Fires

3. Act Three

Same setting. Above the centre table a lighted hanging-lamp. Another lamp on table, L. The glass doors to garden are open. Full moonshine falls partly into the room. At rise of curtain, at table, L., are Brauer, Mrs. Brauer and Pastor. At centre table, Gertrude and George. It is evening.

Brauer.

Now, then, tell Marie to bring the bowl!

Pastor.

Ah! you are going to have a bowl?

Mrs. Brauer.

Why, of course, Pastor. This is St. John's Eve. The villagers will set off tar-barrels and bonfires, and we will celebrate it with a bowl.

Brauer.

[Mischievously.] But perhaps this festival is too heathenish for the clergy----

Pastor.

Bless you, that all depends. If you have not the clergy's sanction, then it is wicked and heathenish----

Brauer.

But if they are invited, then it is Christianly and good? Ha, ha----!

Pastor.

Well, I did not say that. You had better apply to the consistory, they are better able to decide that point.

Brauer.

Ah, Pastor, you are a diplomat. Well, what are you two doing over there? You are not saying a word.

Gertrude.

George is too lazy. He is drawing little men, and I am writing.

Brauer.

In his place I think I would prefer to draw little women. Eh, Pastor?

George.

Just as you say, uncle!

Brauer.

[Aside.] What the devil is the matter with him to-day? Come, children, be jolly, this is St. John's Eve! Ah, here is the punch! Now, then, Gertrude, lend a hand!

[Marie has entered with the bowl and glasses.]

Gertrude.

Yes, papa.

Brauer.

[Drinks.] Excellent, Marie! Superb! I tell you, Pastor, whoever gets her for a wife will be a lucky man indeed.

Gertrude.

[With a glass to George, who has gone back and is looking out.]

Don't you want some, George?

George.

[Caressing her, with a shy glance at Marie.] Why, yes, little one, thank you! Look, how bright and beautiful the moon shines to-night! Everything wrapped as in silvery spider web! How beautiful!

Marie.

[Oppressed.] They will soon set off the bonfires.

Brauer.

See, see--at last you have spoken; I feared you had lost your tongue. Come here, my child. Get your glasses, all of you---- Your health! The Pastor shall give us a toast; yes, yes, Pastor!--a genuine pagan toast, well suited to this night! Now, tell me, my child, are you obliged to go to the city again to-night?

Marie.

Yes, papa dear.

Brauer.

But if I will not allow it?

Marie.

You gave your permission quite two weeks ago, papa dear!

Brauer.

But not to go in the middle of the night!

Marie.

I must go, papa. The men are to be there at seven in the morning, and if I am not there to give instructions the house will never be finished in time.

Mrs. Brauer.

Never mind, Henry, there is no help for it.

Brauer.

But look at her!

Marie.

Why, papa, there is nothing the matter with me. I am well and merry----

Brauer.

You are merry, eh? Let me hear you laugh!

Marie.

[Tries to laugh.] Ha, ha, ha----!

Brauer.

[Imitating her.] Yes, yes--ha, ha, ha----!

Mrs. Brauer.

Come here, my child. [Strokes her hair.] Did you sleep well last night?

Marie.

Yes, mama.

Brauer.

But if this stranger should attack you again?

Pastor.

Pardon me, but what do I hear?

Brauer.

Oh, nothing of importance, Pastor. [To Marie.] You will take the one o'clock train----

Marie.

Yes, papa.

Brauer.

There is another--at four--t'will be daylight then----

Marie.

But I would not reach the city in time.

Brauer.

Very well, you needn't go to bed, then. George can take you to the depot.

Marie.

[Startled.] George?

George.

[Startled and simultaneously.] What--I?

Brauer.

Certainly! Why not?

Pastor.

Pray do not think me obtrusive; but I am at your service.

Brauer.

No, no, thank you. Pastor; your time will come some other day. [Aside.] It will at least give him something to do. [Meaning George.]

Gertrude.

I want to go too, papa! I love moonshine promenades.

Brauer.

No, no, my pet. In the first place, it is very improper for lovers to be out so late at night, without a chaperon.

Marie.

I would much prefer to go alone. I am not at all afraid--and I do not wish to trouble George--or any one else----

Brauer.

Any one else is out of the question, for in this house every one rises at five in the morning. [To George.] Now, then, what excuse have you to offer?

George.

Excuse? I? Why, none at all, except that she does not want me to go. You heard it yourself!

Brauer.

Have you two been quarreling again?

Mrs. Brauer.

Don't insist, Henry, if they don't want to----

Brauer.

By the way, send for Mr. Paul--I wish to speak to him. Pastor, your health! [Drinks.]

[At this Marie and Gertrude go to door C., and speak to some one outside in pantomime. A voice is heard.]

Voice.

Mr. Paul! Mr. Paul!

Paul.

[From behind scene.] I am coming in one moment! [Short pause. He enters.] Here I am!

Brauer.

Ah, there you are! Give him a glass of punch!

Paul.

Thank you, I have just had a glass of beer.

Brauer.

Very well! Now, don't let us disturb you, children! Pastor, this is the time to prepare your toast. [Aside to Paul.] Well, have you learned anything of this stranger?

Paul.

Not a sign of one, excepting two tramps at the inn, the gendarme placed under arrest; but that was the day before yesterday.

Brauer.

H'm! If I had ever had the slightest reason to doubt her word---- Marie, my child, come here to me.

Marie.

Yes, papa!

Brauer.

[Looks at her sharply.] Never mind, now.

Paul.

[Aside to Brauer.] By the way, I saw the old woman again!

Brauer.

Sh! not so loud! Where?

Paul.

She had money, too----

Brauer.

I wonder where she stole it?

Paul.

I wonder! The innkeeper said she had a gold piece. But don't you worry, Mr. Brauer. She will soon give us cause to have her locked up again. She is incorrigible!

Brauer.

Does she sleep at the inn?

Paul.

No, sir! At night she leaves there, only to reappear in the morning.

Brauer.

H'm! that would almost be sufficient reason---- George!

George.

Uncle?

Brauer.

I have changed my mind. You must accompany Marie!

George.

Just as you say, uncle!

Brauer.

And no quarreling this time, Marie!

Marie.

Yes, papa.

Gertrude.

[On the veranda.] There, there, look! The first bonfire!!

[Singing and laughter is heard in distance. A red glow is seen.]

Mrs. Brauer.

Have you taken care, Mr. Paul, to keep them far enough away from the sheds?

Paul.

Yes, Mrs. Brauer!

Mrs. Brauer.

For you must know. Pastor, last year the sparks came very near setting fire to the straw roofs.

Gertrude.

There is a second one now, and there on the hill, another. See, George, see! How beautiful!

George.

Yes, yes, darling, I see!

Gertrude.

[Pulls him forward softly.] Why do you call me darling to-day?

George.

Well, shan't I?

Gertrude.

Oh, of course; but do you love me more to-day?

George.

I love you always, my pet!

Gertrude.

[Softly and with emotion.] But you usually call me "little one," and to-day nothing but "darling."

Brauer.

Now, then, Pastor, we are ready for the toast! Take up your glass, and fire away!

Pastor.

I am afraid it will be hardly as wicked and heathenish as you seem to expect.

Brauer.

Come, come, Pastor, don't keep us waiting!

Pastor.

Well, what shall I say? I am not going to preach you a sermon!

Brauer.

No, no, Pastor; we are content to wait for that till Sunday.

Pastor.

Well, then, you see, on a beautiful and dreamy night like this--may I say dreamy?

Brauer.

You may, Pastor, you may!

Pastor.

For we all dream at times, more or less, both young and old!

Brauer.

Ah, yes! that is a failing we all have!!!

Pastor.

On such a dreamy night, different emotions are aroused within us. We seem to be able to look into the future, and imagine ourselves able to fathom all mystery and heal all wounds. The common becomes elevated, our wishes become fate; and now we ask ourselves: What is it that causes all this within us--all these desires and wishes? It is love, brotherly love, that has been planted in our souls, that fills our lives; and, it is life itself. Am I not right? And now, with one bound, I will come to the point. In the revelation you will find: "God is love." Yes, God is love; and that is the most beautiful trait of our religion--that the best, the most beautiful within us, has been granted us by Him above. Then how could I, this very evening, so overcome with feeling for my fellow-man--how could I pass Him by? Therefore, Mr. Brauer, no matter, whether pastor or layman, I must confess my inability to grant your wish, and decline to give you a genuine pagan toast----

Brauer.

[Grasps his hand.] That was well spoken, Pastor! Pardon me, I was only jesting!

George.

No, no, dear uncle, not altogether. There I must defend you against yourself. A devout and pious man like yourself, t'was not entire wantonness, your desire to hear something other than religious, and since the Pastor has so eloquently withdrawn, I will give you a toast. For, you see, my dear Pastor, something of the old pagan, a spark of heathenism, is still glowing somewhere within us all. It has outlived century after century, from the time of the old Teutons. Once every year that spark is fanned into flame--it flames up high, and then it is called "The Fires of St. John." Once every year we have "free night." Then the witches ride upon their brooms--the same brooms with which their witchcraft was once driven out of them--with scornful laughter the wild hordes sweep across the tree-tops, up, up, high upon the Blocksberg! Then it is, when in our hearts awake those wild desires which our fates could not fulfill--and, understand me well, dared not fulfill--then, no matter what may be the name of the law that governs the world on that day, in order that that one single wish may become a reality, by whose grace we prolong our miserable existence, thousand others must miserably perish. Part because they were never attainable; but the others, yes, the others, because we allowed them to escape us like wild birds, which, though already in our hands, but too listless to profit by opportunity, we failed to grasp at the right moment. But no matter. Once every year we have "free night." And yonder tongues of fire shooting up towards the heavens--do you know what they are? They are the spirits of our dead and perished wishes! That is the red plumage of our birds of paradise we might have petted and nursed through our entire lives, but have escaped us! That is the old chaos, the heathenism within us; and though we be happy in sunshine and according to law, to-night is St. John's night. To its ancient pagan fires I empty this glass. To-night they shall burn and flame up high--high--and again high! Will no one drink to my toast?

[Pause.]

Marie.

[Trembling.] I will!

[They look into each other's eyes and clink glasses.]

Gertrude.

[Hesitatingly.] I, too, George!

George.

[Stroking her hair sadly, patronizing.] Yes, yes; you, too.

Brauer.

[Suddenly bursting out.] You--you idiots! What do you know about it, anyway? I--I didn't understand it myself, but I have a presentiment there is something sinful about it all!

Pastor.

My dear Mr. von Harten, above all your heathenism watches our good old God, our Father, and therefore I fearlessly drink to your toast.

Brauer.

Well, well, I'll not be the only exception. [Drinks also. A glow much nearer, behind the trees. Louder yelling and laughter.] Well, what is it now?

Paul.

They are dangerously near the sheds now.

Brauer.

Didn't I tell you to take the proper precautions?

Paul.

I did. They had only three tar-barrels early this evening. Where they got the fourth from, I don't know.

Brauer.

I'll wager they found the barrel of axle-grease! Why didn't you lock it up?

Paul.

You know yourself, on this day no lock or key is of any avail.

Brauer.

Don't talk nonsense, but see what's to be done. I will be there myself, presently. Be quick! [Paul exits.] I can't depend on anybody these days! Where is my hat? [Marie gets it.]

Gertrude.

Can't we go, too, papa?

Brauer.

Will you come, wife?

Mrs. Brauer.

Yes, gladly, but stop scolding. There isn't a breath of air stirring, and therefore no danger.

Brauer.

Come along, Pastor!

[Exit Brauer, George, Gertrude and Mrs. Brauer.]

Pastor.

Won't you accompany us, Miss Marie?

Marie.

No, thank you, Pastor!

Pastor.

Then may I remain with you for a while?

Several Voices.

[Outside, calling.] Pastor, Pastor!

Pastor.

[Speaks through door.] I will be with you in a moment! [To Marie.] Well, may I!

Marie.

Why, certainly, if it gives you pleasure!

Pastor.

Pleasure is hardly the proper word. I wanted to thank you for insisting upon my writing the bridal-poem. It has been a work of pleasure, I assure you. Do you like it?

Marie.

It is very nice. Pastor!

Pastor.

Have you memorized it already?

Marie.

I think so!

Pastor.

Then would you mind reciting it for me? Come, I will assist you: "The flowers, the beautiful blossoms"---- Well?---- "are a maiden's----"

Marie.

No, Pastor!

Pastor.

You are acting so strangely to-day! You are so shy--so----

Marie.

The St. John's night oppresses me!

Pastor.

That will soon be over.

Marie.

Would that it were over now!

Pastor.

Perhaps the thought of traveling alone at night has something to do with it?

Marie.

Oh! [Recovering herself--lightly.] You are right, Pastor; but it can't be helped!

Pastor.

Shall I come with you? Oh, I'll find something to be done in the city. I won't even have to ask permission. Anyway, I am longing for a glimpse of the good old town. I will inform the old pastor--I don't think he has retired as yet----

Marie.

Then please tell him---- I usually visit him myself every day, but now, just before the wedding, it's impossible for me to call. Will you please tell him that? I am so fond of him! Tell him that, and in thought I kiss his hand.

Pastor.

Certainly. And may I accompany you!

Marie.

No, thank you. Pastor!

Pastor.

Now let us speak openly, Miss Marie. I have been watching you all the evening. You appear to me--what shall I call it--like a mouse before a cat! You need a protector; some one in whom you can confide, some one----

Marie.

And so you would like to be my father confessor! Eh, Pastor?

Pastor.

You know very well we do not have that institution in the Protestant Church, though at times it might prove a blessing----

Marie.

[Mischievously.] And then again it might not?

Pastor.

You are quite right. We should all rely more upon ourselves----

Marie.

[With emphasis.] I do that, Pastor, I do!

Pastor.

Yes, my dear Marie--pardon me, I should not have said that--and yet I must speak frankly with you; you seem to have a fear--a dread----

Marie.

Of the cat?

Pastor.

I wish I knew!!!

Marie.

But supposing I were the cat, who would then be the mouse?

Pastor.

That would be sinful and wicked in you!!!

Marie.

But one cannot be the cat and the mouse at the same time?

Pastor.

Yes, one can! But he who does, plays with his own destruction!

Marie.

And if one destroys one's self, who cares?

Pastor.

You should not talk like that, Miss Marie.

Marie.

Oh, it is all nonsense, all nonsense, for to-night is St. John's night. Do you see that fire yonder. Pastor? They had to put it out! But there, on the hill--look, there, there! How beautiful! How wild!

Pastor.

Yes, and when you look closely, it is nothing more than a mass of dirty lumber.

Marie.

For shame, Pastor!

Pastor.

Like everything that blazes, except the sun----

Marie.

You should not have said that, Pastor--you should not. I don't want it! I will not have you slander my St. John's fires! I want to enjoy it once--only once--then nevermore!!!

Pastor.

[Disturbed.] My dear Miss Marie, I do not understand the reason for your agitation, and I will not question you! But of your struggles--you shall know that you have a friend near you, on whom you can rely, now and for all time to come. Marie, I don't know how to express myself; but I desire to shield and protect you all your life--I will worship you----

Marie.

Pastor, do you know who and what I am?

Pastor.

I do!

Marie.

And who my mother is?

Pastor.

I know all!

Marie.

Pastor, how am I to understand this?

Pastor.

Marie, I know I should not have spoken, at least not now. I should have waited--it was stupid of me, I know; but I have such a fear--a fear for you. You are going to the city to-night and I don't know what may happen! But you shall know before you go, where you belong and that your future is assured!

Marie.

[With a sigh of relief--almost a sob.] Ah--ah--ah----!

Pastor.

Marie, I do not want an answer now. Besides, I must first notify my father. Though he is but a simple farmer, he shall not be slighted-- Marie----

Marie.

[Shrinking--dully.] Yes, that is--perhaps--what I need--ah! [Sinks in chair.]

Pastor.

Why, what is the matter? Shall I get you a glass of water? Or would you prefer wine?

Marie.

[With an effort.] Wine--wine--there--in the bowl! [He helps her--she drinks.] Thank you! [Stirred.] No one has ever waited on me before!

Pastor.

I will carry you upon my hands

Marie.

Very well, Pastor; but no one must know before the wedding!

Pastor.

Perhaps on the wedding day--at the wedding feast? Papa might make the announcement; that would be such a fitting occasion!

Marie.

No, no! I will have to much to do then.

Pastor.

Then, when the happy pair have gone?

Marie.

[With sudden, impulsive decision.] Yes, when they have gone!

Pastor.

[Takes her hand.] Thank you. Miss Marie.

[Voices are heard outside.]

Marie.

Sh--[Withdrawing her hand.]

Gertrude.

[Enters.] Ah, here you are, Pastor; we have been looking for you everywhere!

Pastor.

I am coming now, Miss Gertrude.

Gertrude.

It's too late, Pastor, they are all returning!

Pastor.

Impossible! Well, well, how the time passes, and one hardly knows how!

[Exit Pastor.]

Marie.

[Embracing Gertrude.] Will you forgive me, darling?

Gertrude.

[Timidly.] I have nothing to forgive!

Marie.

Do not say that! I have done everything--everything--you must----

[Enter all.]

Brauer.

Well, my dear Pastor, time stands still for no one; so you had better stop excusing yourself and empty your glass. 'Twill all come out right in the end.

Pastor.

I think I had better go now; for here every one is making fun of me.

Brauer.

Pastor, I need hardly tell you, that you are always welcome in this house.

Pastor.

I am sure of it, Mr. Brauer! If I did not think so, I would not take that matter so lightly----

Brauer.

[Jokingly threatens him with finger.] Pastor----

Pastor.

[With a happy glance at Marie.] Good-night. [Shakes hands with all.]

Brauer.

Good-night!

Pastor.

Good-night, Miss Marie!

Marie.

[Shaking his hand.] Good-night, Pastor!

[George, with a questioning glance, advances a step or two.]

Brauer.

George, see the Pastor to the gate!

George.

[As though awakening.] Yes, uncle.

[Both exit.]

Mrs. Brauer.

Well, Henry, everything has quieted down!

Brauer.

It's about time, too! Why, its eleven o'clock! Come, let's to bed.

Gertrude.

Good-night, papa!

Brauer.

[Affectionately.] Good-night, my pet!

Marie.

Good-night!

Brauer.

By the bye--when will you be back?

Marie.

To-morrow, about ten, papa!

Brauer.

Now be careful; no unnecessary exertions--understand? The day of the wedding will be hard enough on all of us.

Marie.

Yes, papa dear! [Kisses him.]

George.

[Enters at this moment.] We have still an hour and a quarter till train time. I will wait for you here, Marie.

Mrs. Brauer.

You might help each other pass away the time.

Gertrude.

I want to sit up, too.

Brauer.

Tut, tut, ray pet; you go to bed, you need the rest.

Gertrude.

[Whiningly.] Well then, good-night.

Marie.

[In silent fear.] I can't stay here---- Mama, I want to ask you about something----

George.

Then you will come down in time for the train?

Marie.

Yes, in time for the train.

Mrs. Brauer.

Good-night, George.

George.

Good-night, auntie!

[Exit Mrs. Brauer, Gertrude and Marie.]

Brauer.

You know where my cigars are?

George.

Yes!

Brauer.

And if you need anything to keep you awake--I have left the key----

George.

[In monosyllables.] Thank you!

Brauer.

Well, what in----

George.

What's the matter---- Oh, my dear uncle, if I have failed to pay you the necessary respect, I beg your pardon.

Brauer.

Respect? Oh, damn you and your respect!

George.

Uncle----

Brauer. See here, perhaps I did wrong?

George.

You--wrong? How?

Brauer.

Have you forgotten what passed between us yesterday?

George.

My dear uncle, that seems to me so far, far away!

Brauer.

It strikes me you are going at a pretty fast gait!

George.

At any rate, uncle, do not worry about it. It will all come out right in the end. [As he is listening towards the door, gives a sudden start.]

Brauer.

What's the matter?

George.

I thought I heard some one----

Brauer.

Some one of the family perhaps, upstairs. Very well, then all is well, my boy! Good-night, my son.

George.

Good-night, uncle! [Brauer exits, shaking his head.]

George.

[Sits at table--tries to read--listens, goes to door C.--calls out softly into the garden.] Who is there? [Still softer.] Is that you, Marie?

Gertrude.

[Whining outside.] It's only me!

George.

[Surprised.] Gertrude, what do you want?

Gertrude.

[Gertrude enters in nightgown and flowing hair.] I am so uneasy, George dear; I just wanted to look at you once more before going to sleep.

George.

But, little one, if papa should see you like this---- Quick, go back to your room.

Gertrude.

I cannot, my heart is so heavy.

George.

How so, dear?

Gertrude.

George, I have been thinking; I really am not good enough to be your wife.

George.

Wha--what nonsense----

Gertrude.

I am too silly--oh, yes; I never know what to say to you! I am so stupid.

George.

Why, my child--darling--pet----

Gertrude.

A while ago, out in the garden, and the moon shining so brightly, you walked by my side in deep silence----

George.

Why, mama was with us----

Gertrude.

George, it is yet time. If you love some one else----

George.

In heaven's name, child, have you ever mentioned this to any one?

Gertrude.

Only to papa; he was very angry and scolded me dreadfully.

George.

H'm! Now listen to me, my pet----

Gertrude.

Rather than make you unhappy, I would jump into the river----

George.

In the first place, your presence here in this condition is decidedly improper----

Gertrude.

But we are to be married in three days----

George.

So much more reason. [Stroking her hair.] What beautiful hair you have, dear!

Gertrude.

[Happily.] Do you like it?

George.

And in the second place, I will have none other than you. We will love each other very much. At first you will be my playmate--and then--later, perhaps--my real mate. Are you satisfied?

Gertrude.

Yes, dear!

George.

And now, you must go to bed!

Gertrude.

Then I will wrap myself in my hair--and I will dream of you and what you said--that it is beautiful--and so I will fall asleep. Good-night, George dear!

George.

[Kisses her on the forehead.] Good-night!

[He gloomily takes position at table with a sigh when Gertrude exits, covering his face with his hands. Marie enters softly.]

George.

Marie, you have come----

Marie.

It is early yet, is it not?

George.

We have a full hour more. Have they all gone to bed?

Marie.

I think so. All the lights are out.

George.

Come, sit here----

Marie.

I--I--I think I will go back upstairs!

George.

No, no; here is something to read! You see, I'm reading myself.

Marie.

Very well. [Sits.] But, George, I would really prefer to go to the depot alone.

George.

[Softly.] Marie! [She shuts her eyes.] Are you tired? [She shakes her head.] One whole hour I will have you all to myself!

Marie.

George----

George.

Marie!!!

Marie.

The fires have all gone out, I suppose?

George.

Ah, yes; a small pyre of wood--it is soon burned down!

Marie.

And then it's as dark as ever!!! But, George, how beautifully you spoke this evening! I have never heard anything like it before.

George.

You were the only one who understood me.

Marie.

No wonder! It was as though I spoke the words myself--that is, I don't mean to say----

George.

What, dear?

Marie.

Oh, you know!

George.

But I don't know!

Marie.

[After a pause.] George, I have something to confess to you. In fact, that is why I came down here so soon. You shall know it, you alone. I have this day given my hand----

George.

[With a start.] Marie!!!!

Marie.

[Astonished.] Well?

George.

To whom?

Marie.

Why, to the pastor! Who else could it be? There is no one else!

George.

[Reproachfully.] Why did you do that? Why did you?

Marie.

I have my whole life before me, and the fires [pointing to fields and to heart] will not burn forever----

George.

[Bitterly.] You should not have done it--you--it is a----

Marie.

Sh--not so loud!

George.

But you do not love him at all!!!!

Marie.

How do you know?

George.

[Bitterly,] How? Of course, how should I? I don't know! Pardon me! Well, I congratulate you!

Marie.

[Quietly.] Thank you!

George.

But why am I the first one to be taken into your confidence? Why not uncle? We two have not been so intimate as----

Marie.

No, we two have not been very intimate--I only thought----

George.

So, then, we have both our burden; and we soon will have to part. Therefore we can now safely speak of the past. My manuscript you read! You even went so far as to perjure yourself on account of it. Oh, you don't mind a little thing like that! I wish I were the same! You know the subject of my verses, and we must now understand each other fully. Now, tell me openly, why, why did you treat me so unkindly, to say nothing worse, in former days?

Marie.

Did I, George?

George.

'Tis hardly necessary to remind you of all the indignities you heaped upon me. It almost seemed to me as if you purposely intended to drive me mad. Do you remember the day when I followed you into the cellar, and you turned and ran out and locked the door, and compelled me to remain there all night?

Marie.

[Smiling.] Yes, I remember!

George.

Why did you do that?

Marie.

That is very simple. You are Count von Harten--and I?--I am but a poor Lithuanian foundling--aye, worse than that. If you follow such a one into the cellar, she knows, or at least thinks she knows, your purpose.

George.

So, that was the reason! And at the same time you went under your manzanillo-tree to die?

Marie.

[Nods.]

George.

And did you never realize the real state of things? Gertrude was then still a child--and because I could not win you, I took her. Did that thought never occur to you?

Marie.

How could I ever dare to think that?

George.

But later?

Marie.

The day before yesterday, when I read your book, I felt it for the first time.

George.

And now, it is too late----

Marie.

Yes, now it is too late! Had I felt then as I do now, I would not have resisted you----

George.

Marie, do you know what you are saying?

Marie.

[Breaking out.] Oh I don't care, I don't care! It is my fate. You must rule and govern--and I--I must serve; and in the end--we both must die----

George.

Marie, you should be loved, you must be loved--beyond all senses--loved beyond all measure!

Marie.

[Pointing towards R.] He loves me!

George.

He?--Bah!!!

Marie.

Don't be angry, George dear; you don't dare love me yourself. You can never be anything to me!

George.

No, never; for this house must be kept clean. No, no, this house must not be soiled. We would both suffocate in our shame. But we can think of what might have been; that is not sin, is it?

Marie.

What were your words? "They are the wild birds of paradise, that have escaped us." That was it, was it not? How beautiful!

George.

I don't remember!

Marie.

But I am not a wild bird, George; I am tame--so tame----

George.

You are tame?

Marie.

For you, George dear, only for you!!!

George.

Marie, my love! [Strokes her hair affectionally, then moves away.] No, no, we must be strong! Only a few minutes ago, Gertrude came softly down those stairs; if she should come again--my God----!

Marie.

What did she want?

George.

You can imagine----

Marie.

The poor thing! But you will love her?

George.

As well as possible! But then I must not think of you.

Marie.

But you must not think of me--and I will try and not think of you!

George.

Never, Marie?

Marie.

Only occasionally--on holidays----

George.

Only then?

Marie.

And on St. John's eve----

George.

When the fires are burning?

Marie.

Yes, and when the fires are out, then I shall cry----

George.

Marie!!!!

Marie.

No, no, George, sit still--I will sit here. Some one might be in the garden, after all.

George.

They are all sound asleep!

Marie.

Even so! We must be brave; not for mine--but for your sake, George.

George.

Why did you say that? What do you think of me?

Marie.

I think you are hard-hearted.

George.

And yet you love me?

Marie.

Yes, I love you, for your own sake. For you have had to struggle and fight--and that is what made you what you are. I have also fought and struggled; but I have lost faith in myself--lost faith in everything. If you only knew!! Sometimes I am afraid of myself--sometimes I would commit murder, so restless and without peace I am.

George.

With me you would have found peace. We would have worked together and planned through half the nights--and you know how ambitious I am.

Marie.

And so am I, for you! You should be the first and greatest. They all shall bow before you--I myself will kneel before you and say to you: "You love to rule and command? Now rule--now command!!!!!!"

[Throws herself before him--her arms around his knees, looking up.]

George.

Marie, in heaven's name rise! If any one should see you so----

Marie.

Let them see me----

George.

Marie!!

Marie.

[Rising.] You are right. It was low in me. But he who originates where I do, is low--so low----

George.

Don't think of it, Marie! Think of this house and all the love it has given you!

Marie.

How quiet everything is--not a sound to be heard--as silent as the grave----

George.

Then be content, for they have buried us together!

Marie.

If they only had----!

George.

And see the pale moon--how it throws its silvery rays over the garden--and yonder is your manzanillo-tree.

Marie.

Yes, yes, do you see it?

George.

And its white, trembling leaves; see, see, each one seems alive--though not a breath of air is stirring. Come, let us go to it.

Marie.

[Cowering.] No, no, I think it is time--we must----

George.

Sh!--Sh!----

Marie.

What is it?

George.

There--something moved. It must be Gertrude. [Goes to door C. and calls.] "Gertrude!!!"

[Short pause.]

Marie.

You must have been mistaken!

George.

No, no; I saw a shadow. "Gertrude!" Remain here, I'll go see! [Exit into garden.]

Marie.

Oh, I'm so afraid, George--so afraid----!

[Pause.]

[George returns, pale and agitated, trying to control himself.]

Marie.

Who was it? Who was it?

George.

Oh, no one--no one----

Marie.

Yes, there was--I can see it in your face!! Was it Gertrude?

George.

No.

Marie.

Then it was papa?

George.

No, no.

Marie.

George, you are as pale as death; What has happened? Tell me!

George.

Nothing, nothing! There was a stranger in the garden--I sent him away.

Marie.

What stranger?

George.

[Pained.] Do not ask me!

Marie.

[Dully.] Oh, I know--I know! It was--my mother----

George.

Well, since you have said it----

Marie.

What did she want? But why do I ask? [Covers her face with her hands.] Oh, my God--my God!!!!

George.

Marie;

Marie.

[Suddenly.] Close the blinds--I have a fear--tight--so!! Now put up the bars--so--and here, so--so----

George.

[Embracing her.] Marie; my darling!!!!

Marie.

Hold me tight!!!

George.

Like this?

Marie.

Yes, like that! [She moves close to him.] Here I want to sit still----

George.

[Looks at watch.] If we only have time to catch that train---- [The whistle of a locomotive is heard in the distance. He starts.] Did you hear that?

Marie.

[Smilingly.] Yes!

George.

What was it?

Marie.

It was the train!

George.

Can you hear it this far?

Marie.

At night you can!

George.

[Sinks into chair L. of table, back to audience.]

My God! what shall we do now?

Marie.

[Softly.] I will tell you what we will do! We will sit still here--quietly--till the next train--till four o'clock!!!!

[Throws herself upon George, passionately kissing him.]

George.

Marie! My love, my all! [Kisses her.]

Marie.

Kiss me again! Now, then, do you understand me? I am my own master, and care not for myself---- To-night is St. John's night!!!!!!!

George.

And the fires are burning low----

Marie.

No, no; let them burn----

George.

Yes, yes; let them burn--they shall burn!!!!!

[Marie disengages herself.]

Marie.

Kiss me no more--let me kiss you--I will take all upon myself--I will take all the consequences--my mother is a thief, and so am I! George--

[Throws herself into his arms with complete abandon.]

[Lights out. Curtain.]



END OF THE THIRD ACT.