Fires

4. Act Four

Same setting. Morning. Centre table is decorated with flowers. Brauer, George and Gertrude are on veranda at rise of curtain. In open door, C., Mrs. Brauer. All listening to quartet, singing, "This is the day of our Lord" by Kreutzer. As curtain rises, Katie enters, L., listens also, and dries her eyes. At the end of the serenade, Brauer starts to make an address, and with George and Gertrude leaves the veranda.

Katie.

Mrs. Brauer, I would like to speak to you a moment.

Mrs. Brauer.

[Wiping her eyes.] What is it, Katie?

Katie.

[Sniveling.] Oh, I'm so happy----

[Church bells are heard softly in the distance.]

Mrs. Brauer.

There go the church bells. Have you put plenty of wine and luncheon in the arbor?

Katie.

Yes, ma'am! Miss Marie and I have prepared a lot!

Mrs. Brauer.

What did you want to see me about?

Katie.

I wanted to ask you about the roast; shall we put it in the oven now, and just warm it up for dinner? Miss Marie thinks----

Mrs. Brauer.

Never mind! I'll be down in the kitchen in a moment!

Katie.

And another thing, Mrs. Brauer; won't you please try and get Miss Marie to take a little rest? She has been hard at work since two o'clock this morning, and all day yesterday she was in the city. She can't stand it.

Mrs. Brauer.

Oh, on a day like this, we must all put our shoulders to the wheel.

Katie.

Ah, Mrs. Brauer, you and I are old, and not much good for anything but work; but we must spare our young people. Why, at times she almost gives out.

Mrs. Brauer.

Well, I will come and see for myself.

Katie.

Thank you!!! Oh, such a day!!! I am so happy---- [Exit both L.]

Brauer.

[Enters with George and Gertrude.] Thank goodness, that's over. Let me see: first it was the old soldiers, then the Turners, and now the Singing Society---- But do you know, I am so sick of all this wine--give me a brandy.

Gertrude.

[Gets drink from sideboard.] Yes, papa!

Brauer.

[To George.] And what's the matter with you?

George.

[With a sigh.] Nothing!

Brauer.

[Imitating him.] Nothing!!! I can't quite make you out---- Here, have a drink?

George.

No, thank you!

Brauer.

Well, then, don't! Your health, my pet!

Gertrude.

Drink hearty, papa!

Brauer.

[Rises.] The carriage will arrive here sharply at ten! Understand?

George.

Yes!

Brauer.

And your friend from the city--we will find him at the station?

George.

Yes; he arrives quarter to ten.

Brauer.

For we must have two witnesses.--Do you know what I would like? [Tapping him on breast.] I would like to be able to look in there.

Gertrude.

Oh, let him alone, papa! He is now my George. If I am satisfied with him----

Brauer.

You are right! He who gets my child can laugh--but he also shall laugh. Understand? [Exit R.]

Gertrude.

Never mind him, George dear. You need not laugh if you don't want to. Not on my account. [Bells.] Do you hear, George? The church bells, ringing softly, singing, like human voices!!!! That is for you and me!!

George.

Why for us?

Gertrude.

It is the old pastor's desire; half an hour this morning, and then again this afternoon, when we exchange rings. Do you know, George, mama says a bride's dream the night before her wedding is surely an omen. Do you believe that?

George.

[Preoccupied.] Yes.

Gertrude.

I dreamed last night of a large, yellow wheat-field, in which a poor little rabbit had hidden itself; and high above, in the air, I saw a large hawk. Then it appeared to me that I was the little rabbit, and in fear and dread I called out "George! George!" when suddenly it shot down upon me!--just think----

George.

And then?

Gertrude.

Then I awoke. The cold perspiration stood thickly upon my brow---- Oh, George dear, you will protect me? You won't let any one hurt me, will you? For I am only a poor little rabbit, after all----

George.

[Staring before him.] My God!

Gertrude.

George, I wanted to ask you something.

George.

Well?

Gertrude.

You don't love some one else, do you?

George.

[Disturbed.] But, my child----

Gertrude.

Well, you know that if a bride cannot laugh on her wedding day, she loves another----

George.

Why, nonsense----

Gertrude.

[Unshaken.] Oh, yes, George; I read it myself. And even if you do, George, I feel so--my love for you is so great, it could move mountains. I love you so dearly---- She will surely learn to forget you, I will love you so much.

George.

But, my pet----

Gertrude.

No, no, George. You see, I don't blame you so much. How could I? For what am I, compared to other women?--George, does she love you so very much?

George.

Who?

Gertrude.

Oh, you know. But don't worry, George dear; she will forget you in time! Don't you remember Robert, our neighbor's son? He threatened to kill himself if I didn't marry him, and he has already forgotten me! And to-day, when we stand at the altar, at the Doxology and the exchange of rings, I will nudge you softly, and then we will both pray to our good Father in heaven to make it easy for her; for no one shall be unhappy on this day! Why, George, you are crying!!!!

George.

Crying--I?

Gertrude.

Why, yes! Here are two large tears running down your cheek. [Wipes his eyes with her handkerchief.] So there----

George.

Tell me, my pet; and if we should be parted, after all?

Gertrude.

How could that be possible?

George.

If I should die--or----

Gertrude.

[Embracing him.] No, no! Don't say that! Don't say that!!!

[Marie appears in door, seeing embrace.]

George.

[Startled.] Some one is here----

Gertrude.

It is only Marie.

Marie.

[Pointedly.] You seem to be particularly affectionate to-day.

Gertrude.

[Miffed.] We always love each other. Oh, perhaps that doesn't please you----

Marie.

It is nothing to me!

Gertrude.

[Half Jesting.] Besides, what do you want here? Isn't there anything to do in the kitchen?

Marie.

[Stung, but controlling herself.] Mama has sent me----

Gertrude.

Yes, yes, dear; you are just in time to dress my hair. Have you hairpins?

Marie.

[Shaking her head.] I will get some. [Reels.]

Gertrude.

[Affectionately.] What's the matter, dear? Oh, you must be tired!

Marie.

I am not tired.

Gertrude.

Yes, yes, you are. Now you sit down here. I will fetch them myself. [Quick exit.]

Marie.

[Full of fear.] Gertrude!!!

George.

I must speak with you!

Marie.

Speak; I am listening.

George.

Why this tone? Does it perhaps mean that between us all is over?

Marie.

If it is or is not, it matters little.

George.

Am I, then, to understand----

Marie.

My God! Have you not Gertrude? But now I saw her in your arms! What do you want with me?

George.

I must speak with you----

Marie.

Not now----

Gertrude.

[Re-enters.] Here are the hairpins. [Marie takes them.] I have also brought my dressing-sacque and combs. Now we will excuse you for a little while, George dear. You can give your judgment later.

George.

[With a glance at Marie.] May I not remain?

Gertrude.

No, no. You would criticise and find fault, and embarrass Marie, and me, too. Now be good, George, and go into the garden. [George exits.]

Marie.

[Holding sacque.] Will you put this on?

Gertrude.

No, I will put it around me.

Marie.

As you please. How do you want your hair dressed, high or low?

Gertrude.

But Marie, we had decided upon that! Have you forgotten?

Marie.

Oh, pardon me--I--of course we had!

Gertrude.

Then give me a kiss!

[Marie suddenly takes her head in both hands and stares at her.]

Gertrude.

[Frightened.] Why do you look at me so strangely?

Marie.

[Embraces her fiercely] My darling!!!!

Gertrude.

Oh, you hurt me!

Marie.

Perhaps you hurt me, too----

Gertrude.

I? How so?

Marie.

[Has begun to comb.] How can you ask? You are about to be married--and--and--I--I am jealous of you!

Gertrude.

Just wait, Marie, dear. [Sings.]

"In a year, in a year, when the nightingale comes----"

Marie.

[Intensely.] When the nightingale comes?

Gertrude.

You will be Pastor's wife. [Laughs.]

[Marie, with one braid in her hand, bending back, laughing loudly and forced.]

Gertrude.

[In pain.] Oh, you are pulling my hair----

Marie.

Any one as happy as you should be able to bear a little pain. There! I will braid it into your hair--for you are happy, are you not? Very happy?

Gertrude.

Yes! I am--that is--I would like to be--but George--he is so sad.

Marie.

George?

Gertrude.

Yes!

Marie.

[Lurkingly.] Perhaps you were right! Perhaps he does love another!

Gertrude.

[Softly groaning.] Oh, why did you say that?

Marie.

Because---- No, no--how could he? That was wicked in me, wasn't it? How could he think of another, when he looks at you?

Gertrude.

No, no, Marie, you are right! I told him so myself!

Marie.

[Slowly and marked.] And what did he say?

Gertrude.

He?--He said nothing! And then--he cried----

Marie.

[Triumphantly.] He cried? George cried? Have you ever seen him do that before?

Gertrude.

No, never!

Marie.

[To herself.] He cried----

Gertrude.

And then he said: "What if we should be parted, after all?"

Marie.

If who should be parted--you and he?

Gertrude.

Yes--if he should die----

Marie.

If he--oh, that is what he meant! Oh, well, he just wanted to say something. [With forced lightness.]

Gertrude.

Of course he did. But what about the other woman? Oh, I didn't let him see that I cared--and for the time I didn't care, really; but now, when I think of it! My God!--if it were really so! If I only knew!!!!!!!

Marie.

Of course, he would not tell you!

Gertrude.

Do you think he would tell any one else?

Marie.

Yes, sooner than tell you.

Gertrude.

Yes! I suppose so!

Marie.

Shall I ask him?

Gertrude.

Oh, if you would do that for me----

Marie.

There now, it is done. Here is the comb and the rest of the hairpins. Now go!

Gertrude.

And do you really think he would tell you?

Marie.

I am sure he will.

Gertrude.

Oh, Marie, how grateful I shall be to you----

Marie.

[Pushes her out of the door.] Go now, go! [Stretches herself.] Ah--ah--ah---- [Calls softly.] George! [There is a knock at the door.] Come in!

Paul.

[Enters.] Pardon me, Miss Marie; is Mr. Brauer in?

Marie.

No, Mr. Paul!

Paul.

The assistant pastor would like to speak to him--but here he is, himself.

Pastor.

[Enters.] Good-morning, Miss Marie!

Marie.

[Offers her hand hesitatingly.] Good-morning!

Pastor.

I will wait here, Mr. Paul!

Paul.

Then, Miss Marie, will you please give me the key to the cellar? I want to put the beer on the ice.

Marie.

[Gets key from keyboard.] Here it is.

Paul.

Thank you!

[Exit.]

[Pause.]

Pastor.

And have you nothing to say to me?

Marie.

What shall I say, Pastor?

Pastor.

Are you not happy this day?

Marie.

[Hard.] No!

Pastor.

Not even on account of our betrothal?

Marie.

We will have no betrothal, Pastor!

Pastor.

What are you saying?

Marie.

I shall leave this place----

Pastor.

You----

Marie.

To-day, I leave this house!

Pastor.

Pardon me, if I have forced my attentions upon you----

Marie.

No! You have not!

Pastor.

My attentions were honorable, I assure you----

Marie.

Thank you, Pastor, I know that; but----

Pastor.

Then it is not on my account you are leaving?

Marie.

Certainly not!

Pastor.

Does any one here know of your intention?

Marie.

No one!

Pastor.

Miss Marie, I am still a young man; if I should mention such a word as "life's happiness," it would, perhaps, sound absurd. Therefore, I will not speak of myself. My fate is in my own hands. But if you realize this moment what you owe to this house--and I say this not for mine, nor for their sake, I say it for yours and yours alone; though I am but a poor mortal--it pains me--but be that as it may--Marie, if you cause a discord in this house, the blame will rest upon yourself.

Marie.

Perhaps!

Pastor.

Pardon me--I will not question you. I wish to know nothing; that, in the end, is always the best. Did I not love you as well as myself, I would not speak another word; but as matters stand now, I will say one--aye, one more word--I would not have dared to say otherwise. The greatest, the highest thing one possesses in this world, is his life's melody--a certain strain that ever vibrates, that his soul forever sings--waking or dreaming, loudly or softly, internally or externally. Others may say: "His temperament or his character is so, or so." He only smiles, for he knows his melody and he knows it alone. You see, Miss Marie, my life's happiness you have destroyed, but my life's melody you can not take from me. That is pure and will always remain so. And now I say to you, Miss Marie, if you fill this house, where you have obtained everything you possess--honor, bread, and love--if you fill this house with sorrow--if you dare to sin against your father and your mother----

Marie.

One moment, Pastor. My father and my mother--what do you know about them? My father I don't know myself, but my mother? Ah yes, I know her well; and from her I have inherited my life's melody. This melody has a beautiful text. Do you want to know what it is, Pastor? It is, "Thou shalt steal. Steal everything for thyself--thy life's happiness--thy love--all--all. Only others will enjoy it in the end." Yes, Pastor, my mother is a thief. On St. John's eve she came stealthily over yonder garden hedge; and as my mother, so am I! And now, Pastor, ask me no more; I need all my senses, for to-day my entire happiness is at stake! There--now you know all!

Pastor.

Yes, now I know! Farewell, Miss Marie. I will forget this day, perhaps; you--never----

[Exit.]

Gertrude.

[Enters door L.] Was that George, who just now left?

Marie.

Were you at that door, listening?

Gertrude.

Marie;--For shame!!!!!

Marie.

Now go and dress yourself; I will call George. Go now, go!

Gertrude.

And will you come and tell me at once?

Marie.

At once! Yes!! [Gertrude exits.] [Marie calling softly.] George! George!

George.

[Enters from veranda.] Are you alone?

Marie.

[Nods.]

George.

Have you arranged it so?

Marie.

You wished to speak to me, so I have arranged it!

George.

Marie, I wished to tell you. One hour more I am a free man--and my mind is made up. It is yet time to change our fates. What will you answer me?

Marie.

Answer you? Why, I don't know what you want.

George.

You know it well enough. I want you; Do you hear me? You, who belong to me for life--I want you!

Marie.

[Softly--happily.] I thought the fires were out--and you had forgotten me--and now you want me?

George.

[Softly.] Are you not mine? Are you not my wife in the eyes of heaven?

Marie.

Yes, but in the eyes of the world it is Gertrude;

George.

Must it, then, be so?

Marie.

[Doubtingly.] Go--go--you love her----

George.

Yes, I do love her. How could I help that? Do you not also love her?

Marie.

[Bitterly.] Ah, I don't know. A few moments ago, when I saw her in your arms--and you wept, too--only, because you love her!! Oh, but I can bear it!! I will bear it like--like--ah!---- But there--that is no one's affair but mine----

George.

So, so, that is no one's affair but yours, eh? You might have invented a sweeter torture. I meant to remain an honorable man all my life; if unable--well, there are plenty of bullets left.

Marie.

And do you wish to die?

George.

I do not want to, I must!

Marie.

George, then take me with you? [He shakes his head.] For years I have carried the wish in my heart--to kill you! Then I would kiss and love you like mad--and then follow you into eternity----

George.

Nonsense, girl, nonsense! Can't you see, how one turns round and round and round in a circle, till at last to find no other escape than death?

Marie.

I am not afraid to die; though with you, I'd rather live----

George.

To live, dear, will require more courage for both of us.

Marie.

How so?

George.

Can you ask? Here in this house, to which we owe everything--both you and I? Where they gave us food, shelter and love? After all that, would you have the courage to destroy their happiness?

Marie.

The good old pastor used to say: "You must have the courage to do everything, except to do wrong." I would even have the courage to do wrong.

George.

Shall I put you to the test?

Marie.

If you will give me your hand now and say to me: "Come, we will run away, through yonder garden gate--just as we are--now, this very moment"--you shall see how I will run!

George.

What?--Secretly--without telling any one? Is that what you mean?

Marie.

Don't you?

George.

[Laughs bitterly.] No, no!

Marie.

Well, what then?

George.

Face to face, like a man. There he stands--I here. If he will give me back my word, 'tis well. If he refuses [determined], 'tis also well.

Marie.

My God! You know his temper! He will kill us--he will kill us both!

George.

'Tis death either way----

Marie.

George--think----

George.

Oh, I have thought of it for two days and two nights. One is madness and the other insanity. There is no other way. [Pained.] Only the thought of the child gives me pain----

Marie.

Of course, if your feelings for Gertrude----

George.

Then it is your desire? [She nods assent.] Very well! So be it! But remember, it is a question of life and death!--And, therefore, you yourself must be present.

Marie.

[In terror.] I?--I be present when you ask him?

George.

What?--You, who wish to become my helpmate and partner in life, and share all my life's troubles--you would desert me now--desert me in this hour?--and I very much fear, not the worst in store for us?

Marie.

No, no, George; it's not that--not that! But you know how we have feared him and have trembled for years--and now I should----

George.

If you can't even do that----

Marie.

If necessary--yes I--I will do it.

George.

Then--as soon as he returns. [Brauer is heard breathing heavily.] Ah, here he is!

Brauer.

[Enters.] Why, that is almost an old-time Biblical miracle. Just think, children, think of it---- But where is Gertrude? Well? Can't you speak?

Marie.

[Trembling.] I think she is dressing!

Brauer.

Well, it will interest you also, so listen: I met the assistant pastor as he came from the house here, and he told me, rather piqued, that our good old pastor had suddenly risen from his bed and limpingly insisted upon delivering the wedding discourse himself. Well--what's the matter? Aren't you glad?

George.

H'm----

Brauer.

Of course, you are a perfect heathen! But I say, our assistant pastor must have been terribly put out. He had been preparing for that same address for days. He looked rather crestfallen; but then, there is no help for it.

George.

Pardon me, uncle; in order to save time, I must ask you for an interview.

Brauer.

What, again? Can't you wait till afternoon?

George.

No! Before the ceremony, if you please.

Brauer.

[Startled.] Wha--oh, I see. I suppose now you will demand more than I am willing to give? Marie, leave us [Paul enters.] Well, what now?

Paul.

[Gives him a sign.]

Brauer.

There, look at him! Well, have you lost your tongue, man? Why don't you speak?

Paul.

No, no, Mr. Brauer, I have something to say to you--alone.

Brauer.

Then why don't you come nearer?

Paul.

[Whispering.] We have just now caught the old woman.

Brauer.

[With a glance at Marie.] What? Marie, you may remain and chat with George for awhile; he is a very interesting young man. [Softly, to Paul.] Where?

Paul.

Down in the cellar; just as I wanted to put the beer on the ice, I found her there in a dark corner, loaded down with plunder!

Brauer.

Is she there now?

Paul.

Yes, struggling like a demon.

Brauer.

Undoubtedly this offense will earn her a good long term in prison and we will be rid of her for a long time! But how to get her out of the house?

Paul.

Leave that to me Mr. Brauer; I know a way to keep her quiet.

Brauer.

Yes, yes, and in the meantime I will make out the papers and we will hand her over to the Gendarme; that will be the best. Children, I will be busy for a moment! Wait here until I return.

George.

Don't forget, uncle!

Brauer.

No, no. I'll be back in a moment. Come, Mr. Paul!

[Both exit.]

George.

You are trembling----

Marie.

Am I?

George.

Marie dear, I am with you. No one shall harm you!

Marie.

Oh, it is not that.

George.

What, then?

Marie.

Oh, I don't know. It has suddenly come over me so---- [Starts.] Sh! He's coming!

[Noise. Scuffling of feet and smothered cries are heard.]

George.

What is it?

Marie.

In God's name, be still!

Gypsy.

[Calling for help.] Mine daughter! Mine Mamie! My Mamie!!

Marie.

Hear? Hear? My mother; They are taking her away--to prison! Sh! Be still! No, no; don't open the door! Be quiet! Be quiet!

Gypsy.

[Not as loud as before.] Oh, mine daughter! My Mamie--my Mamie----! [Dying out.]

George.

Will you not go out to her, no matter what she has done?

Marie.

How can I? How can I? I am afraid--afraid----

George.

Then shall I go?

Marie.

[Frightened.] No, no; don't leave me!! Sh! Be quiet! So, quiet! Now they have gone! Thank heaven! [Again wailing, but very distant.] Hear? Hear? Let her shriek! Let her call! I cannot help her! I am a thief, the same as she. I, too, have come to this house, and I have stolen. But oh, my God, what have I stolen? What have I stolen?

George.

Come, Marie, control yourself! Think of what we have before us!

Marie.

Yes, yes--I'll be quiet! What have we before us? No, no; I will not--I cannot--I----

George.

Do you mean to----

Brauer.

[In door.] Did you hear anything, children? Any noise?

George.

We heard screams and a scuffle. What was the matter?

Brauer.

Oh, nothing of any consequence. Don't mind it. An old vagabond of a woman, that's all. I have only to sign the papers now, then I'll be back. [Exit.]

George.

Marie;

Marie.

Hush, not a word, not a word! She out there must go her way, and I must go mine!

George.

What do you mean?

Marie.

You said it yourself. 'Tis madness! Yes, yes; 'tis madness! All--all; What we do--what we desire--all--all!

George.

Marie!

Marie.

Or do you imagine for one moment we could be happy together? No, I know you too well. I know the certain result. You would never forgive yourself nor me, and in the end life would become a burden to me, if only because I was in your way. Yes, yes, that would be the end of it all----

George.

Marie, I will be faithful to you forever, let come what may, be it good or bad; you know that!

Marie.

Yes, thank God!--yes!

George.

If there was only the slightest possibility of a chance to escape from all this whirl--then we might be free, we might---- But no matter what we begin, we cannot shake off nor disregard our obligations to this house; never, as long as we live!

Marie.

Therefore, what more can you desire? Everything on earth we possess, all that was beautiful, all the love, all--all, we gave to each other. There is nothing more to give, for either one of us. St. John's night is past, the fires are out, are dead----

George.

And what shall become of us?

Marie.

Of you? That I can't tell. Perhaps you will be happy, perhaps not; that must all rest with yourself. And I? Oh, be content. I will take care of myself. As soon as possible I shall leave this house. Not to-day, as I would like--it might create suspicion----

George.

And where will you go?

Marie.

Ah, the world is large. I shall go far, far away, where no one will ever find me. No, no, not even you, George.

George.

And if you should go to ruin out there?

Marie.

Do not fear. I am the calamity child, the foundling. My hands are hard and callous--see, see! Just like my heart is, now. I will work and work, and toil, until I fall exhausted--then I will sleep and rest, until it is time for work again; and thus I will perhaps maintain a miserable existence.

George.

You say you are a calamity child! Well, so am I. But our accounts do not harmonize. You are going out into the world and misery, and it was I who drove you to it. Even did I not love you as I do, that thought would follow me forever and embitter my entire life. But, be it so. We are both children of misery! Therefore let us grit our teeth, shake each other by the hand--and say farewell!

Marie.

[Softly.] Good-bye, Georgie dear--and--don't be afraid--he is not yet coming--and forgive me--do you hear? From to-day--you understand? Did I not love you as much as I do, this would not have been quite so hard; but there--there--'tis all right now--I know; I can never be entirely poor now; for once, at least, the fires of St. John have burned for me--once--just once----

George.

Marie----

Marie.

[Glancing around.] Don't--don't----

Mrs. Brauer.

[Enters, followed by Gertrude.] Hasn't the carriage arrived yet, children? And where is papa? It is time to go.

Marie.

He is coming now, I believe.

Brauer.

[Enters.] So there, I am ready to go! But, that is, you wanted to speak to me first?

George.

[With a glance at Marie.] It is all settled now, thank you.

Brauer.

Then come, wife, my coat, quick!

[She helps him with frocks after he has divested himself of jacket.]

Gertrude.

[Aside to Marie.] Did you ask him?

Marie.

[Nods.]

Gertrude.

And what did he say?

Marie.

It was all nonsense, my pet. He loves you and only you. He never has loved any one else--he says--and he will be very happy--so he says----

Gertrude.

[Embraces him joyfully.] My darling George----

Brauer.

Come, come, my child--time enough for that after the ceremony. Come!

[All follow him to the door. When George reaches door he turns, and as he takes one parting glance at Marie, Brauer pushes him off. Marie stands motionless, looking after them, handkerchief in mouth, nervously forcing it between her teeth.]

[Curtain.]



END OF PLAY.