebel
has fallen down six times already since vacation—three
times in Greek, twice with Knochenbruch, last
time in History of Literature. I haven’t been in
that pitiful fix more than five times, and from to-day
on it shall never happen again!—Roebel won’t shoot
himself. Roebel hasn’t got parents who are sacrificing
their all for him. Whenever he wants to,
he can be a soldier of fortune or a cowboy or a
sailor. But if <i>I</i> fail my father’ll have a stroke and
Mama’ll go crazy. That’s the kind of thing nobody
would live to see. Before the exam I prayed
God to let me get consumption, so that the cup
might pass me by untasted. It did pass over—even
tho its nimbus still gleams at me from afar so
that I never dare to lift my eyes.—But now that
I’ve got hold of the first rung I shall haul myself
up. I’m sure of that, because the inevitable consequence
of a fall will be a broken neck.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—There’s an undreamed-of meanness to
this life. It wouldn’t take much to make me hang
myself up in the branches.—Wonder where Mama
can be with the tea.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Your tea will do me good, Melchior.—I’m
actually trembling! I feel so strangely sensitized.
Touch me a moment. I see, I hear, I feel much
more sharply, and yet everything’s so dreamy, so
charged with atmosphere.—How the garden recedes
in the moonlight there, so still, so deep, as if it went
on forever! Dim-veiled figures are moving among the
bushes; they slip over the open tracts in breathless
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>
activity, and vanish in the half-dark. I should say
they were holding a conference under the chestnut-tree.—Shan’t
we go down, Melchior?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Let’s wait till we’ve had some tea.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—The leaves whisper so eagerly. It’s as
if I were hearing dead Grandmother tell the story
of the Queen without a Head. She was a perfectly
beautiful queen, fair as the sun, lovelier than all
the maidens in the land,—only she had come into
the world, alas! without a head. She couldn’t eat
nor drink nor see nor laugh nor kiss either. She
could only make herself understood to her court
thru her supple little hand. With her dainty feet
she tossed off declarations of war and death-sentences.
Then one day she was conquered by a king
who happened to have two heads that were always
at outs with each other—quarreled the whole year
long so hard that neither let the other speak a
word. So the chief court conjurer took the smaller
of the two heads and set it on the queen; and lo and
behold, it was mighty becoming to her; so then the
king married the queen and the two were no longer
at loggerheads but kissed each other on the forehead
and the cheeks and the mouth, and lived for a
long, long time after in happiness and joy....
Confounded rot! Since vacation I haven’t been able
to get the Headless Queen out of my head! If I see
a beautiful girl, I see her without a head,—and then
all of a sudden I appear as the Headless Queen—myself!...
Well, it’s possible that one will be set
on my shoulders yet. [<span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span> <i>enters with a
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>
tray of steaming tea, which she sets down on the
table after moving the lamp a little, and then shakes
hands with</i> <span class="smcap">Moritz</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—Here, children! Fall to!—Good
evening, Moritz Stiefel. How are you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—[<i>Standing.</i>] Well, thank you, Mrs.
Gabor.—I’m listening to the roundelays down there.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—But you’re not looking a bit well.—Don’t
you feel quite right?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—It’s nothing to speak of. I’ve been
rather late getting to bed the last few nights.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Think of it—he’s been studying all
night!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—You shouldn’t do that kind of
thing, Master Stiefel! You should take care of
yourself. Look out for your health. School can’t
take the place of health in your life. Take frequent
long walks in the fresh air! That is worth
more to you at your age than correct Middle High
German!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—I will go walking oftener. You’re right.
One can work, too, while one is walking. Why didn’t
I think of that myself!—The written lessons I should
have to do at home just the same.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—You’ll do the written work here with
me. That way it’ll be easier for both of us.—You
know, Mama, Max von Trenk has been down with
brain-fever. Well, this noon Hansy Rilow came
from Trenk’s death-bed to inform Mr. Sonnenstich
that Trenk had just died in his presence. “Is that
so?” says Sonnenstich. “Haven’t you still got two
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>
hours’ work to make up from last week? Here’s the
note to the proctor. See that the thing is cleared
up at last. The entire class will attend the interment.”—Hansy
was simply paralyzed.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—What is that book you have there,
Melchior?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—“Faust.”</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—Have you read it all yet?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Not all thru.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—We’re just at the Walpurgisnacht.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—I should have waited a year or two
more, if I’d been you, before reading that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I don’t know any book, Mama, that
I’ve found so much that was beautiful in. Why
shouldn’t I have read it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—Because you can’t understand it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—How can you know that, Mama? I
feel plainly enough that I’m not able yet to grasp
it in its full sublimity, but....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—We always read it together. That
makes understanding it vastly easier.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—You are old enough, Melchior, to be
able to judge what is good for you and what isn’t.
Do whatever you feel you can justify. I shall be
the first to realize, and be glad, if you never give me
any reason to have to withhold anything from you.
I only wanted to remind you that even the best can
do harm if one is still too immature to appraise it
rightly. I shall always rather put my trust in you
than in any possible set of educational rules.—If
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>
you want anything else, children, come and call me,
Melchior: I shall be in my bedroom. [<i>Exit.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Your Mama meant the story of
Gretchen.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Have we lingered even a moment over
that!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Faust himself can’t have been more cold-blooded
getting thru it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—After all, that villainy isn’t the
climax of the poem. Faust could have promised the
girl marriage, he could have deserted her directly
after, without being one whit less guilty in my eyes.
Gretchen could have died of a broken heart for all
the difference I’d see.—When you behold how intensely
everyone always looks first for that sort
of thing, you might think the whole world revolved
round penis and vulva.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_2_2" href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—To be frank with you, Melchior, I’ve had
exactly that feeling since I read your paper. It
fell out at my feet in the first days of vacation. I
had my Plötz [<span class="fs90">a French grammar</span>] in my hand.—I
bolted the door and ran through your quivering
lines like a frightened owl flying through a blazing
wood. I think I read most of it with my eyes shut.
At your explanations a stream of vague memories
rang in my ears like a song one used to hum joyously
to one’s self in childhood, and at the brink of
death hears from the mouth of another, and is appalled.—My
sympathy was aroused most by what
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span>
you wrote about the girl’s part, I shall never get
over the impression that made. I’m sure, Melchior,
to have to suffer wrong is sweeter than to do wrong.
Blamelessly to have to undergo so sweet a wrong
seems to me the essence of every earthly bliss.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I don’t want my bliss given me as
a charity!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—But why not?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I don’t want anything that I haven’t
had to struggle and win for myself.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—But then is it still enjoyable, Melchior?—The
girl’s delight, Melchior, is like the blessèd
gods’. The girl represses. Her very nature protects
her. She is kept free from any bitterness or
regret up to the last moment, and so can see, all
at once, heaven itself break over her. She is still
fearful of hell in the very instant of discovering
and embracing paradise. Her senses are as fresh
as the spring that bubbles from pure rock. She lays
hold of a cup no earthly breath has yet clouded—a
draught of nectar that she takes and swallows even
as it flames and flares.... The gratification that
the man receives seems to me shallow and flat beside
hers!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Let it seem what it will to you, but
keep it to yourself. I don’t like to think about it.</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<span class="smcap">Wendla’s</span> <i>room, empty</i>. <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>,
<i>her hat on, her shawl round her shoulders,
a basket on her arm, enters with beaming
face</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Wendla! Wendla!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—[<i>Appearing, half dressed, at the other
door.</i>] What is it, Mother?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Up already, dear? Well!
That’s nice of you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Have you been out already?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Hurry up now and get dressed!
You must go straight down to Ina’s and take this
basket to her.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—[<i>Finishing dressing during the following.</i>]
Have you been at Ina’s? How is Ina feeling?
Isn’t she ever going to get better?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Just think, Wendla: the stork
came to her last night and brought her a new little
boy!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—A boy?—A boy?—Oh, that’s grand!—So
it was for that she’s been sick so long with
influenza!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—A splendid boy!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—I’ve got to see him, Mother!—So now
I’m an aunt for the third time—one niece and two
nephews!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—And what fine nephews they
are!—That’s just the way of it when one lives so
close to the church roof.—It’ll be just two [<span class="fs90">and a
half?</span>] years to-morrow since she went up those steps
in her wedding-dress!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Were you with her when he brought
him, mother?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—He had just that minute flown
away again!—Don’t you want to pin a rose on here?
[<i>At the front of her dress.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Why didn’t you get there a little bit
sooner, Mother?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Why, I do believe, almost, that
he brought you something too—a brooch or something
like that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—[<i>Losing patience.</i>] Oh, it’s really too
bad!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—But I tell you that he did bring
you a brooch too!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—I’ve got brooches enough....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Why, then be happy, darling.
What are you troubled about?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—I’d like to have known, so much,
whether he flew in by the window or down the chimney.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—You must ask Ina about that.
[<i>Laughing.</i>] You must ask Ina about that, dear
heart! Ina will tell you all about it exactly. Didn’t
Ina spend a whole half-hour talking to him?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—I’ll ask Ina as soon as I get down there.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Be sure you don’t forget, you
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>
angel child! Really, I’m interested myself in knowing
if he came in by the window or the chimney!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Or how about asking the chimney-sweep,
rather?—The chimney-sweep must know
better than anybody whether he flies down the chimney
or not.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—No, not the chimney-sweep,
dear; not the chimney-sweep! What does the chimney-sweep
know about the stork? He’ll fill you
chuck-full of nonsense he doesn’t believe himself....
Wha-what are you staring down the street so at?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—A man, mother, three times as big as
an ox!—with feet like steamboats—!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—[<i>Plunging to the window.</i>]
Impossible! Impossible!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—[<i>Right after her.</i>] He’s holding a
bedstead under his chin and fiddling “The Watch on
the Rhine” on it—now he’s just turned the corner....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Well! You are and always
were a little rogue! To put your simple old mother
into such a fright!—Go get your hat. I wonder
when you’ll ever get any sense! I’ve given up hope!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—So have I, Mother; so’ve I. It’s
pretty sad about my sense! Here I have a sister
who’s been married two and a half years; here I am
an aunt three times over; and I haven’t the least
idea how it all happens!... Don’t be cross,
motherkin! don’t be cross! Who in the world should
I ask about it but you? Please, Mother dear, tell
it to me! Tell me, darling motherkin! I feel
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span>
ashamed at myself! Please, please, mother, speak!
Don’t scold me for asking such a thing. Tell me
about it—how does it happen—how does it all come
about?—Oh, you can’t seriously expect me still to
believe in the stork when I’m fourteen!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—But, good Lord, child, how
queer you are! What things do occur to you!
Really, I just can’t do that!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—But why not, mother? Why not? It
can’t be anything ugly, surely, when everyone feels
so glad about it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Oh, oh, God defend me!—Have
I deserved to—— Go and put your things on, girl,—put
your things on.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—I’m going ... and supposing your
child goes out now and asks the chimney-sweep?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Oh, but that’s enough to drive
me crazy!—Come, child, come here: I’ll tell you....
Oh, Almighty Goodness!—only not to-day, Wendla!
To-morrow, day after, next week, whenever you
want, dear heart!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Tell it to me to-day, mother. Tell
it to me now; now, at once. Now that I’ve seen you
so upset, it’s all the more impossible for me to quiet
down again until you do!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—I just can’t, Wendla.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Oh, but why can’t you, motherkin?—Here
I’ll kneel at your feet and put my head in your
lap. Cover my head with your apron and talk and
talk as if you were sitting all soul alone in the room.
I won’t move a muscle, I won’t make a sound; I’ll
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>
keep perfectly still and listen, no matter what may
come!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Heaven knows, Wendla, it isn’t
my fault! The good God knows me.—Come, in His
name!—I will tell you, little girl, how you came into
this world—so listen, Wendla....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—[<i>Under her apron.</i>] I’m listening.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—[<i>Incoherent.</i>] But it’s no use,
child! That’s all! I can’t justify it.—I know I
deserve to be put in prison,—to have you taken
from me....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—[<i>Under her apron.</i>] Pluck up heart,
Mother!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Well, then, listen....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—[<i>Trembling.</i>] O God, O God!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—To have a child—you understand
me, Wendla?&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Quick, mother! I can’t bear it much
longer!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—To have a child—one must
love the man—to whom one is married—<span class="gesperrt">love</span> him,
I say,—as one can only love a man! You must love
him so utterly—with all your heart—that—that—it
can’t be <span class="gesperrt">told</span>! You must love him, Wendla, as you
at your age can’t possibly love anyone yet....
Now you know.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—[<i>Getting up.</i>] Great—God—in
Heaven!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Now you know what tests lie
before you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—And that is all?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—God help me, yes, all!—Now
pick up the basket there and go down to Ina.
You’ll get some chocolate there, and cakes with it.—Come
here—let me just look you over—laced
boots, silk gloves, sailor-blouse, a rose in your hair....
But your little dress is really getting too short
now, Wendla!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Have you got meat for dinner already,
motherkin?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—God bless you and keep you!—I
must find time to sew another breadth of ruffles
round your skirt.</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span>—<i>A toilet—not to be thought of as
equipped with modern plumbing.</i> <span class="smcap">Hansy Rilow</span>
<i>enters, a light in his hand; bolts the door and
opens the lid</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—Hast thou prayed to-night, Desdemona?
[<i>He draws from his bosom a reproduction of the
Venus of Palma Vecchio.</i>] I shouldn’t say you
looked like “Our Father Who Art in Heaven,”
darling:—awaiting contemplatively whoever may be
coming, just as in that delicious moment of dawning
rapture when I beheld thee lying in Schlesinger’s
shop-window—these supple limbs just as beguiling
still, these softly swelling hips, these young, upstanding
breasts!—Oh, how giddy with joy must the great
master have felt when the fourteen-year-old original
lay stretched on the divan before his eyes!</p>

<p>And wilt thou sometimes visit me in dreams? With
eager arms will I receive thee, and kiss thee till thy
breath is gone. Thou wilt take possession of me as
the lawful heiress takes possession of her desolated
castle. Gate and door spring open as by invisible
hands, and below in the park the fountain joyously
begins to plash!</p>

<p>“It is the cause! It is the cause!”—That I am
not lightly moved to murder thee, thou may’st learn
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span>
from the fearful throbbing in my breast. My throat
contracts at the thought of my lonely nights. I
swear to thee, dear, upon my soul, it is not satiety
inspires me! Who would dare boast that he was
satiated with <span class="gesperrt">thee</span>?</p>

<p>But thou dost suck the marrow from my bones!
Thou crook’st my back, and rob’st my eyes of their
last gleam of youth. You claim too much of me
with your inhuman coyness, you wear me out with
your unmoving limbs!—It’s you or I!—and <i>I</i> who
have prevailed!</p>

<p>If I should count them up—those vanished ones
with all of whom I have fought this same fight here!—Psyche
by Thumann—one legacy yet from that
dried-up Mlle. Angelique, that rattlesnake in the
Eden of my childhood; Io by Correggio; Galathea by
Lossow; then an Amor of Bouguereau’s; Ada by
J. van Beers—that Ada whom I had to abduct
from a secret drawer in father’s desk, to add her to
my harem; a quivering, thrilling Leda by Makart,
that I found by chance among my brother’s college
lecture-notes; seven, O thou doomed in thy perfect
flower, who have rushed before thee down this path
into Tartarus! Let that give thee comfort, and seek
not to heighten my pangs into agony with these
supplicating looks!</p>

<p>Thou diest not for <span class="gesperrt">thy</span> sins, but for <span class="gesperrt">mine</span>!
Need to defend myself against myself drives me
with bleeding heart to do this seventh murder on
a mate. There <span class="gesperrt">is</span> something tragic in the rôle
of Bluebeard. I guess that all his murdered wives
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span>
together suffered less than he did in the strangling
of each single one.</p>

<p>But my conscience will grow calmer and my body
stronger when thou, she-devil, residest no longer
in the red-silk cushions of my jewel-casket. Then
in thy stead I will have the Lorelei of Bodenhausen
or the Forsaken Lass of Linger or the Loni of
Defregger occupy that voluptuous pleasure-chamber—provided
I shall have recovered the quicker for
this! A bare three months more, perhaps, and your
unveiled Jehoshaphat, sweet soul, would have begun
devouring my poor brain as the sun a butter-ball.
It was high time to effect the separation from bed
and board!</p>

<p>Brrr! I feel a Heliogabalus in me! Moritura me
salutat!—O girl, girl, why do you press your knees
together?—why still even now,—in the face of inscrutable
eternity?—One spasm, and I will let thee
live! One feminine movement, one sign of sensuality,
of sympathy, girl! and I will frame thee in gold and
hang thee above my bed. Art thou not conscious
that it is thy <span class="gesperrt">purity</span>, nothing more, begets my
excesses? Woe, woe to the unhuman!</p>

<p>Anyone can see that she’s had the advantage of
a model education!—Well, <span class="gesperrt">so have <i>I</i> too</span>.</p>

<p>Hast thou prayed to-night, Desdemona?</p>

<p>My heart contracts in convulsions—— Silly!—Holy
St. Agnes died for her continence too, and was
not half so naked as thou!—One more kiss on your
virginal body, your child-like, budding breast, your
sweetly rounded—cruel, unyielding knees....</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span></p>

<p>It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul.</p>

<p>Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!</p>

<p>It is the cause!&#x2060;——</p>

<p>[<i>The picture falls into the depths. He shuts
the lid.</i>]</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene IV.</span>—<i>A hayloft. Murky light, the smell of
fresh hay</i>, <span class="smcap">Melchior</span> <i>lying in it</i>. <span class="smcap">Wendla</span>
<i>comes up the ladder</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—So <span class="gesperrt">here’s</span> where you hid! Everybody’s
looking for you. The wagon’s gone out
again. You must help. There’s a storm coming
up.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Get away from me!—Get away
from me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—What’s the matter with you?—Why
do you hide your face?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Get out! Get out!—Or I’ll throw
you down on the barn-floor!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Now I certainly won’t go. [<i>She kneels
beside him.</i>] Why won’t you come out on the hayfield
with us, Melchior? Here it’s so sultry and
dark! What if we <span class="gesperrt">do</span> get wet to the skin—we
don’t care!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—The hay smells so wonderful.—The
sky outside must be as black as a pall.—I can’t see
anything but the gleaming poppy at your breast,—and
your heart, I hear it beating!&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Don’t kiss me, Melchior!—Don’t
kiss me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Your heart—I hear it beating&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—People love each other—when they
kiss—— Don’t! Don’t!&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Oh, believe me, there’s no such thing
as love!—Self-seeking, egoism,—that’s all there is!—I
love you as little as you love me.&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Don’t!———— Don’t, Melchior!&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>— ... Wendla!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Oh, Melchior!——don’t—don’t&#x2060;——</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene V.</span>—<span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span> <i>sits and writes</i>.</p>

<blockquote class='bq-scene'>
<p class='no-indent'>[<i>Or else she may be shown in a dark room, in
silhouette against the window, reading her letter
over by its failing light.</i>]</p>
</blockquote>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—My dear Moritz Stiefel!</p>

<p>I take up my pen with a heavy heart after twenty-four
hours of considering and reconsidering everything
that you write me. The money for passage to
America I am not able, I give you my solemn word,
to furnish you. In the first place I have not that
much at my disposal, and in the second, even if I had,
it would be doing you the greatest wrong I can
imagine to put into your hands the means of carrying
out so rash and critical a venture. You would do
me bitter injustice, Moritz Stiefel, if you saw in
this refusal of mine any sign of failing affection.
On the contrary, it would be the grossest failure in
my duty as your friend and counselor for me to
be willing to let your momentary loss of judgment
cause me too to lose my head and blindly follow
my first, most natural impulses. I am willing and
ready, if you wish me to, to write to your parents
and try to convince them that throughout the course
of this last term you have done all you could and
drawn so heavily upon your strength that a severe
attitude towards what has happened to you would
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>
not only be unwarranted but, more seriously, might
have the gravest effect upon your mental and physical
health.</p>

<p>Your implied threat that you will take your own
life in case your flight is not made feasible has—to
speak frankly, Moritz,—rather taken me aback. No
matter how undeserved a misfortune may be, we
should never let ourselves be driven to ignoble
measures. The way in which you seem to wish to
make me—who have never shown you anything but
kindness—answerable for a possible shocking outrage
on your part, might, to a person inclined to think
evil, look very much like blackmail. I must confess
that this mode of acting from you, who usually are
so well aware of what a man owes himself, was the
very last I should have expected. For the present,
I cherish the firm conviction that you were still
suffering too much from the first shock to be able
to realize fully what you were doing.</p>

<p>And so I am confidently hoping that these words
of mine will find you already in a more composed
state of mind. Take the affair as it stands. To my
way of thinking, it is wholly inadmissible that a
young man should be judged by his school marks.
We have too many examples of very bad scholars
who have become remarkable men, and conversely of
excellent scholars who have not distinguished themselves
in life. In any case I assure you that so far
as I am concerned your mishap will not cause any
change in your relations with Melchior. It will
always give me pleasure to see my son in the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span>
company of a young man who—let the world judge
of him as it will—deserved and won not only his
but my most cordial sympathy.</p>

<p>And so—up with your chin, Moritz Stiefel! Such
crises, of this kind or of that, come upon us all
and must just be got over. If everyone so placed
should snatch forthwith at dagger and poison, there
might easily soon be no more men and women in the
world. Let us hear from you soon again, and believe
me cordially and steadfastly</p>

<p class="right pr3">Your maternal friend,</p>
<p class='right pr1'><span class="smcap">Fanny G.</span></p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene VI.</span>—<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Bergmann</span> <i>Garden in the radiance
of the morning sun</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—[<i>Discovered.</i>] Why have you stolen
out of the house?—To look for violets!—Because
mother sees me smiling.—And why can’t you stop,
and shut your lips tight any more?—I don’t know.—Oh,
I don’t know—I can’t find words....</p>

<p>The path is like a plush carpet underfoot—not
one little stone, not a thorn.—My feet don’t touch
the ground.... Oh, how I did sleep last night.</p>

<p>Here’s where they used to be. [<i>Kneels.</i>] They
make me feel as solemn as a nun at communion.—Dear
violets!—All right, motherling! I’ll put on
my penitence-dress!—Oh, God, if somebody would
only come whom I could hug and tell!</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene VII.</span>—<i>Twilight. The sky is lightly overcast.
The path winds through low growth and sedgegrass.
Not far away the river sounds.</i> <span class="smcap">Moritz</span>
<i>sits facing the audience, his back to some bushes
and the path</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—It is better so.—I don’t fit in. Let them
mount and climb upon each other’s heads.—I will
pull the door to behind me, and step into the open.
I won’t pay so much just to let myself be pushed
around.</p>

<p>I didn’t put myself forward. Why should I put
myself forward now?—I have no compact with God.
Let them distort the thing any way they have a mind
to. I was pressed.—I don’t say my parents are
responsible. After all, they had to be prepared
for the worst. They were old enough to know
what they were doing. I was an infant when I
came into the world—otherwise even I might have
been cunning enough to become another person.
Why should I pay the penalty for all the others’
being there already!</p>

<p>I suppose I must have fallen on my head....
If anyone gives me a present of a mad dog, I give
him his mad dog back; and if he won’t take his mad
dog back, then I am humane and....</p>

<p>Yes, I just must have fallen on my head!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span></p>

<p>One is born quite by accident, and yet, after the
most mature consideration, one is not supposed
to—— It’s enough to make one shoot one’s self
dead!</p>

<p>At least the weather shows that it sympathizes.
All day it’s looked like rain, but it’s still holding
off.—A rare peace is brooding over nature: nowhere
anything sharp or exciting; heaven and earth like
a transparent spider’s-web. And everything seems
to feel so well. The landscape lovely as a lullaby—“Schlafe,
mein Prinzchen, schlaf’ ein,” as Fraülein
Snandulia sang. Too bad she holds her elbows
awkwardly!—It was at the feast of St. Cecilia I
danced for the last time. Snandulia only dances at
parties. Her silk dress was cut so low, back and
front—behind down to the belt at her waist, and in
front low enough to take away your wits.—She
can’t have had a chemise on....</p>

<p>That would be something that might stop me yet!—More
just for curiosity.—It must be an extraordinary
sensation—a feeling as if one were being
swept down a torrent—— I shan’t tell anybody
that I’ve come back with the thing undone. I shall
act as if I had taken part in all that.... It’s
rather mortifying, to have been human and not got
to know the most human thing of all.—You come
from Egypt, my dear sir, and have not seen the
<span class="gesperrt">pyramids</span>?!</p>

<p>I don’t want to cry again to-day. I don’t want
to think any more about my funeral—— Melchior
will lay a wreath upon my casket; Pastor Kahlbauch
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>
will console my parents; old Sonnenstich will
cite parallels from history.—A gravestone I probably
won’t get. I should have liked an urn of
snowy marble on a black syenite base,—but, praise
God, I shan’t miss it! Memorials are for the living,
not for the dead.</p>

<p>I should need a year to take leave of everything
in my thoughts. I don’t want to cry again. I
am so happy that I can look back without bitterness.
How many lovely evenings I have spent with
Melchior!—under the river willows, at the forester’s
hut, on the highroad out there where the five lindens
stand, up on castle hill among the peaceful ruins
of Runenburg—— When the hour has come, I
shall think with all my might of whipped cream.
Whipped cream doesn’t sustain you, but it’s filling
and leaves a pleasant taste.... And I had
thought mankind was infinitely worse. I haven’t
found a soul that wouldn’t have wanted to do his
best; and many a one I have pitied on my account.</p>

<p>I pass to the altar like the youth in ancient
Etruria whose dying rattle buys his brothers’ prosperity
through the coming year.—One by one I go
through all the mysterious shudders of deliverance.
I gulp with sorrow at my fate.—Life has given
me the cold shoulder. From up there I see grave,
friendly looks beckon me: the headless queen, the
headless queen—sympathy with soft arms awaiting
me.... Your tenders are for children; I carry my
free pass within myself. Sinks the shell, off sails
the butterfly: the dream besets us no more.—You
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>
should play no mad games with the fraud! The mist
dissolves: life is a matter of taste. [<i>His shoulder is
suddenly grabbed from behind by</i> <span class="smcap">Ilse</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—[<i>In torn clothes, a gay kerchief round her
head.</i>] What have you lost?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—[<i>Starting to his feet.</i>] Ilse!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—What are you looking for here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—What d’you frighten me so for?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—What is it? What have you lost?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—But why did you startle me so awfully?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—I’ve just come from the city.—I’m going
home.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—I don’t know, what I’ve lost.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—Then it’s no good your looking. [<span class="smcap">Moritz</span>
<i>swears</i>.] It’s four days since I was home.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Sneaking like a cat!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—That’s ’cause I’ve got my dancing-slippers
on.—Mother <span class="gesperrt">will</span> make eyes!—Come along to the
house with me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Where have you been bumming around
again?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—In <span class="gesperrt">Priapia</span>!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Priapia?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—At Nohl’s, at Fehrendorf’s, at Padinsky’s,—with
Lenz, Rank, Spühler,—with everybody you
can think of!—Kling, kling,—<span class="gesperrt">she</span> will jump!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Are they painting you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—Fehrendorf’s painting me as St. Stylites,
standing on a Corinthian capital. Fehrendorf, I
must tell you, is a mess.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_3_3" href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Last time I stepped on
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span>
one of his tubes. Squashed it. He wipes his brush
on my hair. I give him one on the ear. He throws
his palette at my head. I knock the easel over. He
gets after me with the maulstick over couch and
tables and chairs, all round the studio. Behind
the stove lay a sketch! Be good, or I’ll tear it!—He
swore amnesty, and then for a finishing touch he
kissed me—kissed me, oh, something terrible!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Where do you spend the night when you
stay in town?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—Last night we were at Nohl’s; night before
at Boyokevitch’s; Sunday with Oikonomopulos. At
Padinsky’s there was champagne. Valabregez had
sold his “Man Sick with the Plague.” Adolar drank
out of the ash-tray. Lenz sang “The Murd’ress of
Her Child,” and Adolar played the guitar to pieces.
I was so drunk they had to put me to bed.—You’re
still going to school all the time, Moritz?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—No, no—this term, I’m getting out.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—You’re right. Oh, how the time flies when
you’re earning money!—D’you remember how we
used to play robbers?—Wendla Bergmann and you
and I and the rest, when you all came out in the
evening and drank new, warm goat’s milk at our
house?—What’s Wendla doing? I remember seeing
her at the flood.—What’s Melchi Gabor doing?—Does
he still gaze so deeply into things?—In singing-lesson
we used to stand opposite each other.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—He philosophizes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—Wendla came to see us a while ago, and
brought mother some preserves. I was sitting that
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>
day for Isidor Landauer. He’s using me for Holy
Mary, the Mother of God, with the Christ-child.
He’s a ninny, and disgusting. Whew! like a weathercock!—Have
you got a “morning after” headache?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—From last night. We swilled like hippopotamuses.
It was five o’clock when I staggered
home.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—One only needs to look at you.—Were there
girls there?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Arabella, the bar-maid,—a Spanish girl.
The landlord left us all, the whole night through,
alone with her.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—One only needs to look at you, Moritz.—I
never have these morning-afters! Last Carnival
I went for three days and three nights without getting
into a bed, or even out of my clothes. From
masquerade ball to café; noontimes at the Bellavista,
evenings at the cabaret, nights to another ball! Lena
was along, and fatty Viola.—The third night, Henry
found me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Had he been looking for you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—He’d stumbled over my arm. I was lying
senseless in the gutter-snow.—So then I joined up
with him. For two weeks I never left his lodgings.
That was a horrible time!—Mornings I had to throw
on his Persian dressing-gown, and evenings walk
about the room in a black page’s costume—white lace
at the collar, cuffs, and knees. Every day he’d photograph
me in a new arrangement: one time on the back
of the sofa, as Ariadne, another time as Leda, another
as Ganymede, and once on all fours as a female
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>
Nebuchadnezzar. And then he would rave about
killing—about shooting, suicide, and charcoal fumes.
Early mornings he’d bring a pistol into bed, load it
full of cartridges and poke it into my breast: one
wink, and I’ll fire!—Oh, he would have fired, Moritz;
he would have fired!—Then he’d stick the thing in his
mouth like a bean-shooter. Maybe that would wake
my instinct for self-preservation! And then—Brrr!
the bullet would have gone through my spine.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Is Henry still alive?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—How do I know?—Over the bed was a mirror
let into the ceiling. The little room looked
tower-high and bright as an opera-house. You saw
yourself actually hanging downwards from the sky.
I had the most frightful dreams at night.—God,
O God, when would it be day again!—Good night,
Ilse. When you sleep you’re beautiful for murder!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Is this Henry still alive?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—God willing, no!—One day when he went to
get some absinthe I threw my cloak on and slipped
out onto the street. The Carnival was over. The
police snapped me up. What was I after in men’s
clothes?—They took me to headquarters, and there
came Nohl, Fehrendorf, Padinsky, Spühler, Oikonomopulos,
the whole Priapia, and bailed me out.
In a cab they transported me to Adolar’s studio.
Ever since I’ve been true to the gang. Fehrendorf
is a monkey, Nohl is a pig, Boyokevitch an owl,
Loison a hyena, Oikonomopulos a camel—but that’s
why I love them one and all the same, and don’t care
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>
to tie up to anyone else, though the world were full
of archangels and millionaires!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—I must go back, Ilse.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—Come with me as far as our house.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—What for?—What for?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—[<i>Kidding him.</i>] To drink fresh, warm
goat’s milk!—I’ll singe your forelock and hang a
little bell around your neck. And we still have a
rocking-horse that you can play with.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—I must get back. I still have the Sassanids,
the Sermon on the Mount and the parallelepipedon
on my conscience.—Good night, Ilse.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—Sweet dreams!—Do you ever go down to
the wigwam any more, where Melchi Gabor buried
my tomahawk?—Brrr! Before you catch on, I’ll lie
in the dust-bin! [<i>She hurries off.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—One word, it would have cost.—[<i>Calls.</i>]
Ilse!—Ilse!—— Praise God, she doesn’t hear!</p>

<p>—I am not in the mood.—For that, one needs a
clear head and a joyful heart.—Too bad, too bad
the chance is lost!</p>

<p>... I shall say that I have had huge crystal
mirrors over my beds—and have trained an unruly
filly—and made her prance before me across the carpet
in long black silk stockings and patent-leather
shoes, and long black kid gloves and black velvet
around her neck;—and how I stifled her in my pillows,
in an access of madness.... I shall smile
when the talk is of lust.... I shall&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="gesperrt">scream!—I shall scream!—Oh to be
you, Ilse!—Priapia!—Unconsciousness!—That
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>
takes away my power!—This
favorite of fortune, this
sunny creature, this daughter of
joy upon my dolorous path!—Oh!—Oh!</span></p>

<p>[<i>He staggers across the path and falls under the
high, dark, cavernous bushes on the further side,
crawling towards the river.</i>]</p>

<hr class="tb">

<p>So have I found it again without trying, the grassy
bank? The mulleins seem to have grown since yesterday.
The vista between the willows is the same still.
The river is flowing heavily like melted lead. Don’t
let me forget.... [<i>He draws</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor’s</span> <i>letter
from his pocket, lights a match, and burns it</i>.]—How
the sparks fly—back and forth—up and down!—Souls!—Shooting
stars!&#x2060;——</p>

<p>Before I lit the match you could still see the
grasses and a strip of the horizon.—Now it’s gotten
dark. Now I’m not going home any more.</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span></p>

  <h3 class="nobreak" id="SA_ACT_III">
    ACT III
  </h3>
</div>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>The Faculty Room. Two small, high windows,
one of them walled up. Portraits of
Pestalozzi and J. J. Rousseau on the walls.
Long, narrow, green table, with a gaspipe and
six flaring burners over it. At one end, on a
platform</i>, <span class="smcap">Principal Sonnenstich</span>&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_4_4" href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> <i>sits. Behind
the table sit, quite close together, in a grotesque
row</i>, <span class="smcap">Professors Affenschmalz</span> (<i>nearest</i>
<span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>), <span class="smcap">Knochenbruch</span>, <span class="smcap">Fliegentod</span>,
<span class="smcap">Hungergurt</span>, <span class="smcap">Zungenschlag</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Knüppeldick</span>.
<span class="smcap">Habebald</span>, <i>the beadle or proctor of the
school, cowers near the door</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—May one of the gentlemen perhaps
have something further to remark?—Gentlemen!—If
we find ourselves unable to avoid the necessity of
moving the rustication of our crime-laden pupil before
a superior Board of Education, it is for the very
weightiest reasons that we cannot help it. We cannot
if only to do our best to atone for the misfortune
that has already burst upon us; still less if we would
insure our institution for the future against further
calamities of the same order. We cannot if we are
to discipline our crime-laden pupil for the demoralizing
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>
influence that he has exerted upon his classmates;
we cannot, most conclusively, if so we may prevent
him from exerting the like influence upon the remainder
of his classmates. We are compelled to it—and
this, gentlemen, is perhaps the most fundamental
ground of all, against which no protest <span class="gesperrt">can</span> prevail,—because
it is for us to protect our institution from
the ravages of a suicide-<span class="gesperrt">epidemic</span>, such as has
already broken out at various schools like ours and
has so far defied all efforts to attach the schoolboy
to those conditions of existence best adapted to his
education into cultivated manhood.—May one of the
gentlemen still have something to remark?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Knüppeldick</span>—[<i>Furthest away; middle-aged.</i>]
I can no longer repel the conviction that it may at
last be about time to open a window somewhere.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Zungenschlag</span>—[<i>Next him, bearded, choleric.</i>]
There—there prevails here an at-at-atmosphere like
that in subterranean cata-catacombs, like tha-tha-that
in the archive-repositories of the quo-quondam
star-chamber tribunal at We-Wetzlar!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—Habebald!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Habebald</span>—Yes, Mr. Sonnenstich?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—Open a window. We have, Heaven
be praised, atmosphere enough out-of-doors.—May
one of the gentlemen have anything further to remark?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Fliegentod</span>—[<i>The Secretary, with the minutebook;
bearded, ponderous.</i>] If my worthy colleagues
wish to have a window opened, I have nothing, personally,
to object against it; only might I ask that
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span>
they will not wish to have that window opened which
is directly at my back?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—Habebald!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Habebald</span>—Yes, Mr. Sonnenstich?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—Open the other window!—May one
of the gentlemen have something still further to
remark?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hungergurt</span>—[<i>Small, mild, spectacled; between</i>
<span class="smcap">Fliegentod</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Zungenschlag</span>.] Without any
wish on my part to aggravate the controversy, might
I recall the fact that the other window has been
walled up since the autumn holidays?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—Habebald!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Habebald</span>—Yes, Mr. Sonnenstich?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—Leave the other window closed!—I
see myself compelled, gentlemen, to bring the matter
to a vote. I request those colleagues who are <span class="gesperrt">for</span>
opening the only window that can enter into the question,
to indicate it by standing. [<i>The three furthest
from him stand.</i>] One, two three. [<i>Counting the
seated ones, too.</i>] One, two, three. Habebald!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Habebald</span>—Yes, Mr. Sonnenstich?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—Leave the one window likewise
closed.—I for my part am of the opinion that our
atmosphere leaves nothing to be desired!—May one
of the gentlemen still have something to remark?—Gentlemen!—Let
us make the supposition that we
omit to move the rustication of our crime-laden
pupil before a superior Board of Education. <span class="gesperrt">We</span>
will then be held accountable, by the Ministry of
Education, for the disaster that has befallen us. Of
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span>
the various schools that have been visited by this
suicide-epidemic, those in which twenty-five per cent
of the pupils have fallen victims to the ravages of the
suicide-epidemic have been temporarily <span class="gesperrt">closed</span> by
the Ministry of Education. To preserve our Institution
from this most staggering blow is our duty, as
the guardians and safekeepers of our institution. It
grieves us deeply, gentlemen and colleagues, that we
are in no position to let our crime-laden pupil’s
qualifications in other respects count as mitigating
circumstances. A mild procedure, which might be
justifiable towards our crime-laden pupil singly, is
at this time, when the very existence of our institution
is imperilled in the most dangerous manner conceivable,
certainly <span class="gesperrt">not</span> justifiable! We see ourselves
reduced to the necessity of passing judgment on the
guilty lest we, the innocent, be judged.—Habebald!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Habebald</span>—Yes, Mr. Sonnenstich?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—Bring him up. [<span class="smcap">Habebald</span> <i>goes
out</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Zungenschlag</span>—If it is settled that the pre-prevailing
a-a-a-atmosphere leaves little or nothing to
be desired, I should like to move that during the summer
vacation the other window as well should be-be-be-be-be-be-be-be-be-be
walled up!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Fliegentod</span>—If our dear colleague Zungenschlag
does not find our sanctum satisfactorily ventilated, I
should like to set the machinery in motion toward
having a ventilator installed in our dear colleague
Zungenschlag’s high and cavernous brow.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Zungenschlag</span>—Th-th-that is too much for me
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span>
to put up with!—Ru-rudenesses are more than I need
to put up with!—I am in possession of my five
senses...!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—I must request our colleagues,
Messrs. Fliegentod and Zungenschlag, to preserve
decorum. I think I hear our crime-laden pupil already
on the stairs. [<span class="smcap">Habebald</span> <i>opens the door,
whereupon</i> <span class="smcap">Melchior</span>, <i>pale but composed, steps before
the assemblage</i>.] Step up nearer to the table.—When
Mr. Stiefel had been informed of his son’s
impious and wicked act, he searched in his grief and
perplexity among the effects that his son Moritz had
left behind him, in hopes that so he might happen
to find the moving cause of that abominable outrage.
So doing, he stumbled, in an irrelevant place, upon a
piece of writing which, without yet making the abominable
outrage understandable in itself, yet offers,
I regret to say, an explanation only too conclusive
of the moral obliquity in the criminal which must
have underlain his act. I am speaking of a twenty-page
treatise in dialogue form entitled “Coition,” accompanied
by life-sized drawings, rank with the most
shameless obscenities, and responding to the most
perverted demands that a depraved debauchee could
possibly make upon lascivious literature&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I have&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—You have to keep quiet.—Mr.
Stiefel handed this manuscript over to us, and we
promised the distracted father at any cost to identify
its author. The handwriting was accordingly compared
with the hands of each one of the dead profligate’s
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>
schoolmates, and it proved, in the unanimous
judgment of the whole faculty and in perfect accord
with the specialist’s opinion of our esteemed colleague
in calligraphy, to have the closest conceivable similarity
to yours&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I have&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—You have to keep quiet.—Notwithstanding
the crushing fact that this resemblance
has been marked by unimpeachable authorities, we
believe that we may refrain for the moment from taking
any further steps till we have first circumstantially
interrogated the guilty student concerning his
crime against morals, in conjunction with the instigation
to self-murder arising from it, with which he is
accordingly charged.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I have&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—You have to answer to the particular
questions which I shall put to you, in order, one
after the other, with a simple, modest “Yes” or “No.”—Habebald!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Habebald</span>—Yes, Mr. Sonnenstich?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—The documents!—I trust that our
Secretary, Mr. Fliegentod, will from now on record
the proceedings as nearly verbatim as possible. [<i>To</i>
<span class="smcap">Melchior</span>.] Do you recognize this manuscript?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Yes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—Do you know what this manuscript
contains?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Yes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—Is the writing in this manuscript
yours?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Yes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—Does this obscene manuscript originate
from you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Yes.—I beg you, Mr. Sonnenstich, to
show me one obscenity in it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—You are to answer the particular
questions I put to you with a simple, modest “Yes”
or “No”!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I have written no more and no less
than what is very well known to you to be fact.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—Insolence.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I ask you to show me one offense
against morals in that paper!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—Do you imagine I’d have a mind to
act the clown for you? Habebald!...</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I have&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—You have as little respect for the
dignity of your assembled teachers as you have decent
sensibility for mankind’s inbred feeling for the
modesty of the shamefastness of the moral order of
the world!—Habebald!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Habebald</span>—Yes, Mr. Sonnenstich?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—It’s in fact the Langenscheidt for
the learning in three hours of agglutinative Volapük!&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_5_5" href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I have&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—I instruct our Secretary, Mr. Fliegentod,
to close the minutes!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I have&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—You have to keep quiet!—Habebald.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Habebald</span>—Yes, Mr. Sonnenstich?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—Take him down!</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene II.</span>—<i>A graveyard seen through pouring rain.
Gray stone wall about five feet high, and quite
close to it, parallel with it, an open grave, behind
which stands</i> <span class="smcap">Pastor Kahlbauch</span>, <i>umbrella
in left hand and prayer-book in right,
flanked by</i> <span class="smcap">Moritz’s</span> <i>father, his friend</i> <span class="smcap">Ziegenmelker</span>,
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Uncle Probst</span>, <i>on the right, and</i>
<span class="smcap">Principal Sonnenstich</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Professor
Knochenbruch</span>, <i>with a string of schoolboys,
on the left. At a little distance, by a half-collapsed
monument, are</i> <span class="smcap">Ilse</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Martha</span>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Pastor Kahlbauch</span>— ... For he who rejects
the mercy wherewith the Eternal Father has blest
man born in sin, he shall die a spiritual death. He
who in wilful, carnal denial of God’s proper honor
liveth for evil and serveth it, he shall die the death
of the body. He, however, who wantonly throws
from him the cross which the All-merciful has laid
upon him for his sins, verily, verily, I say unto you,
he will die the everlasting death!—[<i>He closes the
book and puts it in his pocket, takes a shovel from
the wall-face and with it pushes some mud into the
grave, and hands the shovel to</i> <span class="smcap">Mr. Stiefel</span>.]—Let
<span class="gesperrt">us</span>, however, faithful pilgrims upon the thorny way,
praise the Lord, the All-bountiful, and render him
thanks for his inscrutable elections. For as truly
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>
as <span class="gesperrt">this</span> soul did die a threefold death, so truly will
God the Lord induct the righteous man into bliss
and the Life Everlasting.—Amen.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Stiefel</span>—[<i>His voice thick with tears.</i>] The
boy was none of mine!—The boy was none of mine!—The
boy never pleased me from childhood up!
[<i>He throws a shovelful of mud into the grave, and
gives the shovel back.</i> <span class="smcap">Pastor Kahlbauch</span> <i>hands
it to</i> <span class="smcap">Professor Sonnenstich</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—[<i>Throws a shovelful of mud into
the grave.</i>] Self-murder as the most serious conceivable
offense against the moral order of the world
is the most perfect conceivable demonstration <span class="gesperrt">of</span> the
moral order of the world, in that the suicide relieves
the moral order of the world from passing judgment
upon him, and establishes its existence. [<i>He passes
the shovel to</i> <span class="smcap">Professor Knochenbruch</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Prof. Knochenbruch</span>—[<i>Throws a shovelful of
mud into the grave.</i>] Defective—depraved—delinquent—decayed—and
detrited! [<i>He walks around
the grave and hands the shovel to</i> <span class="smcap">Uncle Probst</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Uncle Probst</span>—[<i>Throws a shovelful of mud into
the grave.</i>] Not from my very mother would I have
believed a child could act so basely toward his parents!
[<i>Hands the shovel to</i> <span class="smcap">Ziegenmelker</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ziegenmelker</span>—[<i>Throws a shovelful of mud into
the grave.</i>] Toward a father who for twenty years
now has had no thought, early or late, but for his
child’s welfare! [<i>Puts the shovel back against the
wall.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Pastor Kahlbauch</span>—[<i>Pressing</i> <span class="smcap">Mr. Stiefel’s</span>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span><i>hand</i>.] We know that for them that love God all
things work together for good. 1 Corinth. 12, 15.—Think
of the sorrowing mother, and strive by redoubled
love to make up to her for her loss. [<i>He
squeezes out past the Professors and boys.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Sonnenstich</span>—[<i>Pressing</i> <span class="smcap">Mr. Stiefel’s</span> <i>hand</i>.]
We would probably not have been able to promote
him, anyway. [<span class="smcap">Stiefel</span> <i>passes him</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Knochenbruch</span>—[<i>Pressing</i> <span class="smcap">Mr. Stiefel’s</span>
<i>hand</i>.] And if we had promoted him, next spring
he would most assuredly have failed to pass.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Uncle Probst</span>—[<i>Coming round in front and
pressing</i> <span class="smcap">Stiefel’s</span> <i>hand</i>.] Now your first duty is
to think of yourself. You’re the father of a family!...</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ziegenmelker</span>—[<i>Doing likewise.</i>] Rely on me.
I’ll steer you!—Beastly weather! enough to make
one’s guts crawl. Whoever doesn’t get after that
right away with a stiff drink ’ll be taken off with
heart-failure! [<i>Leads him toward</i> <span class="smcap">Pastor Kahlbauch</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Stiefel</span>—[<i>Blowing his nose.</i>] The boy was
none of mine.... The boy was none of mine....
[<span class="smcap">Kahlbauch</span> <i>takes his other arm. All the men pass
off.—The rain lets up.</i> <span class="smcap">Hansy Rilow</span> <i>slips in behind
the grave</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy Rilow</span>—[<i>Throwing in a shovelful of mud.</i>]
Rest in peace, old fellow!—Greet my immortal
brides from me, immolated memories; and commend
me most humbly to the dear Lord’s mercy—poor
dumbbell you!—They’ll put up a scarecrow on your
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>
grave here yet, in memory of your angel simpleness....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">George</span>—Has the pistol been found?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>—No one need hunt for a pistol!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—Did you see him, Robert?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>—A God-damned swindle, I call it.—Who
did see him?—Who!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—Yeah, that’s the sore point!—They’d
thrown a cloth over him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">George</span>—Was his tongue hanging out?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>—His eyes!—That’s why they’d thrown
the cloth over.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—[<i>Shuddering.</i>] Grrr!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—Do you know for sure that he hanged
himself?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—I’ve heard that his whole head was
gone.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—Nonsense! Rot!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Robert</span>—Why, I’ve had the noose in my hands!—I
never saw a hanged body yet that you wouldn’t
have covered up.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">George</span>—He couldn’t have taken his leave in a
vulgarer way.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—What the devil,—hanging is said to be
quite handsome!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—I’ve got five marks still owing me from
him. We had a bet. He swore he’d keep his place.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—It’s your fault that he’s lying there. You
called him a boaster.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—Poppycock! <i>I</i>’ve got to grind thru the
nights, too. If he’d learned the history of ancient
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span>
Greek literature, he wouldn’t have had to hang himself!
[<i>Turns to go.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—Have you done your composition, Otto?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—Just the introduction.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—I haven’t the least idea what to write.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">George</span>—What, weren’t you there when Affenschmalz
gave us the choice of subject?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—I’m going to fake up something out of
Democritus.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—I want to see if Meyer’s Abridged has
anything left I can use.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Otto</span>—[<i>As all disappear.</i>] Have you done your
Virgil for to-morrow?—[<i>When they are gone</i>, <span class="smcap">Martha</span>
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Ilse</span> <i>come to the grave</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—Quick! quick!—There come the grave-diggers
off there.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—Hadn’t we better wait, Ilse?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—What for?—We’ll bring new ones, and
more, and more!—There are enough growing.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—You’re right, Ilse!—[<i>She throws an
ivy-wreath into the grave.</i> <span class="smcap">Ilse</span> <i>opens her apron
and lets a shower of fresh anemones rain upon the
coffin</i>.]—I’ll dig up our roses. What if I <span class="gesperrt">am</span> beaten
for it?—Here they’ll bloom well.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—I will water them as often as I go past.
I’ll bring forget-me-nots over from the brook, and
irises from the house.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—It ought to be glorious!—glorious!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—I was just over the bridge up there when
I heard the shot.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—Poor heart!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—And I know the reason too, Martha.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—Did he tell you something?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—Parallelepipedon!—But don’t tell anybody.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—I won’t.—There’s my hand.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—Here is the pistol.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—That’s why it couldn’t be found!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—I took it right out of his hand when I went
past in the morning.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—Give it to me, Ilse!—Please, give it
to me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—No, I’m going to keep it for remembrance.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Martha</span>—Is it true, Ilse, that he’s lying in there
without a head?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ilse</span>—He must have loaded it with water!—The
mulleins were spattered all over with blood. His
brains hung round on the osiers.</p>

<p><span class="allsmcap">CURTAIN</span></p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span>—<span class="smcap">Mr.</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span> <i>face each other,
the window between them, lighting them</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>— ... They were in need of a scapegoat.
They couldn’t disregard the accusations
that were springing up on every side against <span class="gesperrt">them</span>.
And now that my son has had the ill luck to fall foul
of the old pedants at the precise moment, now am
I, his own mother, to help to complete his executioners’
work?—God preserve me from it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Gabor</span>—I have looked on at your ingenious
educational methods for fourteen years in silence.
They were contrary to my ideas. I had always lived
under the persuasion that a child was not a plaything,
that a child had a claim upon our most earnest
efforts. But I said to myself, if the grace and
esprit of one parent are able to take the place of
the other’s serious principles, why, they may be
preferable to the serious principles.—I am not blaming
you, Fanny; but don’t stand in my way when
I am trying to make good to the boy the wrong
that both you and I have done him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—I will stand in your way as long as
a drop of blood runs warm in my veins! In a House
of Correction my child will be lost. A criminal nature
may perhaps be bettered in such institutions.—I
don’t know. A child naturally good will there as
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span>
certainly become criminal as a plant degenerates
when deprived of air and sun. I am conscious of
no wrong done him. I thank God to-day as always
that He showed me the way to awaken in my child
an upright character and noble mind. What has
he done then that’s so dreadful?—I haven’t the least
idea of trying to exculpate him!—For being turned
out of school he needs no exculpation; and if he
<span class="gesperrt">were</span> at fault, he has paid for it.—You may know
better about all that; you may be perfectly right
theoretically. But I cannot let my only child be
driven and forced to his destruction!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Gabor</span>—That does not depend upon us,
Fanny. That is a risk that we took upon ourselves
along with our happiness. He that is too feeble for
the march is left by the wayside. And it is surely
not so bad as it might be, if the inevitable comes in
time. May Heaven defend us from it! Our duty
is to steady the waverer as long as reason can find
means to do it.—That he has been expelled from
school is not his fault. If he had <span class="gesperrt">not</span> been expelled
from school, that wouldn’t have been his fault,
either.—You take things too lightly. You see only
inquisitive trifling where fundamental lesions of character
are really involved. You women are not qualified
to judge such things. Anyone who can write
what Melchior writes must be degenerate at the innermost
core of his being. His essence is tainted.
No nature that’s half-way healthy permits itself
that sort of thing. We are all of us flesh and blood:
every one of us strays from the strict, true path.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>
But what he has written represents a <span class="gesperrt">principle</span>.
What he has written is no chance, casual slip, but
documentary proof, of ghastly clarity, of that
frankly affected <span class="gesperrt">purpose</span>, that natural propensity,
that bent toward the immoral because it <span class="gesperrt">is</span>
immoral!—it manifests that exceptional spiritual
corruption that we jurists designate as moral imbecility.—Whether
his condition can be in any way
remedied, I am not able to say. If we would retain
one glimmer of hope,—and, before all, consciences as
his parents free from remorse,—we must apply ourselves
with decision and in all earnestness to the
task.—Let us cease contention, Fanny! I am sensible
how hard for you it is. I know you idolize
him, because he suits so perfectly your gifted temperament.
But be stronger than yourself. Show
yourself for once at last unselfish toward your son!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—God help me, how can I prevail
against that!—One must be a <span class="gesperrt">man</span>, to be able to
say such things! One must be a man to let oneself
be so blinded by the dead letter! One must be a man
to close his eyes to what stares him in the face!—I
have acted toward Melchior conscientiously and
carefully from the first day I found him susceptible
to impressions from his environment. Are we responsible
for <span class="gesperrt">accident</span>? <span class="gesperrt">You</span> may be struck
down to-morrow by a falling tile, and along will come
your friend, your father, and instead of tending
your wounds set his foot upon your head!—I will
not let my child be ruined before my very eyes!
Would I be his mother if I did?—It is unthinkable!
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>
It is utterly out of the question. What in the world
did he write then, after all? Isn’t it the most blatant
proof of his innocence, of his ignorance, of his childish
immaturity, that he <span class="gesperrt">can</span> write such things?—You
can have no inkling of knowledge of human
nature, you must be an utterly soulless bureaucrat,
or unbelievably narrow, to smell out moral corruption
here!—Say what you like: if you put Melchior
in the House of Correction, we must separate—and
then let me see if nowhere in the world I can find help
and means to snatch my child from his downfall!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Gabor</span>—You will have to reconcile yourself
to it—if not to-day, to-morrow. To discount misfortune
comes hard to everybody. I will stand by
you, and when your courage threatens to fail I will
spare no pains, no sacrifice, to ease your heart. I
see the future so lowering, so gloomy,—it only lacked
that you too should yet be lost to me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—I shall never see him again; I shall
never see him again. He will never stand the degradation,
he will never come to terms with filth. He
will break the constraint put on him: the terrible
example is fresh before his eyes.—And if I do see
him again—O God, O God!—that happy, spring-like
heart, his ringing laugh,—everything, everything,—his
child-like resolution to battle manfully
for right and good,—oh, that unspoiled spirit like
the morning sky, as I have cherished it in him, clear
and pure, as my highest good....—Hold <span class="gesperrt">me</span> to
account, if the wrong cries for reparation! Hold
<span class="gesperrt">me</span> to account! Do what you will with me! <i>I</i> bear
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span>
the blame!—But keep your fearful hands off the
child!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Gabor</span>—It is <span class="gesperrt">he</span> who has gone wrong.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—<span class="gesperrt">He has not gone wrong!</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Gabor</span>—<span class="gesperrt">He has</span> gone wrong!—I would have
given anything to have spared your boundless love
this!—A woman came to me this morning distracted,
scarcely able to speak, with this letter in her hand—a
letter to her fifteen-year-old daughter.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_6_6" href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> She had
opened it, she said, from simple curiosity; the child
was not at home.—In this letter Melchior explains to
the fifteen-year-old girl that his treatment of her
leaves him no peace, that he has sinned against her,
etc., etc., and will naturally take the responsibility
for everything. She is not to worry, even if she should
feel consequences. He is already on the way to procure
help—his expulsion will make that easier for
him. The misstep they have made may yet lead to
her happiness—and what more senseless twaddle you
please!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—Impossible!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Gabor</span>—The letter is forged. It’s a case of
imposture. Someone is trying to turn his notorious
expulsion to account. I have not yet spoken with
the lad—but just look at the hand! Look at the
writing!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—An unheard-of, shameless piece of
knavery!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Gabor</span>—[<i>With double meaning.</i>] I fear so.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—No! No! Never in the world!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Gabor</span>—All the better for us, then.—The
woman asked me, wringing her hands, what she ought
to do. I told her she ought not to let her fifteen-year-old
daughter scramble around haylofts. The
letter she fortunately left with me.—Now if we send
Melchior to another school where he won’t even be
under <span class="gesperrt">parental</span> supervision, we shall have the
same thing happening in three weeks—a new expulsion—his
joyous, spring-like heart will get accustomed
to them by degrees.—Tell me, Fanny, where
<span class="gesperrt">am</span> I to put the lad?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—In the House of Correction&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Gabor</span>—In the...?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>— ... House of Correction!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Gabor</span>—He will find there, first of all, what
was wrongfully withheld from him at home: iron discipline,
fundamental principles, and a moral restraint
to which he will have to submit under all circumstances.—And
I may add that the House of Correction
is not the abode of horror you imagine from
the name. Chief weight there is laid upon the development
of Christian thought and feeling. The
lad will there, at last, learn to aim at what’s <span class="gesperrt">good</span>,
not what’s <span class="gesperrt">interesting</span>, and in his actions take
account not of his natural impulses but of the law.—Half
an hour ago I received a telegram from my
brother which, I think, confirms what the woman
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span>
told me. Melchior has confided in him and asked
him for two hundred marks with which to fly to
England....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Gabor</span>—[<i>Covers her face.</i>] Merciful
Heaven!</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene IV.</span>—<i>The House of Correction. The setting
may be the same as for the Faculty Room, without
any pictures or furniture.</i></p>

<p class='scene2'><span class="smcap">Melchior</span> <i>is shown in company with</i>
<span class="smcap">Diethelm</span>, <span class="smcap">Reinhold</span>, <span class="smcap">Ruprecht</span>, <span class="smcap">Helmuth</span>,
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Gaston</span>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Diethelm</span>—Here’s a twenty-pfennig piece.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Reinhold</span>—What’s that for?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Diethelm</span>—I’ll put it on the floor. You get in a
circle round it. Whoever hits it, gets it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ruprecht</span>—Aren’t you in on this too, Melchior?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—No, thank you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Helmuth</span>—The Joseph!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Gaston</span>—He can’t any more. He’s here to recover
his health.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—[<i>To himself.</i>] It isn’t wise for me
to stay out. Everyone keeps an eye on me. I must
join in—or my creature will go to the devil.—The
confinement makes them abuse themselves.—I may
break my neck: I’ll be glad. I may get away: I’ll
be glad too. I can only gain, either way.—Ruprecht
is getting to be my friend: he knows all about
things here. I’ll treat him to the chapters of
Judah’s daughter-in-law Tamar, of Moab, of Lot
and his daughters, of Queen Vashti and of Abishag
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>
the Shunammite.—He’s got the sorriest face in the
lot!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ruprecht</span>—I’m getting it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Helmuth</span>—It’ll come yet!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Gaston</span>—Day after to-morrow, maybe!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Helmuth</span>—Now!—Look!—O God, O God!...</p>

<p><span class="smcap">All</span>—Summa—summa cum laude!!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ruprecht</span>—[<i>Picking up the coin.</i>] Many
thanks.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Helmuth</span>—Come here with that, you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ruprecht</span>—Dirty beast!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Helmuth</span>—Jail-bird!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ruprecht</span>—[<i>Strikes him in the face.</i>] There!
[<i>Runs away.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Helmuth</span>—[<i>Running after him.</i>] I’ll kill you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Rest</span>—[<i>Rushing after them.</i>] Get after
him! Hustle! Hey! Hey! Hey!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—[<i>Alone, looking at the window.</i>]
There’s where the lightning-rod goes down. You
must wind a handkerchief round it.—When I think
of <span class="gesperrt">her</span> the blood always shoots to my head. And
Moritz weighs on me like lead.—I’ll go to a newspaper
office: pay me by the hundred, I’ll sell
papers—collect news—write—local—ethical—psychophysical....
It’s no longer so easy to starve:—lunch-wagons,
soft-drink places.—The house is
sixty feet high and the stucco is crumbly.... She
hates me—she hates me because I’ve robbed her of
her freedom. No matter how I act, it remains—rape.—All
I can do is to hope, gradually, in the
course of years....—In a week it’ll be new moon.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span>
To-morrow I’ll grease the hinges. By Saturday at
the latest I must know who has the key.—Sunday
evening at prayers, a cataleptic fit—please God no
one else gets sick!—Everything lies as clearly as if
it had happened before me. I can get over the window-sill
easily—a swing—a grip—but one must wrap
a handkerchief around it.—There comes the Head
Inquisitor. [<i>He goes off.</i> <span class="smcap">Dr. Prokrustes</span> <i>and a</i>
<span class="smcap">Locksmith</span> <i>enter on the other side</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Prokrustes</span>— ... It’s true the windows are
in the third story and nettles are planted underneath;
but what does degeneracy care for nettles?—Last
winter one climbed out of a skylight on us,
and we had all the fuss of picking up and carting
away and burying....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Locksmith</span>—Do you want the grating of
wrought iron?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Prokrustes</span>—Wrought iron—and since it
can’t be set in, riveted.</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene V.</span>—<span class="smcap">Wendla’s</span> <i>room</i>. <span class="smcap">Wendla</span> <i>in bed</i>. <span class="smcap">Mrs.
Bergmann</span> <i>at its foot</i>. <span class="smcap">Ina</span> <i>leaning at the
window</i>. <span class="smcap">Dr. von Brausepulver</span> <i>discoursing</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Dr. von Brausepulver</span>—How old are you exactly?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Fourteen and a half.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. von Brausepulver</span>—I have been prescribing
Blaud’s pills for fifteen years, and in a great
many cases have observed the most inspiring improvement.
I prefer them to cod-liver oil or tonics
with iron. Begin with three to four pills per day,
and increase the quantity as fast as you can assimilate
it. I had prescribed for the Baroness
Elfriede von Witzleben an increase of one pill every
third day. The Baroness misunderstood me and increased
the dose three pills each day. In less than
three weeks the Baroness was able to go to Pyrmont
with her lady mother to complete the cure. Tiring
walks and extra meals we can dispense with. Instead,
promise me, my dear, that you will try to
move about all the more energetically, and not be
ashamed to ask for nourishment as soon as your
appetite reappears. Then these oppressed feelings
round the heart will soon pass off—and the headache,
the chills, the dizziness—and our terrible bilious
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>
attacks. Baroness Elfriede von Witzleben
within a week of beginning the cure was enjoying
a whole broiled chicken with baked new potatoes for
breakfast.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—May I offer you a glass of
wine, Doctor?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. von Brausepulver</span>—Thank you, dear Mrs.
Bergmann, my carriage is waiting. Don’t take it
so much to heart. In a few weeks our dear little
patient will be as fresh and lively again as a gazelle,—be
sure of it!—Good day, Mrs. Bergmann. Good
day, my dear. Good day, ladies. Good day. [<i>He
goes, accompanied by</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ina</span>—[<i>At the window.</i>] Well, your plane-tree is
turning already—quite gay again. Can you see it
from your bed?—A brief display, hardly worth being
glad about, as one watches it come and go.—I must
be going soon now, too. August will be waiting for
me at the post office, and I must see the dressmaker
first. Mucki is getting his first little trousers, and
Karl is to have some new leggings for the winter.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Often I feel so happy, Ina!—all gladness
and sunshine. I wouldn’t have dreamed that
anyone could feel so blissful round the heart. I
want to go out and walk across the meadows in the
evening glow and hunt for primroses along the river,
and sit down at the bank and dream.... And then
comes the <span class="gesperrt">toothache</span>, and I think I must be
going to die first thing in the morning: I get hot and
cold, everything goes black before my eyes, and then
the uncanny thing flutters in me.—Every time I wake
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>
up I see mother crying. Oh, that hurts me so—I
can’t tell you, Ina!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ina</span>—Hadn’t I better lift your pillow higher?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—[<i>Coming back.</i>] He thinks
the nausea will get better too; and then you can just
quietly get up again.... It’s my belief too that
it’ll be better if you get up again soon, Wendla.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ina</span>—By the next time I drop in, perhaps you’ll
be dancing round the house again.—Good-bye,
mother. I’ve just got to get to the dressmaker’s.
God keep you, Wendla dear. [<i>Kisses her.</i>] Get
better very, very soon.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Good-bye, Ina.—Bring me some primroses
when you come again. Good-bye. Kiss your
youngster for me.... [<span class="smcap">Ina</span> <i>goes</i>.]—What else
did he say, mother, when he was out there?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—He didn’t say anything. He
said the Baroness von Witzleben was also subject
to fainting-spells. It was almost always that way
with chlorosis.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Did he say, mother, that I had
chlorosis?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—You’re to drink milk and eat
meat and vegetables when your appetite has come
back.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Oh, mother, mother, I don’t believe I
have chlorosis!...</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—You have chlorosis, child. Lie
still, Wendla, lie still. You have chlorosis.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—No, mother, no! I know I haven’t!
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>
I feel it! I haven’t got chlorosis—I’ve got the
dropsy....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—You have chlorosis. Yes, he
did say you had chlorosis. Quiet down, girlie. It
will get better.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—It won’t get better. I have the dropsy.
I must die, mother.—Oh, mother, I must die!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—You must not die, child! You
must not die!... Merciful Heaven, you must not
die!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—But why do you cry, then, so miserably?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—You must not die—child!
You haven’t got dropsy. You have a <span class="gesperrt">baby</span>, girl!
You have a baby!—Oh, why, why did you do that
to me?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—I didn’t do anything&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Oh, don’t deny it now, Wendla!—I
know, I know. See, I couldn’t have said a word
to you,—Wendla, my Wendla!...</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—But that is quite impossible, mother!
I’m not married!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Great God, that’s just it—that
you’re not married! That is just the frightful
thing about it!—Wendla, Wendla, Wendla, what
did you do!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Why, really, I don’t remember any
more! We were lying in the hay.... I haven’t
loved a soul in the world but you—only you, mother.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—My darling&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Oh, mother, why didn’t you tell me
everything?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—Child, child, let’s not make each
other’s hearts still heavier. Control yourself!
Don’t despair, my child!—What, tell that to a fourteen-year-old
girl? Why, I should sooner have expected
the sun to go out! I haven’t done anything
different with you than my dear good mother did
with me.—Oh, let us trust in the good God, Wendla;
let us hope for pity, and bear our lot! See, there’s
still time: nothing has happened <span class="gesperrt">yet</span>, child; and
if we just don’t get cowardly now, the good God
won’t forsake us either.—Be brave, Wendla, be
<span class="gesperrt">brave</span>!—One may be sitting at the window so with
her hands in her lap, because so far everything has
turned out good,—and then something bursts in on
her and makes her heart feel like breaking on the
spot.... Wha-what are you trembling for?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Somebody knocked.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—I didn’t hear anything, dear
heart. [<i>Goes to the door and opens it.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Wendla</span>—Oh, I heard it very clearly.—Who is
outside?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Bergmann</span>—No one.—Schmidt’s mother
from Garden Street.—You come just right, Mother
Schmidtin.</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene VI.</span>—<i>Vintagers, men and women, are in the
Vineyard. In the west the sun is sinking behind
the mountain peaks. A clear sound of bells
comes up from the valley.—At the uppermost
vine-trellis, under the overhanging cliffs</i>, <span class="smcap">Hansy
Rilow</span> and <span class="smcap">Ernest Roebel</span> <i>sprawl in the drying
grass</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—I have overworked.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—Let’s not be sad.—Too bad how the minutes
fly.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—You see them hanging and can no more—and
to-morrow they’ll be pressed.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—Being tired is as unbearable to me as
being hungry.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—Oh, I can no more!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—Just this one shining muscatel!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—There’s a limit to my elasticity.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—If I bend the spray, it’ll swing back and
forth between our mouths. We’ll neither of us have
to stir—just bite off the grapes and let the stalk
spring back to the vine.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—One no sooner resolves on something
than lo! the strength that had vanished is renewed
in him again.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—And add the flaming firmament—and the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span>
evening bells,—my hopes for the future rise scarcely
higher than this.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—I often see myself as a Reverend Pastor
already, with a genial, motherly housewife, a voluminous
library, and offices and honors everywhere.
Six days you have, to ruminate, and on the seventh
you open your mouth. When you go walking,
school-children take your hand, and when you come
home the coffee is steaming, the cakes are brought
in, and thru the garden door the girls come up with
apples.—Can you imagine anything happier?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—I have visions of half-shut lashes, half-opened
lips, and Turkish draperies.—I don’t believe
in pathos. You see, our elders pull long faces
to cover their stupidities from us. Among themselves
they call each other blockheads as we do. I
know that.—When I’m a millionaire, I’ll set up a
memorial to dear God.—Think of the future as a
milk pudding with sugar and spice. One fellow upsets
it and bawls. Another stirs it all up in a mess
and toils. Why not skim it?—or don’t you believe
that that art can be learned?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—Let us skim!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—What’s left ’ll be chicken-feed.—I’ve
pulled my head out of so many nooses now already....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—Let us skim, Hansy!—Why do you
laugh?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—Are you beginning again already?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—One of us has got to begin.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—When we think back thirty years hence
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>
to an evening such as this, it may seem to us beautiful
beyond words.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—And how beautiful everything <span class="gesperrt">is</span>, now,
quite of itself!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—So why not?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—If one happened to be alone, one might
even weep.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—Don’t let us be sad. [<i>Kisses him on the
mouth.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—[<i>Returning the kiss.</i>] I left the house
with the idea of just merely speaking to you and
going back again.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—I was expecting you.—Virtue isn’t a bad
clothing, but it belongs on imposing figures.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ernest</span>—It still hangs loose around our limbs.
I should have been uneasy if I hadn’t found you.—I
love you, Hansy, as I’ve never loved a living soul....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hansy</span>—Let’s not be sad.—When we think back,
thirty years hence,—why, we may laugh at ourselves!—And
now it is all so beautiful! The mountains
are glowing, the grapes droop into our mouths,
and the evening breeze whispers along the rocks like
a little playful wheedling— ...</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span></p>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene VII.</span>—<i>The graveyard, in a clear November
night. On bush and tree rustles the withered
foliage. Jagged clouds speed by under the
moon.</i>—<span class="smcap">Melchior</span> <i>clambers over the wall above</i>
<span class="smcap">Moritz’s</span> <i>grave—set much farther up-stage
than in Scene II—and jumps down, knocking
over</i> <span class="smcap">Moritz’s</span> <i>cross</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—The pack won’t follow me into this
place.—While they’re searching brothels, I can
catch my breath and see how far I’ve gotten....</p>

<p>Coat in tatters, pockets empty,—even from the
most harmless I have something to fear.—During
the day I must try to get farther on in the wood....</p>

<p>I have kicked down a cross.—The little flowers
would have been frozen to-night!—All around the
earth is bare....</p>

<p>In the realm of the dead!</p>

<p>To climb out of the skylight was not so hard as
the road before me.—This was the only thing that
I was not prepared for....</p>

<p>I hang above the abyss—everything swallowed up
and gone!—Oh, that I had stayed back there!</p>

<p>Why she thru my fault?—Why not the guilty one!—Inscrutable
Providence!—I would have broken
stones and gone hungry...!</p>

<p>What is left now to keep me straight?—Crime
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>
will follow on crime. I am abandoned to the mire.
Not even the strength left to wind things up....</p>

<p>I was not bad!—I was not bad!—I was not
bad!...</p>

<p>Never has mortal wandered over graves so filled
with envy!—Pah! I should never screw up the courage!—Oh,
if insanity would but seize on me—this
very night!</p>

<p>I must look over there among the latest ones.—The
wind whistles past every stone with a different
note—a heart-chilling symphony! The rotten
wreaths blow apart and dangle on their long strings
piecemeal round the marble crosses—a forest of
scarecrows!—Scarecrows on all the graves, each
more horrible than the next, house-high, putting the
devils to flight.—The golden letters glitter so
coldly.... The weeping willow moans, and gropes
with gigantic fingers over the inscriptions!...</p>

<p>A praying cherub—a bare slab&#x2060;——</p>

<p>Now a cloud casts its shadow down here.—How
fast it flies, crying!—like a host pursued it rushes
up in the east.—Not a star in the sky!&#x2060;——</p>

<p>Evergreen round the plot?—Evergreen?—a
girl?...</p>

<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="i_101" style="max-width: 35em;">
  <img class="w100" src="images/i_101.jpg" alt="Wendla Bergmann's grave marker">
</figure>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span></p>

<p class='no-indent'>And I am her murderer!—I am her murderer!—Despair
is left me—only despair!—I may not cry
here. I must get away—away! [<span class="smcap">Moritz Stiefel</span>,
<i>with his head under his arm, comes stumping
over the graves</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—One moment, Melchior. It may be long
before the chance recurs. You’ve no idea how
everything depends on the time and place....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Where did <span class="gesperrt">you</span> come from?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—From over there—from the wall. You
knocked down my cross. I lie by the wall.—Give
me your hand, Melchior....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—You are <span class="gesperrt">not</span> Moritz Stiefel!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Give me your hand. I’m certain sure
you’ll thank me. It’ll never be so easy for you
again. This is a rarely fortunate meeting.—I came
up especially&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Don’t you sleep?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Not what you call sleeping.—We sit on
church steeples, on lofty gables,—wherever we
want....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Ever restless?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—For fun.—We scoot around young
birch-trees, round lonely forest shrines. Over gatherings
of people we hover, over sites of misfortune,
over gardens and festival places. In the dwelling-houses
we crouch in the chimney-corner and behind
the bed-curtains.—Give me your hand!—We have
little to do with each other but we see and hear
everything that happens in the world. We know
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span>
that everything is folly that men strive for and
achieve,—and laugh at it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—What good does that do?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—What’s it need to do?—We are out of
reach—nor good nor evil can touch us any more.
We stand high, high above the earth-folk, each for
himself alone. We have nothing to do with each
other because that bores us. None of us still has
anything at heart whose loss he could feel. We are
equally immeasurably far above both grief and rejoicing.
We are content with ourselves, and that
is all!—The living we despise beyond words: we can
hardly pity them. They amuse us with their doings,
because, being alive, they are not really to be pitied.
We smile, each to himself, over their tragedies, and
meditate.—Give me your hand! If you will give me
your hand, you will fall over with laughing at the
emotion with which you give me your hand....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Doesn’t that disgust you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—We stand too high above it for that.
We smile!—At my funeral I was among the mourners.
I got a lot of entertainment from it. That is
sublimity, Melchior! I made more noise than any
of them, and slipped off to the wall to hold my sides
for laughter. Our unapproachable sublimity is in
fact the only standpoint that lets us assimilate the
dirt.... I suppose I was laughed at too before I
soared aloft!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I have no desire to laugh at myself.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>— ... The living as such are truly not
to be pitied.—I admit I should never have thought
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>
so either. And now it’s beyond my comprehension
how one can be so naïve. Now I see thru the fraud
so clearly that not the tiniest cloud is left.—How can
you hesitate, Melchior? Give me your hand. In a
turn of the head you’ll be standing sky-high above
yourself.—Your living is a grievous omission, a sin
of negligence....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Can you dead forget?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—We can do everything. Give me your
hand! We can be sorry for the young, for the way
they take their timidity for idealism, and the old,
whose stoical superiority comes near to breaking
their hearts. We see the Kaiser shake for dread of
a street-song, and the beggar for dread of the trump
of doom. We look straight thru the actor’s make-up,
and see the poet in the dark don his. We behold
the contented man in his beggary, and in the weariness
of his burdened soul the capitalist. We observe
people in love, and see them blush before each
other in the presentiment that they are frauds defrauded.
Parents we see bringing children into the
world in order that they may call to them “How fortunate
you are to have such parents!”—and we
see the children go forth and do the like. We can
eavesdrop on the innocent in their lonely cravings,
and the five-groschen drab at her reading of
Schiller.... God and the devil we see making fools
of themselves before each other, and cherish in our
hearts the unshakable conviction that both are
drunk.... A quiet—a content—Melchior!—You
need only reach me your little finger.—You may get
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>
to be snow-white before such a favorable moment
appears to you again.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—If I shake hands on it, Moritz, it will
be from self-contempt. I see myself proscribed.
What lent me courage, lies in the grave. I can no
longer think myself worthy of noble impulses—and
perceive nothing, nothing, that might yet stand in
the way of my descent.—I am, in my own opinion,
the most detestable creature in the universe....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—What are you waiting for? [<span class="smcap">A Muffled
Gentleman</span> <i>enters, and addresses</i> <span class="smcap">Melchior</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—The fact is, you’re
shivering with hunger. You’re in no sort of condition
to decide.—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Moritz</span>.] Go.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Who are you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—That will come out.—[<i>To</i>
<span class="smcap">Moritz</span>.] Vanish!—What have you here to
do?—Why haven’t you got your head on?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—I shot myself.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—Then stay where you
belong! You’re altogether done with. Don’t bother
us here with your charnel stench. Inconceivable—why,
just look at your fingers! Pah, what the
devil! they’re crumbling down already!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Don’t send me away, please!...</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Who are you, good sir?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Don’t send me away, I beg you! Let
me take part in things here a little while yet. I will
not oppose you in anything.—It’s so chilly down
there!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—Then why do you
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>
brag about <span class="gesperrt">sublimity</span>?—You know well enough
that that’s humbug—sour grapes! Why do you
wilfully <span class="gesperrt">lie</span>, you coinage of the brain?—If you value
the favor so highly, stay for all of me; but look out
for any more hot-air boasting, my friend, and kindly
keep your rotting hand out of the game!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Are you going to tell me who you are,
or not?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—No.—I propose that
you entrust yourself to me. First, I should see to
your getting away.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—You are—my father?!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—Would you not recognize
your worthy father by his voice?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—No.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—The gentleman, your
father, is seeking comfort at this moment in the
capable arms of your mother.—I open the world to
you. Your momentary want of balance springs from
your wretched situation. With a hot supper in your
belly, you can laugh at it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—[<i>To himself.</i>] They can’t both be
the devil!—[<i>Aloud.</i>] After what I have been guilty
of, no hot supper can give my peace of mind back
to me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—That depends on
the supper!—So much I can tell you: that the little
girl would have borne her child first rate! She was
perfectly built. She simply succumbed to Mother
Schmidtin’s abortives.—I will take you among men.
I will give you an opportunity to expand your horizon
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>
beyond your wildest dreams. I will make you
acquainted with everything interesting, without exception,
that the world has to offer.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Who are you? Who are you?—I
can’t consign myself to a person I don’t know!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—You’ll never learn
to know me unless you entrust yourself to me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Do you think so?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—Fact!—And anyway
you have no choice.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—I can at any moment give my friend
here my hand.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—Your friend is a
charlatan. Nobody smiles, who has one penny left
in his pocket. The sublimated humorist is the
wretchedest, most pitiable creature in creation!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Let the humorist be what he will.
Tell me who <span class="gesperrt">you</span> are, or I’ll give the humorist my
hand!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—Well?!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—He is right, Melchior. I have been putting
on airs. Let him treat you, and make full use
of him. No matter how muffled he may be, he is, at
least, that!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Do you believe in God?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—That depends.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Do you want to tell me who discovered
gunpowder?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—Berthold Schwarz—alias
Constantine Anklitzen—round 1330, a Franciscan
monk at Freiburg-im-Breisgau.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—What would I give to have had him let
it alone!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—You would merely
have hanged yourself!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—What do you think about morality?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—Look here!—am I
your schoolboy?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Ask me what you are!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Don’t quarrel!—Please don’t quarrel!
What good will come of that?—What are we sitting,
one dead and two live men, here together in the
churchyard at two in the morning for, if we want
to fall out like tipplers!—It was for my pleasure
that I was allowed to remain and witness the proceedings.
If you want to quarrel, I’ll take my head
under my arm and go.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—You’re still the same old runaway!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—The ghost isn’t so
wrong. One shouldn’t ignore one’s dignity.—By
morality I understand the real product of two
imaginary quantities. The imaginary quantities are
should and would.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_7_7" href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> The product is called morality,
and its reality is unquestionable.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Oh, if you had only told me that sooner!
My morality harried me to death. For my dear
parents’ sake I clutched at deadly weapons. “Honor
thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be
long upon the land.” In my case the text has phenomenally
stultified itself!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—Indulge in no illusions,
my dear friend. Your precious parents would
no more have died of it than you. Strictly speaking,
they would in fact have stormed and blustered merely
from the necessities of health.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—You may be right so far:—but I can
tell you positively, good sir, that if I had given
Moritz my hand just now without more ado, the
blame would have rested simply and solely on my
morality.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—But that’s just the
reason you’re <span class="gesperrt">not</span> Moritz!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—All the same I don’t believe the difference
is so material—at least, not so conclusive, that
you might not perchance have met me too, esteemed
Unknown, as I trotted that time through the alder-thickets
with the pistol in my pocket.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—And don’t you remember
me? Why, even at the final moment, you
still were standing between <span class="gesperrt">Death</span> and <span class="gesperrt">Life</span>.—But
here, in my opinion, is not exactly the place
to prolong so deeply probing a debate.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—It is indeed growing cold, gentlemen!—Though
they did dress me in my Sunday suit,
I have on under it neither shirt nor drawers.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Good-bye, dear Moritz. Where this
person is taking me, I don’t know; but he is somebody&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Don’t lay it up against me, Melchior,
that I tried to make away with you! It was old
attachment.—I’d be willing to have to wail and weep
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span>
all my life if I could now accompany you out of
here once more!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—In the end, each has
his share—<span class="gesperrt">you</span> the consoling consciousness of having
nothing—<span class="gesperrt">thou</span> the enervating doubt of everything.—[<i>To</i>
<span class="smcap">Moritz</span>.] Farewell.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—Farewell, Moritz! Accept my cordial
thanks for appearing to me once more. How
many glad, untroubled days have we not spent with
one another in these fourteen years! I promise you,
Moritz, let chance what will,—tho in the years
to come I turn ten times a different man,—be my
path upwards or downwards,—you I shall never
forget&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Thanks, thanks, dear friend.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Melchior</span>—And when some day I am an old man,
grizzle-haired, then perhaps it will be <span class="gesperrt">you</span> that
once again stand closer to me than all those living
with me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—I thank you.—Luck to your journey,
gentlemen.—Lose no more time!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">The Muffled Gentleman</span>—Come, child! [<i>He
links arms with</i> <span class="smcap">Melchior</span>, <i>and makes off with him
over the graves</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Moritz</span>—Here I sit now with my head in my
arm.—The moon hides her face, unveils again, and
looks not a hair the wiser.—So now I’ll turn back to
my little plot, straighten the cross up that the madcap
kicked so recklessly down on me, and when all
is in order I’ll lay myself out on my back again,
warm myself with decay, and smile....</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>

<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_1_1" href="#FNanchor_1_1" class="label">[1]</a> <i>Asperula odorata.</i></p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_2_2" href="#FNanchor_2_2" class="label">[2]</a> In the original, P.... and V...., with four dots, not five,
after the V.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_3_3" href="#FNanchor_3_3" class="label">[3]</a> Literally, a cut-up noodle.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_4_4" href="#FNanchor_4_4" class="label">[4]</a> Sonnenstich means sunstroke: one pictures a round, red
face enringed with bristling gray hair, and an explosive manner.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_5_5" href="#FNanchor_5_5" class="label">[5]</a> This sentence, in the lack of any authentic stage-direction,
remains dark. “The Langenscheidt” is evidently a book, but
why is it here suddenly referred to, or what is done with it?</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_6_6" href="#FNanchor_6_6" class="label">[6]</a> Note Wedekind’s subtlety: Mr. Gabor doesn’t remember
Wendla’s precise age, and makes her as old as he can, to
minimize Melchior’s transgression,—well before the days of
Freud.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_7_7" href="#FNanchor_7_7" class="label">[7]</a> In German, <i>sollen</i> and <i>wollen</i>, verbs representing <span class="gesperrt">duty</span>
and <span class="gesperrt">desire</span>.</p></div></div>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span></p>

  <h2 class="nobreak" id="EARTH-SPIRIT">
    EARTH-SPIRIT
  </h2>
</div>

<p class='center bold'>(<span class="smcap">Erdgeist</span>)</p>

<p class='center bold mt1'>A Tragedy in Four Acts</p>

<div class='poetry-container'>
<div class='poetry'>
<div class='stanza'>
<div class='verse indentq'>“I was created out of ranker stuff</div>
<div class='verse'>By Nature, and to the earth by Lust am drawn.</div>
<div class='verse'>Unto the spirit of evil, not of good,</div>
<div class='verse'>The earth belongs. What deities send to us</div>
<div class='verse'>From heaven are only universal goods;</div>
<div class='verse'>Their light gives gladness, but makes no man rich;</div>
<div class='verse'>In their domain no pelf is seized and held.</div>
<div class='verse'>The stone of price, all-treasured gold, from false</div>
<div class='verse'>And evil-natured powers must be won,</div>
<div class='verse'>Who riot underneath the light of day.</div>
<div class='verse'>Not without sacrifice their favor is gained,</div>
<div class='verse'>And no man liveth who from serving them</div>
<div class='verse'>Hath extricated undefiled his soul.”</div>
</div>
<p class="right">[Spoken by Wallenstein in Schiller’s</p>
<p class='right pr2'><i>Wallenstein’s Death</i>, Act II.]</p>
</div></div>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span></p>

  <h3 class="nobreak">
    CHARACTERS
  </h3>
</div>

<p class='no-indent'>
  <span class="smcap">Dr. Schön</span>, <i>newspaper owner and editor</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Alva</span>, <i>his son, a writer</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>, M.D.<br>
  <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>, <i>an artist</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Prince Escerny</span>, <i>an African explorer</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Escherich</span>, <i>a reporter</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>, <i>a beggar</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>, <i>an acrobat</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>, <i>a schoolboy</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Ferdinand</span>, <i>a coachman</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Lulu</span><br>
  <span class="smcap">Countess Geschwitz</span><br>
  <span class="smcap">Henriette</span>, <i>a servant</i>
</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span></p>

  <h3 class="nobreak" id="PROLOGUE">
    PROLOGUE
  </h3>
</div>

<p>[<i>At rise is seen the entrance to a tent, out of
which steps an animal-tamer, with long, black curls,
dressed in a white cravat, a vermilion dress-coat,
white trousers and white top-boots. He carries in his
left hand a dog-whip and in his right a loaded revolver,
and enters to the sound of cymbals and kettledrums.</i>]</p>

<p class='no-indent mt1'>
  Walk in! Walk in to the menagerie,<br>
  Proud gentlemen and ladies lively and merry.<br>
  With avid lust or cold disgust, the very<br>
  Beast without Soul bound and made secondary<br>
  To human genius, to stay and see!<br>
  Walk in, the show’ll begin!—As customary,<br>
  One child to each two persons comes in free.<br>
  <br>
  Here battle man and brute in narrow cages,<br>
  Where one in mockery his long whip lashes,<br>
  The other, growling as when thunder rages,<br>
  Against the man’s throat murderously dashes,—<br>
  Where now the crafty, now the strong prevails,<br>
  Now man, now beast, against the flooring quails.<br>
  The animal rears,—the human on all fours!<br>
  One ice-cold look of dominance—The<br>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>
  beast submissive bows before that glance,<br>
  And the proud heel upon his neck adores.<br>
  <br>
  Bad are the times! Ladies and gentlemen<br>
  Who once before my cage in thronging crescents<br>
  Crowded, now honor operas, and then<br>
  Ibsen, with their so highly valued presence.<br>
  My boarders here are so in want of fodder<br>
  That they reciprocally devour each other.<br>
  How well off at the theater is a player,<br>
  Sure of the meat upon his ribs, no matter<br>
  How terrible the hunger round his platter,<br>
  And colleagues’ inner cupboards yawning bare!—<br>
  But if to heights of art we would aspire,<br>
  We may not reckon merit by its hire.<br>
  <br>
  What see you, whether in light or sombre plays?<br>
  <span class="gesperrt">House-animals</span>, whose morals all must praise,<br>
  Who vent pale spites in vegetarian ways,<br>
  And revel in a singsong to-and-fro<br>
  Just like those others—in the seats below.<br>
  This hero has a head by one dram swirled;<br>
  That, is in doubt whether his love be right;<br>
  A third you hear despairing of the world,—<br>
  Full five acts long you hear him wail his plight,<br>
  And no man ends him with a merciful sleight!<br>
  But the <span class="gesperrt">real</span> beast, the <span class="gesperrt">beautiful</span>, <span class="gesperrt">wild</span> beast,<br>
  Your eyes on <span class="gesperrt">that</span>, <i>I</i>, ladies, only, feast!<br>
  <br>
  You see the Tiger, that habitually<br>
  Devours whatever falls before his bound;<br>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>  The Bear, who, gluttonous from the first sally,<br>
  Sinks at his late night-meal dead to the ground;<br>
  You see the Monkey, little and amusing,<br>
  From sheer ennui his petty powers abusing,—<br>
  He has some talent, of all greatness scant,<br>
  So, impudently, coquettes with his own want!<br>
  Upon my soul, within my tent and trammel—<br>
  See, right behind the curtain, here—’s a Camel!<br>
  And all my creatures fawn about my feet<br>
  When my revolver cracks—
</p>

<p class='sdir'>[<i>He shoots into the audience.</i>]</p>

<p class='no-indent'>
  <span style="margin-left: 16.0em;">Behold!</span><br>
  Brutes tremble all around me. I am cold:<br>
  The <span class="gesperrt">man</span> stays cold,—you, with respect, to greet.<br>
  <br>
  Walk in!—You hardly trust yourselves in here?—<br>
  Then very well, judge for yourselves! Each sphere<br>
  Has sent its crawling creatures to your telling:<br>
  Chameleons and serpents, crocodiles,<br>
  Dragons, and salamanders chasm-dwelling,—<br>
  I know, of course, you’re full of quiet smiles<br>
  And don’t believe a syllable I say.—
</p>

<p class='sdir mt1'>[<i>He lifts the entrance-flap and calls into the
tent.</i>]</p>

<p class='mt1 no-indent'>
  Hi, Charlie!—bring our <span class="gesperrt">Serpent</span> just this way!
</p>

<p class='sdir mt1'>[<i>A stage-hand with a big paunch carries out
the actress of</i> <span class="gesperrt"><span class="smcap">Lulu</span></span> <i>in her Pierrot costume,
and sets her down before the animal-tamer</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span></p>

<p class='no-indent mt1'>
  She was created to incite to sin,<br>
  To lure, seduce, corrupt, drop poison in,—<br>
  To murder, without being once suspected.</p>
<p class='sdir'>[<i>Tickling</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu’s</span> <i>chin</i>.]</p>
<p class='no-indent'>
  My pretty beast, only be <span class="gesperrt">unaffected</span>,<br>
  Not vain, not artificial, not perverse,<br>
  Even if the critics therefore turn adverse.<br>
  Thou hast no right to spoil the shape most fitting,<br>
  Most <span class="gesperrt">true</span>, of <span class="gesperrt">woman</span>, with meows and spitting!<br>
  Nor with buffoonery and wry device<br>
  To foul the <span class="gesperrt">childish simpleness</span> of <span class="gesperrt">Vice</span><br>
  Thou shouldst—to-day I speak emphatically—<br>
  Speak <span class="gesperrt">naturally</span> and not unnaturally,<br>
  For the first principle, of earliest force<br>
  In every art, has been Be matter-of-course!</p>

<p class='sdir mt1'>[<i>To the public.</i>]</p>
<p class='no-indent'>
  There’s nothing special now to see in her,<br>
  But wait and watch what later will occur!<br>
  She coils about the Tiger stricter—stricter—<br>
  He roars and groans!—Who’ll be the final victor?—<br>
  Hop, Charlie, march! Carry her to her cage,
</p>

<p class='sdir mt1'>[<i>The stage-hand picks up</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>slantwise in
his arms; the animal-tamer pats her on the
hips</i>.]</p>

<p class='no-indent mt1'>
  Sweet innocence—my dearest appanage!
</p>

<p class='sdir mt1'>[<i>The stage-hand carries</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>back into the
tent</i>.]</p>

<p class='no-indent mt1'>
  And now the best thing yet remains to say:<br>
  My poll between the teeth of a beast of prey!<br>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>
  Walk in! The show’s not new, yet every heart<br>
  Takes pleasure in it still! I’ll wrench apart<br>
  This wild beast’s jaws—I dare—and he’ll not dare<br>
  To close and bite! Let him be ne’er so fair,<br>
  So wild and brightly flecked, he feels respect<br>
  For my poor poll! I offer it him direct:<br>
  One <span class="gesperrt">joke</span>, and my two temples crack!—but, lo,<br>
  The lightning of my eyes I will forego,<br>
  Staking my <span class="gesperrt">life</span> against a <span class="gesperrt">joke</span>! and throw<br>
  My whip, my weapons, down. I am in my skin!<br>
  I yield me to this beast!—His name do ye know?<br>
  —The honored public! that has just walked in!
</p>

<p class='sdir mt1'>[<i>The animal-tamer steps back into the tent,
accompanied by cymbals and kettledrums.</i>]</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span></p>

  <h3 class="nobreak" id="ES_ACT_I">
    ACT I
  </h3>
</div>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>A roomy studio. Entrance door at the rear,
left. Another door at lower left to the bedroom.
At centre, a platform for the model, with a
Spanish screen behind it, shielding it from the
rear door, and a Smyrna rug in front. Two
easels at lower right. On the upper one is the
picture of a young girl’s head and shoulders.
Against the other leans a reversed canvas. Below
these, toward centre, an ottoman, with a
tiger-skin on it. Two chairs along the left wall.
In the background, right, a step-ladder.</i></p>

<p class='scene2'><span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>sits on the foot of the ottoman, inspecting
critically the picture on the further
easel</i>. <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span> <i>stands behind the ottoman, his
palette and brushes in his hands</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Do you know, I’m getting acquainted
with a brand-new side of the lady.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I have never painted anyone whose expression
changed so continuously. I could hardly
keep a single feature the same two days running.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Pointing to the picture and observing
him.</i>] Do you find that in it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I have done everything I could think of
to induce at least some repose in her mood by my
conversation during the sittings.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Then I understand the difference.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>[<span class="smcap">Schwarz</span> <i>dips his brush in the oil and draws it over
the features of the face</i>.] Do you think that makes
it look more like her?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—We can do no more than take our art
as scientifically as possible.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Tell me&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Stepping back.</i>] The color had sunk
in pretty well, too.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Looking at him.</i>] Have you ever in
your life loved a woman?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Goes to the easel, puts a color on it,
and steps back on the other side.</i>] The dress hasn’t
been given relief enough yet. We don’t rightly perceive
yet that a living body is under it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I make no doubt that the workmanship is
good.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—If you’ll step this way....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Rising.</i>] You must have told her regular
ghost-stories.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—As far back as you can.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Stepping back, knocks down the canvas
that was leaning against the lower easel.</i>] Excuse
me&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Picking it up.</i>] That’s all right.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Surprised.</i>] What is that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Do you know her?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—No. [<span class="smcap">Schwarz</span> <i>sets the picture on the
easel. It is of a lady dressed as Pierrot with a long
shepherd’s crook in her hand.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—A costume-picture.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—But, really, you’ve succeeded with <span class="gesperrt">her</span>.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—You know her?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—No. And in that costume&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—It isn’t nearly finished yet. [<span class="smcap">Schön</span>
<i>nods</i>.] What would you have? While she is posing
for me I have the pleasure of entertaining her husband.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—What?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—We talk about art, of course,—to complete
my good fortune!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—But how did you come to make such a
charming acquaintance?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—As they’re generally made. An ancient,
tottering little man drops in on me here to
know if I can paint his wife. Why, of course, were
she as wrinkled as Mother Earth! Next day at ten
prompt the doors fly open, and the fat-belly drives
this little beauty in before him. I can feel even now
how my knees shook. Then comes a sap-green lackey,
stiff as a ramrod, with a package under his arm.
Where is the dressing-room? Imagine my plight. I
open the door there. [<i>Pointing left.</i>] Just luck
that everything was in order. The sweet thing vanishes
into it, and the old fellow posts himself outside
as a bastion. Two minutes later out she steps in
this Pierrot. [<i>Shaking his head.</i>] I never saw anything
like it. [<i>He goes left and stares in at the bedroom.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Who has followed him with his eyes.</i>]
And the fat-belly stands guard?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Turning round.</i>] The whole body in
harmony with that impossible costume as if it had
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span>
come into the world in it! Her way of burying her
elbows in her pockets, of lifting her little feet from
the rug,—the blood often shoots to my head....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—One can see that in the picture.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Shaking his head.</i>] People like us,
you know&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Here the model is mistress of the conversation.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—She has never yet opened her mouth.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Is it possible?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Allow me to show you the costume.
[<i>Goes out left.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Before the Pierrot.</i>] A devilish beauty.
[<i>Before the other picture.</i>] There’s more depth here.
[<i>Coming down-stage.</i>] He is still rather young for
his age. [<span class="smcap">Schwarz</span> <i>comes back with a white satin
costume</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—What sort of material is that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Feeling it.</i>] Satin.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—And all in one piece.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—How does one get into it then?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—That I can’t tell you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Taking the costume by the legs.</i>] What
enormous trouser-legs!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—The left one she pulls up.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Looking at the picture.</i>] Above the
knee!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—She does that entrancingly!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—And transparent stockings?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Those have got to be painted, specially.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Oh, you can do that.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—And with it all a coquetry!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—What brought you to that horrible suspicion?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—There are things never dreamt of in
our school-philosophy. [<i>He takes the costume back
into his bedroom.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Alone.</i>] When one is asleep....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Comes back; looks at his watch.</i>] If
you’d like to make her acquaintance, moreover,&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—No.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—They must be here in a moment.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—How much longer will the lady have to
sit?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I shall probably have to bear the pains
of Tantalus three months longer.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I mean the other one.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I beg your pardon. Three times more
at most. [<i>Going to the door with him.</i>] If the lady
will just leave me the upper part of the dress
then....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—With pleasure. Let us see you at my
house again soon. [<i>He collides in the doorway with</i>
<span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] For Heaven’s sake!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—May I introduce....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span>.] What are you doing
here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Kissing</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu’s</span> <i>hand</i>.] Mrs. Goll....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’re not going already?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—But what wind blows you here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I’ve been looking at the picture of my
intended&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Coming forward.</i>] Your—intended—is
here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—So you’re having work done here, too?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Before the upper picture.</i>] Look at it!
Enchanting! Entrancing!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>Looking round him.</i>] Have you got
her hidden somewhere round here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—So that is the sweet young prodigy who’s
made a new person out of you....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—She sits in the afternoon mostly.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—And you don’t tell anyone about it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Turning round.</i>] Is she really so solemn?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Probably the after-effects of the seminary
still, dear lady.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>Before the picture.</i>] One can see
that you have been transformed profoundly.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—But now you mustn’t let her wait any
longer.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—In a fortnight I think our engagement
will come out.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] Let’s lose no time.
Hop!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span>.] Just think, we came at a
trot over the new bridge. I was driving, myself.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>prepares to leave</i>.] No,
no. We two have more to talk about. Get along,
Nellie. Hop!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Now it’s going to be about me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Our Apelles is already wiping his
brushes.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I had imagined this would be much more
amusing.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—But you have always the satisfaction of
preparing for us the greatest and rarest pleasure.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Going left.</i>] Oh, just wait!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Before the bedroom door.</i>] If madame
will be so kind.... [<i>Shuts the door after her
and stands in front of it.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—I christened her Nellie, you know, in
our marriage-contract.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Did you?—Yes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—What do you think of it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Why not call her rather Mignon?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—That would have been good, too.
I didn’t think of that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Do you consider the name so important?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Hm.... You know, I have no children.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—But you’ve only been married a couple
of months.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Thanks, I don’t want any.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Having taken out his cigarette-case.</i>]
Have a cigarette?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>Helps himself.</i>] I’ve plenty to do
with this one. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>.] Say, what’s your
little danseuse doing now?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Turning round on</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>.] You and
a danseuse?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—The lady was sitting for me at that
time only as a favor. I made her acquaintance on
a flying trip of the Cecilia Society.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span>.] Hm.... I think
we’re getting a change of weather.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—The toilet isn’t going so quickly, is it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—It’s going like lightning! Woman has
got to be a virtuoso in her job. So must we all, each
in his job, if life isn’t to turn to beggary. [<i>Calls.</i>]
Hop, Nellie!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Inside.</i>] Just a second!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span>.] I can’t get onto these
blockheads. [<i>Referring to</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I can’t help envying them. These blockheads
know of nothing holier than an altar-cloth, and
feel richer than you and me with 30,000-mark incomes.
Besides, you’re no person to judge a man
who has lived since childhood from palette to mouth.
Take it upon yourself to finance him: it’s an arithmetic
example! I haven’t the moral courage, and
one can easily burn one’s fingers, too.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">Pierrot</span>, <i>steps out of the bedroom</i>.]
Here I am!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Turns; after a pause.</i>] Superb!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Nearer.</i>] Well?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You shame the boldest fancy.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—How do you like me?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—A picture before which art must despair.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Ah, you think so, too?</p>

<p>Schön—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] Have you any notion what
you’re doing?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’m perfectly aware of myself!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Then you might be a little more discreet.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—But I’m only doing what’s my duty.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You are powdered?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—What do you take me for!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—I’ve never seen such a white skin as
she’s got. I’ve told our Raphael here, too, to do
just as little with the flesh tints as possible. I can’t
get up any enthusiasm for this modern daubing.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>By the easels, preparing his paints.</i>]
At any rate, it’s thanks to impressionism that present-day
art can stand up beside the old masters
without blushing.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Oh, it may be quite the thing for a
brute being led to slaughter.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—For Heaven’s sake don’t get excited!
[<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>falls on</i> <span class="smcap">Goll’s</span> <i>neck and kisses him</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—They can see your undershirt. You
must pull it lower.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I would soonest have left it off. It only
bothers me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—He should be able to paint it out.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Taking the shepherd’s crook that leans
against the Spanish screen, and mounting the platform,
to</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span>.] What would you say now, if you
had to stand at attention for two hours?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I’d sell my soul to the devil for the chance
to exchange with you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>Sitting, left.</i>] Come over here.
Here is my post of observation.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Plucking her left trouser-leg up to the
knee, to</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>.] So?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Yes....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Plucking it a thought higher.</i>] So?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Yes, yes....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span>, <i>who has seated himself
on the chair next him, with a gesture</i>.] I find that
she shows up even better from here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Without stirring.</i>] I beg pardon! I
show up equally well from every side.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] The right knee further
forward, please.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>With a gesture.</i>] The body does show
finer lines perhaps.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—The lighting is at least half-way bearable
to-day.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Oh, you must throw on lots of it!
Hold your brush a bit longer.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Certainly, Dr. Goll.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Treat her as a piece of still-life.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Certainly, Doctor. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.]
You used to hold your head a wee mite higher, Mrs.
Goll.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Raising her head.</i>] Paint my lips a little
open.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Paint snow on ice. If you get warm
doing that, then instantly your art gets inartistic!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Certainly, Doctor.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Art, you know, must so reproduce nature
that one can get at least some <span class="gesperrt">spiritual</span>
enjoyment from it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Opening her mouth a little, to</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>.]
So—look. I’ll hold it half opened, so.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Every time the sun comes out, the wall
opposite throws warm reflections in here.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] You must keep your
pose and behave as if our Velasquez here were nonexistent.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Well, a painter <span class="gesperrt">isn’t</span> a man, anyway.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I don’t think you ought to judge the
whole craft from nothing more than one notable exception.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Stepping back from the easel.</i>] However,
I rather wish I had had to hire a different studio
last fall.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Goll</span>.] What I wanted to ask you—have
you seen the little Murphy girl yet as a
Peruvian pearl-fisher?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—I see her to-morrow for the fourth
time. Prince Polossov took me. His hair has already
got dark yellow again with delight.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—So you find her quite fabulous, too.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Who ever wants to judge of that beforehand?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I think someone knocked.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Pardon me a moment. [<i>Goes and
opens the door.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] You can safely smile at
him less bashfully!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—To him it means nothing at all.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—And if it did!—What are we two sitting
here for?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva Schön</span>—[<i>Entering, still behind the Spanish
screen.</i>] May one come in?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—My son!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Oh! It’s Mr. Alva!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Don’t mind. Just come along in.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Stepping forward, shakes hands with</i>
<span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Goll</span>.] Glad to see you. [<i>Turning
toward</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] Do I see aright? Oh, if only I
could engage you for my title part!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I don’t think I could dance nearly well
enough for your show!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Ah, but you have a dancing-master whose
like cannot be found on any stage in Europe.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—But what brings you here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Maybe you’re having somebody or
other painted here, too, in secret!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span>.] I wanted to take you to
the dress rehearsal.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>rises</i>.] Oho, do you have
’em dance to-day in full costume already?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Of course. Come along, too. In five minutes
I must be on the stage. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] Poor me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—I’ve forgotten—what’s the name of
your ballet?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Dalailama.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—I thought <span class="gesperrt">he</span> was in a madhouse.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You’re thinking of Nietzsche, Doctor.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—You’re right; I got ’em mixed up.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I have helped Buddhism to its legs.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—By his legs is the stage-poet known.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Corticelli dances the youthful Buddha as
tho she had seen the light of the world by the Ganges.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—So long as her mother lived, she danced
with her legs.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Then when she got free she danced with
her intelligence.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Now she dances with her heart.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—If you’d like to see her&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Thank you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Come along with us!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Impossible.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Anyway, we have no time to lose.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Come with us, Doctor. In the third act
you see Dalailama in his cloister, with his monks&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—The only thing I care about is the
young Buddha.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Well, what’s hindering you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—I can’t. I can’t do it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—We’re going to Peter’s, after it. There
you can express your admiration.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Don’t press me any further, please.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You’ll see the tame monkey, the two Brahmans,
the little girls....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—For heaven’s sake, keep away from
me with your little girls!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Reserve us a proscenium box for Monday,
Mr. Alva.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—How could you doubt that I would, dear
lady!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—When I come back this Hellebreugel
will have messed up the whole picture on me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Well, it could be painted over.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—If I don’t explain to this Caravacci
every stroke of his brush&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Your fears are unfounded, I think....</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Next time, gentlemen!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—The Brahmans are getting impatient. The
daughters of Nirvana are shivering in their tights.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Damned splotchiness!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—We’ll get jumped on if we don’t bring
you with us.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—In five minutes I’ll be back. [<i>Stands
down right, behind</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span> <i>and compares the picture
with</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>, <i>regretfully</i>.] Duty calls me,
gracious lady!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>.] You must model it
a bit more here. The hair is bad. You aren’t paying
enough attention to your business!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Come on.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—Now, just hop it! Ten horses will
not drag me to Peter’s.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Following</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Goll</span>.] We’ll
take my carriage. It’s waiting downstairs. [<i>Exeunt.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Leans over to the right, and spits.</i>]
Pack!—If only life could end!—The bread-basket!—paunch
and mug!—my artist’s pride has got its
back up. [<i>After a look at</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] This company!—[<i>Gets
up, goes up left, observes</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>from all
sides, and sits again at his easel</i>.] The choice would
be a hard one to make. If I may request Mrs. Goll
to raise the right hand a little higher.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Grasps the crook as high as she can
reach; to herself.</i>] Who would have thought that
was possible!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I am quite ridiculous, you think?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He’s coming right back.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I can do no more than paint.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—There he is!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Rising.</i>] Well?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Don’t you hear?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Someone is coming....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I knew it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—It’s the janitor. He’s sweeping the
stairs.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Thank Heaven!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Do you perhaps accompany the doctor
to his patients?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Everything <span class="gesperrt">but</span> that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Because, you are not accustomed to
being alone.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—We have a housekeeper at home.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—She keeps you company?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—She has a lot of taste.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—What for?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—She dresses me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Do you go much to balls?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Never.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Then what do you need the dresses
for?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—For dancing.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—You really dance?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Czardas ... Samaqueca ... Skirt-dance.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Doesn’t—that—disgust you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You find me ugly?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—You don’t understand me. But who
gives you lessons then?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Who?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—He?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He plays the violin&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Every day one learns something new.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I learned in Paris. I took lessons from
Eugénie Fougère. She let me copy her costumes,
too.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—What are <span class="gesperrt">they</span> like?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—A little green lace skirt to the knee, all in
ruffles, low-necked, of course, very low-necked and
awfully tight-laced. Bright green petticoat, then
brighter and brighter. Snow-white underclothes
with a hand’s-breadth of lace....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I can no longer&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Then paint!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Scraping the canvas.</i>] Aren’t you
cold at all?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—God forbid! No. What made you ask?
Are you so cold?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Not to-day. No.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Praise God, one can breathe!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—How so?... [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>takes a deep
breath</i>.] Don’t do that, please! [<i>Springs up,
throws away his palette and brushes, walks up and
down.</i>] The bootblack has only her feet to attend
to, at least! And his color doesn’t eat into his
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>
money, either. If I go without supper to-morrow,
no little society lady will be asking me if I know
anything about oyster-patties!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Is he going out of his head?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Takes up his work again.</i>] What
ever drove the fellow to this test?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’d like it better, too, if he had stayed
here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—We are truly the martyrs of our calling!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I didn’t wish to cause you pain.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Hesitating, to</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] If you—the
left trouser-leg—a little higher&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Steps to the platform.</i>] Permit
me....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—What do you want?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I’ll show you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You mustn’t.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—You are nervous.... [<i>Tries to seize
her hand.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Throws the crook in his face.</i>] Let me
alone! [<i>Hurries to the entrance door.</i>] You’re a
long way yet from getting me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—You can’t understand a joke.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Oh, yes, I can. I understand everything.
Just you leave me be. You’ll get nothing at all from
me by force. Go to your work. You have no right
to molest me. [<i>Flees behind the ottoman.</i>] Sit
down behind your easel!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Trying to get around the ottoman.</i>]
As soon as I’ve punished you—you wayward, capricious&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—But you must have me, first! Go away.
You can’t catch me. In long clothes I’d have fallen
into your clutches long ago—but in the Pierrot!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Throwing himself across the ottoman.</i>]
I’ve got you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Hurls the tiger-skin over his head.</i>]
Good night! [<i>Jumps over the platform and climbs
up the step-ladder.</i>] I can see away over all the
cities of the earth.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Unrolling himself from the rug.</i>]
This old skin!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I reach up into heaven, and stick the stars
in my hair.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Clambering after her.</i>] I’ll shake it
till you fall off!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—If you don’t stop, I’ll throw the ladder
down. [<i>Climbing higher.</i>] Will you let go of my
legs? God save the Poles! [<i>Makes the ladder fall
over, jumps onto the platform, and as</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>
<i>picks himself up from the floor, throws the Spanish
screen down on his head. Hastening down-stage, by
the easels.</i>] I told you that you weren’t going to
get me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Coming forward.</i>] Let us make
peace. [<i>Tries to embrace her.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Keep away from me, or—— [<i>She throws
the easel with the finished picture at him, so that both
fall crashing to the floor.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Screams.</i>] Merciful Heaven!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Up-stage, right.</i>] You knocked the hole
in it yourself!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I am ruined! Ten weeks’ work, my
journey, my exhibition! Now there is nothing more
to lose! [<i>Plunges after her.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Springs over the ottoman, over the fallen
step-ladder, and over the platform, down-stage.</i>] A
grave! Don’t fall into it! [<i>She stamps thru the
picture on the floor.</i>] She made a new man out of
him! [<i>Falls forward.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Stumbling over the Spanish screen.</i>]
I am merciless now!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Up-stage.</i>] Leave me in peace now.
I’m getting dizzy. O Gott! O Gott!... [<i>Comes
forward and sinks down on the ottoman.</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>
<i>locks the door; then seats himself next to her, grasps
her hand, and covers it with kisses—then pauses,
struggling with himself.</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>opens her eyes wide</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He may come back.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—How d’you feel?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—As if I had fallen into the water....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I love you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—One time, I loved a student.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Nellie&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—With four-and-twenty scars&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I love you, Nellie.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—My name isn’t Nellie. [<span class="smcap">Schwarz</span> <i>kisses
her</i>.] It’s Lulu.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I would call you Eve.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Do you know what time it is?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Looking at his watch.</i>] Half past
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>
ten. [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>takes the watch and opens the case</i>.]
You don’t love me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Yes, I do.... It’s five minutes after half
past ten.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Give me a kiss, Eve!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Takes him by the chin and kisses him.
Throws the watch in the air and catches it.</i>] You
smell of tobacco.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Call me Walter.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—It would be uncomfortable to&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—You’re just making believe!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’re making believe yourself, it seems
to me. <i>I</i> make believe? What makes you think
that? I’ve <span class="gesperrt">never needed to do that</span>.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Rises, disconcerted, passing his hand
over his forehead.</i>] God in Heaven! The world is
strange to me&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Screams.</i>] Only don’t kill me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Instantly whirling round.</i>] <span class="gesperrt">Thou
hast never yet loved!</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Half raising herself.</i>] <span class="gesperrt">You have
never yet loved</span>...!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>Outside.</i>] Open the door!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Already sprung to her feet.</i>] Hide me!
O God, hide me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>Pounding on the door.</i>] Open the
door!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Holding back</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span> <i>as he goes toward
the door</i>.] He will strike me dead!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—[<i>Hammering.</i>] Open the door!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Sunk down before</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>, <i>gripping his
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>
knees.</i>] He’ll beat me to death! He’ll beat me to
death!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Stand up.... [<i>The door falls crashing
into the studio.</i> <span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span> <i>with bloodshot eyes
rushes upon</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>, <i>brandishing his
stick</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Goll</span>—You dogs! You.... [<i>Pants,
struggles for breath a few seconds, and falls headlong
to the ground.</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz’s</span> <i>knees tremble</i>. <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>
<i>has fled to the door. Pause.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Mister—Doctor—Doc—Doctor
Goll&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>In the door.</i>] Please, tho, first put the
studio in order.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Dr. Goll! [<i>Leans over.</i>] Doc—[<i>Steps
back.</i>] He’s cut his forehead. Help me to
lay him on the ottoman.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Shudders backward in terror.</i>] No.
No....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Trying to turn him over.</i>] Dr. Goll.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He doesn’t hear.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—But you, help me, please.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—The two of us together couldn’t lift him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Straightening up.</i>] We must send
for a doctor.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He is fearfully heavy.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Getting his hat.</i>] Please, tho, be so
good as to put the place a little to rights while
I’m away. [<i>He goes out.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He’ll spring up all at once. [<i>Intensely.</i>]
Bussi!—He just won’t notice anything. [<i>Comes
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span>
down-stage in a wide circle.</i>] He sees my feet, and
watches every step I take. He has his eye on me
everywhere. [<i>Touches him with her toe.</i>] Bussi!
[<i>Flinching, backward.</i>] It’s serious with him. The
dance is over. He’ll send me to prison. What shall
I do? [<i>Leans down to the floor.</i>] A strange, wild
face! [<i>Getting up.</i>] And no one to do him the
last services—isn’t that sad! [<span class="smcap">Schwarz</span> <i>returns</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Still not come to himself?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Down right.</i>] What shall I do?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Bending over</i> <span class="smcap">Goll</span>.] Doctor Goll.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I almost think it’s serious.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Talk decently!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He wouldn’t say that to me. He makes
me dance for him when he doesn’t feel well.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—The doctor will be here in a moment.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Doctoring won’t help <span class="gesperrt">him</span>.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—But people do what they can, in such
cases!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He doesn’t believe in it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Don’t you want to—at any rate—put
something on?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Yes,—right off.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—What are you waiting for?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Please....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—What is it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Shut <span class="gesperrt">his</span> eyes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—You make me shiver.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Not nearly so much as you make <span class="gesperrt">me</span>!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’re a born criminal.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Aren’t you the least bit touched by
this moment?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—It hits me, too, some.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Please, just you keep still now!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—It hits you some, too.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—You really didn’t need to add that, at
such a moment!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—<span class="gesperrt">Please</span>...!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Do what you think necessary. I don’t
know how.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Left of</i> <span class="smcap">Goll</span>.] He’s looking at me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Right of</i> <span class="smcap">Goll</span>.] And at me, too.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’re a coward!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Shuts</i> <span class="smcap">Goll’s</span> <i>eyes with his handkerchief</i>.]
It’s the first time in my life I’ve ever been
condemned to that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Didn’t you do it to your mother?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[Nervously.] No.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You were away, perhaps.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—No!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Or else you were afraid?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Violently.</i>] No!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Shivering, backward.</i>] I didn’t mean to
insult you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—She’s still alive.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Then you still have somebody.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—She’s as poor as a beggar.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I know what that is.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Don’t laugh at me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Now I am rich&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—It gives me cold shudders—— [<i>Goes
right.</i>] She can’t help it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>To herself.</i>] What’ll I do?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>To himself.</i>] Absolutely uncivilized!
[<i>They look at each other mistrustfully.</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>
<i>goes over to her and grips her hand</i>.] Look me in
the eyes!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Apprehensively.</i>] What do you want?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Takes her to the ottoman and makes
her sit next to him.</i>] Look me in the eyes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I see myself in them as Pierrot.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Shoves her from him.</i>] Confounded
dancer-ing!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I must change my clothes&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Holds her back.</i>] One question&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I can’t answer it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Can you speak the truth?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I don’t know.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Do you believe in a Creator?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I don’t know.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Can you swear by anything?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I don’t know. Leave me alone. You’re
mad.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—What do you believe in, then?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I don’t know.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Have you no soul, then?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I don’t know.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Have you ever once loved——?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I don’t know.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Gets up, goes right, to himself.</i>]
She doesn’t know!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Without moving.</i>] I don’t know.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Glancing at</i> <span class="smcap">Goll</span>.] He knows.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Nearer him.</i>] What do you want to
know?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Angrily.</i>] Go, get dressed! [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span>
<i>goes into the bedroom</i>. <i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Goll</span>.] Would I could
change with you, you dead man! I give her back to
you. I give my youth to you, too. I lack the courage
and the faith. I’ve had to wait patiently too
long. It’s too late for me. I haven’t grown up big
enough for happiness. I have a hellish fear of it.
Wake up! I didn’t touch her. He opens his mouth.
Mouth open and eyes shut, like the children. With
me it’s the other way round. Wake up, wake up!
[<i>Kneels down and binds his handkerchief round the
dead man’s head.</i>] Here I beseech Heaven to make
me <span class="gesperrt">able</span> to be happy—to give me the strength and
the freedom of soul to be just a weeny mite happy!
For <span class="gesperrt">her</span> sake, <span class="gesperrt">only for her sake</span>. [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span>
<i>comes out of the bedroom, completely dressed, her
hat on, and her right hand under her left arm</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Raising her left arm, to</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>.]
Would you hook me up here? My hand trembles.</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span></p>

  <h3 class="nobreak" id="ES_ACT_II">
    ACT II
  </h3>
</div>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>A very ornamental parlor. Entrance-door
rear, left. Curtained entrances right and left,
steps leading up to the right one. On the back
wall over the fireplace</i>, <span class="smcap">Lulu’s</span> <i>Pierrot picture
in a magnificent frame. Right, above the steps,
a tall mirror; facing it, right centre, a chaise
longue. Left, an ebony writing-table. Centre,
a few chairs around a little Chinese table.</i></p>

<p class='scene2'><span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>stands motionless before the mirror, in
a green silk morning-dress. She frowns, passes
a hand over her forehead, feels her cheeks, and
draws back from the mirror with a discouraged,
almost angry, look. Frequently turning round,
she goes left, opens a cigarette-case on the writing-table,
lights herself a cigarette, looks for a
book among those that are lying on the table,
takes one, and lies down on the chaise longue
opposite the mirror. After reading a moment,
she lets the book sink, and nods seriously to herself
in the glass; then resumes reading.</i>
<span class="smcap">Schwarz</span> <i>enters, left, palette and brushes in
hand, and bends over</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>, <i>kisses her on the
forehead, and goes up the steps, right</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Turning in the doorway.</i>] Eve!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Smiling.</i>] At your orders?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Seems to me you look extra charming
to-day.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>With a glance at the mirror.</i>] Depends
on what you expect.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Your hair breathes out a morning
freshness....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’ve just come out of the water.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Approaching her.</i>] I’ve an awful lot
to do to-day.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You tell yourself you have.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Lays his palette and brushes down on
the carpet, and sits on the edge of the couch.</i>]
What are you reading?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Reads.</i>] “Suddenly she heard an anchor
of refuge come nodding up the stairs.”</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Who under the sun writes so absorbingly?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Reading.</i>] “It was the postman with a
money-order.” [<span class="smcap">Henriette</span>, <i>the servant, comes in,
upper left, with a hat-box on her arm and a little
tray of letters which she puts on the table</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Henriette</span>—The mail. I’m going to take your
hat to the milliner, madam. Anything else?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—No. [<span class="smcap">Schwarz</span> <i>signs to her to go out,
which she does, slyly smiling</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—What were all the things you dreamt
about last night?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’ve asked me that twice already this
morning.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Rises, takes up the letters.</i>] News
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>
makes me tremble. Every day I fear the world may
go to pieces. [<i>Giving</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>a letter</i>.] For you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Sniffs at the paper.</i>] Madame Corticelli.
[<i>Hides it in her bosom.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Skimming a letter.</i>] My Sama-queca-dancer
sold—for fifty thousand marks!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Who’s that from?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Sedelmeier in Paris. That’s the third
picture since our marriage. I hardly know how to
escape my good fortune!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Pointing to the letters.</i>] There are
more there.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Opening an engagement announcement.</i>]
See. [<i>Gives it to</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Reads.</i>] “Sir Henry von Zarnikow has
the honor to announce the engagement of his daughter,
Charlotte Marie Adelaide, to Doctor Ludwig
Schön.”</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>As he opens another letter.</i>] At last!
He’s been an eternal while evading a public engagement.
I can’t understand it—a man of his standing
and influence. What can be in the way of his marriage?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—What is that that you’re reading?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—An invitation to take part in the international
exhibition at St. Petersburg. I have no
idea what to paint for it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Some entrancing girl or other, of course.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Will you be willing to pose for it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—God knows there are other pretty girls
enough in existence!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—But with no other model—tho she be
as racy as hell—can I so fully show the depth and
range of my powers.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Then I must, I suppose. Mightn’t it go
as well, perhaps, lying down?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Really, I’d like best to leave the composition
to your taste. [<i>Folding up the letters.</i>]
Don’t let’s forget to congratulate Schön to-day, anyway.
[<i>Goes left and shuts the letters in the writing-table.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—But we did that a long time ago.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—For his bride’s sake.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You can write to him again if you want.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—And now to work! [<i>Takes up his
brushes and palette, kisses</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>, <i>goes up the steps,
right, and turns around in the doorway</i>.] Eve!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Lets her book sink, smiling.</i>] Your
pleasure?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Approaching her.</i>] I feel every day
as if I were seeing you for the very first time.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’re a terror.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—You make me one. [<i>He sinks on his
knees by the couch and caresses her hand.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Stroking his hair.</i>] You’re using me up
fast.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—You are mine. And you are never
more ensnaring than when you ought for God’s sake
to be, just once, real ugly for a couple of hours!
Since I’ve had you, I have had nothing further. I’ve
lost hold of myself entirely.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Don’t be so passionate! [<i>Bell rings in
the corridor.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Pulling himself together.</i>] Confound
it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—No one at home!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Perhaps it’s the art-dealer&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—And if it’s the Chinese Emperor!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—One moment. [<i>Exit.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Visionary.</i>] Thou? Thou? [<i>Closes
her eyes.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Coming back.</i>] A beggar, who says
he was in the war. I have no small change on me.
[<i>Taking up his palette and brushes.</i>] It’s high
time, too, that I should finally go to work. [<i>Goes
out, right.</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>touches herself up before the
glass, strokes back her hair, and goes out, returning
leading in</i> <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—I’d thought he was more of a swell—a
little more glory to him. He’s sort of embarrassed.
He quaked a little in the knees when he saw
<span class="gesperrt">me</span> in front of him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Shoving a chair round for him.</i>] How
can you beg from him, too?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—I’ve dragged my seventy-seven
spring-times here just for that. You told me he
kept at his painting in the mornings.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He hadn’t got quite awake yet. How
much do you need?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Two hundred, if you have that much
handy. Personally, I’d like three hundred. Some
of my clients have evaporated.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Goes to the writing-table and rummages
in the drawers.</i>] Whew, I’m tired!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Looking round him.</i>] This helped
bring me, too. I’ve been wanting a long time to see
how things were looking with you now.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Well?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—It gives one cold shivers. [<i>Looking
up.</i>] Like with me fifty years ago. Instead of the
loafing chairs we still had rusty old sabres then.
Devil, but you’ve brought it pretty far! [<i>Scuffing.</i>]
Carpets....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Giving him two bills.</i>] I like best to
walk on them bare-footed.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Scanning</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu’s</span> <i>portrait</i>.] Is
that you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Winking.</i>] Pretty fine?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—If that’s the sort of thing.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Have something sweet?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—What?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Getting up.</i>] Elixir de Spaa.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—That doesn’t help me—— Does he
drink?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Taking a decanter and glasses from a
cupboard near the fireplace.</i>] Not yet. [<i>Coming
down-stage.</i>] The cordial has such various effects!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—He comes to blows?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He goes to sleep. [<i>She fills the two
glasses.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—When he’s drunk, you can see right
into his insides.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’d rather not. [<i>Sits opposite</i> <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>.]
Talk to me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—The streets keep on getting longer,
and my legs shorter.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—And your harmonica?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Wheezes, like me with my asthma.
I just keep a-thinking it isn’t worth the trouble to
make it better. [<i>They clink glasses.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Emptying her glass.</i>] I’d been thinking
that at last you were&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—At last I was up and away? I
thought so, too. But no matter how early the sun
goes down, still we aren’t let lie quiet. I’m hoping
for winter. Perhaps then my [<i>coughing</i>]—my—my
asthma will invent some opportunity to carry
me off.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Filling the glasses.</i>] Do you think they
could have forgotten you up there?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Would be possible, for it certainly
isn’t going like it usually does. [<i>Stroking her
knee.</i>] Now you tell—not seen you a long time—my
little Lulu.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Jerking back, smiling.</i>] Life is beyond
me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—What do you know about it? You’re
still so young!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—That you call me Lulu.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Lulu, isn’t it? Have I ever called
you anything else?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I haven’t been called Lulu since man can
remember.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Some other kind of name?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Lulu sounds to me quite antediluvian.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Children! Children!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—My name now is&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—As if the principle wasn’t always the
same!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You mean&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—What is it now?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—<span class="gesperrt">Eve</span>.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Leapt, hopped, skipped, jumped....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—That’s what I answer to.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Gazing round.</i>] This is the way I
dreamt it for you. It’s your natural bent. [<i>Seeing</i>
<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>sprinkling herself with perfume</i>.] What’s
that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Heliotrope.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Does that smell better than you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Sprinkling him.</i>] That needn’t bother
you any more.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Who would have dreamt of this royal
luxury before!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—When I think back—Ugh!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Stroking her knee.</i>] How’s it
going with you, then? You still keep at the French?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I lie and sleep.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—That’s genteel. That always looks
like something. And afterwards?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I stretch—till it cracks.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—And when it has cracked?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—What do you mind about that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—What do I mind about that? What
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>
do I mind? I’d rather live till the last trump and
renounce all heavenly joys than leave my Lulu deprived
of anything down here behind me. What do
I mind about that? It’s my sympathy. To be sure,
my better self <span class="gesperrt">is</span> already transfigured—but I still
have some understanding of this world.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I haven’t.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—You’re too well off.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Shuddering.</i>] Idiot....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Better than with the old dancing-bear?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Sadly.</i>] I don’t dance any more.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—He got his call all right.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Now I am—— [<i>Stops.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Speak out from your heart, child!
I believed in you when there was no more to be seen
in you than your two big eyes. What are you now?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—A beast....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—The deuce you—— And what kind
of a beast? A fine beast! An elegant beast! A
glorified beast!—Well, let them bury me quickly!
We’re through with prejudices—even with the one
against the corpse-washer.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You needn’t be afraid that you will be
washed once more.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Doesn’t matter, either. One gets
dirty again.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Sprinkling him.</i>] It would call you back
to life again!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—We are mud.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I beg your pardon! I rub grease into
myself every day and then powder on top of it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Probably worth while, too, on the
dressed-up mucker’s account.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—It makes the skin like satin.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—As if it weren’t just dirt all the
same!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Thank you. I wish to be worth nibbling
at!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—We are. Give a big dinner down below
there pretty soon. Keep open house.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Your guests will hardly overeat themselves
at it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Patience, girl! Your worshippers
won’t put you in alcohol, either. It’s “schöne
Melusine” as long as it keeps reacting. Afterwards?
They don’t take it at the zoölogical garden. [<i>Rising.</i>]
The gentle beasties might get stomach-cramps.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Getting up.</i>] Have you enough?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Enough and some to spare for planting
a juniper on my grave.—I’ll find my own way
out. [<i>Exit.</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>follows him, and presently returns
with</i> <span class="smcap">Dr. Schön</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—What’s your father doing here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—What’s the matter?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—If I were your husband that man would
never cross my threshold.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You can be intimate with me. He’s not
here. [<i>Referring to</i> <span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Thank you, I’d rather not.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I don’t understand.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I know you don’t. [<i>Offering her a seat.</i>]
That is just the point I’d like to speak to you about.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Sitting down uncertainly.</i>] Then why
didn’t you yesterday?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Please, nothing now about yesterday. I
did tell you two years ago.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Nervously.</i>] Oh, yes,—hm!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Please be kind enough to cease your visits
to my house.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—May I offer you an elixir&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Thanks. No elixir. Have you understood
me? [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>shakes her head</i>.] Good. You
have the choice. You force me to the most extreme
measures:—either act in accordance with your station&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Or?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Or—you compel me—I may have to turn
to that person who is responsible for your behavior.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—How can you imagine that——?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I shall request your husband, himself to
keep watch over your doings. [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>rises, goes up
the steps, right</i>.] Where are you going?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Calls thru the curtains.</i>] Walter!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Springing up.</i>] Are you mad?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Turning round.</i>] Aha!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I have made the most superhuman efforts
to raise you in society. You can be ten times as
proud of your name as of your intimacy with me.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Comes down the steps and puts her arm
around</i> <span class="smcap">Schön’s</span> <i>neck</i>.] Why are you still afraid,
now that you’re at the zenith of your hopes?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—No comedy! The zenith of my hopes?
I am at last engaged: I have still to hope that I may
bring my bride into a clean house.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Sitting.</i>] She has developed delightfully
in the two years!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—She no longer looks thru one so earnestly.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—She is now, for the first time, a woman.
We can meet each other wherever seems suitable to
you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—We shall meet each other nowhere but in
the presence of your husband!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You don’t believe yourself what you say.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Then <span class="gesperrt">he</span> must believe it, at least. Go
on and call him! Thru his marriage to you, thru all
that I’ve done for him, he has become my friend.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Rising.</i>] Mine, too.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—And that way I’ll cut down the sword
over my head.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You have, indeed, put chains upon me.
But I owe my happiness to you. You will get
friends by the crowd as soon as you have a pretty
young wife again.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You judge women by yourself! He’s got
the sense of a child or he would have tracked out
your doublings and windings long ago.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I only wish he would! Then, at last he’d
get out of his swaddling-clothes. He puts his trust
in the marriage contract he has in his pocket.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>
Trouble is past and gone. One can now give oneself
and let oneself go as if one were at home. That isn’t
the sense of a <span class="gesperrt">child</span>! It’s banal! He has no
education; he sees nothing; he sees neither me nor
himself; he is blind, blind, blind....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Half to himself.</i>] When <span class="gesperrt">his</span> eyes
open!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Open his eyes for him! I’m going to ruin.
I’m neglecting myself. He doesn’t know me at all.
What am I to him? He calls me darling and little
devil. He would say the same to any piano-teacher.
He makes no pretensions. Everything is all right, to
him. That comes from his never in his life having
felt the need of intercourse with women.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—If that’s true!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He admits it perfectly openly.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—A man who has painted them, rags and
tags and velvet gowns, since he was fourteen.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Women make him anxious. He trembles
for his health and comfort. But he isn’t afraid of
<span class="gesperrt">me</span>!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—How many girls would deem themselves
God knows how blessed in your situation.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Softly pleading.</i>] Seduce him. Corrupt
him. You know how. Take him into bad company—you
know the people. I am nothing to him but
a woman, just woman. He makes me feel so ridiculous.
He will be prouder of me. He doesn’t know
any differences. I’m thinking my head off, day and
night, how to shake him up. In my despair I dance
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span>
the can-can. He yawns; and drivels something
about obscenity.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Nonsense. He is an artist, though.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—At least he believes he is.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—That’s the chief thing!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—When <i>I</i> pose for him.... He believes,
too, that he’s a famous man.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—We <span class="gesperrt">have</span> made him one.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He believes everything. He’s as diffident
as a thief, and lets himself be lied to, till one loses
all respect! When we first got to know each other
I made him believe I had never loved before—[<span class="smcap">Schön</span>
<i>falls into an easy-chair</i>.] Otherwise he
would really have taken me for some sort of reprobate!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You make God knows what exorbitant demands
on <span class="gesperrt">legitimate</span> relations!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I make no exorbitant demands. Often I
even dream still of Goll.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—He was, at any rate, not banal!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He is there, as if he had never been away.
Only he walks as tho in his socks. He isn’t angry
with me; he’s awfully sad. And then he is fearful,
as tho he were there without the permission of the
police. Otherwise, he feels at ease with us. Only
he can’t quite get over my having thrown away so
much money since&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You yearn for the whip once more?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Maybe. I don’t dance any more.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Teach him to do it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—A waste of trouble.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Out of a hundred women, ninety educate
their husbands to suit themselves.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He loves me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—That’s fatal, of course.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He loves me&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—That is an unbridgeable abyss.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He doesn’t know me, but he loves me! If
he had anything approaching a true idea of me, he’d
tie a stone around my neck and sink me in the sea
where it’s deepest.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Let’s finish this. [<i>He gets up.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—As you say.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I’ve married you off. Twice I have married
you off. You live in luxury. I’ve created a
position for your husband. If that doesn’t satisfy
you, and he laughs in his sleeve at it,—I don’t indulge
in ideal expectations, but—leave me out of the
game, out of it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Resolutely.</i>] If I belong to any person
on this earth, I belong to you. Without you I’d
be—I won’t say where. You took me by the hand,
gave me food to eat, had me dressed,—when I was
going to steal your watch. Do you think that can
be forgotten? Anybody else would have called the
police. You sent me to school, and had me learn
manners. Who but you in the whole world has ever
had any kindness for me? I’ve danced and posed,
and was glad to be able to earn my living that way.
But <span class="gesperrt">love</span> at command, I can’t!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Raising his voice.</i>] Leave <span class="gesperrt">me</span> out!
Do what you will. I haven’t come to raise a row;
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>
I’ve come to shake myself free of it. My engagement
is costing me sacrifices enough! I had imagined
that with a healthy young husband—and a
woman of your years can hope for none better—you
would, at last, have been contented. If you are
under obligations to me, don’t throw yourself a third
time in my way! Am I to wait yet longer before putting
my pile in security? Am I to risk letting the
final success of all my concessions during the last
two years slip from me? What good is it to me to
have you married, when you can be seen going in
and out of my house at every hour of the day?—Why
the devil didn’t Dr. Goll stay alive just one
year more! With him you were in safe keeping.
Then I’d have had my wife long since under my roof!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—And what would you have had then? The
kid gets on your nerves. The child is too uncorrupted
for you. She’s been much too carefully
brought up. What should I have against your marriage?
But you’re making a big mistake if you
think that your imminent marriage warrants you
in expressing your contempt of me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Contempt?—I shall soon give the child
the right idea. If anything is contemptible, it’s
your intrigues!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Laughing.</i>] Am I jealous of the child?
That never once entered my head.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Then why talk about the child? The
child is not even a whole year younger than you are.
Leave me my freedom to live what life I still have.
No matter how the child’s been brought up, she’s
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>
got her five senses just like you.... [<span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>
<i>appears, right, brush in hand</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—What’s the matter here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span>.] Well? Go on. Talk.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—What’s the matter with you two?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Nothing that touches you&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Sharply.</i>] Quiet!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He’s had enough of me. [<span class="smcap">Schwarz</span> <i>leads
her off, to the right</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Turning over the leaves in one of the
books on the table.</i>] It had to come out—I must
have my hands free at last!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Coming back.</i>] Is that any way to
jest?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Pointing to a chair.</i>] Please.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—What is it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Please.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Seating himself.</i>] Well?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Seating himself.</i>] You have married
half a million....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Is it gone?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Not a penny.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Explain to me the peculiar scene....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You have married half a million&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—No one can make a crime of that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You have created a name for yourself.
You can work unmolested. You need to deny yourself
no wish&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—What have you two got against me?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—For six months you’ve been revelling in
all the heavens. You have a wife whom the world
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>
envies you, and she deserves a man whom she can
respect&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Doesn’t she respect me?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—No.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Depressed.</i>] I come from the dark
depths of society. She is above me. I cherish no
more ardent wish than to become her equal. [<i>Offers</i>
<span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>his hand</i>.] Thank you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Pressing it, half embarrassed.</i>] Don’t
mention it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>With determination.</i>] Speak!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Keep a little more watch on her.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I—on her?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—We are not children! We don’t trifle!
We live!—She demands that she be taken seriously.
Her value gives her a perfect right to be.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—What does she do, then?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You have married half a million!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Rises; beside himself.</i>] She——?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Takes him by the shoulder.</i>] No, that’s
not the way! [<i>Forces him to sit.</i>] We have a very
grave matter here to discuss.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—What does she do?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—First count over on your fingers all you
have to thank her for, and then&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—What does she do—man!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—And then make yourself responsible for
your failings,—no one else.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—With whom? With whom?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—If we should shoot each other&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Since when, then?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Evasive.</i>] —I have not come here to
make a scandal, but to rescue you <span class="gesperrt">from</span> scandal.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Shaking his head.</i>] You have misunderstood
her.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Embarrassed.</i>] That gets us nowhere.
I can’t see you go on living in blindness. The girl
deserves to be a respectable woman. Since I have
known her she has improved as she developed.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Since you have known her? Since
when have you known her then?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Since about her twelfth year.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Bewildered.</i>] She never told me that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—She used to sell flowers in front of the
Alhambra Café. Every evening between twelve and
two she would press in among the guests, bare-footed.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—She told me nothing of that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—She did right there. I’m telling you, so
you may see that hers is not a case of moral degeneracy.
The girl is, on the contrary, of extraordinarily
good disposition.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—She said she had grown up with an
aunt.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—That was the woman I gave her to. She
was her best pupil. The mothers used to make her
an example to their children. She has the feeling
for duty. It is simply and solely your mistake if
you have till now neglected to appeal to the best
in her.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Sobbing.</i>] O God!&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>With emphasis.</i>] No O God! Of the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span>
happiness you have enjoyed nothing can be changed.
The past is past. You overrate yourself against
your better knowledge if you persuade yourself you
will lose. You stand to gain. But with “O God”
nothing is gained. I have never done you a greater
kindness: I speak out plainly and offer you my help.
Don’t show yourself unworthy of it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>From now on more and more broken
up.</i>] When I first knew her, she told me she had
never loved before.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—When a widow says <span class="gesperrt">that</span>—— It does
her credit that she chose you for a husband. Make
the same claims on yourself and your happiness is
without a blot.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—She says he had her wear short dresses.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—But he married her! That was her master-stroke.
How she brought the man to it is beyond
me. But you must know by now. You are enjoying
the fruits of her diplomacy.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Where did Dr. Goll get to know her?
How?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Through me! It was after my wife’s
death, when I was making the first advances to my
present fiancée. She thrust herself between us.
She had set her heart on becoming my wife.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>As if seized with a horrible suspicion.</i>]
And then when her husband died?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You married half a million!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Wailing.</i>] Oh, to have stayed where
I was! To have died of hunger!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Superior.</i>] Do you think, then, that <i>I</i>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span>
make no compromises? Who is there that does not
compromise? You have married half a million.
You are to-day one of our foremost artists. Such
things can’t be done without money. You are not
the man to sit in judgment on her. You can’t possibly
treat an origin like Mignon’s according to the
notions of bourgeois society.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Quite distraught.</i>] Whom are you
speaking of?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Of her father! You’re an artist, I say:
your ideals are on a different plane from those of a
wage-worker.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I don’t understand a word of all that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I am speaking of the inhuman conditions
out of which, thanks to her good management, the
girl has developed into what she is!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Who?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Who? Your wife.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—<span class="gesperrt">Eve</span>?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I called her Mignon.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I thought her name was Nellie?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Dr. Goll called her so.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I called her Eve&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—What her real name is I don’t know.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Absently.</i>] Perhaps she knows.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—With a father like hers, she is, with all
her faults, an utter miracle. I don’t understand
you&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—He died in a madhouse&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—He was here just now!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Who was here?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Her father.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Here—in my home?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—He squeezed by me as I came in. And
there are the two glasses still.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—She says he died in the madhouse.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Encouragingly.</i>] Let her feel your authority!
Only make her render you unconditional
obedience, and she asks no more. With Dr. Goll she
was in heaven, and there was no joking him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Shaking his head.</i>] She said she
had never loved&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—But start with yourself. Pull yourself
together!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—She has sworn&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You can’t expect a sense of duty in her
before you know your own task.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—By her mother’s grave!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—She never knew her mother, let alone the
grave. Her mother hasn’t got a grave.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—I don’t fit in society. [<i>He is in desperation.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—What’s the matter?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—Pain—horrible pain!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Gets up, steps back; after a pause.</i>]
Guard her for yourself, because she’s yours.—The
moment is decisive. To-morrow she may be lost to
you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Pointing to his breast.</i>] Here, here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You have married half——[<i>Reflecting.</i>]
She is lost to you if you let this moment slip!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—If I could weep! Oh, if I could cry
out!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>With a hand on his shoulder.</i>] You’re
suffering&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—[<i>Getting up, apparently quiet.</i>] You
are right, quite right.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Gripping his hand.</i>] Where are you
going?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schwarz</span>—To speak with her.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Right! [<i>Accompanies him to the door,
left. Coming back.</i>] That was tough work.
[<i>After a pause, looking right.</i>] He had taken her
into the studio before, tho...? [<i>A fearful
groan, left. He hurries to the door and finds it
locked.</i>] Open! Open the door!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Stepping thru the hangings, right.</i>]
What’s&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Open it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Comes down the steps.</i>] That is horrible.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Have you an ax in the kitchen?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He’ll open it right off&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I can’t kick it in.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—When he’s had his cry out.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Kicking the door.</i>] Open! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.]
Bring me an ax.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Send for the doctor&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You are not yourself.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—It serves you right. [<i>Bell rings in the
corridor.</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>stare at each other.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>
Then</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>slips up-stage and stands in the doorway</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I mustn’t let myself be seen here now.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Perhaps it’s the art-dealer. [<i>The bell
rings again.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—But if we don’t answer it—— [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span>
<i>steals toward the door; but</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>holds her</i>.] Stop.
It sometimes happens that one is not just at hand—[<i>He
goes out on tiptoe.</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>turns back to the
locked door and listens</i>. <span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>returns with</i>
<span class="smcap">Alva</span>.] Please be quiet.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Very excited.</i>] A revolution has broken
out in Paris!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Be quiet.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] You’re as pale as death.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Rattling at the door.</i>] Walter! Walter!
[<i>A death-rattle is heard behind the door.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—God pity you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Haven’t you brought an ax?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—If there’s one there—— [<i>Goes slowly out,
upper left.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—He’s just keeping us in suspense.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—A revolution has broken out in Paris?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Up in the office the editors are tearing
their hair. Not one of them knows what to write
about it. [<i>The bell rings in the corridor.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Kicking against the door.</i>] Walter!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Shall I run against it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I can do that. Who may be coming
now? [<i>Standing up.</i>] That’s what it is to enjoy
life and let others take the consequences!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Coming back with a kitchen-ax.</i>] Henriette
has come home.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Shut the door behind you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Give it here. [<i>Takes the ax and pounds
with it between the jamb and the lock.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You must hold it nearer the end.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—It’s cracking— [<i>The lock gives</i>; <span class="smcap">Alva</span>
<i>lets the ax fall and staggers back. Pause.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span>, <i>pointing to the door</i>.] After
you. [<span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>flinches, drops back</i>.] Are you getting—dizzy?
[<span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>wipes the sweat from his
forehead and goes in</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>From the couch.</i>] Ghastly!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Stopping in the doorway, finger on lips,
cries out sharply.</i>] Oh! Oh! [<i>Hurries to</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>.]
I can’t stay here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Horrible!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Taking his hand.</i>] Come.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Where to?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I can’t be alone. [<i>Goes out with</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>,
<i>right</i>. <span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>comes back, a bunch of keys in his
hand, which shows blood. He pulls the door to, behind
him, goes to the writing-table, opens it, and
writes two notes.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Coming back, right.</i>] She’s changing
her clothes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—She has gone?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—To her room. She’s changing her clothes.
[<span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>rings</i>. <span class="smcap">Henriette</span> <i>comes in</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You know where Dr. Bernstein lives?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Henriette</span>—Of course, Doctor. Right next door.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Giving her one note.</i>] Take that over
to him, please.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Henriette</span>—In case the doctor is not at home?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—He is at home. [<i>Giving her the other
note.</i>] And take this to police headquarters. Take
a cab. [<span class="smcap">Henriette</span> <i>goes out</i>.] I am judged!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—My blood has congealed.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Toward the left.</i>] The fool!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—He waked up to something, perhaps?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—He has been too much absorbed in himself.
[<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>appears on the steps, right, in dustcoat
and hat</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Where are you going now?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Out. I see it on all the walls.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Where are his papers?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—In the desk.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>At the desk.</i>] Where?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Lower right-hand drawer. [<i>She kneels
and opens the drawer, emptying the papers on the
floor.</i>] Here. There is nothing to fear. He had
no secrets.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Now I can just withdraw from the world.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Still kneeling.</i>] Write a pamphlet about
him. Call him Michelangelo.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—What good’ll that do? [<i>Pointing left.</i>]
There lies my engagement.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—That’s the curse of your game!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Shout it through the streets!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Pointing to</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] If you had treated
that girl fairly and justly when my mother died&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—My engagement is bleeding to death there!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Getting up.</i>] I shan’t stay here any
longer.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—In an hour they’ll be selling extras. I
dare not go across the street!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Why, what can you do to help it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—That’s just it! They’ll stone me for it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You must get away—travel.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—To leave the scandal a free field!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>By the couch.</i>] Ten minutes ago he was
lying here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—This is the reward for all I’ve done for
him! In one second he wrecks my whole life for me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Control yourself, please!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>On the couch.</i>] There’s no one here
but us!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—But look at <span class="gesperrt">us</span>!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] What do you want to tell
the police?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Nothing.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—He didn’t want to remain a debtor to his
destiny.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He always had thoughts of death immediately.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—He had thoughts that an ordinary
human can only dream of.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He had paid dearly for it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—He had what we don’t have!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Suddenly violent.</i>] I know your motives!
I have no cause to consider you! If you try
every means to prevent having any brothers and
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>
sisters, that’s all the more reason why I should
get more children.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You’ve a poor knowledge of men.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You get out an extra yourself!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>With passionate indignation.</i>] He had
no moral sense! [<i>Suddenly controlling himself
again.</i>] Paris in revolution——?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Our editors act as though they’d been
struck. Everything has stopped dead.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—That’s got to help me over this!—Now
if only the police would come. The minutes are
worth more than gold. [<i>The bell rings in the corridor.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—There they are—— [<span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>starts to the
door</i>. <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>jumps up</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Wait, you’ve got blood&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Where?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Wait, I’ll wipe it. [<i>Sprinkles her handkerchief
with heliotrope and wipes the blood from</i>
<span class="smcap">Schön’s</span> <i>hand</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—It’s your husband’s blood.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—It leaves no trace.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Monster!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You will marry me, all the same. [<i>The
bell rings in the corridor.</i>] Only have patience,
children. [<span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>goes out and returns with</i> <span class="smcap">Escherich</span>,
<i>a reporter</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escherich</span>—[<i>Breathless.</i>] Allow me to—to introduce
myself&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You’ve run?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escherich</span>—[<i>Giving him his card.</i>] From police
headquarters. A suicide, I understand.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Reads.</i>] “Fritz Escherich, correspondent
of the ‘News and Novelties.’” Come along.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escherich</span>—One moment. [<i>Takes out his notebook
and pencil, looks around the parlor, writes
a few words, bows to</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>, <i>writes, turns to
the broken door, writes</i>.] A kitchen-ax. [<i>Starts
to lift it.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Holding him back.</i>] Excuse me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escherich</span>—[<i>Writing.</i>] Door broken open with
a kitchen-ax. [<i>Examines the lock.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>His hand on the door.</i>] Look before
you, my dear sir.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escherich</span>—Now if you will have the kindness to
open the door—— [<span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>opens it</i>. <span class="smcap">Escherich</span>
<i>lets book and pencil fall, clutches at his hair</i>.] Merciful
Heaven! God!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Look it all over carefully.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escherich</span>—I can’t look at it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Snorting scornfully.</i>] Then what did
you come here for?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escherich</span>—To—to cut up—to cut up his throat
with a razor!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Have you seen it all?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escherich</span>—That must feel&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Draws the door to, steps to the writing-table.</i>]
Sit down. Here is paper and pen. Write.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escherich</span>—[<i>Mechanically taking his seat.</i>] I
can’t write&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Behind his chair.</i>] Write! Persecution—mania....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escherich</span>—[<i>Writes.</i>] Per-secu-tion—mania.
[<i>The bell rings in the corridor.</i>]</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span></p>

  <h3 class="nobreak" id="ES_ACT_III">
    ACT III
  </h3>
</div>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>A theatrical dressing-room, hung with red.
Door upper right. Across upper left corner, a
Spanish screen. Centre, a table set endwise, on
which dance costumes lie. Chair on each side
of this table. Lower right, a smaller table, with
a chair. Lower left, a high, very wide, old-fashioned
arm-chair. Above it, a tall mirror,
with a make-up stand before it holding puff,
rouge, etc., etc.</i></p>

<p class='scene2'><span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>is at lower right, filling two glasses
with red wine and champagne</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Never since I began to work for the
stage have I seen the public so wildly enthusiastic.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Voice from behind the screen.</i>] Don’t
give me too much red wine. Will he see me to-day?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Father?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Yes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I don’t know if he’s in the theater.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Doesn’t he want to see me at all?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—He has so little time.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—His <span class="gesperrt">bride</span> occupies him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Speculations. He gives himself no rest.
[<span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>enters</i>.] You? We’re just speaking of
you.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Is he there?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You’re changing?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Peeping over the Spanish screen, to</i>
<span class="smcap">Schön</span>.] You write in all the papers that I’m the
most gifted danseuse who ever trod the stage, a second
Taglioni and I don’t know what else—and you
haven’t once found me gifted enough to convince
yourself of the fact.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I have so much to write. You see, I was
convincing to others: there are hardly any seats
left.—You must keep rather more in the proscenium.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I must first accustom myself to the light.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—She has kept strictly to her part.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>.] You must get more out of
your performers! You don’t know enough yet about
the technique. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] What do you come as
now?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—As a flower-girl.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>.] In tights?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—No. In a skirt to the ankles.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—It would have been better if you hadn’t
bothered with symbolism.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I look at a dancer’s feet.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—The point is, what the public looks at.
A vision like <span class="gesperrt">her</span> has no need, praise God, of your
symbolic mummery.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—The public doesn’t look as if it were being
bored!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Of course not; because I have been working
the press in her favor for the last six months.
Has the Prince been here?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Nobody’s been here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Well, that’s what you get for letting a
dancer come on thru two acts in raincoats.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Who is the Prince?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Shall we see each other afterwards?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Are you alone?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—With acquaintances. At Peter’s?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—At twelve?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—At twelve. [<i>Exit.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’d given up hoping that he’d ever come.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Don’t let yourself be misled by his grumpy
growls. If you’ll only be careful not to spend all
your strength before the last number begins—[<span class="smcap">Lulu</span>
<i>steps out in a classical, sleeveless dress, white
with a red border, a bright wreath in her hair and
a basket of flowers in her hands</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He doesn’t seem to have noticed at all how
cleverly you have deployed your performers.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I won’t blow in sun, moon and stars in the
first act!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Sipping.</i>] You disclose me by degrees.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—And I was well aware that you knew all
about changing costumes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—If I’d tried to sell my flowers <span class="gesperrt">so</span> before
the Alhambra café, they’d have had me behind lock
and key right off the very first night.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Why? You were a child!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Do you remember how I looked the first
time I came into your room?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You wore a dark blue dress with black
velvet.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—They had to stick me somewhere and didn’t
know where.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—My mother had been lying sick for two
years already then.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You were playing theater, and asked me
if I wanted to play, too.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—To be sure! We played theater!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I see you still—the way you shoved the
figures back and forth.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—For a long time my most terrible memory
was when all at once I saw clearly into your relations&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You got icy curt towards me then.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Oh, God— I saw in you something so
infinitely far above me. I had perhaps more veneration
for you than for my mother. Think—when
my mother died—I was seventeen—I went and stood
before my father and demanded that he make you
his wife on the spot or we’d have to fight a duel.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He told me that at the time.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Since I’ve grown older, I can only pity him.
He will never comprehend me. There he is making up
a story for himself about a little diplomatic game
that puts me in the rôle of laboring against his marriage
with the Countess.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Does she still look out upon the world
as innocently as ever?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—She loves him. I’m convinced of that.
Her family has done everything to induce her to
turn back. I don’t think any sacrifice in the world
would be too great for her to make for his sake.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Holds out her glass to him.</i>] A little
more, please.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Giving it to her.</i>] You’re drinking too
much.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He shall learn to believe in my success!
He doesn’t believe in art at all. He only believes
in newspapers.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—He believes in nothing.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He brought me into the theater so that
eventually someone might be found rich enough to
marry me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Well, all right. Why need that trouble us?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I am to feel pleased if I can dance myself
into a millionaire’s heart.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—God forbid that anyone should snatch you
from us!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’ve composed the music for it, tho.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You know that it was always my desire
to write a piece for you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I am not at all suited to the stage, however.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You came into the world a dancer!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Then why don’t you make your pieces as
interesting as life is, at least?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Because if we did no man would believe us.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—If I hadn’t known more about acting than
people on the stage pretend to, what might not have
happened to me?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I provided your part with all the impossibilities
imaginable, though.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Nobody in the real world is taken in by
hocus-pocus like that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—It’s enough for me that the public finds
itself most tremendously stirred up.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—But <i>I</i>’d like to find myself most tremendously
stirred up. [<i>Drinks.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You don’t seem to be in need of much more
for that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Can you wonder, since every one of my
scenes has an ulterior purpose? There are some
men down there debating with themselves very
earnestly already.—I can feel that without looking.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—What does it feel like?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—No one of them has any notion of the
others. Each thinks that he alone is the unhappy
victim.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—But how can you feel that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—One gets such an icy thrill running up
one’s body.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You are incredible. [<i>An electric bell rings
over the door.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—My cape.... I shall keep in the proscenium!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Putting a wide shawl round her shoulders.</i>]
Here is your cape.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He shall have nothing more to fear for his
shameless boosting.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Keep yourself under control!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—God grant that I dance the last sparks of
intelligence out of their heads. [<i>Exit.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Yes, a more interesting piece could be
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span>
written about her. [<i>Sits, right, and takes out his
notebook. Writes. Looks up.</i>] First act: Dr.
Goll. Rotten already! I can call up Dr. Goll from
purgatory or wherever he’s doing penance for his
orgies, but <i>I</i>’ll be made to answer for his sins.
[<i>Long-continued but much deadened applause and
bravos outside.</i>] That storm sounds like a menagerie
when the meat appears at the cage!—Second act:
Walter Schwarz. Still more impossible! How our
souls do strip off their last coverings in the light
of such lightning-strokes!—Third act?—Is it really
to go on this way? [<i>The attendant opens the door
from outside and lets</i> <span class="smcap">Escerny</span> <i>enter. He acts as
tho he were at home, and without greeting</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>
<i>takes the chair near the mirror.</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>continues,
not heeding him.</i>] It can not go on this way in the
third act!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—Up to the middle of the third act it
didn’t seem to be going so well to-day as sometimes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I was not on the stage.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—Now she’s in full career again.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—She’s lengthening each number.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—I once had the pleasure of meeting the
artiste at Dr. Schön’s house.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—My father introduced her to the public
through certain critiques in his paper.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—[<i>Bowing slightly.</i>] I was conferring
with Dr. Schön about the publication of my discoveries
at Lake Tanganyika.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Bowing slightly.</i>] From what he has let
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span>
drop there can be no doubt that he takes the liveliest
interest in your book.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—One very good thing about the artiste
is that the audience seems not to exist for her at all.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—As a child she learned the quick changing
of clothes; but I was surprised to discover in her
so important a danseuse.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—When she dances her solo she grows
intoxicated with her own beauty,—she seems to be
mortally love-sick of it herself.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Here she comes. [<i>Gets up and opens the
door. Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Without wreath or basket, to</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>.]
You’re called for. I was three times before the curtain.
[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Escerny</span>.] Dr. Schön is not in your box?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—Not in mine.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] Didn’t you see him?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He is probably away again.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—He has the furthest lower box on the
left.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—It seems he is ashamed of me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—There wasn’t a good seat left for him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>.] Ask him, though, if he likes
me better now.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I’ll send him up.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—He applauded.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Did he really?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Give yourself some rest. [<i>Exit.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’ve got to change again now.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—But your dresser isn’t here?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I can do it quicker alone. Where did you
say Dr. Schön was sitting?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—I saw him in the left parquet-box
farthest back.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’ve still five costumes now before me;
dancing-girl, ballerina, queen of the night, Ariel, and
Lascaris.... [<i>She goes behind the Spanish
screen.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—Would you think it possible that at
our first encounter I expected nothing more than
to make the acquaintance of a young lady of the
literary world?... [<i>He sits at the left of the
centre table, and remains there to the end of the
scene.</i>] Have I perhaps erred in my judgment of
your nature, or did I rightly interpret the smile
which the thundering storms of applause called forth
on your lips?—That you are secretly pained at the
necessity of profaning your art before people of
doubtful disinterestedness? [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>makes no answer</i>.]
That you would gladly exchange the shimmer
of publicity at every moment for a quiet, sunny
happiness in distinguished seclusion? [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>makes
no answer</i>.] That you feel you possess enough dignity
and rank to fetter a man to your feet—in order
to enjoy his utter helplessness?... [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>makes no
answer</i>.] That in a comfortable, richly furnished
villa you would feel in a more fitting place than here,—with
unlimited means, to live completely as your
<span class="gesperrt">own mistress</span>? [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>steps forth in a short,
bright, pleated petticoat and white satin bodice, black
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span>
shoes and stockings, and spurs with bells at her
heels</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Busy with the lacing of her bodice.</i>] If
there’s just one evening I don’t go on, I dream the
whole night that I’m dancing and feel the next day
as if I’d been racked.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—But what difference could it make to
you to see before you instead of this mob <span class="gesperrt">one</span> spectator,
specially elect?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—That would make no difference. I don’t
see anybody anyway.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—A lighted summer-house—the splashing
of the water near at hand.... I am forced in my
exploring-trips to the practice of a quite inhuman
tyranny&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Putting on a pearl necklace before the
mirror.</i>] A good school!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—And if I now long to deliver myself
unreservedly into the power of a woman, that is a
natural need for relaxation.... Can you imagine
a greater life-happiness for a woman than to have
a man entirely in her power?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Jingling her heels.</i>] Oh, yes!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—[<i>Disconcerted.</i>] Among men of culture
you will not find one who can help losing his
head over you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Your wishes, however, no one can quite
fulfil without deceiving you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—To be deceived by a girl like you must
be ten times more enrapturing than to be uprightly
loved by anybody else.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You have not known what it was to be
uprightly loved by any girl yet in all your life!
[<i>Turning her back to him and pointing.</i>] Would you
undo this knot for me? I’ve laced myself too tight.
I am always so excited getting dressed.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—[<i>After repeated efforts.</i>] I’m sorry;
I can’t.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Then leave it. Perhaps I can. [<i>Goes
left.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—I confess that I am lacking in deftness.
Maybe I was a poor student in my relations with
women.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—And probably you don’t have much opportunity
in Africa, either?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—[<i>Seriously.</i>] Let me confess to you
frankly that my isolation in the world embitters many
an hour.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—The knot is almost done....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—What draws me to you is not your
dancing. It’s your physical and spiritual refinement,
as revealed in every one of your movements. No
one who takes the interest I do in works of art could
be deceived as to that. For ten evenings I’ve been
studying your spiritual life in your dance, until
to-day when you entered as the flower-girl I became
perfectly clear. Yours is a grand nature—unselfish;
you can see no one suffer; you embody the joy of life.
As a wife you will make a man happy above all things....
You are all open-heartedness. You would be
a poor actor. [<i>The bell rings again.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Having somewhat loosened her laces,
takes a deep breath and jingles her spurs.</i>] Now I
can breathe again. The curtain is going up. [<i>She
takes from the centre table a skirt-dance costume—of
bright yellow silk, without a waist, closed at
the neck, reaching to the ankles, with wide, loose
sleeves—and throws it over her.</i>] I must dance.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—[<i>Rises and kisses her hand.</i>] Allow me
to remain here a little while longer.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Please stay.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—I need a little solitude. [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>goes
out</i>.] What is to be aristocratic? To be eccentric,
like me? Or to be perfect in body and mind, like
this girl? [<i>Applause and bravos outside.</i>] She
gives me back my faith in humanity,—gives me back
my life. Should not this woman’s children be more
princely, body and soul, than children whose mother
has no more vitality in her than I have felt in me
until to-day? [<i>Sitting, right; ecstatically.</i>] The
dance has ennobled her body.... [<span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>enters</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—One is never sure a moment that some miserable
chance won’t throw the whole performance
out for good. [<i>He throws himself into the big chair,
left, so that the two men are in exactly reversed positions
from their former ones. Both converse somewhat
boredly and apathetically.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—But the audience has never shown itself
so responsive before.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—She’s finished the skirt-dance.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—I hear her coming....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—She isn’t coming. She has no time. She
changes her costume in the wings.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—She has two ballet-costumes, if I’m not
mistaken?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I find the white one more becoming to her
than the rose-color.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—Do you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Don’t you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—I find she looks too bodiless in the white
tulle.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I find she looks too animal in the rose
tulle.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—I don’t find that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—The white tulle brings out the child-like
side of her nature more.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—The rose tulle brings out the womanly
side of her nature more. [<i>The electric bell rings
over the door.</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>jumps up</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—For heaven’s sake, what is wrong?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—[<i>Getting up too.</i>] What’s the matter?
[<i>The electric bell continues ringing till after they
go out.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Something’s gone wrong there&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Escerny</span>—How can you get so frightened all of
a sudden?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—That must be a hellish confusion! [<i>He
runs out.</i> <span class="smcap">Escerny</span> <i>follows him. The door remains
open. Faint dance-music heard. Pause.</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>enters
in a long cloak, and shuts the door to behind her.
She wears a rose-colored ballet costume with flower-garlands.
She walks across the stage and sits down
in the big arm-chair near the mirror. After a pause</i>
<span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>returns</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You had a faint?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Please lock the door.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—At least come down to the stage.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Did you see him?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—See whom?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—With his fiancée?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—With his—— [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span>, <i>who enters</i>.]
You might have spared yourself that jest!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—What’s the matter with her? [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.]
How can you play the scene straight at me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I feel as if I’d been whipped.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>After bolting the door.</i>] You will dance—as
sure as I’ve taken the responsibility for you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Before your fiancée?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Have you a right to trouble yourself before
whom? You’ve been engaged here. You receive
your salary....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Is that your affair?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You dance for anyone who buys a ticket.
Whom I sit with in my box has nothing to do with
your business!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I wish you’d stayed sitting in your box!
[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] Tell me, please, what I am to do. [<i>A
knock at the door.</i>] There is the manager. [<i>Calls.</i>]
Yes, in a moment! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] You won’t compel
us to break off the performance?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] Onto the stage with you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Let me have just a moment! I can’t now.
I’m utterly miserable.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—The devil take the whole theater crowd!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Put in the next number. No one will notice
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span>
if I dance now or in five minutes. There’s no strength
in my feet.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—But you will dance then?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—As well as I can.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—As badly as you like. [<i>A knock at the
door again.</i>] I’m coming.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>When</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>is gone</i>.] You are right to
show me where I belong. You couldn’t do it better
than by letting me dance that skirt-dance before
your fiancée.... You do me the greatest service
when you point out to me where my place is.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Sardonically.</i>] For you with your
origin it’s incomparable luck to still have the chance
of appearing before respectable people!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Even when my shamelessness makes them
not know where to look.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Nonsense!—Shamelessness?—Don’t make
a necessity of virtue! Your shamelessness is what
balances your every step with gold. One cries
“bravo,” another “fie”—it’s all the same to you!
Can you wish for a more brilliant triumph than
when a respectable girl can hardly be kept in the
box? Has your life any other aim? As long as
you still have a spark of self-respect, you are no
perfect dancer. The more terribly you make people
shudder, the higher you stand in your profession!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—And it is absolutely indifferent to me what
they think of me. I don’t, in the least, want to be
any better than I am. I’m content with myself.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>In moral indignation.</i>] That is your
true nature. That’s straight!—Corruption!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I wouldn’t have known that I had had a
spark of self-respect&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Suddenly distrustful.</i>] No harlequinading&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—O Lord—I know very well what I’d have
become if you hadn’t saved me from it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Are you anything different then to-day?—heh?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—God be thanked, no!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Just so!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Laughs.</i>] And how awfully glad of it
I am!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Spits.</i>] Will you dance now?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—In anything, before anyone!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Then down to the stage!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Begging like a child.</i>] Just a minute
more! Please! I can’t stand up straight yet.
They’ll ring.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You have become what you are in spite
of everything I sacrificed for your education and
your welfare.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Had you overrated your ennobling influence?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Spare me your witticisms.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—The Prince was here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Well?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He takes me with him to Africa.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Africa?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Why not? Didn’t you make me a dancer
just so that someone might come and take me away
with him?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—But not to Africa, though!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Then why didn’t you calmly let me fall in
a faint, and mutely thank the Lord for it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Because, more’s the pity, I had no reason
for believing in your faint!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Making fun of him.</i>] You couldn’t bear
it any longer out front there?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Because I had to bring home to you what
you are and to whom you are not to look up.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You were afraid, though, that my legs
might possibly have been really injured?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I know too well you are indestructible.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—So you know that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Bursting out.</i>] Don’t look at me so
impudently!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—No one is keeping you here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I’m going as soon as the bell rings.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—As soon as you have the energy! Where
is your energy? You have been engaged three years.
Why don’t you marry? You recognize no obstacles.
Why do you try to put the blame on me? You
ordered me to marry Dr. Goll: I forced Dr. Goll
to marry me. You ordered me to marry the painter:
I made the best of a bad bargain. Artists are your
creatures, princes your protégés. Why don’t you
marry?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Raging.</i>] Do you imagine <span class="gesperrt">you</span> stand in
the way?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>From here to the end of the act triumphant.</i>]
If you knew how happy your rage is making
me! How proud I am that you take every means to
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span>
humble me! You push me down as low—as low as
a woman can be debased to, for then, you hope, you
can sooner get over me. But you have suffered unspeakably
yourself from everything you said just
now to me. I see it in your eyes. Already you are
near the end of your composure. Go! For your
innocent fiancée’s sake, leave me alone! One minute
more and your mood will change, and then you’ll
make a scene with me of another kind, that you can’t
answer for now.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I fear you no longer.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Me? Fear yourself! I do not need you.
I beg you to go! Don’t give me the blame. You
know that I don’t need to faint to destroy your
future. You have unlimited confidence in my honorableness.
You believe not only that I’m an
ensnaring daughter of Eve; you believe, too, that
I’m a very good-natured creature. I am neither the
one nor the other. The bad thing for you is that you
think I am.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Desperate.</i>] Leave my thoughts alone!
You have two husbands under the sod. Take the
Prince, dance <span class="gesperrt">him</span> into the ground. I am through
with you. I know where the angel in you leaves off
and the devil begins. If I take the world as it’s made,
the Creator must bear the responsibility, not I! To
me life is not an amusement!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—And, therefore, you make claims upon life
greater than anyone can make.... Tell me, who
of us two is more full of claims and demands, you
or I?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Be silent! I don’t know how or what
I think. When I hear you, I don’t think any more.
In a week I’ll be married. I conjure you, by the
angel that is in you, during that time come no more
to my sight!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I will lock my doors.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Go on and boast! God knows that since
I began wrestling with the world and with life I have
cursed no one like you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—That comes from my lowly origin.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—From your depravity!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—With a thousand pleasures I take the blame
on myself! You must feel clean now; you must think
yourself a model of austerity now, a paragon of
unflinching principle—or else you can’t marry the
child at all in her boundless inexperience&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Do you want me to grab you and&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Yes! Yes! What must I say to make
you? Not for the world now would I exchange
with the innocent child! Besides, the girl loves you
as no woman has ever loved you yet!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Silence, beast! Silence!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Marry her—and then she’ll dance in her
childish wretchedness before <span class="gesperrt">my</span> eyes, instead of
I before hers!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Raising his fists.</i>] God forgive me&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Strike me! Where is your riding-whip?
Strike me on the legs&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Grasping his temples.</i>] Away, away!
[<i>Rushes to the door, recollects himself, turns
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>
around.</i>] Can I go before the girl now, this way?
Home!—If I could only slip out of the world!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Be a man! Look yourself in the face
once:—you have no trace of a conscience; you shrink
back from no wickedness; in the most cold-blooded
way you are meaning to make the girl that loves
you unhappy. You conquer half the world; you do
what you please;—and you know as well as I
that&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Sunk in the chair, right centre, utterly
exhausted.</i>] Stop.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—That you are too weak—to tear yourself
away from me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Groaning.</i>] Oh! Oh! You make me
weep.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—This moment makes <span class="gesperrt">me</span> I cannot tell you
how glad.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—My age! My position!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He cries like a child—the terrible man
of might. Now go so to your bride and tell her
what kind of a girl I am at heart—not a bit jealous!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Sobbing.</i>] The child! The innocent
child!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—How can the incarnate devil get so weak
all of a sudden!——But now go, please. You are
nothing more now to me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I cannot go to her.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Out with you. Come to me again when
you have got back your strength.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Tell me in God’s name what I must do.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Gets up; her cloak remains on the chair.
Shoving aside the costumes on the centre table.</i>]
Here is writing-paper&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I can’t write....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Upright behind him, her arm on the back
of his chair.</i>] Write! “My dear Countess....”</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Hesitating.</i>] I call her Adelheid....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>With emphasis.</i>] “My dear Countess....”</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—My sentence of death! [<i>He writes.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—“Take back your promise. I cannot
reconcile it with my conscience——” [<span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>drops
the pen and glances up at her entreatingly</i>.] Write
“conscience”! “—to fetter you to my unhappy
lot....”</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Writing.</i>] You are right. You are
right.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—“I give you my word that I am unworthy
of your love——” [<span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>turns round again</i>.]
Write “love”! “These lines are the proof of it.
For three years I have tried to tear myself free; I
have not the strength. I am writing you at the side
of the woman who commands me. Forget me. Dr.
Ludwig Schön.”</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Groaning.</i>] O God!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Half startled.</i>] No, no O God! [<i>With
emphasis.</i>] “Dr. Ludwig Schön.” Postscript: “Do
not attempt to save me.”</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Having written to the end, quite collapses.</i>]
Now—comes the—execution.</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span></p>

  <h3 class="nobreak" id="ACT_IV">
    ACT IV
  </h3>
</div>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>A splendid hall in German Renaissance style,
with a heavy ceiling of carved oak. The lower
half of the walls of dark carved wood; the upper
half on both sides hung with faded Gobelins. At
rear, a curtained gallery from which, at right,
a monumental staircase descends to halfway
down stage. At centre, under the gallery, the
entrance-door, with twisted posts and pediment.
At left, a high and spacious fireplace with a
Chinese folding screen before it. Further down,
left, a French window onto a balcony with heavy
curtains, closed. Down right, door hung with
Genoese velvet. Near it, a broad ottoman, with
an arm-chair on its left. Behind, near the foot
of the stairs</i>, <span class="smcap">Lulu’s</span> <i>Pierrot-picture on a decorative
stand and in a gold frame made to look
antique. In the centre of the hall, down-stage,
a heavy square table, with three high-backed upholstered
chairs round it and a vase of white
flowers on it.</i></p>

<p class='scene2'><span class="smcap">Countess Geschwitz</span> <i>sits on the ottoman, in
a soldier-like, fur-trimmed waist, high, upstanding
collar, enormous cufflinks, a veil over her
face, and her hands clasped convulsively in her
muff</i>. <span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>stands down right</i>. <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>, <i>in a
big-flowered morning-dress, her hair in a simple
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span>
knot in a golden circlet, sits in the arm-chair
left of the ottoman</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] You can’t think how
glad I shall be to see you at our lady artists’ ball.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Is there no sort of possibility of a person
like me smuggling in?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—It would be high treason if any of us
lent herself to such an intrigue.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Crossing to the centre table, behind the
ottoman.</i>] The glorious flowers!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Fräulein von Geschwitz brought me those.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Don’t mention it.—Oh, you’ll be in
man’s costume, won’t you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Do you think that becomes me?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—You’re a dream here. [<i>Signifying
the picture.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—My husband doesn’t like it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Is it by a local man?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You will hardly have known him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—No longer living?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Down left, with a deep voice.</i>] He had
enough.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’re in bad temper. [<span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>controls
himself</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—[<i>Getting up.</i>] I must go, Mrs.
Schön. I can’t stay any longer. This evening we
have life-class, and I have still so much to get ready
for the ball. Good-bye, Dr. Schön. [<i>Exit, up-stage.</i>
<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>accompanies her</i>. <span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>looks around
him</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Pure Augean stable. That, the end of
my life. Show me one corner that’s still clean! The
pest in the house. The poorest day-laborer has his
tidy nest. Thirty years’ work, and this my family
circle, the home of my—— [<i>Glancing round.</i>]
God knows who is overhearing me again now!
[<i>Draws a revolver from his breast pocket.</i>] Man is,
indeed, uncertain of his life! [<i>The cocked revolver
in his right hand, he goes left and speaks at the closed
window-curtains.</i>] That, my family circle! The
fellow still has courage! Shall I not rather shoot
<span class="gesperrt">myself</span> in the head? Against deadly enemies one
fights, but the—— [<i>Throws up the curtains, but
finds no one hidden behind them.</i>] The dirt—the
dirt.... [<i>Shakes his head and crosses right.</i>] Insanity
has already conquered my reason, or else—exceptions
prove the rule! [<i>Hearing</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>coming he
puts the revolver back in his pocket</i>. <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>comes
down to him</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Couldn’t you get away for this afternoon?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Just what did that Countess want?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I don’t know. She wants to paint me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Misfortune in human guise, paying her
respects!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Couldn’t you get away, then? I would
so like to drive through the grounds with you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Just the day when I must be at the
Exchange. You know that I’m not free to-day. All
my property is drifting on the waves.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’d sooner be dead and buried than let
my life be embittered so by my property.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Who takes life lightly does not take death
hard.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—As a child I always had the most horrible
fear of death.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—That is just why I married you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>With her arms round his neck.</i>] You’re
in bad humor. You invent too many worries. For
weeks and months I’ve seen nothing of you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Stroking her hair.</i>] Your light-heartedness
should cheer up my old days.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Indeed, you didn’t marry me at all.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Whom else did I marry then?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I married you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—How does that alter anything?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I was always afraid it would alter a great
deal.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—It has, indeed, crushed a great deal underfoot.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—But not one thing, praise God!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Of that I should be covetous.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Your love for me. [<span class="smcap">Schön’s</span> <i>face twitches,
he signs to her to go out in front of him. Both
exeunt lower right</i>. <span class="smcap">Countess Geschwitz</span> <i>cautiously
opens the rear door, ventures forth, and listens.
Hearing voices approaching in the gallery above
her, she starts suddenly.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Oh, dear, there’s somebody——[<i>Hides
behind the fire-screen.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Steps out from the curtains onto
the stairs, turns back.</i>] Has the youngster left his
heart behind him in the Nightlight Café?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>Between the curtains.</i>] He is still too
small for the great world, and can’t walk so far on
foot yet. [<i>He disappears.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Coming down the stairs.</i>] God be
thanked we’re home again at last! What damned
skunk has waxed the stairs again? If I have to have
my joints set in plaster again before being called
home, she can just stick me up between the palms
here and present me to her relations as the Venus
de’ Medici. Nothing but steep rocks and stumbling
blocks!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>Comes down the stairs, carrying</i>
<span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span> <i>in his arms</i>.] This thing has a royal
police-captain for a father and not as much spunk
in his body as the raggedest hobo!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—If there was nothing more to it than
life and death, then you’d soon learn to know me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Even with his lover’s woe, little brother
don’t weigh more than sixty kilos. On the truth
o’ that I’ll let ’em hang me any time.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Throw him up to the ceiling and
catch him by the feet. That’ll snap his young blood
into the proper fizz right from the start.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—[<i>Kicking his legs.</i>] Hooray, hooray,
I shall be expelled from school!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>Setting him down at the foot of the
stairs.</i>] You’ve never been to any sensible school
yet.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Here many a man has won his spurs
before you. Only, no timidity! First, I’ll set before
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>
you a drop of what can’t be had anywhere for money.
[<i>Opens a cupboard under the stairs.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—Now if she doesn’t come dancing in
on the instant, I’ll wallop you two so you’ll still rub
your tails in the hereafter.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>Seated left of the table.</i>] The strongest
man in the world little brother will wallop! Let
mama put long trousers on you first. [<span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>
<i>sits opposite him</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—I’d rather you lent me your mustache.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Maybe you want her to throw you out
of the door straight off?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—If I only knew now what the devil
I was going to say to her!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—That she knows best herself.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Putting two bottles and three
glasses on the table.</i>] I started in on one of them
yesterday. [<i>Fills the glasses.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>Guarding</i> <span class="smcap">Hugenberg’s</span>.] Don’t give
him too much, or we’ll both have to pay for it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Supporting himself with both hands
on the table-top.</i>] Will the gentlemen smoke?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—[<i>Opening his cigar-case.</i>] Havana-imported!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>Helping himself.</i>] From papa police-captain?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Sitting.</i>] Everything in the house
is mine. You only need to ask.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—I made a poem to her yesterday.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—What did you make to her?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—What did he make to her?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—A poem.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>.] A poem.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—He’s promised me a dollar if I can
spy out where he can meet her alone.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—Just who does live here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Here <span class="gesperrt">we</span> live!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Jour fix—every stock-market day!
Our health. [<i>They clink.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—Should I read it to her first, maybe?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>.] What’s he mean?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—His poem. He’d like to stretch her out
and torture her a little first.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Staring at</i> <span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>.] His eyes!
His eyes!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—His eyes, yes. They’ve robbed her of
sleep for a week.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>.] You can have yourself
pickled.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—We can both have ourselves pickled!
Our health, gossip Death!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Clinking with him.</i>] Health, jack-in-the-box!
If it’s still better later on, I’m ready
for departure at any moment; but—but—— [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span>
<i>enters right, in an elegant Parisian ball-dress, much
décolleté, with flowers in breast and hair</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—But children, children, I expect company!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—But I can tell you what, those things
must cost something over there! [<span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span> <i>has
risen</i>. <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>sits on the arm of his chair</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’ve fallen into pretty company.—I
expect visitors, children!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—I guess I’ve got to stick something
in there myself, too. [<i>He searches among the flowers
on the table.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Do I look well?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—What are those you’ve got there?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Orchids. [<i>Bending over</i> <span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>.]
Smell.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Do you expect Prince Escerny?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Shaking her head.</i>] God forbid!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—So somebody else again——!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—The Prince has gone traveling.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—To put his kingdom up for auction?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He’s exploring a fresh string of tribes in
the neighborhood of Africa. [<i>Rises, hurries up the
stairs, and steps into the gallery.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>.] He really wanted
to marry her originally.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Sticking a lily in his buttonhole.</i>]
I, too, wanted to marry her originally.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—You wanted to marry her originally?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Didn’t you, too, want to marry her
originally?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—You bet I wanted to marry her originally!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Who has not wanted to marry her
originally!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I could never have done better!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—She hasn’t let anybody be sorry that
he didn’t marry her.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>— ... Then she’s not your child?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Never occurs to her.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—What is her father’s name then?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—She’s just boasted of me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—What is her father’s name then?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—What’s he say?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—What her father’s name is.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—She never had one.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Comes down from the gallery and sits
again on</i> <span class="smcap">Hugenberg’s</span> <i>chair-arm</i>.] What have I
never had?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">All Three</span>—A father.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Yes, sure—I’m a wonder-child. [<i>To</i>
<span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>.] How are you getting along with
<span class="gesperrt">your</span> father? Contented?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—He smokes a respectable cigar, anyway,
the police-captain.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Have you locked up upstairs?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—There is the key.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Better have left it in the lock.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Why?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—So no one can unlock it from outside.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Isn’t he at the stock-exchange?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Oh, yes, but he suffers from persecution-mania.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I take him by the feet, and yup!—there
he stays sticking to the roof.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He hunts you into a mouse-hole with the
corner of his eye.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—What does he hunt? Who does he
hunt? [<i>Baring his arm.</i>] Just look at this biceps!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Show me. [<i>Goes left.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>Hitting himself on the muscle.</i>]
Granite. Wrought-iron!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Feeling by turns</i> <span class="smcap">Rodrigo’s</span> <i>arm and
her own</i>.] If you only didn’t have such long
ears&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ferdinand</span>—[<i>Entering, rear centre.</i>] Doctor&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_8_8" href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a>
Schön!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—The rogue! [<i>Jumps up, starts behind
the fire-screen, recoils.</i>] God preserve me! [<i>Hides,
lower left, behind the curtains.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Give me the key! [<i>Takes it and
drags himself up the stairs.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span> <i>having slid under the table</i>.]
Show him in!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—[<i>Under the front edge of the tablecloth,
listening; to himself.</i>] If he doesn’t stay—we’ll
be alone.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Poking him with her toe.</i>] Sh! [<span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>
<i>disappears</i>. <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>is shown in by</i> <span class="smcap">Ferdinand</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>In evening dress.</i>] Methinks the matinée
will take place by burning lamplight. I’ve—— [<i>Notices</i>
<span class="smcap">Schigolch</span> <i>painfully climbing the stairs</i>.]
What the —— is that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—An old friend of your father’s.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Quite unknown to me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—They were in the campaign together. He’s
awfully badly&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Is my father here then?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He drank a glass with him. He had to go
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span>
to the stock market. We’ll have lunch before we go,
won’t we?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—When does it begin?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—After two. [<span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>still follows</i> <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>
<i>with his eyes</i>.] How do you like me? [<span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>
<i>disappears thru the gallery</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Had I not better be silent to you on that
point?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I only mean my appearance.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Your dressmaker manifestly knows you
better than I—may permit myself to know you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—When I saw myself in the glass I could
have wished to be a man—my man!...</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You seem to envy your man the delight
you offer to him. [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>is at the right</i>, <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>at
the left, of the centre table. He regards her with
shy satisfaction.</i> <span class="smcap">Ferdinand</span> <i>enters, rear, covers
the table and lays two plates, etc., a bottle of Pommery,
and hors d’œuvres.</i>] Have you a toothache?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Across to</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>.] Don’t.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ferdinand</span>—Doctor Schön...?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—He seems so puckered-up and tearful to-day.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ferdinand</span>—[<i>Thru his teeth.</i>] One is only a
man after all. [<i>Exit.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>When both are seated.</i>] What I always
think most highly of in you is your firmness of character.
You’re so perfectly sure of yourself. Even
when you must have been afraid of falling out with
your father on my account, you always stood up
for me like a brother just the same.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Let’s drop that. It’s just my fate—[<i>Moves
to lift up the tablecloth in front.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Quickly.</i>] That was me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Impossible!—It’s just my fate, with the
most trivial thoughts always to attain the best.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You deceive yourself if you make yourself
out worse than you are.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Why do you flatter me so? It is true that
perhaps there is no man living, so bad as I—who
has brought about so much good.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—In any case you’re the only man in the
world who’s protected me without lowering me in my
own eyes!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Do you think that so easy? [<span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>appears
in the gallery cautiously parting the hangings
between the middle pillars. He starts, and whispers,
“My own son!”</i>] With gifts from God like
yours, one turns those around one to criminals without
ever dreaming of it. I, too, am only flesh and
blood, and if we hadn’t grown up with each other
like brother and sister&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—And that’s why I only give myself to you
alone quite without reserve. From you I have nothing
to fear.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I assure you there are moments when one
expects to see one’s whole inner self cave in. The
more self-suppression a man loads onto himself, the
easier he breaks down. Nothing will save him from
it except——[<i>Stops to look under the table.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Quickly.</i>] What are you looking for?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I conjure you, let me keep my confession
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span>
of faith to myself! As an inviolable sanctity you
were more to me than with all your gifts you could
be to anyone else in your life!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—How extraordinarily different your mind
is, on that, from your father’s! [<span class="smcap">Ferdinand</span> <i>enters,
rear, changes the plates and serves broiled chicken
with salad</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>To him.</i>] Are you sick?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>.] Let him be!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—He’s trembling as if he had fever.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ferdinand</span>—I am not yet so used to waiting....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You must have something prescribed for
you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ferdinand</span>—[<i>Thru his teeth.</i>] I’m a coachman
usually——[<i>Exit.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Whispering from the gallery.</i>] So, he
too. [<i>Seats himself behind the rail, able to cover
himself with the hangings.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—What sort of moments are those of which
you spoke, where one expects to see his whole inner
self tumble in?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I <span class="gesperrt">didn’t want</span> to speak of them. I
should not like to lose, in joking over a glass of
champagne, what has been my highest happiness for
ten years.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I have hurt you. I don’t want to begin
on that again.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Do you promise me that for always?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—My hand on it. [<i>Gives him her hand
across the table.</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>takes it hesitatingly, grips
it in his, and presses it long and ardently to his lips</i>.]
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>
What are you doing? [<span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span> <i>sticks his head out
from the curtains, left</i>. <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>darts an angry look
at him across</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>, <i>and he draws back</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Whispering from the gallery.</i>] And
there is still another!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Holding the hand.</i>] A soul—that in the
hereafter will rub the sleep out of its eyes.... Oh,
this hand....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Innocently.</i>] What do you find in it?...</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—An arm....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—What do you find in it?...</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—A body....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Guilelessly.</i>] What do you find in it?...</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Stirred up.</i>] Mignon!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Wholly ingenuously.</i>] What do you find
in it?...</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Passionately.</i>] Mignon! Mignon!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Throws herself on the ottoman.</i>] Don’t
look at me so—for God’s sake! Let us go before
it is too late. You’re an infamous wretch!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I told you, didn’t I, I was the basest villain....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I see that!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I have no sense of honor, no pride....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You think I am your equal!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You?—you are as heavenly high above me
as—as the sun is over the abyss! [<i>Kneeling.</i>] Destroy
me! I beg you, put an end to me! Put an
end to me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Do you <span class="gesperrt">love</span> me then?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I will pay you with everything that was
mine!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Do you love me?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Do you love me—Mignon?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I? Not a soul.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I love you. [<i>Hides his face in her lap.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Both hands in his hair.</i>] I poisoned
your mother—— [<span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span> <i>sticks his head out from
the curtains, left, sees</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>sitting in the gallery
and signs to him to watch</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>. <span class="smcap">Schön</span>
<i>points his revolver at</i> <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>; <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span> <i>signs to him
to point it at</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>. <span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>cocks the revolver and
takes aim</i>. <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span> <i>draws back behind the curtains</i>.
<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>sees him draw back, sees</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>sitting in the
gallery, and gets up</i>.] His father! [<span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>rises,
lets the hangings fall before him</i>. <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>remains
motionless on his knees. Pause.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>A newspaper in his hand, takes</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>
<i>by the shoulder</i>.] Alva! [<span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>gets up as though
drunk with sleep</i>.] A revolution has broken out in
Paris.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—To Paris ... let me go to Paris&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Up in the office the editors are tearing
their hair. Not one of them knows what to write
about it. [<i>He unfolds the paper and accompanies</i>
<span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>out, rear</i>. <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span> <i>rushes out from the curtains
toward the stairs</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Barring his way.</i>] You can’t get out
here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Let me through!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’ll run into his arms.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—He’ll shoot me thru the head!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He’s coming.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>Stumbling back.</i>] Devil, death and
demons! [<i>Lifts the tablecloth.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—No room!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Damned and done for! [<i>Looks around
and hides in the doorway, right.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Comes in, centre; locks the door; and
goes, revolver in hand, to the window down left, of
which he throws up the curtains.</i>] Where is <span class="gesperrt">he</span>
gone?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>On the lowest step.</i>] Out.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Down over the balcony?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He’s an acrobat.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—That could not be foreseen. [<i>Turning
against</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] You who drag me thru the muck
of the streets to a tortured death!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Why did you not bring me up better?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—You destroying angel! You inexorable
fate!—To turn murderer or else to drown in filth;
to take ship like a fleeing convict, or hang myself
over the mire!—You joy of my old age! You hangman’s
noose!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>In cold blood.</i>] Oh, shut up, and kill
me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Everything I possess I have made over
to you, and asked nothing but the respect that every
servant pays to my house. Your credit is exhausted!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I can answer for my account for years
to come. [<i>Coming forward from the stairs.</i>] How
do you like my new gown?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Away with you, or my brains will crack
to-morrow and my son swim in his blood! You infect
me like an incurable pest in which I shall groan
away the rest of my life. I <span class="gesperrt">will</span> cure myself! Do
you understand? [<i>Pressing the revolver on her.</i>]
This is your physic. Don’t break down; don’t
kneel! You yourself shall apply it. You or I—which
is it to be? [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span>, <i>her strength threatening
to desert her, has sunk down on the couch, turning
the revolver this way and that</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—It doesn’t go off.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Do you still recall how I snatched you
out of the clutches of the police?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You have great confidence&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Because I’m not afraid of a street-girl?
Shall I guide your hand for you? Have you no
mercy towards yourself? [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>points the revolver
at him</i>.] No false alarms! [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>fires a shot into
the ceiling</i>. <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span> <i>springs out of the portières,
up the stairs and away thru the gallery</i>.] What
was that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Innocently.</i>] Nothing.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Lifting the portières.</i>] What flew out
of here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’re suffering from persecution-mania.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Have you got still more men hidden here?
[<i>Tearing the revolver from her.</i>] Is yet another
man calling on you? [<i>Going left.</i>] I’ll regale your
men! [<i>Throws up the window-curtains, flings the
fire-screen back, grabs</i> <span class="smcap">Countess Geschwitz</span> <i>by the
collar and drags her forward</i>.] Did you come down
the chimney?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—[<i>In deadly terror, to</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] Save
me from him!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Shaking her.</i>] Or are you, too, an acrobat?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—[<i>Whimpering.</i>] You hurt me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Shaking her.</i>] Now you will <span class="gesperrt">have</span> to
stay to dinner. [<i>Drags her right, shoves her into
the next room and locks the door after her.</i>] We
want no town-criers. [<i>Sits next to</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>and makes
her take the revolver again.</i>] There’s still enough
for you in it. Look at me! I cannot assist the
coachman in my house to decorate my forehead for
me. Look at me! I pay my coachman. Look at
me! Am I doing the coachman a favor if I can’t
bear the vile stable-stench?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Have the carriage got ready! Please!
We’re going to the opera.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—We’re going to the devil! Now I am
coachman. [<i>Turning the revolver in her hand from
himself to</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu’s</span> <i>breast</i>.] Do you believe that anyone,
abused as you have abused me, would hesitate
between an old age of slavish infamy and the merit
of freeing the world from <span class="gesperrt">you</span>? [<i>Holds her down
by the arm.</i>] Come, get through. It shall be the
happiest remembrance of my life. Pull the trigger!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You can get a divorce.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Only that was left! In order that to-morrow
the next man may find his pastime where
I have shuddered from pit to pit, suicide upon my
neck and <span class="gesperrt">you</span> before me! You dare suggest that?
That part of my life I have poured into you, am I
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>
to see it tossed before wild beasts? Do you see your
bed with the sacrifice—the victim—on it? The lad
is homesick for you. Did you let yourself be divorced?
You trod him under your feet, knocked out
his brains, caught up his blood in gold-pieces. I
let myself be divorced? <span class="gesperrt">Can</span> one be divorced when
two people have grown into one another and half
the man must go too? [<i>Reaching for the revolver.</i>]
Give it here!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Don’t!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—I’ll spare you the trouble.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Tears herself loose, holding the revolver
down; in a determined, self-possessed tone.</i>] If
men have killed themselves for my sake, that doesn’t
lower my value. You knew quite as well why you
made me your wife as I knew why I took you for
husband. You had deceived your best friends with
me; you could not well go on deceiving yourself with
me. If you bring me your old age in sacrifice, you
have had my whole youth in return. You understand
ten times better than I do which is the more
valuable. I have never in the world wished to seem
to be anything different from what I am taken for,
and I have never in the world been taken for anything
different from what I am. You want to force
me to fire a bullet into my heart. I’m not sixteen
any more, but to fire a bullet in my heart I am still
much too young!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Pursuing her.</i>] Down, murderess!
Down with you! To your knees, murderess!
[<i>Crowding her to the foot of the stairs.</i>] Down,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span>
and never dare to stand again! [<i>Raising his hand.</i>
<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>has sunk to her knees</i>.] Pray to God, murderess,
that he give you strength. Sue to heaven
that strength for it may be lent you! [<span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>
<i>jumps up from under the table, knocking a chair
aside, and screams “Help!”</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>whirls toward
him, turning his back to</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>, <i>who instantly fires
five shots into him and continues to pull the trigger</i>.
<span class="smcap">Schön</span>, <i>tottering over, is caught by</i> <span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span> <i>and
let down in the chair</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—And—there—is—one—more&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Rushing to</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span>.] All merciful——!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Out of my sight! Alva!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Kneeling.</i>] The one man I loved!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Harlot! Murderess!—Alva! Alva!—Water!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Water; he’s thirsty. [<i>Fills a glass with
champagne and sets it to</i> <span class="smcap">Schön’s</span> <i>lips</i>. <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>comes
thru the gallery, down the stairs</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Father! O God, my father!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I shot him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—She is innocent!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>.] You! It miscarried.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Tries to lift him.</i>] You must get to
bed; come.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—Don’t take hold of me so! I’m drying
up. [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>comes with the champagne-cup; to her</i>.]
You are still like yourself. [<i>After drinking.</i>]
Don’t let her escape. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>.] You are the
next.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>.] Help me carry him
to bed.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—No, no, please, no. Wine, murderess&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>.] Take hold of him on
that side. [<i>Pointing right.</i>] Into the bedroom.
[<i>They lift</i> <span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>upright and lead him right</i>. <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>
<i>stays near the table, the glass in her hand</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schön</span>—[<i>Groaning.</i>] O God! O God! O God!
[<span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>finds the door locked, turns the key and opens
it</i>. <span class="smcap">Countess Geschwitz</span> <i>steps out</i>. <span class="smcap">Schön</span> <i>at the
sight of her straightens up, stiffly</i>.] The Devil.
[<i>He falls backward onto the carpet.</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>throws
herself down, takes his head in her lap, and kisses
him</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He has got thru. [<i>Gets up and starts
toward the stairs.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Don’t stir!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—I thought it was you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Throwing herself before</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>.] You
can’t give me up to the law! It is <span class="gesperrt">my</span> head that is
struck off. I shot him because he was about to shoot
me. I have loved nobody in the world but him!
Alva, demand what you will, only don’t let me fall
into the hands of justice. Take pity on me. I am
still young. I will be true to you as long as I live.
I will be wholly yours, yours only! Look at me,
Alva. Man, look at me! Look at me! [<i>Knocking
on the door outside.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—The police. [<i>Goes to open it.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—I shall be expelled from school.</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>

<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_8_8" href="#FNanchor_8_8" class="label">[8]</a> That is, since Act III Alva has won his Ph.D.</p></div></div>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span></p>

  <h2 class="nobreak" id="PANDORAS_BOX">
    PANDORA’S BOX
  </h2>
</div>

<p class='center bold'>(<span class="smcap">Die Büchse der Pandora</span>)</p>

<p class='center bold mt1'>A Tragedy in Three Acts</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span></p>

  <h3 class="nobreak">
    CHARACTERS
  </h3>
</div>

<p class='no-indent'>
  <span class="smcap">Lulu</span><br>
  <span class="smcap">Dr. Alva Schön, Ph.D.</span>, <i>a writer</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span><br>
  <span class="smcap">Rodrigo Quast</span>, <i>acrobat</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Alfred Hugenberg</span>, <i>escaped from a reform-school</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Countess Geschwitz</span></p>
<div>
<table class='left'>
<tr>
<td class='pr1'>
  <span class="smcap">Bianetta</span>                 <br>
  <span class="smcap">Ludmilla Steinherz</span>       <br>
  <span class="smcap">Magelone</span>                 <br>
  <span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>, <i>her daughter</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Count Casti-Piani</span>        <br>
  <span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>, <i>a banker</i>    <br>
  <span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>, <i>a journalist</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Bob</span>, <i>a groom, aged 15</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">A Detective</span>
</td>
<td class='vam x-tight'>
⎫<br>
⎪<br>
⎪<br>
⎪<br>
⎪<br>
⎬<br>
⎪<br>
⎪<br>
⎪<br>
⎪<br>
⎭
</td>
<td class='vam'>In Act II</td>
</tr>
</table>
</div>
<div>
<table class='left'>
<tr>
<td class='pr1'>
  <span class="smcap">Mr. Hunidei</span>         <br>
  <span class="smcap">Kungu Poti</span>, <i>imperial prince of Uahubee</i><br>
  <span class="smcap">Dr. Hilti</span>, <i>tutor</i>            <br>
  <span class="smcap">Jack</span>
</td>
<td class='vam very-tight'>
⎫<br>
⎪<br>
⎬<br>
⎪<br>
⎭
</td>
<td class='vam'>In Act III</td>
</tr>
</table>
</div>

<p class='center mt1'>The first act takes place in Germany, the second in<br>
France, the third in England.</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span></p>

  <h3 class="nobreak" id="PB_ACT_I">
    ACT I
  </h3>
</div>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>The hall of “Earth-Spirit,” Act IV,
feebly lighted by an oil lamp on the centre table.
Even this is dimmed by a heavy shade.</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu’s</span>
<i>picture is gone from the easel, which still stands
by the foot of the stairs. The fire-screen and
the chair by the ottoman are gone too. Down
left is a small tea-table, with a coffee-pot and a
cup of black coffee on it, and an arm-chair
next it.</i></p>

<p class='scene2'><i>In this chair, deep in cushions, with a plaid
shawl over her knees, sits</i> <span class="smcap">Countess Geschwitz</span>
<i>in a tight black dress</i>. <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>, <i>clad as a servant,
sits on the ottoman. At the rear</i>, <span class="smcap">Alva
Schön</span> <i>is walking up and down before the entrance
door</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—He lets people wait for him as if he
were a concert conductor!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—I beg of you, don’t speak!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Hold my tongue? with a head as full
of thoughts as mine is!—I absolutely can’t believe
she’s changed so awfully much to her advantage
there!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—She is more glorious to look at than
I have ever seen her!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—God preserve me from founding my life-happiness
upon <span class="gesperrt">your</span> taste and judgment! If the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span>
disease has hit her as it has you, I’m smashed and
thru! You’re leaving the contagious ward like a
rubber-lady who’s had an accident and taken to
hunger-striking. You can scarcely blow your nose
any more. First you need a quarter-hour to sort
your fingers, and then you have to be mighty careful
not to break off the tip.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—What puts <span class="gesperrt">us</span> under the ground
gives <span class="gesperrt">her</span> health and strength again.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—That’s all right and fine enough. But
I don’t think I’ll be travelling off with her this evening.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—You will let your bride journey all
alone, after all?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—In the first place, the old fellow’s going
with her to protect her in case anything serious——My
escort could only be suspicious. And secondly,
I must wait here till my costumes are ready. I’ll
get across the frontier soon enough all right,—and
I hope in the meantime she’ll put on a little embonpoint,
too. Then we’ll get married, provided I can
present her before a respectable public. I love the
practical in a woman: what theories they make up
for themselves are all the same to me. Aren’t they
to you too, Doctor?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I haven’t heard what you were saying.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I’d never have got my person mixed
up in this plot at all if she hadn’t kept tickling my
bare pate, before her sentence. If only she doesn’t
start exercising again too hard the moment she’s
out of Germany! I’d like best to take her to London
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span>
for six months, and let her fill up on plum-cakes. In
London one expands just from the sea air. And
then, too, in London one doesn’t feel with every
swallow of beer as if the hand of fate were at one’s
throat.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I’ve been asking myself for a week now
whether a person who’d been sentenced to prison
could still be made to go as the chief figure in a modern
drama.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—If the man would only come, now!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I’ve still got to redeem my properties
out of the pawn-shop here, too. Six hundred kilos
of the best iron. The baggage-rate on ’em is always
three times as much as my own ticket, so that the
whole junket isn’t worth a trousers button. When
I went into the pawn-shop with ’em, dripping with
sweat, they asked me if the things were genuine!—I’d
have really done better to have had the costumes
made abroad. In Paris, for instance, they see at the
first glance where one’s best points are, and bravely
lay them bare. But you can’t learn that sitting
cross-legged; it’s got to be studied on classically
shaped people. In this country they’re as scared
of naked skin as they are abroad of dynamite bombs.
Two years ago at the Alhambra Theater I was stuck
for a fifty-marks fine because people could see I had
a few hairs on my chest, not enough to make a respectable
toothbrush! But the Fine Arts Minister
opined that the little schoolgirls might lose their
joy in knitting stockings because of it; and since
then I have myself shaved once a month.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—If I didn’t need every bit of my creative
power now for the “World-Conqueror,” I might like
to test the problem and see what could be done with
it. That’s the curse of our young literature: we’re
so much too literary. We know only such questions
and problems as come up among writers and cultured
people. We cannot see beyond the limits of our own
professional interests. In order to get back on the
trail of a great and powerful art we must live as
much as possible among men who’ve never read a
book in their lives, who are moved by the simplest
animal instincts in all they do. I’ve tried already,
with all my might, to work according to those principles—in
my “Earth-Spirit.” The woman who was
my model for the chief figure in that, breathes to-day—and
has for a year—behind barred windows; and
on that account for some incomprehensible reason
the play was only brought to performance by the
Society for Free Literature. As long as my father
was alive, all the stages of Germany stood open to
my creations. That has been vastly changed.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I’ve had a pair of tights made of the
tenderest blue-green. If <span class="gesperrt">they</span> don’t make a success
abroad, I’ll sell mouse-traps! The trunks are
so delicate I can’t sit on the edge of a table in ’em.
The only thing that will disturb the good impression
is my awful bald head, which I owe to my active
participation in this great conspiracy. To lie in
the hospital in perfect health for three months would
make a fat pig of the most run-down old hobo. Since
coming out I’ve fed on nothing but Karlsbad pills.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span>
Day and night I have orchestra rehearsals in my
intestines. I’ll be so washed out before I get across
the frontier that I won’t be able to lift a bottle-cork.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—How the attendants in the hospital
got out of her way yesterday! That was a refreshing
sight. The garden was still as the grave: in
the loveliest noon sunlight the convalescents didn’t
venture out of doors. Away back by the contagious
ward she stepped out under the mulberry trees and
swayed on her ankles on the gravel. The doorkeeper
had recognized me, and a young doctor who
met me in the corridor shrunk up as tho a revolver
shot had struck him. The Sisters vanished into the
big rooms or stayed stuck against the walls. When
I came back there was not a soul to be seen in the
garden or at the gate. No better chance could have
been found, if we had had the curséd passports. And
now the fellow says he isn’t going with her!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I understand the poor hospital-brothers.
One has a bad foot and another has a swollen
cheek, and there bobs up in the midst of them the
incarnate death-insurance-agentess! In the Hall of
the Knights, as the blessed division was called from
which I organized my spying, when the news got
around there that Sister Theophila had departed this
life, not one of the fellows could be kept in bed.
They scrambled up to the window-bars, if they had
to drag their pains along with them by the hundredweight.
I never heard such swearing in my life!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Allow me, Fräulein von Geschwitz, to come
back to my proposition once more. Tho she shot
my father in this very room, still I can see in the
murder, as in the punishment, nothing but a horrible
misfortune that has befallen <span class="gesperrt">her</span>; nor do I think
that my father, if he had come through alive, would
have withdrawn his support from her entirely.
Whether your plan for freeing her will succeed still
seems to me very doubtful, tho I wouldn’t like to
discourage you; but I can find no words to express
the admiration with which your self-sacrifice, your
energy, your superhuman scorn of death, inspires
me. I don’t believe any man ever risked so much
for a woman, let alone for a friend. I am not aware,
Fräulein von Geschwitz, how rich you are, but the
outlay for what you have accomplished must have
shattered your fortune. May I venture to offer you
a loan of 20,000 marks—which I should have no
trouble raising for you in cash?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—How we did rejoice when Sister
Theophila was really dead! From that day on we
were free from supervision. We changed our beds
as we liked. I had done my hair like hers, and copied
every tone of her voice. When the professor
came he called <span class="gesperrt">her</span> “gnädiges Fräulein” and said
to me, “It’s better living here than in prison!”...
When the Sister suddenly was missing, we looked at
each other in suspense: we had both been sick five
days: now was the deciding moment. Next morning
came the assistant.—“How is Sister Theophila?”—“Dead!”—We
communicated behind his back, and
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>
when he had gone we sank in each other’s arms:
“God be thanked! God be thanked!”—What pains
it cost me to keep my darling from betraying how
well she already was! “You have nine years of
prison before you,” I cried to her early and late.
And now they probably wouldn’t let her stay in the
contagious ward three days more!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I lay in the hospital full three months
to spy out the ground, after toilfully peddling together
the qualities necessary for such a long stay.
Now I act the valet here with you, Dr. Schön, so
that no strange servants may come into the house.
Where is the bridegroom who’s ever done so much
for his bride? My fortune has also been shattered.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—When you succeed in developing her into
a respectable artiste you will have put the world in
debt to you. With the temperament and the beauty
that she has to give out from the inmost depths of
her nature she can make the most blasé public hold
its breath. And then, too, she will be protected, by
<span class="gesperrt">acting</span> passion, from a second time becoming a
criminal in reality.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I’ll soon drive her kiddishness out of
her!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—There he comes! [<i>Steps louden in
the gallery. Then the curtains part at the head of
the stairs and</i> <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span> <i>in a long black coat with
a white sun-shade in his right hand comes down.
Thruout the play his speech is interrupted with frequent
yawns.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Confound the darkness! Outdoors
the sun burns your eyes out.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—[<i>Wearily unwrapping herself.</i>] I’m
coming!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Her ladyship has seen no daylight for
three days. We live here like in a snuff-box.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Since nine o’clock this morning I’ve
been round to all the old-clothes-men. Three brand-new
trunks stuffed full of old trousers I’ve expressed
to Buenos Aires via Bremerhaven. My legs are
dangling on me like the tongue of a bell. It’s going
to be a different life for me from now on!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Where are you going to get off to-morrow
morning?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—I hope not straight into Ox-butter
Hotel again!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I can tell you a fine hotel. I lived there
with a lady lion-tamer. The people were born in
Berlin.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—[<i>Upright in the arm-chair.</i>] Come
and help me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>Hurries to her and supports her.</i>]
And you’ll be safer from the police there than on a
high tight-rope!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—He means to let you go with her
alone this afternoon.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Maybe he’s still suffering from his
chilblains!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Do you want me to start my new engagement
in bath-robe and slippers?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Hm—Sister Theophila wouldn’t
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span>
have gone to heaven so promptly either, if she hadn’t
felt so affectionate towards our patient.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—When one has to serve thru a honeymoon
with her, she’ll have a very different value.
Anyway, it can’t hurt her if she gets a little fresh
air beforehand.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>A pocketbook in his hand, to</i> <span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>,
<i>who is leaning on a chair-back by the centre table</i>.]
This holds 10,000 marks.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Thank you, no.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Please take it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>.] Come along, at
last!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Patience, Fräulein. It’s only a
stone’s throw across Hospital Street. I’ll be here
with her in five minutes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You’re bringing her here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—I’m bringing her here. Or do you
fear for your health?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You see that I fear nothing.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—According to the latest wire, the doctor
is on his way to Constantinople to have his “Earth-Spirit”
produced before the Sultan by harem-ladies
and eunuchs.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Opening the centre door under the gallery.</i>]
It’s shorter for you thru here. [<i>Exeunt</i>
<span class="smcap">Schigolch</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Countess Geschwitz</span>. <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>locks
the door</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—You were going to give more money to
the crazy skyrocket!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—What has that to do with you?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I get paid like a lamp-lighter, tho I
had to demoralize all the Sisters in the hospital.
Then came the assistants’ and the doctors’ turn, and
then&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Will you seriously inform me that the medical
professors let themselves be influenced by you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—With the money those gentlemen cost
me I could become President of the United States!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—But Fräulein von Geschwitz has reimbursed
you for every penny that you spent. So
much I know, and you’re still getting five hundred
marks a month from her besides. It is often pretty
hard to believe in your love for the unhappy murderess.
When I asked Fräulein von Geschwitz just
now to accept my help, it certainly was not done to
stir up <span class="gesperrt">your</span> insatiable avarice. The admiration
which I have learnt to have for Fräulein von
Geschwitz in this affair, I am far from feeling
towards you. It is not at all clear to me what
claims of any kind you can make upon me. That
you chanced to be present at the murder of my
father has not yet created the slightest bond of relationship
between you and me. On the contrary, I
am firmly convinced that if the heroic undertaking
of Countess Geschwitz had not come your way you
would be lying somewhere to-day, without a penny,
drunken in the gutter.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—And do you know what would have become
of you if you hadn’t sold for two millions the
tuppenny paper your father ran? You’d have
hitched up with the stringiest sort of ballet-girl and
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span>
been to-day a stable-boy in the Humpelmeier Circus.
What work do you do? You’ve written a
drama of horrors in which my bride’s calves are the
two chief figures and which no high-class theater will
produce. You walking pajamas! You fresh ragbag,
you! Two years ago I balanced two saddled
cavalry-horses on this chest. How that’ll go now,
after this [<i>clasping his bald head</i>], is a question sure
enough. The foreign girls will get a fine idea of
German art when they see the sweat come beading
thru my tights at every fresh kilo-weight! I shall
make the whole auditorium stink with my exhalations!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You’re weak as a dish-clout!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Would to God you were right! or did
you perhaps intend to insult me? If so, I’ll set the
tip of my toe to your jaw so that your tongue’ll
crawl along the carpet over there!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Try it! [<i>Steps and voices outside.</i>]
Who is that...?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—You can thank God that I have no public
here before me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Who can that be!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—That is my beloved. It’s a full year
now since we’ve seen each other.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—But how should they be back already!
Who can be coming there? I expect no one.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Oh, the devil, unlock it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Hide yourself!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I’ll get behind the portières. I’ve stood
there once before, a year ago. [<i>Disappears, right.</i>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span><span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>opens the rear door, whereupon</i> <span class="smcap">Alfred Hugenberg</span>
<i>enters, hat in hand</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—With whom have I—.... You? Aren’t
you——?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—Alfred Hugenberg.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—What can I do for you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—I’ve come from Münsterburg. I
ran away this morning.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—My eyes are bad. I am forced to keep the
blinds closed.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—I need your help. You will not refuse
me. I’ve got a plan ready.—Can anyone
hear us?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—What do you mean? What sort of a
plan?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—Are you alone?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Yes. What do you want to impart to me?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—I’ve had two plans already that I
let drop. What I shall tell you now has been worked
out to the last possible chance. If I had money I
should not confide it to you; I thought about that a
long time before coming.... Don’t you want to
let me explain my scheme to you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Will you kindly tell me just what you are
talking about?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—She cannot possibly be so indifferent
to you that I must tell you that. The evidence
<span class="gesperrt">you</span> gave the coroner helped her more than everything
the defending counsel said.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I beg to decline the supposition.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—You would say that; I understand
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span>
that, of course. But all the same you were her best
witness.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—<span class="gesperrt">You</span> were! You said my father was
about to force her to shoot herself.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—He was, too. But they didn’t believe
me. I wasn’t put on my oath.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Where have you come from now?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—From a reform-school I broke out
of this morning.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—And what do you have in view?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—I’m trying to get into the confidence
of a turnkey.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—What do you mean to live on?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—I’m living with a girl who’s had a
child by my father.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Who is your father?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—He’s a police captain. I know the
prison without ever having been inside it; and nobody
in it will recognize me as I am now. But I
don’t count on that at all. I know an iron ladder
by which one can get from the first court to the roof
and thru an opening there into the attic. There’s
no way up to it from inside. But in all five wings
boards and laths and great heaps of shavings are
lying under the roofs, and I’ll drag them all together
in the middle and set fire to them. My pockets
are full of matches and all the things used to
make fires.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—But then you’ll burn up there!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—Of course, if I’m not rescued. But
to get into the first court I must have the turnkey
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span>
in my power, and for that I need money. Not that
I mean to bribe him; that wouldn’t go. I must lend
him money to send his three children to the country,
and then at four o’clock in the morning when
the prisoners of respected families are discharged,
I’ll slip in the door. He’ll lock-up behind me and
ask me what I’m after, and I’ll ask him to let me
out again in the evening. And before it gets light,
I’m up in the attic.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—How did you escape from the reform-school?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—Jumped out the window. I need
two hundred marks for the rascal to send his family
to the country.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>Stepping out of the portières, right.</i>]
Will the Herr Baron have coffee in the music-room
or on the veranda?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—How did that man come here? Out
of the same door! He jumped out of the same
door!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I’ve taken him into my service. He is dependable.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—[<i>Grasping his temples.</i>] Fool that
I am! Oh, fool!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Oh, yah, we’ve seen each other here before!
Cut away now to your vice-mama. Your
kid brother might like to uncle his brothers and sisters.
Make your sir-papa the grandfather of his
children! You’re the only thing we’ve missed. If
you once get into my sight in the next two weeks,
I’ll beat your bean up for porridge.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Be quiet, you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—I’m a fool!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—What do you want to do with your
fire? Don’t you know the lady’s been dead three
weeks?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—Did they cut off her head?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—No, she’s got that still. She was
mashed by the cholera.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—That is not true!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—What do you know about it! There,
read it: here! [<i>Taking out a paper and pointing
to the place.</i>] “The murderess of Dr. Schön....”
[<i>Gives</i> <span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span> <i>the paper. He reads</i>:]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—“The murderess of Dr. Schön has
in some incomprehensible way fallen ill of the cholera
in prison.” It doesn’t say that she’s dead.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Well, what else do you suppose she is?
She’s been lying in the churchyard three weeks.
Back in the left-hand corner behind the rubbish-heap
where the little crosses are with no names on
them, there she lies under the first one. You’ll know
the spot because the grass hasn’t grown on it. Hang
a tin wreath there, and then get back to your nursery-school
or I’ll denounce you to the police. I
know the female that beguiles her leisure hours with
you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>.] Is it true that she’s
dead?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Thank God, yes!—Please, do not keep me
here any longer. My doctor has forbidden me to
receive visitors.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—My future life means so little now!
I would gladly have given the last scrap of what life
is worth to me for her happiness. Heigh-ho! One
way or another I’ll sure go to the devil now!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—If you dare in any way to approach me
or the doctor here or my honorable friend Schigolch
too near, I’ll inform on you for intended arson. You
need three good years of prison to learn where not
to stick your fingers in! Now get out!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Hugenberg</span>—Fool!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Get out! [<i>Throws him out the door.
Coming down.</i>] I wonder you didn’t put your purse
at that rogue’s disposal, too!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I won’t stand your damned jabbering!
The boy’s little finger is worth more than all you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I’ve had enough of this Geschwitz’s
company! If my bride is to become a corporation
with limited liability, somebody else can go in ahead
of me. I propose to make a magnificent trapeze-artiste
out of her, and willingly risk my life to do
it. But then I’ll be master of the house, and will
myself indicate what cavaliers she is to receive!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—The boy has what our age lacks: a hero-nature;
therefore, of course, he is going to ruin. Do
you remember how before sentence was passed he
jumped out of the witness-box and yelled at the justice:
“How do you know what would have become of
<span class="gesperrt">you</span> if you’d had to run around the cafés barefoot
every night when you were ten years old?”</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—If I could only have given him one in
the jaw for that right away! Thank God, there
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>
are jails where scum like that gets some respect for
the law pounded into them.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—One like him might have been my model
for my “World-conqueror.” For twenty years literature
has presented nothing but demi-men: men
who can beget no children and women who can bear
none. That’s called “The Modern Problem.”</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I’ve ordered a hippopotamus-whip two
inches thick. If that has no success with her, you
can fill my cranium with potato-soup. Be it love
or be it whipping, female flesh never inquires. Only
give it some amusement, and it stays firm and fresh.
She is now in her twentieth year, has been married
three times and has satisfied a gigantic horde of lovers,
and her heart’s desires are at last pretty plain.
But the man’s got to have the seven deadly sins on
his forehead, or she honors him not. If he looks as
if a dog-catcher had spat him out on the street,
then, with such women-folks, he needn’t be afraid of
a prince! I’ll rent a garage fifty feet high and break
her in there; and when she’s learnt the first diving-leap
without breaking her neck I’ll pull on a black
coat and not stir a finger the rest of my life. With
her practical equipment it costs a woman not half
the trouble to support her husband as the other way
round, if only the man looks after the mental work
for her, and doesn’t let the sense of the family go
to wreck.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I have learnt how to master humanity and
drive it in harness before me like a well-broken four-in-hand,—but
that boy sticks in my head. Really,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span>
I can still take private lessons in the scorn of the
world from that schoolboy!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—She’ll just comfortably let her hide be
papered with thousand-mark bills! I’ll extract
salaries out of the directors with a centrifugal pump.
I know their kind. When they don’t need a man,
let him shine their shoes for them; but when they
must have an artiste they’ll cut her down from the
very gallows with their own hands and with the most
binding compliments.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—In my circumstances there’s nothing left
in the world that I should fear—but death. Yet in
feelings and sensations I am the poorest beggar.—However,
I can no longer scrape up the moral courage
to exchange my established position for the excitements
of the wild, adventurous life!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—She had sicked Papa Schigolch and me
out on a hunt together to rout her out some strong
antidote for insomnia. We each got a twenty-mark
piece for expenses. There in the Nightlight Café
we see the youngster sitting like a criminal on the
prisoner’s bench. Schigolch sniffed at him from all
sides, and remarked, “He is still virgin.” [<i>Up in
the gallery, dragging steps are heard.</i>] There she
is! The future magnificent trapeze-artiste of the
present age! [<i>The curtains part at the stair-head,
and</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>appears, supported by</i> <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span> <i>and
in</i> <span class="smcap">Countess Geschwitz’s</span> <i>black dress, slowly and
wearily descending</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Hui, old moldy! We’ve still to get
over the frontier to-day.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>Glaring stupidly at</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] Thunder
of heaven! Death!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Speaks, to the end of the act, in the gayest
tones.</i>] Slowly! You’re pinching my arm!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—How did you ever get the shamelessness
to break out of prison with such a wolf’s face?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Stop your snout!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I’ll run for the police! I’ll give information!
This scarecrow let herself be seen in
tights? The padding alone would cost two months’
salary!—You’re the most perfidious swindler that
ever had lodging in Ox-butter Hotel!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Kindly refrain from insulting the lady!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Insulting, you call that? For this
gnawed bone’s sake I’ve worn myself away! I can’t
earn my own living! I’ll be a clown if I can still
stand firm under a broomstick! But let the lightning
strike me on the spot if I don’t worm ten thousand
marks a year for life out of your tricks and
frauds! I can tell you that! A pleasant trip!
I’m going for the police! [<i>Exit.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Run, run.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He’ll take good care of himself!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—We’re rid of <span class="gesperrt">him</span>!—And now some
black coffee for the lady!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>At the table left.</i>] Here is coffee, ready
to pour.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—I must look after the sleeping-car
tickets.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Brightly.</i>] Oh, freedom! Thank God
for freedom!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—I’ll be back for you in half an hour.
We’ll celebrate our departure in the station-restaurant.
I’ll order a supper that’ll keep us going till
to-morrow.—Good morning, Doctor.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Good evening.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Pleasant rest!—Thanks, I know
every door-handle here. So long! Have a good
time! [<i>Exit, centre.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I haven’t seen a room for a year and a
half. Curtains, chairs, pictures....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Won’t you drink it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’ve swallowed enough black coffee these
five days. Have you any brandy?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I’ve got some elixir de Spaa.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—That reminds one of old times. [<i>Looks
round the hall while</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>fills two glasses</i>.]
Where’s my picture gone?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I’ve got it in my room, so no one shall
see it here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Bring it here, do!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Haven’t you got over your vanity even in
prison?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—How anxious at heart you get when you
don’t see yourself for months! One day I got a
brand-new dust-pan. When I swept up at seven in
the morning I held the back of it up before my face.
Tin doesn’t flatter, but I took pleasure in it all the
same.—Get the picture out of your room. Shall I
come, too?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—No, Heaven’s sake! You must spare yourself!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’ve been sparing myself long enough now!
[<span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>goes out, right, to get the picture</i>.] He has
heart-trouble; but to have to plague one’s self with
imagination fourteen months!... He kisses with
the fear of death on him, and his two knees shake like
a frozen vagabond’s. In God’s name!... In this
room—if only I had not shot his father in the back!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Returns with the picture of</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>in the
Pierrot-dress</i>.] It’s covered with dust. I had leant
it against the fireplace, face to the wall.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You didn’t look at it all the time I was
away?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I had so much business to attend to, with
the sale of our paper and everything. Countess
Geschwitz would have liked to have hung it up in her
house, but she had to be prepared for search-warrants.
[<i>He puts the picture on the easel.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Merrily.</i>] Now the poor monster is getting
personally acquainted with the life of joy in
Hotel Ox-butter!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Even now I don’t understand how events
hang together.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Oh, Geschwitz arranged it all very cleverly.
I do admire her inventiveness. But the cholera must
have raged fearfully in Hamburg this summer; and
on that she based her plan for freeing me. She took
a course in hospital nursing here, and when she had
the necessary documents she journeyed to Hamburg
with them and nursed the cholera patients. At the
first opportunity that offered she put on the underclothes
that a sick woman had just died in and which
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span>
really ought to have been burnt. The same morning
she traveled back here and came to see me in prison.
In my cell, while the wardress was outside, we two,
as quick as we could, exchanged underclothes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—So that was the reason why the Countess
and you fell sick of the cholera the same day!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Exactly, that was it! Geschwitz of
course was instantly brought from her house to the
contagious ward in the hospital. But with me, too,
they couldn’t think of any other place to take me.
So there we lay in one room in the contagious ward
behind the hospital, and from the first day Geschwitz
put forth all her art to make our two faces as like
each other as possible. Day before yesterday she
was let out as cured. Just now she came back and
said she’d forgotten her watch. I put on her clothes,
she slipped into my prison frock, and then I came
away. [<i>With pleasure.</i>] Now she’s lying over there
as the murderess of Dr. Schön.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—So far as outward appearance goes you
can hold your own with the picture as well as ever.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’m a little peaked in the face, but otherwise
I’ve lost nothing. Only one gets incredibly
nervous in prison.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You looked horribly sick when you came in.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I had to, to get our necks out of the
noose.—And you? What have you done in this year
and a half?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I’ve had a succès d’estime in literary circles
with a play I wrote about you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Who’s your sweetheart now?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—An actress I’ve rented a house for in Karl
Street.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Does she love you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—How should I know that? I haven’t seen
the woman for six weeks.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Can you stand that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You will never grasp it—but with me
there’s the closest alternation between my sensuality
and my creative powers. So, as regards you, for
example, I have to make the choice of either setting
you forth artistically or of loving you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>In a fairy-story tone.</i>] I used to dream,
once, every other night, that I’d fallen into the
hands of a sadist.... Come, give me a kiss!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—It’s shining in your eyes like the water
in a deep well one has just thrown a stone into.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Come!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Kisses her.</i>] Your lips have got pretty
thin, sure enough.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Come! [<i>Pushes him into a chair and seats
herself on his knee.</i>] Do you shudder at me?—In
Hotel Ox-butter we all got a lukewarm bath every
four weeks. The wardresses took that opportunity
to search our pockets as soon as we were in the
water. [<i>She kisses him passionately.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Oh, oh!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’re afraid that when I’m away you
couldn’t write any more poems about me?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—On the contrary, I shall write a dithyramb
upon your glory.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’m only sore about the hideous shoes I’m
wearing.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—They do not encroach upon your charms.
Let us be thankful for the favor of this moment.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I don’t feel at all like that to-day.—Do
you remember the costume ball where I was dressed
like a knight’s squire? How those wine-full women
ran after me that time? Geschwitz crawled round,
round my feet, and begged me to step on her face with
my cloth shoes.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Come, dear heart!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>In the tone with which one quiets a restless
child.</i>] Quietly! I shot your father.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I do not love you less for that. One kiss!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Bend your head back. [<i>She kisses him
with deliberation.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You hold back the fire of my soul with
the most dexterous art. And your breast breathes
so virginly too. Yet if it weren’t for your two great,
dark, child’s eyes, I must needs have thought you
the cunningest whore that ever hurled a man to
destruction.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>In high spirits.</i>] Would God I were!
Come over the border with us to-day! Then we
can see each other as often as we will, and we’ll get
more pleasure from each other than now.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Through this dress I feel your body like
a symphony. These slender ankles, this cantabile.
This rapturous crescendo. And these knees, this
capriccio. And the powerful andante of lust!—How
peacefully these two slim rivals press against each
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span>
other in the consciousness that neither equals the
other in beauty—till their capricious mistress wakes
up and the rival lovers separate like the two hostile
poles. I shall sing your praises so that your senses
shall whirl!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Merrily.</i>] Meanwhile I’ll bury my hands
in your hair. [<i>She does so.</i>] But here we’ll be disturbed.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You have robbed me of my reason!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Aren’t you coming with me to-day?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—But the old fellow’s going with you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He won’t turn up again.—Is not that the
divan on which your father bled to death?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Be still. Be still....</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span></p>

  <h3 class="nobreak" id="PB_ACT_II">
    ACT II
  </h3>
</div>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>A spacious salon in white stucco. In the
rear wall, between two high mirrors, a wide folding
doorway showing in the rear room a big
card-table surrounded by Turkish upholstered
chairs. In the left wall two doors, the upper
one to the entrance-hall, the lower to the dining-room.
Between them a rococo console with a
white marble top, and above it</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu’s</span> <i>Pierrot-picture
in a narrow gold frame let into the wall.
Two other doors, right; near the lower one a
small table. Wide and brightly covered chairs
stand about, with thin legs and fragile arms;
and in the middle is a sofa of the same style
(Louis XV).</i></p>

<p class='scene2'><i>A large company is moving about the salon
in lively conversation. The men</i>—<span class="smcap">Alva</span>, <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>,
<span class="smcap">Marquis Casti-Piani</span>, <span class="smcap">Banker Puntschu</span>,
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Journalist Heilmann</span>—<i>are in
evening dress</i>. <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>wears a white Directoire
dress with huge sleeves and white lace falling
freely from belt to feet. Her arms are in white
kid gloves, her hair done high with a little tuft
of white feathers.</i> <span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span> <i>is in a bright
blue hussar-waist trimmed with white fur and
laced with silver braid, a tall tight collar with
a white bow, and stiff cuffs with huge ivory links</i>.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span><span class="smcap">Magelone</span> <i>is in bright rainbow-colored shot
silk with very wide sleeves, long narrow waist,
and three ruffles of spiral rose-colored ribbons
and violet bouquets. Her hair is parted in the
middle and drawn low over her temples. On her
forehead is a mother-of-pearl ornament, held by
a fine chain under her hair.</i> <span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>, <i>her
daughter, twelve years old, has bright-green
satin gaiters which yet leave visible the tops of
her white silk socks, and a white-lace-covered
dress with bright-green narrow sleeves, pearl-gray
gloves, and free black hair under a big
bright-green hat with white feathers</i>. <span class="smcap">Bianetta</span>
<i>is in a loose-sleeved dress of dark-green velvet,
the bodice sewn with pearls, and the skirt full,
without a waist, embroidered at the hem with
great false topazes set in silver</i>. <span class="smcap">Ludmilla
Steinherz</span> <i>is in a glaring summer frock striped
red and blue</i>.</p>

<p class='scene2'><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span> <i>stands, centre, a full glass in his
hand</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Ladies and gentlemen—I beg your pardon—please
be quiet—I drink—permit me to drink—for
this is the birthday party of our amiable
hostess—[<i>taking</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu’s</span> <i>arm</i>] of Countess Adelaide
d’Oubra—damned and done for!—I drink therefore — — and
so forth, go to it, ladies! [<i>All surround</i>
<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>and clink with her</i>. <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>presses</i> <span class="smcap">Rodrigo’s</span>
<i>hand</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I congratulate you.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I’m sweating like a roast pig.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] Let’s see if everything’s in
order in the card-room. [<span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>exeunt,
rear</i>. <span class="smcap">Bianetta</span> <i>speaks to</i> <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Bianetta</span>—They were telling me just now you
were the strongest man in the world.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—That I am. May I put my strength at
your disposal?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—I love sharp-shooters better. Three
months ago a sharp-shooter appeared in the Casino,
and every time he went “bang!” I felt like this.
[<i>She wriggles her hips.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Who speaks thruout the act in a
bored and weary tone, to</i> <span class="smcap">Magelone</span>.] Say, dearie,
how does it happen we see your nice little princess
here for the first time to-night? [<i>Meaning</i> <span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—Do you really find her so delightful?—She
is still in the convent. She must be back in
school again on Monday.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>—What did you say, Mama?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—I was just telling the gentlemen that
you got the highest mark in geometry last week.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>—Some pretty hair she’s got!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Just look at her feet: the way she
walks.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—By God, she’s a thoroughbred!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—[<i>Smiling.</i>] But, my dear sirs, take
pity on her! She’s nothing but a child still!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—That’d trouble me damned little!
[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>.] I’d give ten years of my life if
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span>
I could initiate the young lady into the ceremonies
of our secret society!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—But you won’t get me to consent to
that for a million. I won’t have the child’s youth
ruined, the way mine was!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Confessions of a lovely soul! [<i>To</i>
<span class="smcap">Magelone</span>.] Would you not grant your permission
even for a set of real diamonds?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—Don’t brag! You’ll give as few real
diamonds to me as to my child. You know that
best yourself. [<span class="smcap">Kadidia</span> <i>goes into the rear room</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—But is nobody at all going to play,
this evening?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ludmilla</span>—Why, of course, Comtesse. I’m
counting on it very much, for one!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Bianetta</span>—Then let’s take our places right away.
The gentlemen will soon come then.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—May I ask you to excuse me just a
second more? I must say a word to my friend.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Offering his arm to</i> <span class="smcap">Bianetta</span>.]
May I have the honor to be your partner? You
always hold such a lucky hand!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ludmilla</span>—Now just give me your other arm and
then lead us into the gambling-hell. [<i>The three go
off so, rear.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—Say, Mr. Puntschu, have you still got
a few Jungfrau-shares for me, maybe?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—Jungfrau-shares? [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>.]
The lady means the stock of the funicular railway on
the Jungfrau. The Jungfrau, you know,—the Virgin—is
a mountain and they’re going to build a wire
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span>
railway up it. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Magelone</span>.] You understand,—just
so there may be no confusion;—and how easy
that would be in this select circle!—Yes, I still have
some four thousand Jungfrau-shares, but I should
like to keep those for myself. There won’t be such
another chance soon of making a little fortune out
of hand.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>—I’ve only one lone share of this Jungfrau-stock
so far. I should like to have more, too.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—I’ll try, Mr. Heilmann, to look after
some for you. But I tell you beforehand you’ll have
to pay drug-store prices for them!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—My fortune-teller advised me to look
about me in time. All my savings are in Jungfrau-shares
now. If it doesn’t turn out well, Mr. Puntschu,
I’ll scratch your eyes out!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—I am perfectly sure of my affairs,
my dearie!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Who has come back from the card-room,
to</i> <span class="smcap">Magelone</span>.] I can guarantee your fears are
absolutely unfounded. I paid very dear for my
Jungfrau-stock and haven’t regretted it a minute.
They’re going up steadily from day to day. There
never was such a thing before.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—All the better, if you’re right. [<i>Taking</i>
<span class="smcap">Puntschu’s</span> <i>arm</i>.] Come, my friend, let’s try
our luck now at baccarat. [<i>All go out, rear, except</i>
<span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>, <i>who scribbles something on
a piece of paper and folds it up, then notices</i>
<span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Hm, madam Countess—— [<span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span><i>starts and shrinks</i>.] Do I look as dangerous as
that? [<i>To himself.</i>] I must make a bon mot.
[<i>Aloud.</i>] May I perhaps make so bold&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—You can go to the devil!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>As he leads</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>in</i>.] You will
allow me a word or two.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Not noticing</i> <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>, <i>who presses his
note into her hand</i>.] Oh, as many as you like.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>As he bows and goes out, rear.</i>] I beg
you will excuse me....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>.] Leave us alone!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>.] Have I vexed you
again somehow?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Since</i> <span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span> <i>does not stir</i>.]
Are you deaf? [<span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>, <i>sighing deeply, goes
out, rear</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Just say straight out how much you want.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—With money you can no longer
serve me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—What makes you think that we have no
more money?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—You handed out the last bit of it to
me yesterday.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—If you’re sure of that then I suppose
it’s so.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—You’re down to bedrock, you and
your writer.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Then why all these words?—If you want
to have me for yourself you need not first threaten
me with execution.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—I know that. But I’ve told you
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span>
more than once that you are not the sort I fall for.
I haven’t plundered you because you loved me, but
loved you in order to fleece you. Bianetta is more
to my taste from top to bottom than you. You set
out the choicest lot of sweetmeats, and when one has
frittered his time away at them he finds he’s hungrier
than before. You’ve loved too long, even for our
relations here. With a healthy young man, you
only ruin his nervous system. But you’ll fit all the
more perfectly in the position I have sought out for
you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’re crazy! Have I commissioned you
to find a position for me?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—I told you, though, that I was an
employment-agent.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You told me you were a police spy.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—One can’t live on that alone. I was
an employment-agent originally, till I blundered over
a minister’s daughter I’d got a position for in Valparaiso.
The little darling in her childhood’s
dreams had imagined the life to be even more intoxicating
than it is, and complained about it to
Mama. On that, they nabbed me; but by reliable
demeanor I soon enough won the confidence of the
criminal police and they sent me here on a hundred
and fifty marks a month, because they were tripling
our contingent here on account of these everlasting
bomb-explosions. But who can get along in Paris
on a hundred and fifty marks a month? My colleagues
get women to support them; but, of course,
I found it more convenient to take up my former
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span>
calling again; and of the numberless adventuresses
of the best families of the entire world, whom chance
brings together here, I have already forwarded many
a young creature hungry for life to the place of her
natural vocation.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Decisively.</i>] I’m no good for that business.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Your views on that question make
no difference whatever to me. The department of
justice will pay anyone who delivers the murderess
of Dr. Schön into the hands of the police a thousand
marks. I only need to whistle for the constable
who’s standing down at the corner to have earned
a thousand marks. Against that, the House of
Oikonomopulos in Cairo bids sixty pounds for you—twelve
hundred marks—two hundred more than
the Attorney General. And, besides, I am still so
far a friend of mankind that I prefer to help my
loves to happiness, not hurl them into misery.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>As before.</i>] The life in such a house can
never in the world make a woman of my sort happy.
When I was fifteen, I might have liked it. I was
desperate then—thought I should never be happy.
I bought a revolver, and ran one night barefoot
through the deep snow over the bridge to the park
to shoot myself there. But then by good luck I lay
three months in the hospital without once getting
sight of a man, and in that time my eyes were opened
and I got to know myself. Night after night in my
dreams I saw the man for whom I was created and
who was created for me, so that when I was let out
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span>
on the men again I was a silly goose no longer. Since
then I can see on a man, in a pitch-dark night and
a hundred feet away, whether we’re meant for each
other; and if I sin against that insight I feel the
next day dirtied, body and soul, and need weeks to
get over the loathing I have for myself. And now
you imagine I’ll give myself to every and any Tom
and Harry!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Toms and Harries don’t patronize
Oikonomopulos of Cairo. His custom consists of
Scottish lords, Russian dignitaries, Indian governors,
and our jolly Rhineland captains of industry. I
must only guarantee that you speak French. With
your gift for languages you’ll quickly enough learn
as much English, besides, as you’ll need to get on
with. And you’ll reside in a royally furnished
apartment with an outlook on the minarets of the
El Azhar Mosque, and walk around all day on Persian
carpets as thick as your fist, and dress every
evening in a fabulous Paris gown, and drink as much
champagne as your customers can pay for, and,
finally, you’ll even remain, up to a certain point, your
own mistress. If the man doesn’t please you, you
needn’t play up to him at all. Just let him give in
his card, and then——[<i>Shrugs, and snaps his fingers.</i>]
If the ladies didn’t get used to that the whole
business would be simply impossible, because every
one of them after the first few weeks would go headlong
to the devil.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Her voice shaking.</i>] I do believe that
since yesterday you’ve got a screw loose somewhere.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span>
Am I to understand that the Egyptian will pay fifteen
hundred francs for a person whom he’s never
seen?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—I took the liberty of sending him
your pictures.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Those pictures that I gave you, you’ve
sent to him?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—You see he can value them better
than I. The picture in which you stand before the
mirror as Eve he’ll probably hang up at the house-door,
after you’ve got there.... And then there’s
one thing more for you to notice: with Oikonomopulos
in Cairo you’ll be safer from your bloodhounds
than if you crept into a Canadian wilderness.
It isn’t so easy to transport an Egyptian courtesan
to a German prison,—first, on account of the mere
expense, and second, from fear of treading too close
upon eternal Justice.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Proudly, in a clear voice.</i>] What have
I to do with your eternal Justice! You can see as
plain as your five fingers I shan’t let myself be locked
up in any such amusement-place!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Then will you permit me to whistle
up the policeman?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>In wonder.</i>] Why don’t you simply ask
me for twelve hundred marks, if you want the money?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—I want for no money! And I also
don’t ask for it because you’re dead broke.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—We still have thirty thousand marks.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—In Jungfrau-stock! I never have
anything to do with stock. The Attorney General
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span>
pays in the imperial currency, and Oikonomopulos
pays in English gold. You can be on board early
to-morrow. The passage doesn’t last much more
than five days. In two weeks at most you’re in
safety. Here you are nearer to prison than anywhere.
It’s a wonder which I, as one of the secret
police, cannot understand, that you two have been
able to live for a full year unmolested. But just
as <i>I</i> came on the track of your antecedents, so any
day, with your mighty consumption of men, one of
my colleagues may make the happy discovery. Then
I may just wipe my mouth, and you spend the most
enjoyable years of your life in prison. If you will
kindly decide quickly. The train goes at 12:30.
If we haven’t struck a bargain before eleven, I
whistle up the policeman. If we have, I pack you,
just as you stand, into a carriage, drive you to the
station, and to-morrow night escort you on board
ship.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—But is it possible you can be serious in all
this?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Don’t you understand that your
bodily rescue is the only thing left me to do?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’ll go with you to America or to China,
but I can’t let myself be sold of my own accord!
That is worse than prison!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Drawing a letter from his pocket.</i>]
Just read this effusion! I’ll read it to you. Here’s
the postmark “Cairo,” so you won’t believe I work
with forged documents. The girl is a Berliner, was
married two years and to a man whom you would
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span>
have envied her, a former comrade of mine. He
travels now for some Hamburg colonial company....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Merrily.</i>] Then perhaps he <span class="gesperrt">visits</span> his
wife occasionally?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—That is not incredible. But hear
this impulsive expression of her feelings. My white-slave
traffic seems to me absolutely no more honorable
than the first judge you happened on would
think it, but a cry of joy like this lets me feel a
certain moral satisfaction for a moment. I am proud
to earn my money by scattering happiness with full
hands. [<i>Reads.</i>] “Dear Mr. Meyer”—that’s my
name as a white-slave trader—“when you go to Berlin,
please go right away to the conservatory on the
Potsdamer Strasse and ask for Gusti von Rosenkron—the
most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen anywhere—delightful
hands and feet, naturally small
waist, straight back, full body, big eyes and short
nose—just the sort you like best. I have written to
her already. She has no prospects with her singing.
Her mother hasn’t a penny. Sorry she’s already
twenty-two, but she’s pining for love. Can’t marry,
because absolutely without means. I have spoken
with Madame. They’d like to take another German,
if she’s well educated and musical. Italians and
Frenchwomen can’t compete with us;—not cultured
enough. If you should see Fritz”—Fritz is the husband;
he’s getting a divorce, of course,—“tell him
it was all a bore. He didn’t know any better, neither
did I.” Now come the exact details&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Goaded.</i>] I cannot sell the only thing
that ever was my own!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Let me read some more.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>As before.</i>] This very evening, I’ll hand
over to you our entire wealth.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Believe me, for God’s sake, I’ve <span class="gesperrt">got</span>
your last red cent! If we haven’t left this house before
eleven, you and your lot will be transported
to-morrow in a police-car to Germany.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You <span class="gesperrt">can’t</span> give me up!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Do you think that would be the
worst thing I “can” have done in my life?... I
must, in case we go to-night, have just a brief word
with Bianetta. [<i>He goes into the card-room, leaving
the door open behind him.</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>stares before her,
mechanically crumpling up the note that</i> <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>
<i>stuck into her hand, which she has held in her fingers
thruout the dialogue</i>. <span class="smcap">Alva</span>, <i>behind the card-table,
gets up, a bill in his hand, and comes into the
salon</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] Brilliantly! It’s going brilliantly!
Geschwitz is wagering her last shirt.
Puntschu has promised me ten more Jungfrau-shares.
Steinherz is making her little gains and profits.
[<i>Exit, lower right.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I in a bordel? [<i>She reads the paper she
holds, and laughs madly.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Coming back with a cash-box in his
hand.</i>] Aren’t you going to play, too?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Oh, yes, surely—why not?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—By the way, it’s in the “Berliner Tageblatt”
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span>
to-day that Alfred Hugenberg has hurled himself
over the stairs in prison.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Is he too in prison?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Only in a sort of house of detention.
[<i>Exit, rear.</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>is about to follow, but</i> <span class="smcap">Countess
Geschwitz</span> <i>meets her in the doorway</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—You are going because I come?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Resolutely.</i>] No, God knows. But when
you come then I go.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—You have defrauded me of all the
good things of this world that I still possessed. You
might at the very least preserve the outward forms
of politeness in your intercourse with me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>As before.</i>] I am as polite to you as to
any other woman. I only beg you to be equally so
to me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Have you forgotten the passionate
endearments you used, while we lay together in the
hospital, to seduce me into letting myself be locked
into prison for you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Well, why else did you bring me down with
the cholera beforehand? I swore very different
things to myself, even while it was going on, from
what I had to promise you! I am shaken with horror
at the thought that that should ever become reality!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Then you cheated me consciously,
deliberately!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Gaily.</i>] And what have you been cheated
of, eh? Your physical advantages have found so
enthusiastic an admirer here, that I ask myself if
I won’t have to give piano lessons once more, to keep
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span>
alive! No seventeen-year-old child could make a
man madder with love than you, a pervert, are making
him, poor fellow, by your shrewishness.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Of whom are you speaking? I don’t
understand a word.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>As before.</i>] I’m speaking of your acrobat,
of Rodrigo Quast. He’s an athlete: he balances
two saddled cavalry horses on his chest. Can a
woman desire anything more glorious? He told me
just now that he’d jump into the water to-night if
you did not take pity on him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—I do not envy you your cleverness at
torturing the helpless victims sacrificed to you by
their inscrutable destiny. I cannot envy you at all.
My own misery has not yet wrung from me the pity
that I feel for you. <i>I</i> feel free as a god when I
think to what creatures <span class="gesperrt">you</span> are enslaved.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Whom do you mean?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Casti-Piani, upon whose forehead the
most degenerate baseness is written in letters of fire!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Be silent! I’ll kick you, if you speak ill
of <span class="gesperrt">him</span>. He loves me so uprightly that your most
venturous self-sacrifices are beggary in comparison!
He gives me such proofs of self-denial as reveal <span class="gesperrt">you</span>
for the first time in all your loathsomeness! You
didn’t get finished in your mother’s womb, neither
as woman nor as man. You have no human nature
like the rest of us. The stuff didn’t go far enough
for a man, and for a woman you got too much brain
in your noddle. That’s the reason you’re crazy!
Turn to Miss Bianetta! She can be had for everything
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span>
for pay! Press a gold-piece into her hand
and she’ll be yours. [<i>All the company save</i> <span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>
<i>throng in out of the card-room</i>.] For the Lord’s
sake, what has happened?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—Nothing whatever! We’re thirsty,
that’s all.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—Everybody has won. We can’t believe
it.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Bianetta</span>—Seems to me I have won quite a
fortune!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ludmilla</span>—Don’t boast of it, my child. That
isn’t lucky.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—But the bank has won, too! How is
that <span class="gesperrt">possible</span>?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—It is colossal, where all the money comes
from!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Let us not ask! Enough that we
need not spare the champagne.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>—I can pay for a supper in a respectable
restaurant afterwards, anyway!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—To the buffet, ladies! Come to the buffet!
[<i>All exeunt, lower left.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>Holding</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>back</i>.] Un momong,
my heart. Have you read my billet-doux?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Threaten me with discovery as much as
you like! I have no more twenty thousands to dispose
of.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Don’t lie to me, you punk! You’ve still
got forty thousand in Jungfrau-stock. Your so-called
spouse has just been bragging of it himself!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Then turn to <span class="gesperrt">him</span> with your blackmailing!
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span>
It’s all one to me what he does with his money.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Thank you! With that blockhead I’d
need twice twenty-four hours to make him grasp what
I was talking about. And then come his explanations,
that make one deathly sick; and meanwhile
my bride-to-be writes me to call it off, and I can
just hang a hurdy-gurdy over my shoulder.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—What, have you got engaged here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Maybe I ought to have asked your permission
first? What were my thanks here for having
freed you from prison at the cost of my health?
You abandoned me! I might have had to turn porter
if this girl hadn’t taken me up! At my entrance,
the very first evening, somebody threw a velvet-covered
arm-chair at my head! This country is too
decadent to value genuine shows of strength any
more. If I’d been a boxing kangaroo they’d have
interviewed me and put my picture in all the papers.
Thank Heaven, I’d already made the acquaintance of
my Celestine. She’s got the savings of twenty years
deposited with the government; and she loves me
just for myself. She doesn’t aim at vile vulgarities
and nothing else like you. She’s had three children
by an American bishop—all of the greatest promise.
Early day after to-morrow we’re going to get married
at the registrar’s.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You have my blessing.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Your blessing can be stolen from me.
I’ve told my bride I had twenty thousand in stock
at the bank.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Amused.</i>] And after that he boasts the
woman loves him for himself!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—She honors in me the man of feeling, not
the man of force as you and all the others have done.
That’s well over now. First they’d tear the clothes
from one’s body and then waltz around with the
chambermaid. I’ll be a skeleton before I’ll let myself
in again for such diversions!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Then why the devil do you especially pursue
poor Geschwitz with your proposals?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Because the thing is of noble blood.
I’m a man of the world, and can do distinguished
conversation better than any of you. But now [<i>with
a gesture</i>] my talk is hanging out of my mouth!
Will you get me the money before to-morrow evening,
or won’t you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I have no money.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I’ll have hen-droppings in my head
before I’ll let myself be put off with that! He’ll give
you his last cent if you’ll only do your damned debt
and duty by him once! You lured the poor lad here,
and now he can see where to scare up a suitable
engagement for his accomplishments.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—What is it to you if he wastes his money
with women or at cards?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Do you absolutely <span class="gesperrt">want</span>, then, to
throw the last penny that his father earned by his
paper into the jaws of this rapacious pack? You’ll
make four people happy if you’ll strain a point and
sacrifice yourself for a philanthropic purpose! Has
it got to be only Casti-Piani <span class="gesperrt">forever</span>?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Lightly.</i>] Shall I ask him perhaps to
light you down the stairs?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—As you wish, Countess! If I don’t get
the twenty thousand marks by to-morrow evening,
I make a statement to the police and your salon
comes to an end. Auf Wiedersehen! [<span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>
<i>enters, breathless, upper right</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’re looking for Miss Magelone? She’s
not here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>—No, I’m looking for something else&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>Taking him to the entry-door, opposite
him.</i>] Second door on the left.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>.] Did you learn that from
your bride?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>—[<i>Bumping into</i> <span class="smcap">Puntschu</span> <i>in the
doorway</i>.] Excuse me, my angel!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—Ah, it’s you. Miss Magelone’s waiting
for you in the lift.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>—You go up with her, please. I’ll be
right back. [<i>He hurries out, left.</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>goes out
at lower left</i>. <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span> <i>follows her</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—Some heat, that! If I don’t cut off
<span class="gesperrt">your</span> ears, you’ll cut ’em off me! If I can’t hire
out my Jehoshaphat,&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_9_9" href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> I’ve just got to help myself
with my brains! Won’t they get wrinkled, my
brains! Won’t they get indisposed! Won’t they
need to bathe in Eau de Cologne! [<span class="smcap">Bob</span>, <i>a groom
in a red jacket, tight leather breeches, and twinkling
riding-boots, fifteen years old, brings in a telegram</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Bob</span>—Mr. Puntschu, the banker!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—[<i>Breaks open the telegram and murmurs</i>:]
“Jungfrau Funicular Stock fallen to——”
Ay, ay, so goes the world! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span>.] Wait!
[<i>Gives him a tip.</i>] Tell me—what’s your name?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Bob</span>—Well, my name is Freddy, but they call me
Bob, because that’s the fashion now.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—How old are you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Bob</span>—Fifteen.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>—[<i>Enters hesitatingly from lower left.</i>] I
beg your pardon, can you tell me if Mama is here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—No, my dear. [<i>Aside.</i>] Devil, she’s
got breeding!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>—I’m hunting all over for her; I can’t
find her anywhere.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—Your mama will turn up again soon,
as true as my name’s Puntschu! [<i>Looking at</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span>.]
And that pair of breeches! God of Justice! It gets
uncanny! [<i>He goes out, upper right.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>—Haven’t <span class="gesperrt">you</span> seen my mama, perhaps?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Bob</span>—No, but you only need to come with me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>—Where is she then?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Bob</span>—She’s gone up in the lift. Come along.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>—No, no, I can’t go up with you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Bob</span>—We can hide up there in the corridor.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>—No, no, I can’t come, or I’ll be scolded.
[<span class="smcap">Magelone</span>, <i>terribly excited, rushes in, upper left,
and possesses herself of</i> <span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—Ha, there you are at last, you common
creature!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>—[<i>Crying.</i>] O Mama, Mama, I was
hunting for you!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—Hunting for me? Did I tell you to
hunt for me? What have you had to do with this
fellow? [<span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>, <span class="smcap">Alva</span>, <span class="smcap">Ludmilla</span>, <span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>,
<span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>enter, lower left</i>. <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>has
slipped away</i>.] Now don’t bawl before all the people
on me; look out, I tell you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>As they all surround</i> <span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>.] But
you’re crying, sweetheart! Why are you crying?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—By God, she’s really been crying!
Who’s done anything to hurt you, little goddess?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ludmilla</span>—[<i>Kneels before her and folds her in
her arms.</i>] Tell me, cherub, what bad thing has
happened. Do you want a cookie? Do you want
some chocolate?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—It’s just nerves. The child’s getting
them much too soon. It would be best, anyway, if
no one paid any attention to her!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—That sounds like you! You’re a
pretty mother! The courts’ll take the child away
from you yet and appoint me her guardian! [<i>Stroking</i>
<span class="smcap">Kadidia’s</span> <i>cheeks</i>.] Isn’t that so, my little goddess?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—I should be glad if we could start the
baccarat again at last! [<i>All go into the dining-room
again.</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>is held back at the door by</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span>, <i>who
comes from the upper entrance</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>When</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>has whispered to her</i>.] Certainly!
Let him come in! [<span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>opens the hall door
and lets</i> <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span> <i>enter, in evening dress, his patent-leather
shoes much worn, and keeping on his
shabby opera hat</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>With a look at</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span>.] Where did
you get him from?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—The circus.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—How much does he get?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Ask him if it interests you. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span>.]
Shut the doors. [<span class="smcap">Bob</span> <i>goes out lower left, shutting
the door behind him</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Sitting down.</i>] The truth is, I’m
in need of money. I’ve hired a flat for my mistress.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Have you taken another mistress here,
too?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—She’s from Frankfort. In her youth
she was mistress to the King of Naples. She tells me
every day she was once very bewitching.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Outwardly with complete composure.</i>]
Does she need the money very badly?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—She wants to fit up her own apartments.
Such sums are of no account to <span class="gesperrt">you</span>. [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span>
<i>is suddenly overcome with a fit of weeping</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Flinging herself at</i> <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>.] O God
Almighty!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Patting her.</i>] Well? What is it
now?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Sobbing violently.</i>] It’s too horrible!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Draws her onto his knee and holds
her in his arms like a little child.</i>] Hm—You’re
trying to do too much, child. You must go to bed,
now and then, with a story.—Cry, that’s right, cry
it all out. It used to shake you just so fifteen years
ago. Nobody has screamed since then, the way you
could scream! You didn’t wear any white tufts
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span>
on your head then, nor any transparent stockings
on your legs: you had neither shoes nor stockings
then.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Crying.</i>] Take me home with you!
Take me home with you to-night! Please! We’ll
find carriages enough downstairs!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—I’ll take you with me; I’ll take you
with me.—What is it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—It’s going round my neck! I’m to be
shown up!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—By whom? Who’s showing you up?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—The acrobat.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>With the utmost composure.</i>] I’ll
look after him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Look after him! <span class="gesperrt">Please</span>, look after
him! Then do with me what you will!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—If he comes to me, he’s done for. My
window is over the water. But [<i>shaking his head</i>]
he won’t come; he won’t come.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—What number do you live at?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—376, the last house before the hippodrome.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’ll send him there. He’ll come with the
crazy woman that creeps about my feet. He’ll come
this very evening. Go home and let them find it
comfortable.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Just let them come.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—To-morrow bring me the gold rings he
wears in his ears.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Has he got rings in his ears?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You can take them out before you let him
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span>
down. He doesn’t notice anything when he’s drunk.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—And then, child—what then?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Then I’ll give you the money for your mistress.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—I call that pretty stingy.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—And whatever else you want! Whatever
I have.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—It’ll soon be ten years since we knew
each other.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Is that all?—But you’ve got a mistress.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—My Frankforter is no longer of to-day.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—But then swear!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Haven’t I always kept my word to
you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Swear that you’ll look after him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—I’ll look after him.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Swear it to me! Swear it to me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Puts his hand on her ankle.</i>] By
everything that’s holy! To-night, if he comes&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—By everything that’s holy!—How that
cools me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—How this heats me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Oh, do drive straight home. They’ll come
in half an hour! Take a carriage!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—I’m going.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Quick! Please!— —All-powerful&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Why do you stare at me so again
already?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Nothing— ...</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Well? Is your tongue frozen on
you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—My garter’s broken.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—What if it is? Is that all?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—What does that augur?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—What does it? I’ll fasten it for you
if you’ll keep still.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—That augurs misfortune!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Yawning.</i>] Not for you, child.
Cheer up, I’ll look after him! [<i>Exit.</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>puts
her left foot on a foot-stool, fastens her garter, and
goes out into the card-room. Then</i> <span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span> <i>is cuffed
in from the dining-room, lower left, by</i> <span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—You can treat me decently anyway!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Still perfectly unemotional.</i>]
Whatever would induce me to do that? I wish to
know what you said to her here a little while ago.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Then you can be very fond of me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Will you bandy words with me, dog?
You demanded that she go up in the lift with you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—That’s a shameless, perfidious lie!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—She told me so herself. You
threatened to denounce her if she didn’t go with you.—Shall
I shoot you on the spot?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—The shameless hussy! As if anything
like that could occur to me!—Even if I should want
to have her, God knows I don’t first need to threaten
her with prison!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Thank you. That’s all I wanted to
know. [<i>Exit, upper left.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Such a hound! A fellow I could throw
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span>
up onto the roof so he’d stick like a Limburger
cheese!—Come back here, so I can wind your guts
round your neck. That would be even better!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Enters, lower left; merrily.</i>] Where were
you? I’ve been hunting for you like a pin.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—I’ve shown <span class="gesperrt">him</span> what it means to start
anything with me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Whom?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Your Casti-Piani! What made you tell
him, you slut, that I wanted to seduce you?!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Did you not demand that I give myself
to my late husband’s son for twenty thousand in
Jungfrau-shares?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Because it’s your duty to take pity on
the poor young fellow! You shot away his father
before his nose in the prime of his life! But your
Casti-Piani will think it over before he comes into
<span class="gesperrt">my</span> sight again. I gave him one in the basket that
made his tripe fly to heaven like Roman candles. If
that’s the best substitute you have for me, then I’m
sorry I ever enjoyed your favor!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Lady Geschwitz is in the fearfullest case.
She twists herself up in fits. She’s at the point of
jumping into the water if you let her wait any
longer.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—What’s the beast waiting for?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—For you to take her with you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Then give her my regards, and she can
jump into the water.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—She’ll lend me twenty thousand marks to
save me from destruction if you will preserve her
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span>
from it herself. If you’ll take her off to-night, I’ll
deposit twenty thousand marks to-morrow in your
name at any bank you say.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—And if I don’t take her off with me?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Denounce me! Alva and I are dead broke.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Devil and damnation!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You make four people happy if you strain
a point and sacrifice yourself for a worthy end.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—It won’t go; I know that, beforehand.
I’ve tried the thing out thoroughly. Who’d have
expected such a creditable feeling in that bag
o’ bones! What interested me in her was her being
an aristocrat. My behavior was as gentleman-like,
and more, as you could find among German circus-people.
If I’d only just pinched her in the calves
once!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Watchfully.</i>] She is still a virgin.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>Sighing.</i>] If there’s a God in heaven,
you’ll get paid for your jokes some day! I prophesy
that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Geschwitz waits. What shall I tell her?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—My very best wishes, and I am perverse.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I will deliver that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Wait a second. Is it certain sure I
get twenty thousand marks from her?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Ask herself!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—Then tell her I’m ready. I await her
in the dining-room. I must just first look after a
barrel of caviare. [<i>Exit, left.</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>opens the rear
door and calls in a clear voice “Martha!”</i> <span class="smcap">Countess
Geschwitz</span> <i>enters, closing the door behind her</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Pleased.</i>] Dear heart, you can save me
from death to-night.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—How?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—By going to a certain house with the acrobat.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—What for, dear?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—He says you must belong to him this very
night or he’ll denounce me to-morrow.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—You know I can’t belong to any man.
My fate has not permitted that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—If you don’t please him, that’s his own fix.
Why has he fallen in love with you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—But he’ll get as brutal as a hangman.
He’ll revenge himself for his disappointment and beat
my head in. I’ve been through that already....
Can you not possibly spare me this ultimate test?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—What will you gain by his denouncing me?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—I have still enough left of my fortune
to take us to America together in the steerage.
There you’d be safe from all your pursuers.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Pleased and gay.</i>] I want to stay here.
I can never be happy in any other city. You must
tell him that you can’t live without him. Then he’ll
feel flattered and be gentle as a lamb. You must pay
the coachman, too: give him this paper with the address
on it. 376 is a fourth-class hotel where they’re
expecting you with him this evening.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—[<i>Shuddering.</i>] How can such a
monstrosity save your life? I don’t understand that.
You have conjured up to torture me the most terrible
fate that can fall upon outlawed me!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Watchful.</i>] Perhaps the encounter will
cure you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—[<i>Sighing.</i>] O Lulu, if an eternal
retribution does exist, I hope I may not have to answer
then for you. I cannot make myself believe that
no God watches over us. Yet you are probably
right that there is nothing there, for how can an
insignificant worm like me have provoked his wrath
so as to experience only horror there where all living
creation swoons for bliss?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You needn’t complain. When you <span class="gesperrt">are</span>
happy you’re a hundred thousand times happier than
one of us ordinary mortals ever is!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—I know that too! I envy no one!
But I am still waiting. You have deceived me so
often already.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I am yours, my darling, if you quiet Mr.
Acrobat till to-morrow. He only wants his vanity
placated. You must beseech him to take pity on you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—And to-morrow?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I await you, my heart. I shall not open
my eyes till you come: see no chambermaid, receive
no hairdresser, not open my eyes before you are
with me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Then let him come.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—But you must throw yourself at his head,
dear! Have you got the house-number?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Three-seventy-six. But quick now!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Calls into the dining-room.</i>] Ready, my
darling?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—[<i>Entering.</i>] The ladies will pardon
my mouth’s being full.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—[<i>Seizing his hand.</i>] I implore you,
have mercy on my need!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Rodrigo</span>—A la bonne heure! Let us mount the
scaffold! [<i>Offers her his arm.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Good night, children! [<i>Accompanies
them into the corridor ... then quickly returns
with</i> <span class="smcap">Bob</span>.] Quick, quick, Bob! We must get away
this moment! You escort me! But we must change
clothes!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Bob</span>—[<i>Curt and clear.</i>] As the gracious lady
bids.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Oh what, gracious lady! You give me
your clothes and put on mine. Come! [<i>Exeunt
into the dining-room. Noise in the card-room, the
doors are torn open, and</i> <span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>, <span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>,
<span class="smcap">Alva</span>, <span class="smcap">Bianetta</span>, <span class="smcap">Magelone</span>, <span class="smcap">Kadidia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Ludmilla</span>
<i>enter</i>, <span class="smcap">Heilmann</span> <i>holding a piece of paper with a
glowing Alpine peak at its top</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>.] Will you accept
this share of Jungfrau-stock, sir?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—But that paper has no exchange, my
friend.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>—You rascal! You just don’t want to
give me my revenge!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Bianetta</span>.] Have you any
idea what it’s all about?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ludmilla</span>—Puntschu has taken all his money from
him, and now gives up the game.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>—Now he’s got cold feet, the filthy Jew!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—How have I given up the game? How
have I got cold feet? The gentleman has merely
to lay plain cash! Is this my banking-office I’m
in? He can proffer me his trash to-morrow morning!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>—Trash you call that? The stock to
my knowledge is at 210!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—Yesterday it was at 210, you’re right.
To-day, it’s just nowhere. And to-morrow you’ll
find nothing cheaper or more tasteful to paper your
stairs with.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—But how is that possible? Then we
<span class="gesperrt">would</span> be down and out!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—-Well, what am <i>I</i> to say, who have
lost my whole fortune in it! To-morrow morning
I shall have the pleasure of taking up the struggle
for an assured existence for the thirty-sixth time!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—[<i>Pressing forward.</i>] Am I dreaming
or do I really understand the Jungfrau-stock has
fallen?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—Fallen even lower than you! Tho
you can use ’em for curl-paper.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—O God in Heaven! Ten years’ work!
[<i>Falls in a faint.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>—Wake up, Mama! Wake up!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Bianetta</span>—Say, Mr. Puntschu, where will you
eat this evening, since you’ve lost your whole fortune?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Puntschu</span>—Wherever you like, young lady!
Take me where you will, but quickly! Here it’s getting
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span>
quite alarming. [<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Puntschu</span> <i>and</i>
<span class="smcap">Bianetta</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>—[<i>Squeezing up his stock and flinging
it to the ground.</i>] That is what one gets from this
pack!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ludmilla</span>—Why did you speculate on the Jungfrau
too? But just send a few little notes on the
company here to the German police, and you may
still win something in the end.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>—I’ve never tried that yet, but if you
want to help me——?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ludmilla</span>—Let’s go to an all-night restaurant.
Do you know the Five-footed Calf?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>—I’m very sorry&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ludmilla</span>—Or the Sucking Lamb, or the Smoking
Dog? They’re all right near here. We’ll be
all by ourselves there, and before dawn we’ll have a
little article ready.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Heilmann</span>—Don’t you sleep?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Ludmilla</span>—Oh, of course; but not at night.
[<i>Exeunt</i> <span class="smcap">Heilmann</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Ludmilla</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Who has been trying to resuscitate</i>
<span class="smcap">Magelone</span>.] Ice-cold hands! Ah, what a splendid
woman! We must undo her waist. Come, Kadidia,
undo your mother’s waist! She’s so fearfully tight-laced.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>—[<i>Without stirring.</i>] I’m afraid.
[<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>enters lower left in a jockey-cap, red jacket,
white leather breeches and riding boots, a riding cape
over her shoulders</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Have you any cash, Alva?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Looking up.</i>] Have you gone crazy?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—In two minutes the police’ll be here. We
are denounced. You can stay, of course, if you’re
eager to!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Springing up.</i>] Merciful Heaven! [<i>Exeunt</i>
<span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>—[<i>Shaking her mother, in tears.</i>]
Mama, Mama! Wake up! They’ve all run away!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—[<i>Coming to herself.</i>] And youth
gone! And my best days behind me! Oh, this life!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>—But I’m young, Mama! Why shouldn’t
I earn any money? I don’t want to go back to the
convent! Please, Mama, keep me with you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—God bless you, sweetheart! You
don’t know what you say——Oh, no, I shall look
around for a vaudeville engagement, and sing the
people my misfortunes with the Jungfrau-stock.
Things like that are always applauded.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>—But you’ve got no voice, Mama!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—Ah, yes, that’s true!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>—Take me with you into vaudeville!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Magelone</span>—No, it would break my heart!—But,
well, if it can’t be otherwise, and you’re so made for
it,—I can’t change things!—Yes, we can go to the
Olympia together to-morrow!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kadidia</span>—O Mama, how glad that makes me feel!
[<i>A plain-clothes detective enters, upper left.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Detective</span>—In the name of the law—I arrest
you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Following him, bored.</i>] What
sort of nonsense is that? <span class="gesperrt">That</span> isn’t the right one!</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span></p>

  <h3 class="nobreak" id="PB_ACT_III">
    ACT III
  </h3>
</div>

<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>An attic room, without windows, but with
two skylights, under one of which stands a bowl
filled with rain-water. Down right, a door
thru a board partition into a sort of cubicle
under the slanting roof. Near it, a wobbly
flower-table with a bottle and a smoking oil-lamp
on it. Upper right, a worn-out couch.
Door centre; near it, a chair without a seat.
Down left, below the entrance door, a torn gray
mattress. None of the doors can shut tight.</i></p>

<p class='scene2'><i>The rain beats on the roof</i>. <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span> <i>in
a long gray overcoat lies on the mattress</i>;
<span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>on the couch, wrapped in a plaid whose
straps still hang on the wall above him</i>.</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—The rain’s drumming for the parade.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Cheerful weather for her first appearance!
I dreamt just now we were dining together at the
Olympia. Bianetta was with us there again. The
tablecloth was dripping on all four sides with champagne.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Ya, ya. And I was dreaming of a
Christmas pudding. [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>appears with her rather
short hair falling to her shoulders, barefoot, in a
torn black dress</i>.] Where have you been, child?
Curling your hair first?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—She only does that to revive old memories.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—If one could only get warmed up a little,
from one of you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Are you going to enter barefoot on your
pilgrimage?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—The first step always costs all kinds
of moaning and groaning. Twenty years ago it was
no whit better, and what she has learned since then!
The coals only have to be blown. When she’s been
at it a week, not ten locomotives will hold her in our
miserable attic.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—The bowl is running over.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—What shall I do with the water?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Pour it out the window. [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>gets up
on the chair and empties the bowl thru the skylight</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—It looks as if the rain were going to let
up at last.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—You’re wasting the time when the
clerks go home after supper.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Would to God I were lying somewhere
where no step would wake me any more!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Would that I were, too! Why prolong
this life? Let’s rather starve to death together this
very evening in peace and concord! Aren’t we at
the last stage now?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Why don’t <span class="gesperrt">you</span> go out and get us something
to eat? You’ve never earned a penny in your
whole life!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—In this weather, when no one would kick
a dog from his door?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—But me! I, with the little blood I have
left in my limbs, I am to stop your mouths!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I don’t touch a farthing of the money!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Let her go, just! I long for one
more Christmas pudding; then I’ve had enough.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—And I long for one more beefsteak and a
cigarette; then die! I was just dreaming of a
cigarette, such as has never yet been smoked!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—She’ll rather see us finished before
her eyes, than go and do herself a little pleasure.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—The people on the street will sooner leave
cloak and coat in my hands than go with me for nothing!
If you hadn’t sold my clothes, I at least
wouldn’t need to be afraid of the lamp-light. I’d like
to see the woman who could earn anything in the
rags I’m wearing on my body!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I have left nothing human untried. As
long as I had money I spent whole nights making
up tables with which one couldn’t help winning
against the cleverest card-sharps. And yet evening
after evening I lost more than if I had shaken out
gold by the pailful. Then I offered my services to
the courtesans; but they don’t take anyone that the
courts haven’t first branded, and they see at the first
glance if one’s related to the guillotine or not.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Ya, ya.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I spared myself no disillusionments; but
when I made jokes, they laughed at <span class="gesperrt">me</span>, and when I
behaved as respectable as I am, they boxed my ears,
and when I tried being smutty, they got so chaste
and maidenly that my hair stood up on my head
for horror. Him who has not prevailed over society,
they have no confidence in.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Won’t you kindly put on your boots
now, child? I don’t think I shall grow much older
in this lodging. It’s months since I had any feeling
in the ends of my toes. Toward midnight, I’ll
drink a bit more down in the pub. The lady that
keeps it told me yesterday I still had a serious chance
of becoming her lover.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—In the name of the three devils, I’ll go
down! [<i>She puts to her mouth the bottle on the
flower-table.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—So they can smell your stink a half-hour
off!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I shan’t drink it all.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—You won’t go down. You’re my woman.
You shan’t go down. I forbid it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—What would you forbid your woman when
you can’t support yourself?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Whose fault is that? Who but my woman
has laid me on the sick-bed?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Am <i>I</i> sick?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Who has trailed me thru the dung? Who
has made me my father’s murderer?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Did <span class="gesperrt">you</span> shoot him? He didn’t lose much,
but when I see you lying there I could hack off both
my hands for having sinned against my judgment!
[<i>She goes out, into her room.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—She infected me from her Casti-Piani. It’s
a long time since she was susceptible to it herself!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Little devils like her can’t begin putting
up with it too soon, if angels are ever going to
come out of them.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—She ought to have been born Empress of
Russia. Then she’d have been in the right place. A
second Catherine the Second! [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>re-enters with
a worn-out pair of boots, and sits on the floor to put
them on</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—If only I don’t go headfirst down the
stairs! Ugh, how cold! Is there anything in the
world more dismal than a daughter of joy?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Patience, patience! It’s just a question
of getting the right push into the business.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—It’ll be all right with me! No one need
pity me any more. [<i>Puts the bottle to her lips.</i>]
That fires one!—O accursed! [<i>Exit.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—When we hear her coming, we must
creep into my cubby-hole awhile.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I’m damned sorry for her! When I think
back.... I grew up with her in a way, you know.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—She’ll hold out as long as I live, anyway.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—We treated each other at first like brother
and sister. Mama was still living then. I met her
by chance one morning when she was dressing. Dr.
Goll had been called for a consultation. Her hairdresser
had read my first poem, that I’d had printed
in “Society”: “Follow thy pack far over the mountains;
it will return again, covered with sweat and
dust——”</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Oh, ya!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—And then she came, in rose-colored muslin,
with nothing under it but a white satin slip—for
the Spanish ambassador’s ball. Dr. Goll seemed to
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span>
feel his death near. He asked me to dance with her,
so she shouldn’t cause any mad acts. Papa meanwhile
never turned his eyes from us, and all thru
the waltz she was looking over my shoulder, only at
him.... Afterwards she shot him. It is unbelievable.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—I’ve only got a strong doubt whether
anyone will bite any more.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I shouldn’t like to advise anyone to!
[<span class="smcap">Schigolch</span> <i>grunts</i>.]—At that time, tho she was a
fully developed woman, she had the expression of
a five-year-old, joyous, utterly healthy child. And
she was only three years younger than me then—but
how long ago it is now! For all her immense
superiority in matters of practical life, she let me
explain “Tristan and Isolde” to her—and how entrancingly
she could listen! Out of the little sister
who even in her marriage still felt like a schoolgirl,
came the unhappy, hysterical artist’s wife. Out of
the artist’s wife came then the spouse of my murdered
father, and out of <span class="gesperrt">her</span> came, then, my mistress.
Well, so that is the way of the world. Who
will prevail against it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—If only she doesn’t skid away from
the gentlemen with honorable intentions and bring
us up instead some vagabond she’s exchanged her
heart’s secrets with.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I kissed her for the first time in her
rustling bridal dress. But afterwards she didn’t remember
it.... All the same, I believe she had
thought of me even in my father’s arms. It can’t
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span>
have been often with him: he had his best time behind
him, and she deceived him with coachman and
bootblack; but when she did give herself to him,
then <i>I</i> stood before her soul. That was the way,
without my realizing it, that she acquired this dreadful
power over me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—There they are! [<i>Heavy steps are
heard mounting the stairs.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Starting up.</i>] I will not endure it! I’ll
throw the fellow out!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Wearily picks himself up, takes</i>
<span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>by the collar and cuffs him toward the left</i>.]
Forward, forward! How is the young man to confess
his trouble to her with us two sprawling round
here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—But if he demands other things—low
things—of her?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—If, well, if! What more will he demand
of her? He’s only a man like the rest of us!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—We must leave the door open.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Pushing</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>in, right</i>.] Nonsense!
Lie down!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I’ll hear it soon enough. Heaven spare
him!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Closing the door, from inside.</i>]
Shut up!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Faintly.</i>] He’d better look out! [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span>
<i>enters, followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Hunidei</span>, <i>a gigantic figure with
a smooth-shaven, rosy face, sky-blue eyes, and a
friendly smile. He wears a tall hat and overcoat and
carries a dripping umbrella.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Here’s where I live. [<span class="smcap">Hunidei</span> <i>puts his
finger to his lips and looks at</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>significantly.
Then he opens his umbrella and puts it on the floor,
rear, to dry.</i>] Of course, I know it isn’t very comfortable
here. [<span class="smcap">Hunidei</span> <i>comes forward and puts
his hand over her mouth</i>.] What do you mean me
to understand by that? [<span class="smcap">Hunidei</span> <i>puts his hand
over her mouth, and his finger to his lips</i>.] I don’t
know what that means. [<span class="smcap">Hunidei</span> <i>quickly stops her
mouth</i>. <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>frees herself</i>.] We’re quite alone
here. No one will hear us. [<span class="smcap">Hunidei</span> <i>lays his finger
on his lips, shakes his head, points at</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>, <i>opens
his mouth as if to speak, points at himself and
then at the door</i>.] Good Lord, he’s a monster!
[<span class="smcap">Hunidei</span> <i>stops her mouth; then goes rear, folds up
his overcoat and lays it over the chair near the door;
then comes down with a broad smile, takes</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>’s
<i>head in both his hands and kisses her on the forehead.
The door, right, half opens.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Behind the door.</i>] He’s got a
screw loose.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—He’d better look out!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—She couldn’t have brought up anything
drearier!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Stepping back.</i>] I hope you’re going
to give me something! [<span class="smcap">Hunidei</span> <i>stops her mouth
and presses a gold-piece in her hand, then looks at
her uncertain, questioningly, as she examines it and
throws it from one hand to the other</i>.] All right,
it’s good. [<i>Puts it in her pocket.</i> <span class="smcap">Hunidei</span>
<i>quickly stops her mouth, gives her a few silver coins,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span>
and glances at her commandingly</i>.] Oh, that’s nice
of you! [<span class="smcap">Hunidei</span> <i>leaps madly about the room,
brandishing his arms and staring upward in despair</i>.
<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>cautiously nears him, throws an arm round him
and kisses him on the mouth. Laughing soundlessly,
he frees himself from her and looks questioningly
around. She takes up the lamp and opens the door
to her room. He goes in smiling, taking off his hat.
The stage is dark save for what light comes thru the
cracks of the door.</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span> <i>creep out
on all fours</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—They’re gone.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>Behind him.</i>] Wait.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—One can hear nothing here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—You’ve heard that often enough!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I will kneel before her door.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Little mother’s sonny! [<i>Presses
past</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>, <i>gropes across the stage to</i> <span class="smcap">Hunidei</span>’s
<i>coat, and searches the pockets</i>. <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>crawls to</i>
<span class="smcap">Lulu</span>’s <i>door</i>.] Gloves, nothing more! [<i>Turns the
coat round, searches the inside pockets, pulls a book
out that he gives to</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>.] Just see what that is.
[<span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>holds the book to the light</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Wearily deciphering the title-page.</i>]
Warnings to pious pilgrims and such as wish to be
so. Very helpful. Price, 2s. 6d.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—It looks to me as if God had left
<span class="gesperrt">him</span> pretty completely. [<i>Lays the coat over the
chair again and makes for the cubby-hole.</i>] There’s
nothing <span class="gesperrt">to</span> these people. The country’s best time’s
behind it!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Life is never as bad as it’s painted. [<i>He,
too, creeps back.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Not even a silk muffler he’s got and
yet in Germany we creep on our bellies before this
rabble.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Come, let’s vanish again.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—She only thinks of herself, and takes
the first man that runs across her path. Hope the
dog remembers her the rest of his life! [<i>They disappear,
left, shutting the door behind them.</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>
<i>re-enters, setting the lamp on the table</i>. <span class="smcap">Hunidei</span>
<i>follows</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Will you come to see me again? [<span class="smcap">Hunidei</span>
<i>stops her mouth. She looks upward in a sort of despair
and shakes her head</i>. <span class="smcap">Hunidei</span>, <i>putting his
coat on, approaches her grinning; she throws her
arms around his neck; he gently frees himself, kisses
her hand, and turns to the door. She starts to accompany
him, but he signs to her to stay behind and
noiselessly leaves the room.</i> <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>
<i>re-enter</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Tonelessly.</i>] How he has stirred me up!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—How much did he give you?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>As before.</i>] Here it is! All! Take it!
I’m going down again.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—We can still live like princes up here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—He’s coming back.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Then let’s just retire again, quick.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—He’s after his prayer-book. Here it is.
It must have fallen out of his coat.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Listening.</i>] No, that isn’t he. That’s
someone else.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Someone’s coming up. I hear it quite
plainly.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Now there’s someone tapping at the door.
Who can it be?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Probably a good friend he’s recommended
us to. Come in! [<span class="smcap">Countess Geschwitz</span>
<i>enters, in poor clothes, with a canvas roll in her
hand</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] If I’ve come at a bad
time, I’ll turn around again. The truth is, I haven’t
spoken to a living soul for ten days. I must just
tell you right off, I haven’t received any money. My
brother never answered me at all.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—And now your ladyship would like
to stretch her feet out under <span class="gesperrt">our</span> table?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Tonelessly.</i>] I’m going down again.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Where are you going, in this finery?—Tho
penniless, I have come not wholly empty-handed.
I bring you something else. On my way
here an old-clothes-man offered me twelve shillings for
it, yes—but I could not force myself to part from
it. You can sell it if you want to, tho.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—What is it?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Let us see it. [<i>Takes the canvas and unrolls
it. Visibly rejoiced.</i>] Oh, by God, it’s Lulu’s
portrait!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Screaming.</i>] Monster, you brought that
here? Get it out of my sight! Throw it out of
the window!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Suddenly with renewed life, deeply
pleased.</i>] Why, I should like to know? Looking
on this picture I regain my self-respect. It makes
my fate comprehensible to me. Everything we have
endured gets clear as day. [<i>In a somewhat elegiac
strain.</i>] Let him who feels secure in his respectable
citizenship when he sees these blossoming pouting
lips, these child-eyes, big and innocent, this rose-white
body abounding in life,—let him cast the first
stone at us!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—We must nail it up. It will make
an excellent impression on our patrons.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Energetic.</i>] There’s a nail sticking all
ready for it in the wall.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—But how did you come upon this acquisition?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—I secretly cut it out of the wall in
your house, there, after you were gone.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Too bad the color’s got rubbed off round
the edges. You didn’t roll it up carefully enough.
[<i>Fastens it to a high nail in the wall.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—It’s got to have another one underneath
if it’s going to hold. It makes the whole flat
look more elegant.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Let me alone; I know how I’ll do it. [<i>He
tears several nails out of the wall, pulls off his left
boot, and with its heel nails the edges of the picture
to the wall.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—It’s just got to hang awhile again,
to get its proper effect. Whoever looks at that’ll
imagine afterwards he’s been in an Indian harem.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Putting on his boot again, standing up
proudly.</i>] Her body was at its highest point of development
when that picture was painted. The lamp,
dear child! Seems to me it’s got extraordinarily
dark.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—-He must have been an eminently
gifted artist who painted that!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Perfectly composed again, stepping before
the picture with the lamp.</i>] Didn’t you know
him, then?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—No. It must have been long before
my time. I only occasionally heard chance remarks
of yours, that he had cut his throat from persecution-mania.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Comparing the picture with</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>.] The
child-like expression in the eyes is still absolutely
the same in spite of all she has lived thru since. [<i>In
joyous excitement.</i>] But the dewy freshness that
covers her skin, the sweet-smelling breath from her
lips, the rays of light that beam from her white forehead,
and this challenging splendor of young flesh
in throat and arms&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—All that’s gone with the rubbish
wagon. She can say with self-assurance: That was
me once! The man she falls into the hands of to-day’ll
have no conception of what we were when we
were young.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Cheerfully.</i>] God be thanked, we don’t
notice the gradual decline when we see a person all
the time. [<i>Lightly.</i>] The woman blooms for us in
the moment when she hurls the man to destruction
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span>
for the rest of his life. That is, so to say, her nature
and her destiny.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Down in the street-lamp’s shimmer
she’s still a match for a dozen walking spectres. The
man who still wants to make connections at this hour
looks out more for heart-qualities than mere physical
good points. He decides for the pair of eyes
from which the least thievery sparkles.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Now as pleased as</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>.] I shall see
if you’re right. Adieu.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>In sudden anger.</i>] You shall not go
down again, as I live!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Where do you want to go?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Down to fetch up a man.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Lulu!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—She’s done it once to-day already.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Lulu, Lulu, where you go I go, too.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—If you want to put your bones up
for sale, kindly hunt up a district of your own!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Lulu, I shall not stir from your side!
I have weapons upon me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Confound it all, her ladyship means
to fish with our bait!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’re killing me. I can’t stand it here
any more. [<i>Exit.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—You need fear nothing. I am with
you. [<i>Follows her.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—[<i>Whimpering, throws himself on his
couch.</i> <span class="smcap">Schigolch</span> <i>swears, loudly and grumbling</i>.]
I guess there’s not much more good to expect on
this side!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—We ought to have held the creature
back by the throat. She’ll scare away everything
that breathes with her aristocratic death’s head.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—She’s flung me onto a sick-bed and larded
me with thorns outside and in!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>On</i> <span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span> <i>still</i>.] All the
same, she’s got enough spirit in her for ten men,
she has!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—No mortally wounded man’ll ever be more
thankful for his coup-de-grâce than I!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—If she hadn’t enticed the acrobat
into my place that time, we’d still have had <span class="gesperrt">him</span>
round our necks to-day.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I see it trembling above my head as Tantalus
saw the branch with the golden apples!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—[<i>On his mattress.</i>] Won’t you turn
up the lamp a little?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I wonder, can a simple, natural man in
the wilderness suffer so unspeakably, too?—God,
God, what have I made of my life!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—What’s the beastly weather made of
my ulster!—When <i>I</i> was five-and-twenty, I knew
how to help myself!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—Not everyone has had the joy of my
sunny, glorious youth!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—I guess it’s going right out. When
they come back it’ll be as dark in here again as in
the womb.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—With the clearest consciousness of my purpose
I sought the companionship of people who’d
never read a book in their lives. With self-denial,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span>
with exaltation, I clung to the elements, that I might
be carried to the loftiest heights of poetic fame.
The reckoning was false. I am the martyr of my
calling. Since the death of my father I have not
written a single verse!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—If only they haven’t stayed together!
Nobody but a silly boy will go with two, no matter
what.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—They’ve not stayed together!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—That’s what I hope. If need be,
she’ll keep the creature off from her with kicks.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—One, risen from the dregs, is the most celebrated
man of his nation; another, born in the purple,
lies in the mud and cannot die!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Here they come!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—And what blessed hours of mutual joy in
creation they had lived thru with each other!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—That they can rightly do for the
first time now!—We must hide again.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I stay here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Just what do you pity them for?—He
who spends his money has his good reasons for it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Alva</span>—I have no longer the moral courage to let
my comfort be disturbed for a miserable sum of
money! [<i>He wraps himself up in his plaid.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Noblesse oblige! A respectable man
does what he owes his position. [<i>He hides, left.</i>
<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>opens the door, saying “Come right in, dearie,”
and there enters</i> <span class="smcap">Prince Kungu Poti</span>, <i>heir-apparent
of Uahubee, in a light suit, white spats, tan button-boots,
and a gray tall hat. His speech, interrupted
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span>
with frequent hiccoughs, abounds with the peculiar
African hiss-sounds.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kungu Poti</span>—God damn—it’s dark on the stairs!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—It’s lighter here, sweetheart. [<i>Pulling
him forward by the hand.</i>] Come on!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kungu Poti</span>—But it’s cold here, awful cold!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Have some brandy?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kungu Poti</span>—Brandy? You bet—always!
Brandy’s good!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Giving him the bottle.</i>] I don’t know
where the glass is.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kungu Poti</span>—Doesn’t matter. [<i>Drinks.</i>]
Brandy! Lots of it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You’re a nice-looking young man.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kungu Poti</span>—My father’s the emperor of Uahubee.
I’ve got six wives here, two Spanish, two English,
two French. Well—I don’t like my wives. Always
I must take a bath, take a bath, take a
bath....</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—How much will you give me?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kungu Poti</span>—Gold! You trust me, you’ll have
gold! One gold-piece. I always give gold-pieces.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You can give it to me later, but show it
to me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kungu Poti</span>—I never pay beforehand.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—But you can show it to me, tho!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kungu Poti</span>—Don’t understand, don’t understand!
Come, Ragapsishimulara! [<i>Seizing</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>
<i>round the waist</i>.] Come on!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Defending herself with all her strength.</i>]
Let me be! Let me be! [<span class="smcap">Alva</span>, <i>who has risen painfully
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span>
from his couch, sneaks up to</i> <span class="smcap">Kungu Poti</span> <i>from
behind and pulls him back by the collar</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Kungu Poti</span>—[<i>Whirling round.</i>] Oh! Oh!
This is a murder-hole! Come, my friend. I’ll put
you to sleep! [<i>Strikes him over the head with a
loaded cane.</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>groans and falls in a heap</i>.]
Here’s a sleeping-draught! Here’s opium for you!
Sweet dreams to you! Sweet dreams! [<i>Then he
gives</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>a kiss; pointing to</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>.] He dreams
of you, Ragapsishimulara! Sweet dreams! [<i>Rushing
to the door.</i>] Here’s the door! [<i>Exit.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—But I’ll not stay here?!—Who can stand
it here now!—Rather down onto the street! [<i>Exit.</i>
<span class="smcap">Schigolch</span> <i>comes out</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—Blood!—Alva!—He’s got to be put
away somewhere. Hop!—Or else our friends’ll get
a shock from him—Alva! Alva!—He that isn’t
quite clear about it—— One thing or t’other; or
it’ll soon be too late! I’ll give him legs! [<i>Strikes
a match and sticks it into</i> <span class="smcap">Alva’s</span> <i>collar</i>....] He
will have his rest. But no one sleeps here.—[<i>Drags
him by the head into</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu’s</span> <i>room. Returning, he
tries to turn up the light.</i>] It’ll be time for me, too,
right soon now, or they’ll get no more Christmas
puddings down there in the tavern. God knows when
she’ll be coming back from her pleasure tour! [<i>Fixing
an eye on</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu’s</span> <i>picture</i>.] She doesn’t understand
business! She can’t live off love, because her
life is love.—There she comes. I’ll just talk straight
to her once—— [<span class="smcap">Countess Geschwitz</span> <i>enters</i>.] ...
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span>
If you want to lodge with us to-night, kindly take
a little care that nothing is stolen here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—How dark it is here!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—It gets much darker than this.—The
doctor’s already gone to rest.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—She sent me ahead.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Schigolch</span>—That was sensible.—If anyone asks
for me, I’m sitting downstairs in the pub.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—[<i>After he has gone.</i>] I will sit behind
the door. I will look on at everything and not
quiver an eyelash. [<i>Sits on the broken chair.</i>]
Men and women don’t know themselves—they know
not what they are. Only one who is neither man
nor woman knows them. Every word they say is
untrue, a lie. And they do not know it, for they are
to-day so and to-morrow so, according as they have
eaten, drunk, and loved, or not. Only the body remains
for a time what it is, and only the children
have reason. The men and women are like the animals: none
knows what it does. When they are
happiest they bewail themselves and groan, and in
their deepest misery they rejoice over every tiny
morsel. It is strange how hunger takes from men
and women the strength to withstand misfortune.
But when they have fed full they make this world a
torture-chamber, they throw away their lives to satisfy
a whim, a mood. Have there ever once been
men and women to whom love brought happiness?
And what is their happiness, save that they sleep
better and can forget it all? My God, I thank thee
that thou hast not made me as these. I am not
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span>
man nor woman. My body has nothing common
with their bodies. Have I a human soul? Tortured
humanity has a little narrow heart; but I know it’s
no virtue of mine if I resign all, sacrifice all....
[<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>opens the door, and</i> <span class="smcap">Dr. Hilti</span> <i>enters</i>.
<span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>, <i>unnoticed, remains motionless by the
door</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Gaily.</i>] Come right in! Come!—you’ll
stay with me all night?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Hilti</span>—[<i>His accent is very broad and flat.</i>&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_10_10" href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a>]
But I have no more than five shillings on me. I
never take more than that when I go out.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—That’s enough, seeing it’s you! You have
such faithful eyes! Come, give me a kiss! [<i>She
flings herself down on the couch.</i> <span class="smcap">Dr. Hilti</span> <i>begins
to swear in his native tongue</i>.&#x2060;<a id="FNanchor_11_11" href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a>] Please, don’t say
that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Hilti</span>—By the devil, this is really the first
time I’ve ever gone with a girl! You can believe
me. Mass, I hadn’t thought it would be like this!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Are you married?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Hilti</span>—Heaven and Hail, why do you think I
am married?—No, I’m a tutor; I read philosophy
at the University. The truth is, I come of a very
old country family. When I was a student, I only
got two gulden a week for pocket-money, and I could
make better use of that than for girls!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—So you have never been with a woman?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Hilti</span>—Just so, yeah! But I want it now.
I got engaged this evening to a country-woman of
mine. She’s a governess here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Is she pretty?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Hilti</span>—Yeah, she’s got a hundred thousand.—I
am very much excited, as it seems to me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Tossing back her hair and getting up.</i>]
I <span class="gesperrt">am</span> in luck! [<i>Takes the lamp.</i>] Well, if you
please, Mr. Tutor? [<i>They go into her room.</i>
<span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span> <i>draws a small black revolver from her
pocket and sets it to her forehead</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—Come, come,—beloved! [<span class="smcap">Dr. Hilti</span>
<i>tears open the door again</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Hilti</span>—[<i>Plunging in.</i>] Insane seraphs!
Someone’s lying in there!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Lamp in hand, holds him by the sleeve.</i>]
Stay with me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Hilti</span>—A dead man! A corpse!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Stay with me! Stay with me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Hilti</span>—[<i>Tearing away.</i>] A corpse is lying
in there! Horrors! Hail! Heaven!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Stay with me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Hilti</span>—Where d’s it go out? [<i>Sees</i> <span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>.]
And there is the devil!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Please, stop, stay!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Hilti</span>—Devil, devilled devilry.—Oh, thou
eternal——[<i>Exit.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Rushing after him.</i>] Stop! Stop!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—[<i>Alone, lets the revolver sink.</i>] Better,
hang! If now she sees me lying in my blood,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span>
she’ll not weep a tear for me! I have always been
to her but the docile tool that she could use for
the most difficult tasks. From the first day she has
abhorred me from the depths of her soul.—Shall I
not rather jump from the bridge? Which could be
colder, the water or her heart? I would dream till
I was drowned.——Better, hang!——Stab?—Hm,
there would be no use in that—— How often have I
dreamt that she kissed me! But a minute more; an
owl knocks there at the window, and I wake up——Better,
hang! Not water; water is too clean for
me. [<i>Starting up.</i>] There!—There! There it is!—Quick
now, before she comes! [<i>Takes the plaid-straps
from the wall, climbs on the chair, fastens
them to a hook in the doorpost, puts her head thru
them, kicks the chair away, and falls to the ground.</i>]
Accursed life!—Accursed life!—Could it be before
me still?—Let me speak to your heart just once,
my angel! But you are cold!—I am not to go yet!
Perhaps I am even to have been happy once.—Listen
to him, Lulu! I am not to go yet! [<i>She
drags herself before</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu’s</span> <i>picture, sinks on her
knees and folds her hands</i>.] My adoréd angel!
My love! My star!—Have mercy upon me, pity
me, pity me, pity me! [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>opens the door, and</i>
<span class="smcap">Jack</span> <i>enters—a thick-set man of elastic movements,
with a pale face, inflamed eyes, arched and heavy
brows, a drooping mustache, thin imperial and
shaggy whiskers, and fiery red hands with gnawed
nails. His eyes are fixed on the ground. He wears
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span>
a dark overcoat and a little round felt hat. Entering,
he notices</i> <span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—Who is that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—That’s my sister, sir. She’s crazy. I
don’t know how to get rid of her.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—Your mouth looks beautiful.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—It’s my mother’s.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—Looks like it. How much do you want?
I haven’t got much money.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Won’t you spend the night with me here?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—No, haven’t got the time. I must get home.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—You can tell them at home to-morrow that
you missed the last ’bus and spent the night with a
friend.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—How much do you want?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’m not after lumps of gold, but, well, a
little something.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—[<i>Turning.</i>] Good night! Good night!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Holds him back.</i>] No, no! Stay, for
God’s sake!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—[<i>Goes past</i> <span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span> <i>and opens the cubicle</i>.]
Why should I stay here till morning? Sounds
suspicious! When I’m asleep they’ll turn my pockets
out.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—No, I won’t do that! No one will! Don’t
go away again for that! I beg you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—How much do you want?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Then give me the half of what I said!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—No, that’s too much. You don’t seem to
have been at this long?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—To-day is the first time. [<span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>,
<i>still on her knees, has half risen toward</i> <span class="smcap">Jack</span>; <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>
<i>yanks her back by the straps around her neck</i>.] Lie
down and be quiet!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—Let her alone! She isn’t your sister. She
is in love with you. [<i>Strokes</i> <span class="smcap">Geschwitz’s</span> <i>head like
a dog’s</i>.] Poor beast!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Why do you stare at me so all at once?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—I got your measure by the way you walked.
I said to myself: That girl must have a well-built
body.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—But how can you tell a thing like that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—I even saw that you had a pretty mouth.
But I’ve only got a florin on me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—Well, what difference does that make!
Just give that to me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—But you’ll have to give me half back, so
I can take the ’bus to-morrow morning.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I have nothing on me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—Just look, though. Hunt thru your
pockets!—Well, what’s that? Let’s see it!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Showing him.</i>] That’s all I have.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—Give it to me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—I’ll change it to-morrow, and then give
you half.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—No, give it all to me.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Giving it.</i>] In God’s name! But now
you come! [<i>Takes up the lamp.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—We need no light. The moon’s out.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Puts the lamp down.</i>] As you say.
[<i>She falls on his neck.</i>] I won’t harm you at all!
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span>
I love you so! Don’t let me beg you any longer!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—All right; I’m with you. [<i>Follows her into
the cubby-hole. The lamp goes out. On the floor
under the two skylights appear two vivid squares of
moonlight. Everything in the room is clearly seen.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—[<i>As in a dream.</i>] This is the last
evening I shall spend with these people. I’m going
back to Germany. My mother’ll send me the money.
I’ll go to a university. I must fight for woman’s
rights; study law.... [<span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>shrieks, and tears
open the door</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Barefoot, in chemise and petticoat, holding
the door shut behind her.</i>] Help! Help!
[<span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span> <i>rushes to the door, draws her revolver,
and crying “Let go!” pushes</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span> <i>aside. As she
aims at the door</i>, <span class="smcap">Jack</span>, <i>bent double, tears it open
from inside, and runs a knife into</i> <span class="smcap">Geschwitz’s</span> <i>body.
She fires one shot, at the roof, and falls with suppressed
crying, crumpling up.</i> <span class="smcap">Jack</span> <i>tears her revolver
from her and throws himself against the exit-door</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—God damn! I never saw a prettier mouth!
[<i>Sweat drips from his hairy face. His hands are
bloody. He pants, gasping violently, and stares at
the floor with eyes popping out of his head.</i> <span class="smcap">Lulu</span>,
<i>trembling in every limb, looks wildly round. Suddenly
she seizes the bottle, smashes it on the table,
and with the broken neck in her hand rushes upon</i>
<span class="smcap">Jack</span>. <i>He swings up his right foot and throws her
onto her back. Then he lifts her up.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—No, no!—Mercy!—Murder!—Police! Police!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—Be still. You’ll never get away from me
again. [<i>Carries her in.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Lulu</span>—[<i>Within, right.</i>] No.—No!—No!—Ah!—Ah!...
[<i>After a pause</i>, <span class="smcap">Jack</span> <i>re-enters.
He puts the bowl on the table.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Jack</span>—That <span class="gesperrt">was</span> a piece of work! [<i>Washing
his hands.</i>] I <span class="gesperrt">am</span> a damned lucky chap! [<i>Looks
round for a towel.</i>] Not even a towel, these folks
here! Hell of a wretched hole! [<i>He dries his hands
on</i> <span class="smcap">Geschwitz’s</span> <i>petticoat</i>.] This invert is safe
enough from me! [<i>To her.</i>] It’ll soon be all up
with you, too. [<i>Exit.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Geschwitz</span>—[<i>Alone.</i>] Lulu!—My angel!—Let
me see thee once more! I am near thee—stay near
thee—forever! [<i>Her elbows give way.</i>] O
cursed—!! [<i>Dies.</i>]</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>

<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_9_9" href="#FNanchor_9_9" class="label">[9]</a> For the meaning of this see page 51.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_10_10" href="#FNanchor_10_10" class="label">[10]</a> In the original he comes from Basle, Switzerland. English
with a Dutch accent might offer the best equivalent.</p></div>

<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_11_11" href="#FNanchor_11_11" class="label">[11]</a> “Hiemäl, Härgoht, Töüfäl, Kräuzpataliohn,” such is the
weird appearance of all his German.</p></div></div>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span></p>

  <h2 class="nobreak" id="DAMNATION">
    DAMNATION!
  </h2>
</div>

<p class='center bold'>(<span class="smcap">Tod und Teufel</span>)</p>

<p class='center mt1 bold'>A Death-Dance in Three Scenes</p>

<div class="poetry-container-right mt4">
  <div class="poetry">
    <div class="stanza">
      <div class="verse indent0">“Ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν</div>
      <div class="verse indent0">ὅτι οἱ πόρναι</div>
      <div class="verse indent0">προάγουσιν ὑμᾶς</div>
      <div class="verse indent0">εἰς τῆν βασιλείαν</div>
      <div class="verse indent0">τοῦ Θεοῦ.”</div>
      <div class="verse indent8">ὁ Ἰησοῦς.</div>
<p class="right" style='margin-right: -1.5em;'>(<i>Matth.</i> 21. 31.)</p>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>


<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class="chapter">

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_306"></a><a id="Page_307"></a>[307]</span></p>

  <h3 class="nobreak">
    CHARACTERS
  </h3>
</div>

<p class='no-indent' >
  <span class="smcap">Marquis Casti-Piani</span><br>
  <span class="smcap">Fräulein Elfriede von Malchus</span><br>
  <span class="smcap">Herr König</span><br>
  <span class="smcap">Lisiska</span><br>
  <span class="smcap">Three Girls</span>
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_308"></a><a id="Page_309"></a>[309]</span></p>


<p class='scene1'><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>A room with three doors, and windows with
the blinds drawn. On each side, facing each
other, two arm-chairs upholstered in red. In
both down-stage corners are little trellis screens
behind which the actor is hidden from the stage
tho not from the audience. Red upholstered
stools in both these corners.</i></p>

<p class='scene2'><span class="smcap">Elfriede von Malchus</span> <i>sits in one of the
arm-chairs. She is evidently uneasy. She
wears a modern “reformed” dress with hat,
cloak, and gloves.</i></p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—How much longer are they going to
keep me waiting? [<i>Long pause. She remains sitting
motionless.</i>] How much longer are they going
to keep me waiting! [<i>Long pause as before.</i>]
How much longer are they going to keep me waiting
here!! [<i>After a moment, she gets up, takes off her
cloak and lays it on the chair, takes off her hat and
puts it on the cloak, and then walks up and down
twice with manifest excitement. Stopping, she
cries again</i>:] How much longer will they keep me
waiting here??!! [<i>On her last word, the</i> <span class="smcap">Marquis
Casti-Piani</span> <i>enters thru the centre door. He is a
tall, bald-headed man, with a high forehead, great
black, melancholy eyes, strong, hooked nose, and
thick, drooping black mustache. He wears a black
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span>
coat, a dark, fancy waistcoat, dark gray trousers,
patent-leather shoes and a black cravat with a diamond
pin.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Bowing.</i>] What can I do for you,
madam?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—I have already explained it to the—lady,
as clearly as I can possibly explain it, <span class="gesperrt">why</span> I
am here.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—The—lady told me why you were
here. The lady told me also that you were a member
of the International Union for the Suppression
of the White Slave Traffic.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—<span class="gesperrt">That</span> I <span class="gesperrt">am</span>! I <span class="gesperrt">am</span> a member of the
International Union for the Suppression of the
White Slave Traffic. But even if I did <span class="gesperrt">not</span> belong
to it I could not possibly have spared myself this
search! For nine months I’ve been on the track of
this unfortunate, and everywhere I’ve been so far
she’d just been carried off to another city. But she
is in this house! She’s here at this moment! The—lady
who was here just now admitted that, without
any beating round the bush. She promised me
she would send the girl here to this room, so that I
could speak with her in private and undisturbed.
I am waiting here now for the girl, and for no one
else. I have no desire and no need to go through a
second cross-examination.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—I beg you, madam, not to excite
yourself further. The girl felt she should present
herself to you—respectably dressed. The lady
asked me to tell you that, for she feared that in your
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span>
agitation you might be tempted to take some needlessly
violent measure. And she asked me to do
what I could to help you through the embarrassment
which waiting in these surroundings would naturally
cause you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Walking up and down.</i>] Pray keep
your amiable conversation to yourself! There is
nothing new for me now in the atmosphere of this
place. The first time I entered such a house, I had
to fight physical nausea. Only then did I realize
what tremendous self-suppression my entrance into
the Union for the Suppression of the White Slave
Traffic had involved me in. Till then I had taken
part in our activities as an idle pastime, solely to
avoid growing old and gray in uselessness.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—This confession awakens in me so
much sympathy that I feel tempted to ask you for
your credentials as an active member of the International
Union for the Suppression of the White
Slave Traffic. We know from experience that a lot
of people crowd into that calling who have quite
other ends in view than the rescue of fallen girls.
If you are earnestly bent on attaining your high
purposes, the strict precautions we are compelled
to use will assuredly meet your approval.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—I have been a member of our Union
for nearly three years now. My name is—Fräulein
von Malchus.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Elfriede von Malchus?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—Yes, Elfriede von Malchus.—How do
you know my first name?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Why, we read the annual reports of
the Union. If I remember right, you were a distinguished
speaker at last year’s annual meeting in
Cologne?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—I am sorry to say that for two whole
years I did nothing but write and speak and speak
and write, without ever working up courage to attack
the white slave traffic directly, until finally the
white slave traffic found a victim under my own roof,
in my own family!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—If I am rightly advised, however,
only your own papers, books, and magazines were to
blame for this misfortune. Apparently you did not
keep them carefully enough away from the young
person for whose rescue you are here at this moment?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—There you are absolutely right! I
grieve to confess I cannot contradict you there!
Night after night, when I had stretched under the
bed-clothes, content with myself and the world, for
a ten-hour sleep undisturbed by any earthly emotion,
that seventeen-year-old girl crept into my study
without my ever dreaming of it and glutted her love-starved
imagination with the most seductive pictures
of sensual pleasure, and the fearfullest vice, from
my piles of books on the suppression of the white
slave traffic. Silly goose that I was, in spite of my
twenty-eight years, I never saw the next morning
that the girl had sat up all night! I had never in
my life known a sleepless night! When I went to
work again in the morning I never once asked myself
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span>
how my papers could have got into such atrocious
confusion!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—If I mistake not, my dear young
lady, the girl had been engaged by your parents to
do the lighter housework?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—To her destruction! Yes! Mama as
well as Papa was enchanted with her propriety and
modesty. To Papa, who is a ministerial official and
a bureaucrat of the purest water, her presence in
our house was like a sunbeam. At her sudden disappearance,
Papa as well as Mama stopped calling
my activities for the Union an old maid’s eccentricity.
They called it an outright crime.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—The girl is the illegitimate child of
a wash-woman?—Do you perhaps know who her
father was?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—No, I never asked her about that.—But
pray who are you? How do you come to know
all this?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Hm—the girl had read in one of
your Union’s publications that certain advertisements
were published in the daily papers by which,
under certain well-known false pretenses, the white-slavers
decoyed young girls into their clutches in
order to introduce them to the love-market. Accordingly,
the girl looked up an insertion of that
kind in the first paper that came to hand, and on
finding one, wrote a very correct letter of application
for the position falsely advertised in the insertion.
In this way I made her acquaintance.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—And you dare tell me that—with such
cynicism!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—I dare tell you that, my dear young
lady, with just such objectivity.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>In the utmost excitement, with fists
clenched.</i>] So the monster who delivered up this
girl to a life of shame was you!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>With a disconsolate smile.</i>] If
you guessed, my dear young lady, the hidden springs
of your diabolical excitement, you would be wise
enough, perhaps, to keep perfectly calm in the presence
of such a monster as <i>I</i> seem to you to be.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Curt.</i>] I don’t understand that. I
don’t know what you mean!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—You—are—still—a virgin?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Gasping.</i>] How dare you put such
a question to me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Who in God’s wide world will forbid
me!—But we’ll leave that. In any case, you have
not married. You are, as you just informed me
yourself, twenty-eight years old. These facts may
be sufficient to prove to you that in comparison with
other women, not to speak of that child of nature
for whose rescue you have come here,—you are only
to a very slight degree open to sensuous influences.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—You may be right in that.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—I speak, of course, only with the
understanding that I shall not annoy you with this
discussion. I am very far from thinking you unhealthily
or unnaturally constituted. But do you
know, my young lady, how you have satisfied those
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span>
sensuous cravings that you have?—to be sure, as
you admit, extremely weak?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—Well?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—By joining the International Union
for the Suppression of the White Slave Traffic.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Restraining her anger.</i>] Who are
you, my dear sir!—I came here to free an unfortunate
girl from the claws of vice! I did not come
here to listen to lectures, in very bad taste, from
you.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Nor did I suppose you did. But
you see, when viewed from this standpoint, we are
more allied to one another than you in your proud
little bourgeois virtue ever dreamt. On <span class="gesperrt">you</span> nature
has conferred but an extremely scant sensuous susceptibility.
The storms of life have long since made
a horribly chilly desert of <span class="gesperrt">me</span>. But what fighting
the white slave traffic is to <span class="gesperrt">your</span> sensual life, that,
to mine, if you will still grant me something of the
kind,—is the white slave traffic itself!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Aroused.</i>] Don’t dissemble so
shamelessly, you vile creature! Do you think you
can lull me to sleep with your fantastic <span class="gesperrt">sense</span>-hocus-pocus?—me,
who’ve run after that girl from one
den of vice to another like a hunted brute?! I’m
not here now as a member of the Union for the Suppression
of the White Slave Traffic. I’m here as
an unhappy criminal who has unintentionally
plunged an innocent young life into suffering and
despair. I shall never be happy again as long as
I live if I can’t snatch this child from her ruin now.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span>
You would have me believe an impure curiosity drives
me into this house. You’re a liar! You don’t believe
your own words! And it was not unsatisfied
sensuality that made you barter this girl away, but
money-greed! You lured and sold this girl because
it was good business!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Good business! Naturally! But
good business is based on profits for both parties.
I may say that I do no business which is <span class="gesperrt">not</span> good.
Every business that is not good is immoral!—Or
do you believe perhaps that the love-business is a
<span class="gesperrt">bad</span> business for the woman?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—How do you mean?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—I mean simply this—I don’t know
whether you’re just in the mood at this moment to
listen to me with some attentiveness?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—Save your introduction, for God’s
sake!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Well then, I mean this: When a
man finds himself in dire need there is often no
choice left him but stealing or starving. But when
a woman is in need, she has a third choice: the possibility
of selling her love. This way out remains
for the woman only because in granting her body
she need not experience any emotion. Now since the
world was created, woman has made use of this
advantage. To speak of nothing else, man is by
nature vastly superior to woman from the sheer
fact that the woman suffers in childbirth&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—That’s the screaming incongruity exactly!
That’s what I’m always saying. To <span class="gesperrt">bear</span>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[317]</span>
children is pain and care, but to <span class="gesperrt">beget</span> them passes
as an amusement. And nevertheless benevolent Creation
(which suffers from crazy fits in many other
respects, too) has laid the burden of pain and care
on the weaker sex!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—On that, young lady, we’re quite of
the same opinion. And now you want to rob your
unfortunate sisters of the little advantage over the
male which—“crazy Creation” did confer on them:
the advantage of being able, in extreme need, to sell
their sexual favors,—by representing this sale as an
inexpiable shame! I’ll say you’re a fine champion
of woman’s rights!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Almost in tears.</i>] That possibility
of selling ourselves weighs on our oppressed sex as
an unspeakable misfortune, an everlasting curse!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—But—God in heaven knows—it
isn’t <span class="gesperrt">our</span> fault that the buying and selling of love
weighs on the female sex as an everlasting curse! We
traders have no dearer aim than that this love-business
should be as open and unmolested as any other
honest trade! We have no loftier ideal than that
prices in the love-business should be as high as they
can possibly be made to be. Hurl your accusations,
if you would fight the oppression of your unfortunate
sex, in the face of conventional society! If you
would defend your sisters’ natural rights, attack first
of all the International Union for the Suppression
of the White Slave Traffic!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Boiling over.</i>] I won’t let you humbug
me here any longer! I am firmly convinced that
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[318]</span>
you have no serious intention of setting the girl free.
While I play the fool here listening to your sociological
lectures, the poor thing’ll be hustled into a cab
somehow, packed off to the station and transported
to some place where she’ll be safe all her life from
members of the Union for the Suppression of the
White Slave Traffic.—Very well, I know what I have
to do! [<i>Takes hat.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Smiling.</i>] If you guessed, dear
lady, how your outburst of rage beautified your bourgeois
appearance, you would not be in such a hurry
to depart.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—Let me out! It’s high time!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Where are you thinking of going
now?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—You know quite as well as I do where
I am going now!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Takes her by the throat, chokes
her, and forces her into one of the chairs.</i>] You’ll
stay here. I’ve still got a word to say to you! Try
to scream, go ahead, try it! We are accustomed
here to every possible outcry. Shriek as loud as
you can shriek!—[<i>Letting her go.</i>] I shall be surprised
if I don’t bring you to reason before you run
straight from this house to the police!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Gasping, toneless.</i>] It’s the first time
in my life violence like that has been offered me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—You have done so awfully much in
your useless life for the uplift of the daughters of
joy! Now for once do something useful for the uplift
of <span class="gesperrt">joy</span>! Then you needn’t feel sorry for the
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[319]</span>
poor creatures any more. Because the joy-business
is branded as the vulgarest, shamefullest of all professions,
girls and women of good society give themselves
to a man for nothing rather than let their
favors be paid for! Thereby these girls and women
degrade their sex in the same way as a tailor degrades
his craft if he gives clothes to his customers for
nothing!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Still as though stunned.</i>] I don’t
understand one word of all that! I went to school
when I was five and stayed there till I was fourteen.
Then I had to sit on a school-bench three more years
before taking my teacher’s examinations. As long
as I was young, our house was frequented by gentlemen
of the best society. I had a proposal from one
man who had inherited an estate of twenty square
miles and who would have followed me to the ends
of the world if I had wanted him to. But I felt I
couldn’t love him. Perhaps it wasn’t right of me.
Perhaps I was only lacking that minimum of passion
which is essential to marriage under any circumstances.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Have you calmed down at last?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—Just explain one more thing to me.
If the girl in the course of the life she’s living
here, brings a child into the world, who will take
care of that child?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—You take care of it! Or as a feminist,
have you perhaps something on earth more
important to do? So long as any woman under
God’s sun must still be afraid of becoming a mother,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[320]</span>
all the “emancipation” in the world is nothing but
empty gabble! Motherhood is a necessity of nature
for a woman, like breathing and sleeping. And this
innate right has been most barbarously restricted
by conventional society. A natural child is almost
as big a disgrace as the love-business itself! <span class="gesperrt">Whore</span>
here and <span class="gesperrt">whore</span> there! The mother of an illegitimate
child is no more spared the name of whore than
is a girl in this house. If ever anything in your woman’s
movement inspired me with loathing, it was the
<span class="gesperrt">morality</span> that you inject into your disciples on
life’s way. Do you imagine the love-business would
ever in the world’s history have been described as a
disgrace if the man could have competed with the
woman in the love-market? Envy! Nothing but commercial
envy! Nature accorded to the woman the
monopoly of being able to trade in her love. Therefore
conventional society, which is governed by man,
would like nothing better than over and over again
to represent that trade as the most shameful of
crimes!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Stands up and lays her cloak over
the chair. Walking up and down.</i>] I confess I am
at this moment quite unable to tell whether your
opinions on that point are right or not. But how
in the world is it possible for a man of your culture,
of your social views, of your intellectual eminence, to
throw his life away among the vilest elements of
society! God knows it may have been only your
beastly brutality that has made me take your assertions
seriously. But I feel very sure you’ve given
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[321]</span>
me things to think about for a long time to come,
things I’d never in my life have thought of myself.
Every winter for years I’ve heard from twelve to
twenty lectures by all the male and female authorities
on the woman movement; but I can’t remember
ever having heard a word that went to the bottom
of the business the way your statements do.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>In a singsong.</i>] Let us always
realize quite clearly, my dear lady, that we all are
as though walking in our sleep on a ridge-pole, and
that any unexpected enlightenment can be the breaking
of our necks.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Staring at him.</i>] What do you mean
by <span class="gesperrt">that</span>?—There’s something monstrous in your
mind?!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Very quietly.</i>] I said it only in
regard to your views, which so far have let you
feel so innocently safe in throwing round epithets
like <span class="gesperrt">respectable</span> and <span class="gesperrt">vile</span> as if you were
specially commissioned of God to sit in judgment
on your fellow-mortals.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Staring at him.</i>] You’re a great
man.—You’re a high-minded man!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Your words probe the mortal
wound that I brought with me into the world and that
I shall probably die of, some day. [<i>Throws himself
into a chair.</i>] I am—a moralist!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—And would you bewail your fate on
that account?! Because the power of making other
men happy was given you? [<i>After a short inner
struggle, she throws herself at his feet.</i>] Marry me,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[322]</span>
marry me, for mercy’s sake! Before I saw <span class="gesperrt">you</span> I was
never able to imagine the possibility of giving myself
to a man! I am absolutely inexperienced; that
I can swear to you by the sacredest oaths. Till
this moment I never guessed what the word <span class="gesperrt">love</span>
meant. With you, here, I feel it for the first time.
Love lifts the lover up above his miserable self. I’m
an everyday average woman, but my love for you
makes me so free and fearless that nothing is impossible
to me. Continue, in God’s name, from crime
to crime! I will go before you! Go to prison!
I will go before you! Go from prison to the scaffold!
I will go before you. Don’t, I beseech you, don’t
let this fortunate opportunity escape! Marry me,
marry me, marry me! So shall help come to us
two poor children of men!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Stroking her head, without looking
at her.</i>] Whether you love me or don’t love me, you
dear animal, is all one to me. Of course, you cannot
know how many thousand times I have already had
to undergo just such outbursts of emotion. Far be
it from me to undervalue love. But alas, love must
also serve as the vindication of all those innumerable
women who merely satisfy their sensual wants, without
asking the least return, and by their unrecompensed
abandon only ruin the market.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—Marry me! There is still time for you
to begin a new life! Marriage will reconcile you with
society. You can be editor of a socialist paper,
you can be a representative in the Reichstag! Marry
me, and then even you will learn for once in your
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[323]</span>
life what superhuman sacrifices a woman is capable
of in her boundless love!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Still without looking at her, stroking
her hair.</i>] The best your superhuman sacrifices
could do would be to turn my stomach. All my life
I have loved tigresses. With bitches I was never
anything but a stick of wood. My only consolation
is that marriage, which you glorify so rapturously
and for which bitches are bred, is a civilized institution.
Civilized institutions arise only that they may
be surmounted. The race will win beyond marriage
just as it has surmounted slavery. The <span class="gesperrt">free
love-market</span>, where the tigress triumphs, is
founded on a <span class="gesperrt">primordial law</span> of <span class="gesperrt">unalterable
nature</span>. And how proud and high will
woman stand in the world, so soon as she has conquered
the right to sell herself, unbranded, at the
highest price a man will bid for her! Illegitimate
children will be better cared for then by the mother,
than legitimate ones are now by the father. Then the
pride and ambition of woman will no longer lie in
the man who allots her her place, but in the world,
where she struggles up to the highest position that
her value can give her. Then what a glorious fresh
vital sound the words “daughter of joy” will have!
In the story of paradise it is written that Heaven
endowed woman with the power to seduce. Woman
seduces whom she will. Woman seduces when she will.
She does not wait for love. And conventional society
combats this hellish danger to our sacred civilization,
by bringing woman up in an artificial darkness of
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[324]</span>
mind and soul. The growing girl must not know
what it means <span class="gesperrt">to be a woman</span>. All our institutions
might go to smash if she did! No hangman’s
dodge is too base for the defense of conventional
society! With every advance of civilization the
love-business expands. The cleverer the world gets,
the bigger is the love-market. And our celebrated
civilization, in the name of morality, condemns these
millions of daughters of joy to starvation, or robs
them in the name of morality of their self-respect
and life-vindication, yea, hurls them down to the
level of beasts, all in the name of morality! How
many centuries more will an <span class="gesperrt">immorality</span> which
cries to Heaven ravage this world with the sword and
ax of morality!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Voicelessly whimpering.</i>] Marry me!
You stand above and beyond the world! For the
first time, to-day I offer my hand to a man!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Stroking her hair without looking
at her.</i>] Materialism! Commercialism!—What
would the world know about morality at all, if man
could commandeer love as he bosses politics!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—I hope for no higher happiness from
our marriage than the privilege of kneeling so before
you all my life and listening to your words!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Have you ever asked yourself what
marriage means?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—Till this moment I’ve had no occasion
to do so. [<i>Rising.</i>] Tell me! I shall do everything
to come up to your requirements.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Draws her onto his knee.</i>] Come
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[325]</span>
here, my child. I’ll explain it to you. [<span class="smcap">Elfriede</span> <i>is
prudish for a moment</i>.] Please keep still.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—I have never sat on a man’s knee.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Give me a kiss. [<i>She kisses him.</i>]
Thanks. [<i>Holding her off.</i>] You’d like to know
what marriage is?—Tell me, which is stronger: a man
who has <span class="gesperrt">one</span> dog or a man who has <span class="gesperrt">none</span>?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—The man who has the dog is stronger.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—And now tell me again, which is
stronger: a man who has one dog or a man who
has <span class="gesperrt">two</span> dogs?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—I guess the man who has one dog is
stronger, for of course, two dogs couldn’t very well
help getting jealous of each other.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—That would be the least consideration.
But he would have to feed <span class="gesperrt">two</span> dogs or else
they’d run away, while <span class="gesperrt">one</span> dog takes care of himself
and also if there is need protects his master from
robbers.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—And by this abominable comparison
you would explain the unselfish inseparable union
of man and wife? Merciful God, what a life you must
have had!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—The man with one wife is economically
stronger than if he had none; but he is also
economically stronger than if he had to take care
of two or more wives. That is the cornerstone of
marriage. Woman would never have dreamt of this
ingenious device!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—You poor pitiable man! Did you ever
know a home and family? Did you ever have a
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[326]</span>
mother to nurse you when you were sick, to read you
stories when you were convalescing, for you to confide
in when there was something in your heart, and
who helped you always and always, even when you
had thought for the longest time that there was no
more help for you on God’s earth?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—What I lived through as a child no
human creature could live through without having
his will and energy broken and ruined. Can you
imagine yourself a young man of sixteen and still
whipped because the logarithm of Pi won’t go into
his head? And the man who whipped me was my
father! And I whipped back! I beat my father
to death! He died after I’d beaten him once.—But
these are trifles. You see what sort of creatures I live
with here. I have never heard among these creatures
the insults that were my mother’s share all through
my childhood and which her spitefulness earned
afresh for her each day. But those are trifles. The
slaps, blows and kicks with which father, mother and
a dozen teachers vied with one another to demean
my defenseless body, were trifling in comparison with
the slaps, blows and kicks with which the vicissitudes
of life have vied with one another to degrade my
defenseless <span class="gesperrt">soul</span>.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Kisses him.</i>] If you could guess how
much I love you for all those frightful experiences!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—The life of man is tenfold death
<span class="gesperrt">before</span> death. Not merely for me. For you!
For everything that breathes! For the ordinary
man, life consists of pains, aches and tortures which
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[327]</span>
his <span class="gesperrt">body</span> suffers. And if a man struggles up to a
higher plane, in the hope of escaping the sufferings
of the body, then for him life consists of pains, aches
and tortures which the soul endures and beside which
the torments of the body were a kindness. How <span class="gesperrt">horrible</span>
this life is is shown by mankind’s having had
to think out a Being that consisted of nothing but
goodness, but love, but kindness,—and by all humanity’s
having to pray daily, hourly to this Being,
in order to endure its life at all!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Caressing him.</i>] When you marry
me, pains of the body and soul-pains alike will have
an end! You need not plague yourself any longer
with all these frightful questions. My mama has
a private fortune of sixty thousand marks, and after
all their twenty-five years of happy married life,
Papa hasn’t an inkling of it. Doesn’t the prospect
lure you, of marrying me and having sixty thousand
marks cash suddenly at your disposal?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Pushing her off nervously.</i>] You
don’t understand how to caress, young lady! You
act like an ass that’s trying to be a setter. Your
hands irritate me! That’s not because you haven’t
learnt anything. It’s because of your having sprung
from the enslaved love-life of conventional society.
There’s nothing thoroughbred in your body. You
lack the necessary delicacy! Delicacy, modesty,
shame! You lack the feeling for the <span class="gesperrt">effect</span> of
your caresses, a feeling that every thoroughbred
child is born with.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[328]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Springing up.</i>] And you dare to tell
me that in this house?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Rising simultaneously.</i>] That I
dare tell you in this house!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—In this house? That I lack the necessary
delicacy, the necessary <span class="gesperrt">shame</span>?!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—That you lack the necessary delicacy
and sense of shame! In this house of ill-fame
I tell you that! Get it into your head, once and
for all, with what <span class="gesperrt">fine tact</span> these creatures
apply themselves to their defamed calling! The girl
most lately come into this house knows more about
the soul of man than the most famous professor of
psychology in the most renowned university. You,
young lady, would assuredly experience the same
disappointments here as you have always had. The
woman who is created for the love-market can be
recognized at the first glance. Her frank and
regular features shine with <span class="gesperrt">innocent rapture</span>
and blissful <span class="gesperrt">innocence</span>.—[<i>Regarding</i>
<span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>.] In <span class="gesperrt">your</span> face, with all due respect,
I can find no trace of either rapture or innocence.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Hesitating.</i>] Don’t you believe, my
lord, that with my iron will, my energy, and my
insuperable enthusiasm for the beautiful, I might
yet acquire the delicacy and the fine tact of which
you speak?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—No, no, madam!—please, no! Get
rid of those notions on the spot!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—I am so deeply convinced of the moral
significance of everything you say that the <span class="gesperrt">utmost
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[329]</span>
sacrifice</span> by which I could overcome my bourgeois
helplessness would not be too great for me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—No, no. I won’t agree to that!
That would be horrible. Life is horrible enough.
No, no, madam! Keep your fearful fingers off the
one divine ray that pierces the shuddering night of
our tortured earthly existence! What am I living
for? Why do I take part in this civilization of
ours? No, no! The one pure flower of heaven
in life’s thorn-thicket, befouled with sweat and blood,
shall not be trampled out under clumsy feet! Believe
me, I beg you, that I would have shot a bullet
through my head half a century ago if it had not
been that above the wail shrieking to heaven from
birth-pangs, woes of life and death-agonies, still
gleamed this <span class="gesperrt">one bright star</span>!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—The utmost mental exertion fails to
give me even an inkling of your meaning! What is
that ray that pierces the night of our existence?
What is the <span class="gesperrt">one pure flower of heaven</span>
that must not be trampled into the dirt?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Taking</i> <span class="smcap">Elfriede’s</span> <i>hand and whispering
mysteriously</i>.] Sensual pleasure, gracious
lady!—The laughing, sunny enjoyment of the senses!
<span class="gesperrt">Sensual joy is the ray</span>, the <span class="gesperrt">flower of
heaven</span>, because it is the one unclouded bliss, the
one pure rapture undefiled, that earthly existence
offers us. Believe me when I say that for half a
century nothing has kept me in this world but selfless
worship of this one full-throated laughing joy, this
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[330]</span><span class="gesperrt">sensual pleasure</span> that repays mankind for
all the torments of existence!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—I think somebody’s coming.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Lisiska, probably!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—Lisiska? Who is Lisiska?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—The girl who studied those books on
the suppression of the white slave traffic in your
house! In a moment you can convince yourself if
I have said too much! We are prepared for such
occasions, thank heaven. [<i>Takes her down right.</i>]
Sit down behind this screen. From here, even <span class="gesperrt">you</span>
can for once in your life watch the <span class="gesperrt">clear, unsullied</span>
bliss of two people whom the <span class="gesperrt">joy of
the senses</span> draws together! [<span class="smcap">Elfriede</span> <i>seats
herself on the stool behind the screen, right</i>. <span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>
<i>goes to the centre door, glances out, and then
retires behind the screen, left, and sits</i>. <span class="smcap">Herr König</span>
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lisiska</span> <i>enter, centre. He is a young man of
twenty-five, in a gay sport-suit with knee-breeches.</i>
<span class="smcap">Lisiska</span> <i>is dressed in a simple white garment reaching
to the calf, black stockings, patent-leather slippers,
and a white bow in her loose black hair</i>.]</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Herr König</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  I have not come to while my time away,<br>
  A sensualist in the circle of your charms,<br>
  And will with gratitude and friendship pay<br>
  If quickly sober’d I can leave your arms.
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Lisiska</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  Speak not so friendly in my ear.<br>
  Here you are lord, and command us here.<br>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[331]</span>
  Hesitate not to color my pallid<br>
  And bloodless cheeks with buffets untallied!<br>
  That for a whore like me<br>
  Is an unheard-of fee!<br>
  Helpless lamenting, sobbing and wailing<br>
  Need not cause you the slightest quailing.<br>
  Shallow’s the bliss from such abuse!<br>
  Pile pitiless blow upon blow without truce!<br>
  If your fist should smash in my face entire<br>
  Even that would not slake my desire!
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Herr König</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  I am not prepared for such words, such a test....<br>
  Is this a merry welcome for the guest?<br>
  You speak as if in purgatory already<br>
  Here, you atoned for lust enjoyed and gone.
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Lisiska</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  Oh, no! Untamed the Monster, Lust, doth eddy,<br>
  Raging forever in flesh, blood and bone!<br>
  Think you I, the devil’s spouse,<br>
  Would ever have happened into this house<br>
  If my heart’s horrible hammering stopped<br>
  When Rapture seized me and shone?<br>
  Rapture evaporates, dropped<br>
  On a hot stone!<br>
  And Lust, an unstilled throe,<br>
  A hungering woe,<br>
  Plunges, to find death, into this<br>
  And every abyss!<br>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[332]</span>
  Are you not cruel, good sir, in your joys?<br>
  I should be sorry!<br>
  But what do you care for my noise?<br>
  Strike me, your quarry!
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Herr König</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  If that dark urge is really yours, to go<br>
  From the last depths to something yet below,—<br>
  I could shed tears that from the spring-time crew<br>
  Of amorous girls I picked and chose just you.<br>
  Out of your eyes, so innocent, so gay,<br>
  There gleamed on me a <span class="gesperrt">bliss without alloy</span>....
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Lisiska</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  Do you wish that our time pass away—<br>
  And we have no joy?<br>
  Down there, over our rules and tenets,<br>
  Mother Adele sits, watch in hand:<br>
  Counts and reckons, immovable, bland,<br>
  My enjoyment’s minutes!</p>
<p class='sdir2'>
  [<i>Pause.</i>]
</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Herr König</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  You have grown tired of ecstasy at length<br>
  And hope for lassitude from tears and pain,—<br>
  For some deep calm to overcome the strength<br>
  Of your hot craving day and night in vain.
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[333]</span></p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Lisiska</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  If I sleep, then please with a sudden hard<br>
  Punch in the ribs wake me up, well-jarred!
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Herr König</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  That note was false! A flaw is in the reed!<br>
  —How can a human being understand that?!<br>
  Whistle at happiness—at life—you can that,—<br>
  But <span class="gesperrt">sleep</span>? No! that was blasphemy indeed!
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Lisiska</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  I am not your property,<br>
  You need not protect me;<br>
  Spare not then so anxiously<br>
  The joys that still affect me;<br>
  Seek no means to comfort me;<br>
  Kindness knows not how to;<br>
  Who beats me up most mercilessly,—<br>
  He’s the one I bow to.</p>
<p class='ml8'>You ask me<br>
Whether or no<br>
I still can blush?<br>
Unmask me<br>
With a quick blow,<br>
And mark the flush!
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Herr König</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  Cold sweat runs down me, chill’d in skull and spine,<br>
  Shuddering!—Let me out!... Half in a dream<br>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[334]</span>
  I hoped to pluck the sweet fruits of love’s vine.<br>
  You offer thorns to me instead!... You seem<br>
  A young wild thing; how came it that you strayed—<br>
  Impossible!—from flower-paths to these briars?
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Lisiska</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  Leave not my sore desires<br>
  All unallayed!<br>
  Turn not heartless away from your slave!<br>
  Before me I have my grave,<br>
  And my only hope is to leave behind<br>
  No more of this world than I needs must.<br>
  Think you, we only come to such lust<br>
  Because in this house we are kept confined?<br>
  No, it is but the senses’ torturing thirst<br>
  Holds us here accursed!<br>
  But this, too, was reckoned without insight:<br>
  Night by night<br>
  I see it, blinding-clear:—that even<br>
  In this house no heaven<br>
  Of peace to the senses is given!
</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>In her hiding-place, to herself, with
astonishment.</i>] God Almighty! That is just the
<span class="gesperrt">exact contrary</span> of what I’ve imagined it for
ten long years!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[335]</span></p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>In his hiding-place, to himself, with
horror.</i>] Devil! Devil! Devil! That is the
<span class="gesperrt">exact contrary</span> of what I’ve imagined about
sensual joy for fifty years!</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Lisiska</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  Don’t go away from me! Hear me, hard-hearted!<br>
  I was an innocent child, and started<br>
  Life earnestly, full of duty and zeal!<br>
  I could never carelessly smile,—but <span class="gesperrt">feel</span>—?!...<br>
  From my teachers, even my brothers and sisters,<br>
  I often heard awed admiring whispers,<br>
  And my parents would both presage:<br>
  “You’ll be the delight of our old age.”<br>
  Then with a sudden blast<br>
  That was past!<br>
  And once-awakened lust<br>
  Grew over all bounds, all “oughts,”<br>
  Over all my thoughts,<br>
  Over all my heart’s feeling of trust,<br>
  So that I marvel’d, driven<br>
  Infatuate, master’d, what it implied,<br>
  That I saw no lightning strike at my side<br>
  Nor heard any thunder from heaven.<br>
  Then it came to me—hope, that our life had been given<br>
  For joy to us, joy never glutted nor dried.
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[336]</span></p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Herr König</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  And this high hope you found was not fulfilled?<br>
  —I speak, I know, as a blind man of—of——
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Lisiska</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  No—it was only a hellish <span class="gesperrt">drive</span><br>
  Whence no joy remained alive.
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Herr König</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  But when so many girls have died of love—<br>
  Was it with all of them—Desire unstilled?<br>
  —But then, how should such hordes of women press<br>
  By thousands down <span class="gesperrt">your</span> path of dire excess?
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Lisiska</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  Have you no will to glory<br>
  In the stripes upon my body?<br>
  For what was it made so soft,—<br>
  For what was it so tender created?<br>
  Speechless looks have dilated<br>
  O’er stroke upon stroke here, oft!<br>
  Flagging desires anew to inflame<br>
  Boasting I tell from whom they came.
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Herr König</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  Be still, I tell you! One more word thereon<br>
  And I’ll have stayed too long!... ’Tis plain to see<br>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[337]</span>
  In your pale features how tempestuously<br>
  Youth fled from you!... Your innocence once gone,<br>
  Did he who robbed you of it leave you in shame?
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Lisiska</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  No—but another came,<br>
  Found glee and blame;<br>
  For always I swore eternal troth<br>
  To the young fools, and broke the oath.<br>
  Always I hoped my curse<br>
  Must disappear with another man.<br>
  Each time it was bitterness or worse.<br>
  No rest could be found for me, or can,<br>
  For ’twas always only the hellish drive<br>
  Out of which no joy came forth alive!
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Herr König</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  So to this house you came at last, and lead<br>
  A life of riot and revel here indeed!<br>
  Music resounds, champagne drips from the tables,<br>
  Laughter roars through the graying dawn full oft,<br>
  Nought the long working-day knows but the soft<br>
  Sound of hot tongues’ husht lisping of love’s fables.—<br>
  What a low, common beggar I must be<br>
  To you—proud queen of joy and ecstasy!<br>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[338]</span>
  I came with what was mine from you to purchase<br>
  A plain, straightforward interchange of pleasure.<br>
  I could tear my hair with rage! For without measure<br>
  Hideous is the lust that here besmirches<br>
  Those libertines your friends and you their game!<br>
  They set no stops to their inhuman glee!<br>
  Hasten and wreathe <span class="gesperrt">their</span> limbs! A purer aim<br>
  And element upbuoys and quickens me!<br>
  I sought refreshment, and have no desire<br>
  To smear myself in the earth’s deepest mire!
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Lisiska</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  Oh, stay! If you desert me now, ’tis harder,—<br>
  ’Tis night around me again! Don’t go away!<br>
  Like a lip-lash already each word you say<br>
  Flicks me, and stings my craving with pricking whips:<br>
  Would you might loathe and hate me with such ardor<br>
  That it would be your fists and not your lips<br>
  Whose blow on blow aches through my body’s smart!<br>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[339]</span>
  Once you’ve been pressed to my heart<br>
  Then go back whence you came,<br>
  Smilingly write my name<br>
  In your notebook ... —while with me<br>
  There will stay but the ghastly curse—to be<br>
  Once more in the grip of the hellish drive<br>
  Out of which no joy remained alive!
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Herr König</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  I can’t believe my senses now!—It seems,<br>
  You’ve fallen in <span class="gesperrt">love</span> with me? Oh, cruel!—Spurned<br>
  By women, I have wept aloud and yearned<br>
  Thru many—how many—nights of tortured dreams!<br>
  Is the first love in all my life now faltering<br>
  Toward me upon bought lips?!—Are you not bound<br>
  To give to every stranger, without paltering,<br>
  His will,—and hopes of comfort would you found<br>
  On me?—to me lay passionately bare<br>
  Your soul, whose lurid charms shall hold me fast?<br>
  If e’er my lot so close to yours were cast<br>
  I should be seized with horror past compare!
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Lisiska</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  For God’s sake, don’t believe in my love!<br>
  ’Tis my duty here to affect the dove!<br>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[340]</span>
  Think to yourself just once what it means<br>
  When suddenly someone parts the screens!—<br>
  Rake up love’s coals, be alive and elated;<br>
  There is a <span class="gesperrt">man</span> by God created!—<br>
  —Do you want me to play that wretched game<br>
  With <span class="gesperrt">you</span> here?<br>
  To feel but loathing when your high’st flame<br>
  Burns thru here?!<br>
  But if you thoroly with your Hunnish<br>
  Fists my body and limbs will punish,—<br>
  That, if you find pleasure in it,<br>
  Can unite us till my dying minute!
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Herr König</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  White robe of innocence! Spirit unstained<br>
  By even this house! Your purity makes blind<br>
  My eyes; your beauty takes my heart and mind<br>
  With infinite gazing.—Rioting unrestrained<br>
  In fierce self-martyrdom without repose—<br>
  You fight the soul’s unfathomable woes,—<br>
  Death in your face, and in your heart hot hate<br>
  For all earth’s vain delights turned desolate!</p>
<p class='sdir2'>[<i>He kneels.</i>]</p>
<p class='ml3'>
  Let me be friend, be brother to you! Whether<br>
  You give your body up to me—lies deep<br>
  Beneath us!—so have you exalted me!<br>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">[341]</span>
  To your slim knees here solemnly I vow<br>
  That only as soul cleaves to soul art thou<br>
  My own—so only am I thine—together!<br>
  Out of hell’s agony to heaven’s steep<br>
  You soared, and now unconscious of the sweep,<br>
  Of lusts that ebb and flow beneath your height<br>
  Must bleed your life out in sublimity<br>
  Thru me shall that be shown to all men’s sight!<br>
  From my chaste poetry the world shall learn<br>
  To weigh the wrong and misery of sold love!<br>
  I swear it by the eternal stars above,<br>
  The purest light that in our night can burn.<br>
  Give me a pledge, avow to me openly:—<br>
  Have you by love been gladden’d? once? or ever?
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Lisiska</span>—[<i>Raising him.</i>]</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  If you killed me now straight off, I could never<br>
  Say it differently!<br>
  It was always only the hellish drive<br>
  Whence no joy remained alive.<br>
  Thus, once for all, it is in this place:<br>
  Here is the rendezvous<br>
  Of all to whom love is a pang without grace<br>
  And a hankering ever new!<br>
  What other chance callers may appear<br>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">[342]</span>
  Aren’t taken in earnest by us here!<br>
  Men such as you<br>
  Are few<br>
  For they count for nothing where<br>
  We house, whom men compare<br>
  With beasts unheeded.—<br>
  But now have I yet succeeded<br>
  In bringing you round to grant<br>
  Comfort to my wild want?
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Herr König</span>—</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  What wilderness of paths your hand may lead me,<br>
  Still gleams a star above us that will speed me!
</p>

<p class='mth'><span class="smcap">Lisiska</span>—[<i>Hugs and kisses him.</i>]</p>

<p class='ml3'>
  Then come, love! pliable at last, for trysts<br>
  In ancient, ne’er-disturbed tranquillity,<br>
  As uttermost lust’s calm bliss long known to me!<br>
  Oh, if I only died under your fists!</p>
<p class='sdir2'>[<i>Both exeunt, right.</i>]
</p>

<p class='mt1'><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Breaking out of his hiding-place,
wildly.</i>] What was that?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Breaking out likewise, passionately.</i>]
What was that! Worthless parasite that I am!
What did my withered brain ever think the joy of
the senses was! Self-immolation, glowing martyrdom,
that’s what the life in this house is! And I, in
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">[343]</span>
my lying arrogance, in my threadbare virtue, supposed
this house a breeding-place of depravity!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—I am smashed and shattered!!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—All my youth, that the good God gave
me overflowing with the desire and the power to love,—I
have wantonly dragged it through the gray, soul-smothering
dirt of the streets! Coward that I was,
the sacredness of sensual passion seemed to me the
basest reprobacy!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Stunned.</i>] That was the blinding-bright
enlightenment that unforeseen breaks his neck
who walks in his sleep on the ridge-pole!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Passionately.</i>] That was the blinding-bright
enlightenment!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—What am I still doing in the world,
if even sensual pleasure is nothing but a hellish flaying
of man, nothing but a satanic butchery of mankind,
like all the rest of our earthly existence?! So
<span class="gesperrt">that’s</span> the true aspect of the <span class="gesperrt">one divine
ray</span> that pierces the horrible night of our tormented
life! Oh, if only I had shot a bullet through my
head half a century ago! Then I would have been
spared this pitiful bankruptcy of my bilked and
swindled spiritual wealth.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—What is there still for you to do in
the world? I can tell you! You trade in girls. You
boast you trade in girls. Anyway, you have the
closest relations with all the places that count in the
white slave trade. Sell me! I beseech you, sell me
into a house like this! You can make a very lucrative
bargain of me! I have never loved; and, surely,
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">[344]</span>
that doesn’t lower my value! I won’t bring you any
disgrace! You shall add, by me, to the honor in
which your customers hold you! I promise! I will
guarantee myself to you with any oath you ask me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Half-crazed.</i>] What will keep me
from breaking my neck? What will help me across
the icy shudders of death?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—I will help you across! <i>I!</i> Sell me!
Then you’ll be saved!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Who are <span class="gesperrt">you</span>?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—I want to find my death in the joy of
the senses. I want to give myself up to be slaughtered
on the altar of sensuous love!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Am I to sell you—<span class="gesperrt">you</span>?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—I want to die the martyr’s death that
this girl who was just here is dying! Have <i>I</i> no natural
human rights the same as others?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Heaven preserve me from it!
[<i>With mounting emphasis.</i>] This—this—this is the
<span class="gesperrt">derisive laughter of Hell</span>, that rings
above my plunge into death!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Sinking to his feet.</i>] Sell me!
Sell me!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—The most terrible times of my life
arise before me. Once before, I sold in the love-market
a girl whom nature had not intended for it!
For that crime against nature I spent six full years
behind <span class="gesperrt">prison bars</span>. Of course she, too, was
one of those temperamentless creatures in whose
<span class="gesperrt">faces</span> one can see “big feet.”</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Clasping his knees.</i>] On my soul I
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">[345]</span>
implore you, sell me! You were right. My activity
in combating the white slave traffic was unsatisfied
sensuality. But my sensuousness is <span class="gesperrt">not</span> weak! Ask
me for proofs. Shall I kiss you madly, insanely?</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>In utmost despair.</i>] And this ear-piercing
howl of suffering at my feet? What <span class="gesperrt">is</span>
that! This echoing shriek for help from birth-pangs,
woes of life, and death-agonies I will no
longer endure. I cannot stand this earth’s continuous
crying any longer!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Wringing her hands.</i>] <span class="gesperrt">To you
yourself</span>, if you will, I will yield up my virginity!
<span class="gesperrt">To you yourself</span>, if you will, I will give my
first love-night!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—[<i>Shrieking.</i>] The last straw! [<i>A
shot.</i> <span class="smcap">Elfriede</span> <i>utters a piercing yell</i>. <span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>,
<i>the smoking revolver in his right hand, his left
pressed convulsively to his breast, totters to one of
the arm-chairs and breaks down in it</i>.]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—I—I beg your pardon—Baroness.
I’ve—I’ve hurt myself.—That was not—not gallant
of me&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Bending over him.</i>] God have mercy,
you haven’t hit yourself with it?!</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—Don’t—don’t hurt my ears—shrieking!
Be loving—loving—loving—if you can&#x2060;——</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Stands up in horror, both hands in
her hair, stares at him and screams.</i>] No! No! No!
I <span class="gesperrt">can’t</span> be loving with this sight before me! I
<span class="gesperrt">can’t</span> be loving! [<i>Directly after the shot, three
slim young girls, dressed exactly like</i> <span class="smcap">Lisiska</span>, <i>have
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">[346]</span>
curiously one after the other stepped out of the
three doors. Hesitatingly they approach</i> <span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>,
<i>and, with the minimum of action or emotion,
gesturing silently among themselves, they essay to
ease his death-struggles. He looks up and sees
them.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span>—And that—and that—ve-vengeance?
Spirits of vengeance?—No! No!—That—that is
Marushka! I see you now. That is Euphemia!—That,
Theophila!— —Marushka! Kiss me, Marushka!
[<i>The slenderest of the three girls bends
over</i> <span class="smcap">Casti-Piani</span> <i>and kisses him on the mouth</i>.] No!
[<i>In anguish.</i>] No! No! That wasn’t anything!—Kiss—kiss
me differently! [<i>She kisses him again.</i>]—So!—So,
so, so!—I have de-deceived you [<i>slowly
raising himself, supported by</i> <span class="smcap">Marushka</span>]—deceived
you all! The joy of the senses—torture—bloody
agony!— —At last—at last—deliverance!
[<i>He stands, straight and stiff, as though seized with
catalepsy, his eyes very wide open.</i>] We—we must
receive—His Worship— —standing.... [<i>He
falls dead.</i>]</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>—[<i>Drowned in tears, to the three girls.</i>]
Well?—Is none of you girls brave enough to do it?
You were more to this man than I was permitted
to be! [<i>The three girls shake their heads and withdraw
shyly, frightened, but cold and impassive.</i> <span class="smcap">Elfriede</span>,
<i>sobbing, turns to the corpse</i>:] Then forgive
me miserable! While you were alive, you abhorred
me with all your soul! Forgive me that I come near
you now! [<i>Kisses him passionately on the mouth.
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">[347]</span>
Breaking into a flood of tears</i>.] This last disillusion,
even in your fearfullest blackest pessimism you can
never have conceived,—that a <span class="gesperrt">virgin</span> was to close
your eyes! [<i>She closes his eyes and sinks, weeping
piteously, at his feet.</i>]</p>

<p class='curtain'>CURTAIN</p>

<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
<div class='chapter'>
<div class="transnote mt2">
  <h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">
    Transcriber’s Notes
  </h2>

<ul>
<li>Obvious typographic erros silently corrected.</li>

<li>Variations in hyphenation and punctuation kept as in the original.</li>

<li>Footnotes numbered consecutively and relocated to the end of each
   play.
</li>
</ul>
</div></div>
<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76872 ***</div>
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