Chapter VIII: Part 8

I confess that that was quite as indifferent to me in the given instance, as it was to one of the omnibus horses who held his left fore foot suspended in the air for five, six or, perhaps, even eight solid minutes, in order not to trample on the woman who lay immediately beneath it. [_SPITTA is answered by a round of laughter._] You may laugh! The behaviour of the horse didn't strike me as in the least ludicrous. I could well understand how some people applauded him, clapped their hands, and how others stormed a bakery to buy buns with which to feed him.

MRS. JOHN

[_Fanatically._] I wish he'd trampled all he could! [_MRS. JOHN'S remark calls forth another outburst of laughter._] An' anyhow! That there Knobbe woman! She oughta be put in some public place, that she ought, publicly strapped to a bench an' then beaten--beaten--that's what! She oughta have the stick taken to her so the blood jus' spurts!

SPITTA

Exactly, I've never been deluded into thinking that the so-called Middle Ages were quite over and done with. It isn't so long ago, in the year eighteen hundred and thirty-seven, as a matter of fact, that a widow named Mayer was publicly broken on the wheel right here in the city of Berlin on Hausvogtei Square,--[_He displays fragments of the lenses of his spectacles._] By the way, I must hurry to the optician at once.

JOHN

[_To SPITTA._] You must excuse us. But didn't you take that there fine lady home on this very floor acrost the way? Aha! Well, mother she noticed it right off that that couldn't ha' been nobody but that Knobbe woman what's known for sendin' girls o' twelve out on the streets! Then she stays away herself an' swills liquor an' has all kinds o' dealin's an' takes no care o' her own children. Then when she's been drunk an' wakes up she beats 'em with her fists an' with an umbrella.

HASSENREUTER

[_Pulling himself together and bethinking himself._] Hurry, gentlemen! We must proceed to our period of instruction. We're fifteen minutes behind hand as it is and our time is limited. We must close the period quite punctually to-day. I'm sorry. Come, mama. See you later, ladies and gentlemen.

[_HASSENREUTER offers his arm to his wife and leaves the room,
followed by KAeFERSTEIN and DR. KEGEL. JOHN also picks up his slouch
hat._

JOHN

[_To his wife._] Good-bye. I gotta go an' see the boss.

[_He also leaves._

SPITTA

Could you possibly lend me a tie?

MRS. JOHN

I'll see what c'n be found in Paul's drawer. [_She opens the drawer of the table and turns pale._] O Lord! [_She takes from the drawer a lock of child's hair held together by a riband._] I found a bit of a lock o' hair here that was cut off the head of our little Adelbert by his father when he was lyin' in the coffin. [_A profound, grief-stricken sadness suddenly comes over her face, which gives way again, quite as suddenly, to a gleam of triumph._] An' now the crib is full again after all! [_With an expression of strange joyfulness, the lock of hair in her hand, she leads the young people to the door of the partition through which the perambulator projects into the main room by two-thirds of its length. Arrived there she holds the lock of hair close to the head of the living child._] Come on! Come on here! [_With a strangely mysterious air she beckons to WALBURGA and SPITTA, who take up their stand next to her and to the child._] Now look at that there hair an' at this! Ain't it the same? Wouldn't you say it was the same identical hair?

SPITTA

Quite right. It's the same to the minutest shade, Mrs. John.

MRS. JOHN

All right! That's all right! That's what I wanted to know.

[_Together with the child she disappears behind the partition._

WALBURGA

Doesn't it strike you, Erich, that Mrs. John's behaviour is rather peculiar?

SPITTA

[_Taking WALBURGA'S hands and kissing them shyly but passionately._] I don't know, I don't know ... Or, at least, my opinion musn't count to-day. The sombre state of my own mind colours all the world. Did you get the letter?

WALBURGA

Yes. But I couldn't make out why you hadn't been at our house in such a long while.

SPITTA

Forgive me, Walburga, but I couldn't come.

WALBURGA

And why not?

SPITTA

Because my mind was not at one with itself.

WALBURGA

You want to become an actor? Is that true? You're going to change professions?

SPITTA

What I'll be in the end may be left to God. But never a parson--never a country parson!

WALBURGA

Listen! I've had my fortune told from the cards.

SPITTA

That's nonsense, Walburga. You mustn't do that.

WALBURGA

I swear to you, Erich, that it isn't nonsense. The woman told me I was betrothed in secret and that my betrothed is an actor. Of course I laughed her to scorn. And immediately after that mama told me that you wanted to be an actor.

SPITTA

Is that a fact?

WALBURGA

It's true--every bit of it. And in addition the clairvoyant said that we would have a visitor who would cause us much trouble.

SPITTA

My father is coming to Berlin, Walburga, and it's undoubtedly true that the old gentleman will give us not a little trouble. Father doesn't know it, but my views and his have been worlds asunder for a long time. It didn't need these letters of his which seem actually to burn in my pocket and by which he answered my confession--it didn't need these letters to tell me that.

WALBURGA

An evil, envious, venomous star presided over our secret meeting here! Oh, how I used to admire my papa! And since that Sunday I blush for him every minute. And however much I try, I can't, since that day, look frankly and openly into his eyes.

SPITTA

Did you have differences with your father too?

WALBURGA

Oh, if it were nothing more than that! I was so proud of papa! And now I tremble to think of even your finding it out. You'd despise us!

SPITTA

_I_ despise anyone? Dear child, I can't think of anything less fitting for me! Look here: I'll set you an example in the matter of frankness. A sister of mine, six years older than I, was governess in a noble family. Well, a misfortune happened to her and ... when she sought refuge in the house of her parents, my Christian father put her out of doors! I believe he thought that Jesus would have done the same. And so my sister gradually sank lower and lower and some day we can go and visit her in the little suicides' graveyard near Schildhorn where she finally found rest.

WALBURGA

[_Puts her arms around SPITTA._] Poor boy, you never told me a word of that.

SPITTA

Circumstances have changed now and I speak of it. I shall speak of it to papa too even if it causes a breach between us.--You're always surprised when I get excited, and that I can't control myself when I see some poor devil being kicked about, or when I see the rabble mistreating some poor fallen girl. I have actual hallucinations sometimes. I seem to see ghosts in bright daylight and my own sister among them!

_PAULINE PIPERCARCKA enters, dressed as before. Her little face seems
to have grown paler and prettier._

PAULINE

Good mornin'.

MRS. JOHN

[_From behind the partition._] Who's that out there?

PAULINE

Pauline, Mrs. John.

MRS. JOHN

Pauline? I don't know no Pauline.

PAULINE

Pauline Pipercarcka, Mrs. John.

MRS. JOHN

Who? Oh, well then you c'n wait a minute, Pauline.

WALBURGA

Good-bye, Mrs. John.

MRS. JOHN

[_Emerges from behind the partition and carefully draws the hangings._] That's right. I got somethin' to discuss with this here young person. So you young folks c'n see about getting out.

_SPITTA and WALBURGA leave hastily. MRS. JOHN locks the door behind
them._

MRS. JOHN

So it's you, Pauline? An' what is it you want?

PAULINE

What should I be wantin'? Somethin' jus' drove me here! Couldn't wait no longer. I has to see how everythin' goes.

MRS. JOHN

How what goes? What's everythin'?

PAULINE

[_With a somewhat bad conscience._] Well, if it's well; if it's gettin' on nicely.

MRS. JOHN

If what's well? If what's gettin' on nicely?

PAULINE

You oughta know that without my tellin'.

MRS. JOHN

_What_ ought I to know without your tellin' me?

PAULINE

I wants to know if anythin's happened to the child!

MRS. JOHN

What child? An' what could ha' happened? Talk plainly, will you? There ain't a word o' your crazy chatter that anybody c'n understand!

PAULINE

I ain't sayin' nothin' but what's true, Mrs. John.

MRS. JOHN

Well, what is it?

PAULINE

My child ...

MRS. JOHN

[_Gives her a terrific box on the ear._] Say that again an' I'll bang my boots about your ears so that you'll think you're the mother o' triplets. An now: get outa here! An' don' never dare to show your face here again!

PAULINE

[_Starts to go. She shakes the door which is locked._] She's beaten me! Help! Help! I don' has to--stand that! No! [_Weeping._] Open the door! She's maltreated me, Mrs. John has!

MRS. JOHN

[_Utterly transformed, embraces PAULINE, thus restraining her._] Pauline! For God's sake, Pauline! I don' know what could ha' gotten into me! You jus' be good now an' quiet down an' I'll beg your pardon. What d'you want me to do? I'll get down _on_ my knees if you wants me to! Anythin'! Pauline! Listen! Let me do _some_thin'!

PAULINE

Why d'you go 'n hit me in the face? I'm goin' to headquarters and say as how you slapped me in the face. I'm goin' to headquarters to give notice!

MRS. JOHN

[_Thrusts her face forward._] Here! You c'n hit me back--- right in the face! Then it's all right; then it's evened up.

PAULINE

I'm goin' to headquarters ...

MRS. JOHN

Yes, then it's evened up. You jus' listen to what I says: Don't you see it'll be evened up then all right! What d'you want to do? Come on now an' hit me!

PAULINE

What's the good o' that when my cheek is swollen?

MRS. JOHN

[_Striking herself a blow on the cheek._] There! Now my cheek is swollen too. Come on, my girl, hit me an' don' be scared!--- An' then you c'n tell me everythin' you got on your heart. In the meantime I'll go an' I'll cook for you an' me, Miss Pauline, a good cup o' reel coffee made o' beans--none o' your chicory slop, so help me!

PAULINE

[_Somewhat conciliated._] Why did you has to go an' be so mean an' rough to a poor girl like me, Mrs. John?

MRS. JOHN

That's it'--that's jus' what I'd like to know my own self! Come on, Pauline, an' sit down! So! It's all right, I tells you! Sit down! It's fine o' you to come an' see me! How many beatin's didn't I get from my poor mother because sometimes I jus' seemed to go crazy an' not be the same person no more. She said to me more'n onct: Lass, look out! You'll be doin' for yourself some day! An' maybe she was right; maybe it'll be that way. Well now, Pauline, tell me how you are an' how you're gettin' along?

PAULINE

[_Laying down bank-notes and handfuls of silver, without counting them, on the table._] Here is the money: I don't need it.

MRS. JOHN

I don' know nothin' about no money, Pauline.

PAULINE

Oh, you'll know about the money all right! It's been jus' burnin' into me, that it has! It was like a snake under my pillow ...

MRS. JOHN

Oh, come now ...

PAULINE

Like a snake that crept out when I went to sleep. An' it tormented me an' wound itself aroun' me an' squeezed me so that I screamed right out an' my landlady found me lyin' on the bare floor jus' like somebody what's dead.

MRS. JOHN

You jus' let that be right now, Pauline. Take a bit of a drink first of all! [_She pours out a small glassful of brandy._] An' then come an' eat a bite. It was my husband's birthday yesterday.

[_She gets out some coffee-cake of which she cuts an oblong piece._

PAULINE

Oh, no, I don' feel like eatin'.

MRS. JOHN

That strengthens you; that does you good; you oughta eat that! But I is pleased to see, Pauline, how your fine constitootion helped you get back your strength so good.

PAULINE

But now I want to have a look at it, Mrs. John.

MRS. JOHN

What's that? What d'you want to have a look at?

PAULINE

If I could ha' walked I'd ha' been here long ago. I want to see now what I come to see!

_MRS. JOHN, whose almost creeping courtesies have been uttered with
lips aquiver with fear, pales ominously and keeps silent. She goes to
the kitchen cabinet, wrenches the coffee handmill out and pours beans
into it. She sits down, squeezes the mill between her knees, grasps
the handle, and stares with a consuming expression of nameless hatred
over at PAULINE._

MRS. JOHN

Eh? Oh, yes! What d'you want to see? What d'you want to see now all of a sudden? That what you wanted to throttle with them two hands o' yours, eh?

PAULINE

Me?

MRS. JOHN

D'you want to lie about it? _I'll_ go and give notice about you!

PAULINE

Now you've tormented me an' jabbed at me an' tortured me enough, Mrs. John. You followed me up; you wouldn't leave me no rest where I went. Till I brought my child into the world on a heap o' rags up in your loft. You gave me all kinds o' hopes an' you scared me with that rascal of a feller up there! You told my fortune for me outa the cards about my intended an' you baited me an' hounded me till I was most crazy.

MRS. JOHN

An' that's what you are. Yes, you're as crazy as you c'n be. _I_ tormented you, eh? Is that what I did? I picked you up outa the gutter! I fetched you outa the midst of a blizzard when you was standin' by the chronometer an' stared at the lamplighter with eyes that was that desperate scared! You oughta seen yourself! An' I hounded you, eh? Yes, to prevent the police an' the police-waggon an' the devil hisself from catchin' you! I left you no rest, eh? I tortured you, did I? to keep you from jumpin' into the river with the child in your womb! [_Mocking her._] "I'll throw myself into the canal, mother John! I'll choke the child to death! I'll kill the little crittur with my hat pin! I'll go an' run to where its father plays the zither, right in the midst o' the saloon, an' I'll throw the dead child at his feet!" That's what you said; that's the way you talked--all the blessed day long and sometimes half the night too till I put you to bed an' petted you an' stroked you till you went to sleep. An' you didn't wake up again till next day on the stroke o' twelve, when the bells was ringin' from all the churches, Yes, that's the way I scared you, an' then gave you hope again, an' didn't give you no peace! You forgot all that there, eh?

PAULINE

But it's my child, Mrs. John ...

MRS. JOHN

[_Screams._] You go an' get your child outa the canal!

[_She jumps up and walks hastily about the room, picking up and
throwing aside one object after another._

PAULINE

Ain't I goin' to be allowed to see my child even?

MRS. JOHN

Jump into the water an' get it there! Then you'll have it! I ain't keepin' you back. God knows!

PAULINE

All right! You c'n slap me, you c'n beat me, you c'n throw things at my head if you wants to. Before I don' know where my child is an' before I ain't seen it with my own eyes, nothin' an' nobody ain't goin' to get me away from this place.

MRS. JOHN

[_Interrupting her._] Pauline, I put it out to nurse!

PAULINE

That's a lie! Don't I hear it smackin' its lips right behind that there partition. [_The child behind the partition begins to cry. PAULINE hastens toward it. She exclaims with pathetic tearfulness, obviously forcing the note of motherhood a little._] Don' you cry, my poor, poor little boy! Little mother's comin' to you now!

[_MRS. JOHN, almost beside herself, has sprung in front of the door,
thus blocking PAULINE'S way._

PAULINE

[_Whining helplessly but with clenched fists._] Lemme go in an' see my child!

MRS. JOHN

[_A terrible change coming over her face._] Look at me, girl! Come here an' look me in the eye!--D'you think you c'n play tricks on a woman that looks the way I do? [_PAULINE sits down still moaning._] Sit down an' howl an' whine till ... till your throat's swollen so you can't give a groan. But if you gets in here--then you'll be dead or I'll be dead an' the child--he won't be alive no more neither.

PAULINE

[_Rises with some determination._] Then look out for what'll happen.

MRS. JOHN

[_Attempting to pacify the girl once more._] Pauline, this business was all settled between us. Why d'you want to go an' burden yourself with the child what's my child now an' is in the best hands possible? What d'you want to do with it? Why don't you go to your intended? You two'll have somethin' better to do than listen to a child cryin' an' takin' all the care an' trouble he needs!

PAULINE

No, that ain't the way it is! He's gotta marry me now! They all says so--Mrs. Keilbacke, when I had to take treatment, she said so. They says I'm not to give in; he has to marry me. An' the registrar he advised me too. That's what he said, an' he was mad, too, when I told him how I sneaked up into a loft to have my baby! He cried out loud that I wasn't to let up! Poor, maltreated crittur--that's what he called me an' he put his hand in his pocket an' gave me three crowns! All right. So we needn't quarrel no more, Mrs. John. I jus' come anyhow to tell you to be at home to-morrow afternoon at five o'clock. An' why? Because to-morrow an official examiner'll come to look after things here. I don't has to worry myself with you no more....

MRS. JOHN

[_Moveless and shocked beyond expression._] What? You went an' give notice at the public registry?

PAULINE

O' course? Does I want to go to gaol?

MRS. JOHN

An' what did you tell the registrar?

PAULINE

Nothin' but that I give birth to a boy. An' I was so ashamed! Oh my God, I got red all over! I thought I'd just have to go through the floor.

MRS. JOHN

Is that so? Well, if you was so ashamed why did you go an' give notice?

PAULINE

'Cause my landlady an' Mrs. Kielbacke, too, what took me there, didn't give me no rest.

MRS. JOHN

H-m. So they knows it now at the public registry?

PAULINE

Yes; they had to know, Mrs. John!

MRS. JOHN

Didn't I tell you over an' over again?

PAULINE

You gotta give notice o' that! D'you want me to be put in gaol for a investergation?

MRS. JOHN

I told you as how I'd give notice.

PAULINE

I axed the registrar right off. Nobody hadn't been there.

MRS. JOHN

An' what did you say exackly?

PAULINE

That his name was to be Aloysius Theophil an' that he was boardin' with you.

MRS. JOHN

An' to-morrow an officer'll be comin' in.

PAULINE

He's a gentlemen from the guardian's office. What's the matter with that? Why don't you keep still an' act sensible. You scared me most to death a while ago!

MRS. JOHN

[_As if absent-minded._] That's right. There ain't nothin' to be, done about that now. An' there ain't so much to that, after all, maybe.

PAULINE

All right. An' now c'n I see my child, Mrs. John?

MRS. JOHN

Not to-day. Wait till to-morrow, Pauline.

PAULINE

Why not to-day?

MRS. JOHN

Because no good'd come of it this day. Wait till to-morrow, five o'clock in the afternoon.

PAULINE

That's it. My landlady says it was written that way, that a gentleman from the city'll be here to-morrow afternoon five o'clock.

MRS. JOHN

[_Pushing PAULINE out and herself going out of the room with her, in the same detached tone._] All right. Let him come, girl.

_MRS. JOHN has gone out into the hall for a moment. She now returns
without PAULINE. She seems strangely changed and absent-minded. She
takes a few hasty steps toward the door of the partition; then stands
still with an expression of fruitless brooding on her face. She
interrupts herself in this brooding and runs to the window. Having
reached it she turns and on her face there reappears the expression
of dull detachment. Slowly, like a somnambulist, she walks up to the
table and sits down beside it, leaning her chin on her hand. SELMA
KNOBBE appears in the doorway._

SELMA

Mother's asleep, Mrs. John, an' I'm that hungry. Might I have a bite o' bread?

_MRS. JOHN rises mechanically and cuts a slice from the loaf of bread
with the air of one under an hypnotic influence._

SELMA

[_Observing MRS. JOHN'S state of mind._] It's me! What's the matter, Mrs. John? Whatever you do, don't cut yourself with the bread knife.

MRS. JOHN

[_Lets the loaf and the bread-knife slip involuntarily from her hand to the table. A dry sobbing overwhelms her more and more._] Fear!--Trouble!--You don' know nothin' about that!

[_She trembles and grasps after some support._

THE THIRD ACT

_The same decoration as in the first act. The lamp is lit. The dim
light of a hanging lamp illuminates the passage._

_HASSENREUTER is giving his three pupils, SPITTA, DR. KEGEL and
KAeFERSTEIN instruction in the art of acting. He himself is seated at
the table, uninterruptedly opening letters and beating time to the
rhythm of the verses with a paper cutter. In front of him stand,
facing each other, KEGEL and KAeFERSTEIN on one side, SPITTA on the
other, thus representing the two choruses in Schiller's "Bride of
Messina." The young men stand in the midst of a diagram drawn with
chalk on the floor and separated, like a chess-board, into sixty-four
rectangles. On the high stool in front of the office desk WALBURGA is
sitting. Waiting in the background stands the house steward QUAQUARO,
who might be the manager of a wandering circus and, in the capacity
of athlete, its main attraction. His speech is uttered in a guttural
tenor. He wears bedroom slippers. His breeches are held up by an
embroidered belt. An open shirt, fairly clean, a light jacket, a cap
now held in his hand, complete his attire._

DR. KEGEL AND KAeFERSTEIN

[_Mouthing the verses sonorously and with exaggerated dignity._]

"Thee salute I with reverence,
Lordliest chamber,
Thee, my high rulers'
Princeliest cradle,
Column-supported, magnificent roof.
Deep in its scabbard ..."

HASSENREUTER

[_Cries in a rage._] Pause! Period! Period! Pause! Period! You're not turning the crank of a hurdy-gurdy! The chorus in the "Bride of Messina" is no hand-organ tune! "Thee salute I with reverence!" Start over again from the beginning, gentleman! "Thee salute I with reverence, Lordliest chamber!" Something like that, gentlemen! "Deep in its scabbard let the sword rest." Period! "Magnificent roof." I meant to say: Period! But you may go on if you want to.

DR. KEGEL AND KAeFERSTEIN

"Deep in its scabbard
Let the sword rest,
Fettered fast by your gateway
Moveless may lie Strife's snaky-locked monster.
For ..."

HASSENREUTER

[_As before._] Hold on! Don't you know the meaning of a full stop, gentlemen? Haven't you any knowledge of the elements? "Snaky-haired monster." Period! Imagine that a pile is driven there! You've got to stop, to pause. There must be silence like the silence of the dead! You've got to imagine yourself wiped out of existence for the moment, Kaeferstein. And then--out with your best trumpeting chest-notes! Hold on! Don't lisp, for God's sake. "For ..." Go on now! Start!

DR. KEGEL AND KAeFERSTEIN

"For this hospitable house's
Inviolable threshold
Guardeth an oath, the Furies' child...."

HASSENREUTER

[_Jumps up, runs about and roars._] Oath, oath, oath, oath!!! Don't you know what an oath is, Kaeferstein? "Guardeth an oath!!--the Furies' child." This oath is said to be the child of the Furies, Dr. Kegel! You've got to use your voice! The audience, to the last usher, has got to be one vast quivering gooseflesh when you say that! One shiver must run through every bone in the house! Listen to me: "For this house's ... threshold Guardeth an oath!!! The Furies' child, The fearfullest of the infernal deities!"--Go ahead! Don't repeat these verses. But you can stop long enough to observe that an oath and a Munich beer radish are, after all, two different things.

SPITTA

[_Declaims._]

"Ireful my heart in my bosom burneth...."

HASSENREUTER

Hold on! [_He runs up to SPITTA and pushes and nudges the latter's arms and legs in order to produce the desired tragic pose._]--First of all, you lack the requisite statuesqueness of posture, my dear Spitta. The dignity of a tragic character is in nowise expressed in you. Then you did not, as I expressly desired you to do, advance your right foot from the field marked ID into that marked IIC! Finally, Mr. Quaquaro is waiting; so let us interrupt ourselves for a moment. So; now I'm at your service, Mr. Quaquaro. That is to say, I asked you to come up because, in making my inventory, it became clear that several cases and boxes cannot be found or, in other words, have been stolen. Now, before lodging information with the authorities which, of course, I am determined to do, I wanted first to get your advice. I wanted to do that all the more because, in place of the lost cases, there was found, in a corner of the attic, a very peculiar mess--a find that could appropriately be sent to Dr. Virchow. First there was a blue feather-duster, truly prehistoric, and an inexpressible vessel, the use of which, quite harmless in itself, is equally inexpressible.

QUAQUARO

Well, sir, I can climb up there if you want me to.

HASSENREUTER

Suppose you do that. Up there you'll meet Mrs. John, whom the find in question has disquieted even more than it has me. These three gentlemen, who are my pupils, won't be persuaded that something very like a murder didn't take place up there. But, if you please, let's not cause a scandal!

KAeFERSTEIN

When something got lost in my mother's shop in Schneidemuehl, it was always said that the rats had eaten it. And really, when you consider the number of rats and mice in this house--I very nearly stepped on one on the stairs a while ago--why shouldn't we suppose that the cases of costumes were devoured in the same way. Silk is said to be sweet.

HASSENREUTER

Very excellent! Very good! You're relieved from the necessity of indulging in any more notion-shopkeepers' fancies, my good Kaeferstein! Ha, ha, ha! It only remains for you to dish up for us the story of the cavalry man Sorgenfrei, who, according to your assertion, when this house was still a cavalry barracks, hanged himself--spurred and armed--in my loft. And then the last straw would be for you to direct our suspicions toward him.

KAeFERSTEIN

You can still see the very nail he used.

QUAQUARO

There ain't a soul in the house what don't know the story of the soldier Sorgenfrei who put an end to hisself with a rope somewhere under the rooftree.

KAeFERSTEIN

The carpenter's wife downstairs and a seamstress in the second story have repeatedly seen him by broad daylight nodding out of the attic window and bowing down with military demeanour.

QUAQUARO

A corporal, they says, called the soldier Sorgenfrei a windbag an' gave him a blow outa spite. An' the idjit took that to heart.

HASSENREUTER

Ha, ha, ha! Military brutalities and ghost stories! That mixture is original, but hardly to our purpose. I assume that the theft, or whatever it was, took place during those eleven or twelve days that I spent on business in Alsace. So look the matter over and have the goodness, later, to report to me.

_HASSENREUTER turns to his pupils. QUAQUARO mounts the stairs to the
loft and disappears behind the trap-door._

HASSENREUTER

All right, my good Spitta: Fire away!

_SPITTA recites simply according to the sense and without any tragic
bombast._

"Ireful my heart in my bosom burneth,
My hand is ready for sword or lance,
For unto me the Gorgon turneth
My foeman's hateful countenance.
Scarce I master the rage that assails me.
Shall I salute him with fair speech?
Better, perchance, my ire avails me?
Only the Fury me affrighteth,
Protectress of all within her reach,
And God's truce which all foes uniteth."

HASSENREUTER

[_Who has sat down, supports his head on his hand and listens resignedly. Not until SPITTA has ceased speaking for some moments does he look up, as if coming to himself._] Are you quite through, Spitta? If so, I'm much obliged!--You see, my dear fellow, I've really gotten into a deuce of a situation as far as you are concerned: either I tell you impudently to your face that I consider your method of elocution excellent--and in that case I'd be guilty of a lie of the most contemptible kind: or else I tell you that I consider it abominable and then we'd get into another beastly row.

SPITTA

[_Turning pale._] Yes, all this stilted, rhetorical stuff is quite foreign to my nature. That's the very reason why I abandoned theology. The preacher's tone is repulsive to me.

HASSENREUTER

And so you would like to reel off these tragic choruses as a clerk of court mumbles a document or a waiter a bill of fare?

SPITTA

I don't care for the whole sonorous bombast of the "Bride of Messina."

HASSENREUTER

I wish you'd repeat that charming opinion.

SPITTA

There's nothing to be done about it, sir. Our conceptions of dramatic art diverge utterly, in some respects.

HASSENREUTER

Man alive, at this particular moment your face is a veritable monogram of megalomania and impudence! I beg your pardon, but you're my pupil now and no longer the tutor of my children. Your views and mine! You ridiculous tyro! You and Schiller! Friedrich Schiller! I've told you a hundred times that your puerile little views of art are nothing but an innate striving toward imbecility!

SPITTA

You would have to prove that to me, after all.

HASSENREUTER

You prove it yourself every time you open your mouth! You deny the whole art of elocution, the value of the voice in acting! You want to substitute for both the art of toneless squeaking! Further you deny the importance of action in the drama and assert it to be a worthless accident, a sop for the groundlings! You deny the validity of poetic justice, of guilt and its necessary expiation. You call all that a vulgar invention--an assertion by means of which the whole moral order of the world is abrogated by the learned and crooked understanding of your single magnificent self! Of the heights of humanity you know nothing! You asserted the other day that, in certain circumstances, a barber or a scrubwoman might as fittingly be the protagonist of a tragedy as Lady Macbeth or King Lear!

SPITTA

[_Still pale, polishing his spectacles._] Before art as before the law all men are equal, sir.

HASSENREUTER

Aha? Is that so? Where did you pick up that banality?

SPITTA

[_Without permitting himself to be disconcerted._] The truth of that saying has become my second nature. In believing it I probably find myself at variance with Schiller and Gustav Freytag, but not at all with Lessing and Diderot. I have spent the past two semesters in the study of these two great dramaturgic critics, and the whole stilted French pseudo-classicism is, as far as I'm concerned, utterly destroyed--not only in creative art itself but in such manifestations as the boundless folly of the directions for acting which Goethe prescribed in his old age. These are mere superannuated nonsense.

HASSENREUTER

You don't mean it?

SPITTA

And if the German stage is ever to recuperate it must go back to the young Schiller, the young Goethe--the author of "Goetz"--and ever again to Gotthold Ephraim Lessing! There you will find set down principles of dramatic art which are adapted to the rich complexity of life in all its fullness, and which are potent to cope with Nature itself!

HASSENREUTER

Walburga! I'm afraid Mr. Spitta is taking us for each other. Mr. Spitta, you're about to give a lesson! Walburga, you and your teacher are free to retire to the library.--If human arrogance and especially that of very young people could be crystallised into one formation--humanity would be buried under that rock like an ant under the granite masses of an antediluvian mountain range!

SPITTA

But I wouldn't in any wise be refuted thereby.

HASSENREUTER

Man, I tell you that I've not only passed through two semesters of formal study, but I have grown grey in the practice of the actor's art! And I tell you that Goethe's catechism for actors is the alpha and the omega of my artistic convictions! If you don't like that--get another teacher!

SPITTA

[_Pursuing his argument calmly._] According to my opinion, Goethe with his senile regulations for actors denied, in the pettiest way, himself and his whole original nature. What is one to say of his ruling that every actor, irrespective of the quality of the character represented by him, must--these are his very words--show an ogre-like expression of countenance in order that the spectator be at once reminded of the nature of lofty tragedy. Actually, these are his very words!

_KAeFERSTEIN and KEGEL make an effort to assume ogre-like
expressions._

HASSENREUTER

Get out your note-book, most excellent Spitta, and record your opinion, please, that Manager Hassenreuter is an ass, that Schiller is an ass, Goethe an ass, Aristotle, too, of course--[_he begins suddenly to laugh like mad_]--and, ha, ha, ha! a certain Spitta a--night watchman!

SPITTA

I'm glad to see, sir, that, at least, you've recovered your good humour.

HASSENREUTER

The devil! I haven't recovered it at all! You're a symptom. So you needn't think yourself very important.--You are a rat, so to speak. One of those rats who are beginning, in the field of politics, to undermine our glorious and recently united German Empire! They are trying to cheat us of the reward of our labours! And in the garden of German art these rats are gnawing at the roots of the tree of idealism. They are determined to drag its crown into the mire!--Down, down, down into the dust with you!

_KAeFERSTEIN and KEGEL try to preserve their gravity but soon break
out into loud laughter, which HASSENREUTER is impelled to join.
WALBURGA looks on in wide-eyed astonishment. SPITTA remains serious._

_MRS. JOHN is now seen descending the stairs of the loft. After a
little while QUAQUARO follows her._

HASSENREUTER

[_Perceives MRS. JOHN and points her out to SPITTA with violent gesticulations as if he had just made an important discovery._] There comes your tragic Muse!

MRS. JOHN

[_Approaches, abashed by the laughter of HASSENREUTER, KEGEL and KAeFERSTEIN._] Why, what d'you see about me?

HASSENREUTER

Nothing but what is good and beautiful, Mrs. John! You may thank God that your quiet, withdrawn and peaceful life unfits you for the part of a tragic heroine.--But tell me, have you, by any chance, had an interview with ghosts?

MRS. JOHN

[_Unnaturally pale._] Why do you ax that?

HASSENREUTER

Perhaps you even saw the famous soldier Sorgenfrei who closed his career above as a deserter into a better world?

MRS. JOHN

If it was a livin' soul, maybe you might be right. But I ain't scared o' no dead ghosts.

HASSENREUTER

Well, Mr. Quaquaro, how did it look under the roof there?

QUAQUARO

[_Who has brought down with him a Swedish riding-boot._] Well, I took a pretty good look aroun' an' I came to the conclusion that, at least, some shelterless ragamuffins has passed the night there; though how they got in I ain't sayin'. An' then I found this here boot.--

[_Out of the boot he draws an infant's bottle, topped by a rubber
nipple and half filled with milk._

MRS. JOHN

That's easily explained. I was up there settin' things to rights an' I had little Adelbert along with me. But I don' know nothin' about the rest.

HASSENREUTER

Nobody has undertaken to assert that you do, Mrs. John.

MRS. JOHN

When you considers how my little Adelbert came into the world ... an' when you considers how he died ... nobody c'n come an' tell me nothin' about bein' a reel mother ... But I gotta leave now, sir ... I can't be comin' up here for two three days. Good-bye! I has to go to my sister-in-law an' let Adelbert enjoy the country air a little.

[_She trots off through the door to the outer hall._

HASSENREUTER

Can you make anything of her wild talk?

QUAQUARO

There's been a screw loose there ever since her first baby came, an' all the more after it took an' died. Now since she's got the second one, there's two screws what's wobbly. Howsoever, she c'n count--that's a fac'. She's got a good bit o' money loaned out at interest on pawned goods.

HASSENREUTER

Well, but what is the injured party--namely, myself--to do?

QUAQUARO

That depends on where the suspicion falls.

HASSENREUTER

In this house?--You'll admit yourself, Mr. Quaquaro ...

QUAQUARO

That's true all right. But it won't be long before we'll have a little cleanin' up aroun' here! The widow Knobbe with all her crowd is goin' to be put out! An' then there's a gang in wing B, where there's some tough customers by what Policeman Schierke tells me. Well, they're goin' to come from headquarters pretty soon and blow up that crowd.

HASSENREUTER

There must be a glee club somewhere in the house. At least I hear excellent male voices singing from time to time things like "Germany, our highest glory," and "Who has built thee, noble wood," and "In a cool galley turneth."

QUAQUARO

Them's the very fellers! That's right! An' they do sing fine! The sayin' is that bad men has no songs, but I wouldn't advise no one to fool with _them_! I wouldn't go into that company my own self without Prince. That's my bull dog. You just go an' lay information against 'em an' you won't be doin' no harm, sir.

[_QUAQUARO exit._

HASSENREUTER

[_Referring to QUAQUARO._] The gleam in his eye demands security. His lips demand cash. His fist portends immediate warning. He's a lucky creature who doesn't dream of him at the end of the month. And whoever dreams of him roars for help. A horrible, greasy fellow. But without him the people who rent this old shell would get no money and the army-treasurer could strike the income of these rentals from his books.--[_The door bell rings._]--That Is Miss Alice Ruetterbusch, the young soubrette with whom, unfortunately, I haven't been able to make a hard and fast contract yet on account of the way the aldermen of Strassburg shilly shally about their final decision. After my appointment, which I will secure by God's help, her engagement will be my first managerial act.--Walburga and Spitta, march up into the loft! Count the contents of the six boxes marked "Journalists" in order that we may complete our inventory at the proper time.--[_To KAeFERSTEIN and DR. KEGEL._] You may withdraw into the library in the meantime....

[_He steps forward in order to open the door._

_WALBURGA and SPITTA disappear swiftly and very willingly into the
loft; KAeFERSTEIN and KEGEL retire into the library._

HASSENREUTER

[_In the background._] If you please, step right in, my dear lady! I _beg_ your pardon, sir! I was expecting a lady ... I was expecting a young lady ... But, please, come in.

_HASSENREUTER comes forward accompanied by PASTOR SPITTA. The latter
is sixty years old. A village parson, somewhat countrified. One might
equally well take him to be a surveyor or a landowner in a small way.
He is of vigorous appearance--short-necked, well-nourished, with a
squat, broad face like Luther's. He wears a slouch-hat, spectacles
and carries a cane and a coat of waterproof cloth over his arm. His
clumsy boots and the state of his other garments show that they have
long been accustomed to wind and weather._

PASTOR SPITTA

Do you know who I am, Mr. Hassenreuter?

HASSENREUTER

Not quite exactly, but I would hazard ...

PASTOR SPITTA

You may, you may! You needn't hesitate to call me Pastor Spitta from Schwoiz in Uckermark, whose son Erich--yes, that's it--has been employed in your family as private tutor or something like that. Erich Spitta: that's my son. And I'm obliged to say that with deep sorrow.

HASSENREUTER

First of all, I'm very glad, to have the privilege of your acquaintance. I hasten at once to beg you, however, dear Pastor, not to be too much worried, not to be too sorrowful concerning the little escapade in which your son is indulging.

PASTOR SPITTA

Oh, but I am greatly troubled, I am deeply grieved. [_Sitting down on a chair he surveys the strange place in which he finds himself with considerable interest._] It is hard to say; it is extremely difficult to communicate to any one the real depth of anxiety. But forgive me a question, sir: I was in the trophy-chamber.--[_He touches one of the armored dummies with his cane._] What kind of armor is this?

HASSENREUTER

These figures are to represent the cuirassiers in Schiller's "Wallenstein."

PASTOR SPITTA

Ah, ah, my idea of Schiller was so very different! [_Collecting himself._] Oh, this city of Berlin! It confuses me utterly. You see a man before you, sir, who is not only grieved, whom this Sodom of a city has not only stirred to his very depths, but who is actually broken-hearted by the deed of his son.

HASSENREUTER

A deed? What deed?

PASTOR SPITTA

Is there any need to ask? The son of an honest man desiring to become an ... an ... an actor!

HASSENREUTER

[_Drawing himself up. With the utmost dignity._] My dear sir, I do not approve of your son's determination. But I am myself--_honi soit qui mal y pense_--the son of an honest man and myself, I trust, a man of honour. And I, whom you see before you, have been an actor, too. No longer than six weeks ago I took part in the Luther celebration--for I am no less an apostle of culture in the broadest sense--not only as manager but by ascending the boards on which the world is shadowed forth as an actor! From my point of view, therefore, your son's determination is scarcely open to objection on the score of his social standing or his honourable character. But it is a difficult calling and demands, above all, a high degree of talent. I am also willing to admit that it is a calling not without peculiar dangers to weak characters. And finally I have myself proved the unspeakable hardships of my profession so thoroughly that I would like to guard anyone else from entering it. That is the reason why I box my daughters' ears if the slightest notion of going on the stage seizes them, and why I would rather tie stones about their necks and drown them where the sea is deepest than see them marry actors.

PASTOR SPITTA

I didn't mean to wound any one's feelings. I admit, too, that a simple country parson like myself can't very well have much of a conception of such things. But consider a father now--just such a poor country parson--who has saved and hoarded his pennies in order that his son might have a career at the university. Now consider, further, that this son is just about to take his final examinations and that his father and his mother--I have a sick wife at home--are looking forward with anxiety and with longing, whichever you call it, toward the moment in which their son will mount the pulpit and deliver the trial sermon before the congregation of his choice. And then comes this letter. Why, the boy is mad!

_The emotion of the Pastor is not exactly consciously directed; it is
controlled. The trembling of the hand with which he searches for the
letter in his inner pocket and hands it to the manager is not quite
convincing._

HASSENREUTER

Young men search after various aims. We mustn't be too much taken by surprise if, once in a while, a crisis of this kind is not to be avoided in a young man's life.

PASTOR SPITTA

Well, this crisis _was_ avoidable. It will not be difficult for you to see from this letter who is responsible for this destructive change in the soul of a young, an excellent, and hitherto thoroughly obedient youth. I should never have sent him to Berlin. Yes, it is this so-called scientific theology, this theology that flirts with all the pagan philosophers, that would change the Lord our God into empty smoke and sublimate our blessed Saviour into thin air--it is this that I hold responsible for the grievous mistake of my child. And to this may be added other temptations. I tell you, sir, I have seen things which it is impossible for me to speak of! I have circulars in every pocket--"Ball of the Elite! Smart waitresses!" and so on! I was quietly walking, at half past twelve one night, through the arcade that connects Friedrich street with the Linden, and a disgusting fellow sidles up to me, wretched, undergrown, and asks me with a kind of greasy, shifty impudence: Doesn't the gentleman want something real fetching? And these show windows in which, right by the pictures of noble and exalted personages, naked actresses, dancers, in short the most shocking nudities are displayed! And finally this Corso--oh, this Corso! Where painted and bedizened vice jostles respectable women from the sidewalk! It's simply the end of the world!

HASSENREUTER

Ah, my dear Pastor, the world doesn't so easily come to an end--nor, surely, will it do so on account of the nudities that offend or of the vice which slinks through the streets at night. The world will probably outlive me and the whole scurrilous interlude of humanity.

PASTOR SPITTA

What turns these young people aside from the right path is evil example and easy opportunity.

HASSENREUTER

I beg your pardon, Pastor, but I have not observed in your son the slightest inclination toward leading a frivolous life. He is simply attracted to literature, and he isn't the first clergyman's son--remember merely Lessing and Herder--who has taken the road of literary study and creative art. Very likely be has manuscript plays in his desk even now. To be sure, I am bound to admit that the opinions which your son defends in the field of literature frighten even me at times!

PASTOR SPITTA

But that's horrible! That's frightful! That far exceeds my worst fears! And so my eyes have been opened.--My dear sir, I have had eight children, of whom Erich seemed our fairest hope and his next-oldest sister our heaviest trial. And now, it seems, the same accursed city has demanded them both as its victims. The girl developed prematurely, she was beautiful ... and ... But I must mention another circumstance now, I have, been in Berlin for three days and I haven't seen Erich yet. When I tried to see him to-day, he was not at home in his rooms. I waited for a while and naturally looked about me in my son's dwelling. And now: look at this picture, sir!

[_Replacing ERICH'S letter in his pocket he extracts therefrom a
small photograph and holds it immediately under HASSENREUTER'S eyes._

HASSENREUTER

[_Takes the picture and holds it at varying distances from him. He is disconcerted._] Why should I look at this?

PASTOR SPITTA

The silly little face is of no importance. But pray look at the inscription.

HASSENREUTER

Where?

PASTOR SPITTA

[_Reads._] "From Walburga to her only sweetheart."

HASSENREUTER

Permit me!--- What's the meaning of this?

PASTOR SPITTA

It simply means some seamstress if not, what is worse, some shady waitress!

HASSENREUTER

H-m. [_He slips the picture into his pocket._] I shall keep this photograph.

PASTOR SPITTA

It is in such filth that my son wallows. And consider the situation in which it puts me: with what feelings, with what front shall I henceforward face my congregation from the pulpit ...?

HASSENREUTER

Confound it, what business is that of mine? What have I to do with your offspring, with your lost sons and daughters? [_He pulls out the photograph again._] And furthermore, as far as this excellent and sound-hearted young lady is concerned, you're quite mistaken in your ideas about waitresses and such like. I'll say nothing more. All other matters will adjust themselves. Good-bye.

PASTOR SPITTA

I confess frankly, I don't understand you. Probably this tone is the usual one in your circles, I will go and not annoy you any longer. But as a father I have the right before God, to demand of you that henceforth you refuse to my deluded son this so-called dramatic instruction. I hope I shall not have to look for further ways and means of enforcing this demand.

HASSENREUTER

I won't only do that, but I'll actually put him out of doors.

[_He accompanies the PASTOR to the door, slams it behind him and
returns alone._

HASSENREUTER

[_Waving his arms through the air._] All that one can say here is: Plain parson! [_He rushes halfway up the stairs to the loft._] Spitta! Walburga! Come down here, will you?

_WALBURGA and SPITTA come down._

HASSENREUTER

[_To WALBURGA, who looks at him questioningly._] Go to your high stool over there and sit down on the humorous part of your anatomy! Well, and you, my dear Spitta, what do you want?

SPITTA

You called us both, sir.

HASSENREUTER

Exactly. Now look me in the eye!

SPITTA Certainly.

[_He looks straight at HASSENREUTER._

HASSENREUTER

You two want to make an ass of me. But you won't succeed! Silence! Not a word! I would have expected something very different from you! This is a striking proof of ingratitude. Keep still! Furthermore, a gentleman was here just now! That gentleman is afraid in Berlin! March! Follow him! Take him down into the street and try to make it clear to him that I'm neither your bootblack nor his.

[_SPITTA shrugs his shoulders, takes his hat and goes._

HASSENREUTER

[_Strides up to WALBURGA energetically and tweaks her ear._] And as for you, my dear, you'll have your ears soundly boxed if ever again without my permission you exchange two words with this rascal of a theologian gone to smash!

WALBURGA

Ouch, papa, ouch!

HASSENREUTER

This fellow who is fond of making such an innocent face as if he couldn't harm a fly and whom I was careless enough to admit to my house is, unfortunately, a man behind whose mask the most shameless impudence lies in wait. I and my house are in the service of true propriety. Do you want to besmirch the escutcheon of oar honour as the sister of this fellow seems to have done--a girl who disgraced, her parents by coming to an end in the street and the gutter?

WALBURGA

I don't share your opinion about Erich, papa.

HASSENREUTER

What's that? Well, at least you know my opinion. Either you give him his walking papers or else you can look out for yourself and find out what it is to get along, away from your parental roof, in a way of life regardless of honour, duty and decency! In that case you can go! I have no use for daughters of that kind!

WALBURGA

[_Pale and sombre._] You are always saying, papa, that you too had to make your way independently and without your parents.

HASSENREUTER

You're not a man.

WALBURGA

Certainly not. But think, for instance, of Alice Ruetterbusch.

[_Father and daughter look firmly into each other's eyes._

HASSENREUTER

Why should I? Have you a fever, eh? Or have you gone mad? [_He drops the whole discussion, noticeably put out of countenance, and taps at the library door._] Where did we leave off? Begin at the proper place.

_KEGEL and KAeFERSTEIN appear._

KEGEL _and_ KAeFERSTEIN

[_Declaim:_]

"A wiser temper
Beseemeth age.
I, being reasonable,
Salute him first."

_Led and directed by SPITTA appear PAULINE PIPERCARCKA in street
dress and MRS. KIELBACKE, who carries an infant on a pillow._

HASSENREUTER

What do you want here? What kind of women are you bringing here to annoy me?

SPITTA

It isn't my fault, sir. The women insisted on coming to you.

MRS. KIELBACKE

No; all we wants is to see Mrs. John.

PAULINE

An' Mrs. John she's always up here with you!

HASSENREUTER