Part 5
It wasn't strange even. It came about quite naturally. Shortly after my return from Paris I happened to meet Wegrat on the street. Of course, we had heard of each other from time to time, and we met as old friends. There are people who seem born to a fate of that kind.... And as for Gabrielle....
SALA
She had forgiven you, of course?
JULIAN
Forgiven...? It was more or less than that. Only once did we talk of the past--she without reproach, and I without regret: as if the whole story had happened to somebody else. And after that never again. I might have thought some miracle had wiped those earlier days out of her memory. In fact, as far as I am concerned, there seemed to be no real connection between that quiet matron and the creature I had once loved. And as for the youngster--well, you know--at first I didn't care more for him than I might have cared for any other pretty and gifted child.--Of course, ten years ago my life had a different aspect. I was still clinging to so many things which since then have slipped away from me. It was only in the course of time that I became more and more drawn to the house, until at last I began to feel at home there.
SALA
I hope you never took offense at my gradual discovery of the true state of affairs.
JULIAN
You, at any rate, didn't think me very sensible....
SALA
Why not? I too find that family life in itself is quite attractive. Only it ought, after all, to be experienced in one's own family.
JULIAN
You know very well that I have frequently felt something like actual shame at the incongruity of that relationship. It was in fact one of the things that drove me away. Of course, there were a lot of other things that pressed on me at the time. Especially that I couldn't make a real success out of my work.
SALA
But you hadn't been exhibiting anything for a long time.
JULIAN
It wasn't external success I had in mind. I could never get into the right mood any more, and I hoped that traveling would help me again, as it had done so often in earlier years.
SALA
And how did you fare? We have heard so little of you here. You might really have written me a little more frequently and fully. For you know, of course, that I care a great deal more for you than for most other people. We have such a knack of giving each other the right cue--don't you think? There are sentimental people who speak of such a relation as friendship. And it is not impossible that we used to address each other by our Christian names some time during the last century, or that you may even have wept your fill on my shoulder. I have missed you more than once during these two years--honestly! On my lonely walks I have quite frequently thought of our pleasant chats in the Dornbach park, where we were in the habit of disposing temporarily of (_quoting_) "what is most lofty and profound in this our world."--Well, Julian, from where do you come anyhow?
JULIAN
From the Tyrol? During the Summer I made long tours on foot. I have even turned mountain climber in my old days. I spent a whole week at one of those pasturing grounds in the Alps.... Yes, I have been up to all sorts of things. It's a wonder what you can do when you are all alone.
SALA
And you have really been all alone?
JULIAN
Yes.
SALA
All these last years?
JULIAN
If I don't count a few nonsensical interruptions--yes.
SALA
But there should have been no difficulty in that respect.
JULIAN
I know. But I cannot rest satisfied with what is still offered me of that kind of thing. I have been badly spoiled, Sala. Up to a certain period my life passed away in a constant orgy of tenderness and passion, and of power, you might say. And that is all over. Oh, Sala, what pitiful fictions I have had to steal, and beg, and buy, during these last years! It gives me nausea to look back at it, and it horrifies me to look ahead. And I ask myself: can there really be nothing left of all that glow with which I once embraced the world but a sort of silly wrath because it's all over--because I--_I_--am no less subject to human laws than anybody else?
SALA
Why all this bitterness, Julian? There is still a great deal to be had out of this world, even when some of the pleasures and enjoyments of our earlier years have begun to appear tasteless or unseemly. And how can you, of all people, miss that feeling, Julian?
JULIAN
Snatch his part from an actor and ask him if he can still take pleasure in the beautiful scenery surrounding him.
SALA
But you have begun to work again while you were traveling?
JULIAN
Hardly at all.
SALA
Felix told us that you had brought some sketches from your trunk in order to show him.
JULIAN
He spoke of them?
SALA
Yes, and nothing but good.
JULIAN
Really?
SALA
And as you showed those things to him, you must have thought rather well of them yourself.
JULIAN
That was not the reason why I let him see them. (_Walking back and forth_) I must tell you--at the risk of having you think me a perfect fool.
SALA
Oh, a little more or less won't count. Speak out.
JULIAN
I wanted him at least not to lose faith in me. Can you understand that? After all, he is nearer to me than the rest. Of course, I know--to everybody, even to you, I am one who has gone down, who is finished--one of those whose only talent was his youth. It doesn't bother me very much. But to Felix I want to be the man I was once--just as I still _am_ that man. When he learns sometime that I am his father, he must be proud of it.
SALA
When he learns it...?
JULIAN
I have no intention to keep it hidden from him forever. Now, when his mother is dead, less than ever. Last time I talked to him, it became clear to me, not only that it would be right, but that it would almost be a duty, to tell him the truth. He has a mind for essentials. He will understand everything. And I shall have a human being who belongs to me, who knows that he belongs to me, and for whose sake it is worth while to keep on living in this world. I shall live near him, and be with him a good deal. Once more I shall have my existence put on a solid basis, so to speak, and not hung in mid-air, as it is now. And then I shall be able to work again--work as I did once--as when I was a young man. Work, that is what I am going to do--and all of you will turn out to have been wrong--all of you!
SALA
But to whom has it occurred to doubt you? If you could only have heard us talk of you a little while ago, Julian. Everybody expects that, sooner or later, you--will find yourself again completely.
JULIAN
Well, that's enough about me, more than enough. Pardon me. Let us hear something about yourself at last. I suppose you have already moved into your new house?
SALA
Yes.
JULIAN
And what plans have you for the immediate future?
SALA
I am thinking of going to Asia with Count Ronsky.
JULIAN
With Ronsky? Are you going to join that expedition about which so much has been written?
SALA
Yes. Some such undertaking has been tempting me for a long time. Are you perhaps familiar with the Rolston report on the Bactrian and Median excavations of 1892?
JULIAN
No.
SALA
Well, it is positively staggering. Think of it--they suspect that under the refuse and the dust lies a monster city, something like the present London in extent. At that time they made their way into a palace, where the most wonderful paintings were found. These were perfectly preserved in several rooms. And they dug out stairways--built of a marble that is nowhere to be found nowadays. Perhaps it was brought from some island which since then has sunk beneath the sea. Three hundred and twelve steps glittering like opals and leading down into unknown depths.... Unknown because they ceased digging after they had reached the three hundred and twelfth step--God only knows why! I don't think I can tell you how those steps pique my curiosity.
JULIAN
But it has always been asserted that the Rolston expedition was lost?
SALA
No, not quite as bad as that. Out of twenty-four Europeans, eight got back after three years in spite of all--and half a dozen of them had been lost before they ever got there. You have to pass through pretty bad fever belts. And at that time they had to face an attack of the Kurds, too, by which several were done for. But we shall be much better equipped. Furthermore, at the border we shall be joined by a Russian contingent which is traveling under military escort. And here, too, they think of putting a military aspect on the affair. As to the fever--that doesn't scare me--it can't do me any harm. As a young man I spent a number of particularly dangerous Summer nights in the _thermae_ of Caracalla--you know, of course, what boggy ground that is--and remained well.
JULIAN
But that doesn't prove anything.
SALA
Oh yes, a little. There I came across a Roman girl whose home was right by the Appian Way. She caught the fever and died from it.... To be sure, I am not as young as I was then, but so far I have been perfectly well.
JULIAN (_who has already smoked several cigarettes, offers one to Sala_) Don't you smoke?
SALA
Thanks. Really, I shouldn't. Only yesterday Dr. Reumann told me I mustn't.... Nothing particular--my heart is a little restless, that's all. Well, a single one won't do any harm, I suppose.
VALET (_enters_)
Miss Herms, sir. She's asking whether she can see you.
JULIAN
Certainly. Ask her to come in.
VALET (_goes out_)
IRENE HERMS (_enters. She is about forty-three, but doesn't look it. Her dress is simple and in perfect taste. Her movements are vivacious, and at times almost youthful in their swiftness. Her hair is deeply blonde in color and very heavy. Her eyes are merry, good-humored most of the time, and easily filled with tears. She comes in with a smile and nods in a friendly manner to Sala. To Julian, who has gone to meet her, she holds out her hand with an expression on her face that is almost happy_) Good evening. Well? (_She has the habit of pronouncing that "well" in a tone of sympathetic inquiry_) So I did right after all in keeping my patience a couple of days more. Here I've got you back now. (_To Sala_) Can you guess the length of time we haven't seen each other?
JULIAN
More than three years.
IRENE (_nods assent and permits him at last to withdraw his hand from hers_) In all our lives that has never happened before. And your last letter is already two months old. I call it "letter" just to save my face. But it was only a view-card. Where in the world have you been anyhow?
JULIAN
Sit down, won't you? I'll tell you all about it. Won't you take off your hat? You'll stay a while, I hope?
IRENE
Of course.--And the way you look! (_To Sala_) Fine, don't you think? I've always known that a gray beard would make him look awfully interesting.
SALA (_to Julian_)
Now you'll have nothing but pleasantries to listen to. Unfortunately I shall have to be moving.
IRENE
You're not leaving on my account, I hope?
SALA
How can you imagine such a thing, Miss Herms?
IRENE
I suppose you are bound for the Wegrats'?--What do you think of it, Julian? Isn't it dreadful? (_To Sala_) Please give them my regards.
SALA
I'm not going there now. I'm going home.
IRENE
Home? And you say that in such a matter-of-fact way? I understand you are now living in a perfect palace.
SALA
No, anything but that. A modest country house. It would give me special pleasure, Miss Herms, if sometime you would make sure of it in person. My garden is really pretty.
IRENE
Have you fruit trees, too, and vegetables?
SALA
In this respect I can only offer you a stray cabbage and a wild cherry tree.
IRENE
Well, if my time permit, I shall make a point of coming out there to have a look at your villa.
JULIAN
Must you leave again so soon?
IRENE
Certainly. I have to get home again. Only this morning I had a letter from my little nephew--and he's longing for me. A little rascal of five, and he, too, is longing already. What do you think of that?
SALA
And you are also longing to get back, I suppose?
IRENE
It isn't that. But I'm beginning to get accustomed to Vienna again. As I'm going about the streets here, I run across memories at every corner.--Can you guess where I was yesterday, Julian? In the rooms where I used to live as a child. It wasn't easy by any means, as a lot of strangers are living there now. But I got into the rooms just the same.
SALA (_with amicable irony_)
How did you manage it, Miss Herms?
IRENE
I sneaked in under a pretext. I pretended to believe that there was a room to be let--for a single elderly lady. But at last I fell to weeping so that I could see the people thought me out of my mind. And then I told them the true reason for my coming there. A clerk in the post-office is living there now with his wife and two children. One of these was such a nice little chap. He was playing railroad with an engine that could be wound up, and that ran over one of my feet all the time.... But I can see that all this doesn't interest you very much, Mr. von Sala.
SALA
How _can_ you interrupt yourself like that, Miss Herms, just when it is most exciting? I should have loved to hear more about it. But now I must really go, unfortunately. Good-by, Julian.--Then, Miss Herms, I may count on a visit from you. (_He goes out_)
IRENE
Thank God!
JULIAN (_smiling_)
Do you still have the same antipathy for him?
IRENE
Antipathy?--I hate him! Nothing but your incredible kindness of heart would let him come near you. For you have no worse enemy.
JULIAN
Where did you get that idea?
IRENE
My instinct tells me--you can feel such things.
JULIAN
I fear, however, that even now you cannot judge him quite objectively.
IRENE
Why not?
JULIAN
You can't forgive him that you failed in one of his plays ten years ago.
IRENE
Unfortunately it's already twelve years ago. And it wasn't my fault. For my opinion in regard to his so-called poetry is, that it's nonsense. And I am not the only one who thinks so, as you know. But you don't know him, of course. To appreciate that gentleman in all his glory, you must have enjoyed him at a rehearsal. (_Imitating Sala_) Oh, madam, that's verse--it's verse, dear madam.... Only when you have heard that kind of thing from him can you understand how limitless his arrogance is.... And everybody knows, by the way, that he killed his wife.
JULIAN (_amused_)
But, girl, who in the world put such horrible ideas into your head?
IRENE
Oh, people don't die willy-nilly like that, at twenty-five....
JULIAN
I hope, Irene, that you don't talk like this to other people?
IRENE
What would be the use? Everyone knows it but you. And I for my part have no reason to spare Mr. von Sala, who for twenty years has pursued me with his jeers.
JULIAN
And yet you are going to call on him?
IRENE
Of course. Beautiful villas interest me very much. And they tell me his is ravishing. If you were only to see people who....
JULIAN
Hadn't killed anybody....
IRENE
Really, we show him too much honor in talking so long about him. That ends it.--Well, Julian? How goes it? Why haven't you written me oftener? Is it possible you didn't dare?
JULIAN
Dare...?
IRENE
Were you forbidden, I mean?
JULIAN
I see.--Nobody can forbid me anything.
IRENE
Honestly? You live all by yourself?
JULIAN
Yes.
IRENE
I'm delighted. I can't help it, Julian, but I am delighted. Although it's sheer nonsense. This day, or the next, there'll be something new going on.
JULIAN
Those days are past.
IRENE
If it were only true!--Can I have a cup of tea?
JULIAN
Certainly. The samovar is right there.
IRENE
Where?--Oh, over there. And the tea?--Oh, I know! (_She opens a small cupboard and brings out what she needs; during the next few minutes she is busy preparing the tea_)
JULIAN
So you are really going to stay here only a couple of days more?
IRENE
Of course. I have done all my ordering. You understand, in my sister's house out there one doesn't need to dress up.
JULIAN
Tell me about it. How do you like it out there?
IRENE
Splendidly. Oh, it's bliss merely to hear nothing more about the theater.
JULIAN
And yet you'll return to it sometime.
IRENE
That's where you are completely mistaken. Why should I? You must remember that I have now reached the goal of all my desires: fresh air, and woods right by; horseback riding across meadows and fields; early morning seated in the big park, dressed in my kimono, and nobody daring to intrude. To put it plainly: no people, no manager, no public, no colleagues, no playwrights--though, of course, all are not as arrogant as your precious Sala.--Well, all this I have attained at last. I live in the country. I have a country house--almost a little palace, you might say. I have a park, and a horse, and a kimono--to use as much as I please. It isn't all mine, I admit--except the kimono, of course--but what does that matter? In the bargain, I live with the best people one could hope to find in this world. For my brother-in-law is, if possible, a finer fellow than Lora herself even.
JULIAN
Wasn't he rather making up to you once?
IRENE
I should say he was! He wanted to marry me at any cost. Of course!--It was always in me that they were at first--I mean that they always _have been_ in love with me. But as a rule the clever ones have gone over to Lora. In fact, I have always felt a little distrustful toward you because you never fell in love with Lora. And how much she is ahead of me--well, _you_ know, and it's no use talking of it. What all don't I owe to Lora!... If it hadn't been for her...!--Well, it's with them I have been living the last half year.
JULIAN
The question is only how long you are going to stand it.
IRENE
How long...? But, Julian, I must ask you what there could be to make me leave such a paradise and return to the morass where I (_in a lowered voice_) spent twenty-five years of my life. What could I possibly expect out of the theater anyhow? I am not made for elderly parts. The heroic mother, the shrewish dame and the funny old woman are equally little to my liking. I intend to die as "the young lady from the castle"--as an old maid, you might say--and if everything goes right, I shall appear to the grandchildren of my sister some hundred years from now as the Lady in White. In a word, I have the finest kind of a life ahead of me.--Why are you laughing?
JULIAN
It pleases me to see you so jolly again--so youthful.
IRENE
It's the country air, Julian. You should try it yourself for a good long while. It's glorious! In fact, I think I have missed my true calling. I'm sure the good Lord meant me for a milkmaid or farm girl of some kind. Or perhaps for a young shepherd. I have always looked particularly well in pants.--There now. Do you want me to pour a cup for you at once? (_She pours the tea_) Have you nothing to go with it?
JULIAN
I think there must still be a few crackers left in my bag. (_He takes a small package out of his traveling bag_)
IRENE
Thanks. That's fine.
JULIAN
This is quite a new fancy of yours, however.
IRENE
Crackers...?
JULIAN
No, nature.
IRENE
How can you say so? I have always had a boundless love for nature. Don't you recall the excursions we used to make? Don't you remember how once we fell asleep in the woods on a hot Summer afternoon? And don't you ever think of that shrine of the Holy Virgin, on the hill where we were caught by the storm?... Oh, mercy! Nature is no silly illusion. And still later--when I struck the bad days and wanted to kill myself for your sake, fool that I was ... then nature simply proved my salvation. Indeed, Julian! I could still show you the place where I threw myself on the grass and wept. You have to walk ten minutes from the station, through an avenue of acacias, and then on to the brook. Yes, I threw myself on the grass and wept and wailed. It was one of those days, you know, when you had again sent me packing from your door. Well, and then, when I had been lying half an hour in the grass, and had wept my fill, then I got up again--and began to scamper all over the meadow. Just like a kid, all by myself. Then I wiped my eyes and felt quite right again. (_Pause_) Of course, next morning I was at your door again, setting up a howl, and then the story began all over again.
[_It is growing dark._
JULIAN
Why do you still think of all that?
IRENE
But you do it, too. And who has proved the more stupid of us two in the end? Who? Ask yourself, on your conscience. Who?... Have you been more happy with anybody else than with me? Has anybody else clung to you as I did? Has anybody else been so fond of you?... No, I am sure. And as to that foolish affair into which I stumbled during my engagement abroad--you might just as well have overlooked it. Really, there isn't as much to that kind of thing as you men want to make out--when it happens to one of us, that is to say. (_Both drink of their tea_)
JULIAN
Should I get some light?
IRENE
It's quite cosy in the twilight like this.
JULIAN
"Not much to it," you say. Perhaps you are right. But when it happens to anybody, he gets pretty mad as a rule. And if we had made up again--it would never have been as before. It's better as it is. When the worst was over, we became good friends once more, and so we have been ever since. And that is a pretty fine thing, too.
IRENE