Part 6
Yes. And nowadays I'm quite satisfied. But at that time...! Oh, mercy, what a time that was! But you don't know anything about it, of course. It was afterward I began really to love you--after I had lost you through my own thoughtlessness. It was only then I learned how to be faithful in the true sense. For anything that has happened to me since then.... But it's asking too much that a man should understand that kind of thing.
JULIAN
I understand quite well, Irene. You may be sure.
IRENE
And besides I want to tell you something: it was nothing but a well-deserved punishment for both of us.
JULIAN
For both of us?
IRENE
Yes, that's what I have figured out long ago. A well-deserved punishment.
JULIAN
For both of us?
IRENE
Yes, for you, too.
JULIAN
But what do you mean by that?
IRENE
We had deserved no better.
JULIAN
We...? In what way?
IRENE (_very seriously_)
You are so very clever otherwise, Julian. Now what do you say--do you think it could have happened as it did--do you think I could have made a mistake like that--if we--had had a child? Ask yourself on your conscience, Julian--do you believe it? I don't, and you don't either. Everything would have happened in a different way. Everything. We had stayed together then. We had had _more_ children. We had married. We might be living together now. I shouldn't have become an old-maidish "young lady from the castle," and you wouldn't have become....
JULIAN
An old bachelor.
IRENE
Well, if you say it yourself. And the main thing is this: we _had_ a child. I had a child. (_Pause_)
JULIAN (_walking back and forth_)
What's the use, Irene? Why do you begin to talk of all those forgotten things again...?
IRENE
Forgotten?
JULIAN
... Things gone by.
IRENE
Yes, they are bygone, of course. But out there in the country you have plenty of time. All sorts of things keep passing through your head. And especially when you see other people's children--Lora has two boys, you know--then you get all sorts of notions. It almost amounted to a vision not long ago.
JULIAN
What?
IRENE
It was toward evening, and I had walked across the fields. I do it quite often, all by myself. Far and wide there was nobody to be seen. And the village down below was quite deserted, too. And I walked on and on, always in direction of the woods. And suddenly I was no longer alone. You were with me. And between us was the child. We were holding it by the hands--our little child. (_Angrily, to keep herself from crying_) It's too silly for anything! I know, of course, that our child would be a gawky youngster of twenty-three by now--that it might have turned into a scamp or a good-for-nothing girl. Or that it might be dead already. Or that it had drifted out into the wide world, so that we had nothing left of it--oh, yes, yes.... But we should have had it once, for all that--once there would have been a little child that seemed rather fond of us. And.... (_She is unable to go on; silence follows_)
JULIAN (_softly_)
You shouldn't talk yourself into such a state, Irene.
IRENE
I am not talking myself into anything.
JULIAN
Don't brood. Accept things as they are. There have been other things in your life--better things, perhaps. Your life has been much richer than that of a mere mother could ever have been.... You have been an artist.
IRENE (_as if to herself_)
I don't care that much for it.
JULIAN
A great, famous one--that means something after all. And your life has brought you many other exquisite experiences--since the one with me. I am sure of it.
IRENE
What have I got left of it? What does it amount to? A woman who has no child has never been a woman. But a woman who once might have had one--who should have had one, and who--(_with a glance at him_)--has never become a mother, she is nothing but--oh! But that's what a man cannot understand! It is what not one of them can understand! In this respect the very best one of the lot will always remain something of a cad. Is there one of you who knows how many of his own offspring have been set adrift in the world? I know at least that there are none of mine. Can you say as much?
JULIAN
And if I did know....
IRENE
How? Have you got one really?--Oh, speak, please! You can tell _me,_ Julian, can't you? Where is it? How old is it? A boy? Or a girl?
JULIAN
Don't question me.... Even if I had a child, it wouldn't belong to you anyhow.
IRENE
He has a child! He has a child! (_Pause_) Why do you permit it to be drifting around in the world then?
JULIAN
You yourself have given the explanation: in this respect the very best of us remains always something of a cad. And I am not the best one at that.
IRENE
Why don't you go and get it?
JULIAN
How could it be any of my concern? How could I dare to make it my concern? Oh, that's enough.... (_Pause_) Do you want another cup of tea?
IRENE
No, thanks. No more now. (_Pause; it is growing darker_) He has a child, and I have never known it! (_Protracted silence_)
VALET (_enters_)
JULIAN
What is it?
VALET
Lieutenant Wegrat asks if you are at home, sir?
JULIAN
Certainly. Ask him in.
VALET (_goes out after having turned on the light_)
IRENE
Young Wegrat?--I thought he had already left again.--The poor chap! He seemed utterly stunned.
JULIAN
I can imagine.
IRENE
You visited him at Salzburg?
JULIAN
Yes, I happened to be there a couple of days last August.
FELIX (_enters, dressed as a civilian_)
Good evening.--Good evening, Miss Herms.
IRENE
Good evening, Lieutenant.
JULIAN
My dear Felix--I was going to call on you--this very evening. It's extremely nice of you to take the trouble.
FELIX
I have to be off again the day after to-morrow, and so I wasn't sure whether I could find any chance at all to see you.
JULIAN
Won't you take off your coat?--Think of it, I didn't have the slightest idea.... It was Sala who told me--less than an hour ago.
[_Irene is looking from one to the other._
FELIX
We didn't dream of this when we took that walk in the Mirabell Gardens[4] last summer.
[4] The palace of Mirabell is one of the sights of Salzburg, the city near the Bavarian border, where Felix's regiment was stationed. It is now used as a museum. The gardens adjoining it are of the formal type so dear to, and so characteristic of, the eighteenth century.
JULIAN
Was it very sudden?
FELIX
Yes. And I, who couldn't be with her.... Late that evening I had to leave, and she died during the night.
IRENE
Say rather that she didn't wake up again next morning.
FELIX
We owe a lot of thanks to you, Miss Herms.
IRENE
Oh, please...!
FELIX
It always gave my mother so much pleasure to have you with her, chatting, or playing the piano to her.
IRENE
Oh, don't mention my playing...!
[_A clock strikes._
IRENE
Is it that late? Then I have to go.
JULIAN
What's the hurry, Miss Herms?
IRENE
I'm going to the opera. I have to make good use of the few days I shall still be here.
FELIX
Shall we see you at our house again, Miss Herms?
IRENE
Certainly.--You'll have to leave before me, won't you?
FELIX
Yes, my furlough will be up....
IRENE (_as if en passant_)
How long have you been an officer anyhow, Felix?
FELIX
For three years really--but I didn't apply for a commission until this year--a little too late, perhaps.
IRENE
Too late? Why?--How old are you, Felix?
FELIX
Twenty-three.
IRENE
Oh! (_Pause_) But when I saw you four years ago as a volunteer, I thought at once you would stay in the service.--Do you remember, Julian, I told you so at the time?
JULIAN
Yes....
FELIX
That must have been in the summer, the last time you called on us.
IRENE
I think so....
FELIX
Many things have changed since then.
IRENE
Indeed! Those were still happy days.--Don't you think so, Julian? For we haven't met either since we spent those beautiful summer evenings in the garden of the Wegrats.
JULIAN (_nods assent_)
IRENE (_stands again looking now at Julian and now at Felix; brief pause_) Oh, but now it's high time for me to be gone.--Good-by. Remember me at home, Lieutenant.--Good-by, Julian. (_She goes out, accompanied to the door by Julian_)
FELIX
Haven't you made some changes here?
JULIAN
Not to my knowledge. And how could you know anyhow? You have only been here two or three times.
FELIX
Yes. But the last time at one of the most important moments in my life. I came here to get your advice.
JULIAN
Well, everything has turned out in accordance with your wish. Even your father has resigned himself to it.
FELIX
Yes, he has resigned himself. Of course, he would have preferred to see me continue my technical studies. But now he has seen that it is quite possible to lead a sensible life in uniform too--without any debts or duels. In fact, my life is almost too smooth. However, there is at least more to anticipate for one of us than for most people. And that's always something.
JULIAN
And how are things at home?
FELIX
At home.... Really, it's almost as if that word had lost its meaning.
JULIAN
Has your father resumed his duties again?
FELIX
Of course. Two days later he was back in his studio. He is wonderful. But I can't quite understand it.... Am I disturbing you, Mr. Fichtner? You were putting your papers in order, I think.
JULIAN
Oh, there's no hurry about that. They're easily put in order. Most of them I burn.
FELIX
Why?
JULIAN
It's more sensible, don't you think, to destroy things one hardly cares to look at any more?
FELIX
But doesn't it make you rather sad to clean out your past like that?
JULIAN
Sad?... No, it's entirely too natural a process for that.
FELIX
I can't see it that way. Look here. To burn a letter, or a picture, or something of that kind, immediately after you have got it--that seems quite natural to me. But something at all worthy of being kept as a remembrance of some poignant joy or equally poignant sorrow would seem incapable of ever losing its significance again. And especially in the case of a life like yours, that has been so rich and so active.... It would seem to me that at times you must feel something like--awe in the face of your own past.
JULIAN
Where do you get such thoughts--you, who are so young?
FELIX
They just came into my head this minute.
JULIAN
You are not so very much mistaken, perhaps. But there is something else besides, that makes me want to clean house. I am about to become homeless, so to speak.
FELIX
Why?
JULIAN
I'm giving up my rooms here, and don't know yet what my next step will be. And so I think it's more pleasant to let these things come to a decent end rather than to put them in a box and leave them to molder away in a cellar.
FELIX
But don't you feel sorry about a lot of it?
JULIAN
Oh, I don't know.
FELIX
And then you must have mementoes that mean something to other people besides yourself. Sketches of all kinds, for instance, which I think you have saved to some extent.
JULIAN
Are you thinking of those little things I showed you in Salzburg?
FELIX
Yes, of those too, of course.
JULIAN
They are still wrapped up. Would you like to have them?
FELIX
Indeed, I should feel very thankful. They seemed to have a particular charm for me. (_Pause_) But there's something else I wanted to ask of you. A great favor. If you will let me....
JULIAN
Tell me, please.
FELIX
I thought you might still have left a picture of my mother as a young girl. A small picture in water colors painted by yourself.
JULIAN
Yes, I did paint such a picture.
FELIX
And you have still got it?
JULIAN
I guess it can be found.
FELIX
I should like to see it.
JULIAN
Did your mother remember this picture...?
FELIX
Yes, she mentioned it to me the last evening I ever saw her--the evening before she died. At the time I didn't imagine, of course, that the end was so near--and I don't think she could guess it either. To-day it seems rather peculiar to me that, on that very evening, she had to talk so much of days long gone by.
JULIAN
And of this little picture, too?
FELIX
It's a very good one, I understand.
JULIAN (_as if trying to remember_)
Where did I put it? Wait now.... (_He goes to a book case, the lower part of which has solid doors; these he opens, disclosing several shelves piled with portfolios_) I painted it in the country--in the little house where your grandparents used to live.
FELIX
I know.
JULIAN
You can hardly recall the old people, I suppose?
FELIX
Very vaguely. They were quite humble people, were they not?
JULIAN
Yes. (_He has taken a big portfolio from one of the shelves_) It ought to be in this portfolio. (_He puts it on the writing desk and opens it; then he sits down in front of it_)
FELIX (_stands behind him, looking over his shoulder_)
JULIAN
Here is the house in which they lived--your grandparents and your mother. (_He goes through the sketches, one by one_) And here is a view of the valley seen from the cemetery.
FELIX
In Summer....
JULIAN
Yes.--And here is the little inn at which your father and I used to stop.... And here.... (_He looks in silence at the sketch; both remain silent for a long while_)
FELIX (_picking up the sketch_)
How old was my mother at the time?
JULIAN (_who remains seated_)
Eighteen.
FELIX (_going a few steps away and leaning against the bookcase in order to get better light on the picture_)
A year before she was married, then.
JULIAN
It was done that very year. (_Pause_)
FELIX
What a strange look that meets me out of those eyes.... There's a smile on her lips.... It's almost as if she were talking to me....
JULIAN
What was it your mother told you--that last evening?
FELIX
Not very much. But I feel as if I knew more than she had told me. What a queer thought it is, that as she is now looking at me out of this picture, so she must have been looking at you once. It seems as if there was a certain timidity in that look. Something like fear almost.... In such a way you look at people out of another world, for which you long, and of which you are afraid nevertheless.
JULIAN
At that time your mother had rarely been outside the village.
FELIX
She must have been different from all other women you have met, wasn't she?--Why don't you say anything? I am not one of those men who cannot understand--who won't understand that their mothers and sisters are women after all. I can easily understand that it must have been a dangerous time for her--and for somebody else as well. (_Very simply_) You must have loved my mother very much?
JULIAN
You have a curious way of asking questions.--Yes, I did love her.
FELIX
And those moments must have been very happy ones, when you sat in that little garden with its overgrown fence, holding this canvas on your knees, and out there on the bright meadow, among all those red and white flowers, stood this young girl with anxiously smiling eyes, holding her straw hat in one hand.
JULIAN
Your mother talked of those moments that last evening?
FELIX
Yes.--It is childish perhaps, but since then it has seemed impossible to me that any other human being could ever have meant so much to you as this one?
JULIAN (_more and more deeply moved, but speaking very quietly_) I shall not answer you.--In the end I should instinctively be tempted to make myself appear better than I am. You know very well how I have lived my life--that it has not followed a regulated and direct course like the lives of most other people. I suppose that the gift of bestowing happiness of the kind that lasts, or of accepting it, has never been mine.
FELIX
That's what I feel. It is what I have always felt. Often with something like regret--or sorrow almost. But just people like you, who are destined by their very nature to have many and varied experiences--just such people should, I think, cling more faithfully and more gratefully to memories of a tender, peaceful sort, like this--rather than to more passionate and saddening memories.--Am I not right?
JULIAN
Maybe you are.
FELIX
My mother had never before mentioned this picture to me. Isn't it strange?... That last night she did it for the first time.--We were left alone on the veranda. The rest had already bid me good-by.... And all of a sudden she began to talk about those summer days of long, long ago. Her words had an undercurrent of meanings which she probably did not realize. I believe that her own youth, which she had almost ceased to understand, was unconsciously taking mine into its confidence. It moved me more deeply than I can tell you.--Much as she cared for me, she had never before talked to me like that. And I believe that she had never been quite so dear to me as in those last moments.--And when finally I had to leave, I felt that she had still much more to tell me.--Now you'll understand why I had such a longing to see this picture.--I have almost the feeling that it might go on talking to me as my mother would have done--if I had only dared to ask her one more question!
JULIAN
Ask it now.... Do ask it, Felix.
FELIX (_who becomes aware of the emotion betrayed in the voice of Julian, looks up from the picture_)
JULIAN
I believe that it can still tell you a great many things.
FELIX
What is the matter?
JULIAN
Do you want to keep that picture?
FELIX
Why...?
JULIAN
Well ... take it. I don't give it to you. As soon as I have settled down again, I shall want it back. But you shall have a look at it whenever you want. And I hope matters will be so arranged that you won't have far to go either.
FELIX (_with his eyes on the picture_)
It grows more alive every second.... And that look was directed at you.... That look...? Can it be possible that I read it right?
JULIAN
Mothers have their adventures, too, like other women.
FELIX
Yes, indeed, I believe it has nothing more to hide from me.
[_He puts down the picture. Then a long pause follows. At last Felix puts on his coat._
JULIAN
Are you not going to take it along?
FELIX
Not just now. It belongs to you much more than I could guess.
JULIAN
And to you ...
FELIX
No, I don't want it until this new thing has become fully revealed to me. (_He looks Julian firmly in the eyes_) I don't quite know where I am. In reality, of course, there has been no change whatever. None--except that I know now what I ...
JULIAN
Felix!
FELIX
No, that was something I could never have guessed. (_Looks long at Julian with an expression of mingled tenderness and curiosity_) Farewell.
JULIAN
Are you going?
FELIX
I need badly to be by myself for a while.--Until to-morrow.
JULIAN
Yes, and no longer, Felix. To-morrow I shall come to your--I'll call on _you_, Felix.
FELIX
I shall be waiting for you. (_He goes out_)
JULIAN (_stands quite still for a moment; then he goes to the writing desk and stops beside it, lost in contemplation of the picture_)
CURTAIN
THE THIRD ACT
_A room at the Wegrats' adjoining the veranda. The outlook is, of course, determined by the location._
JOHANNA (_is seated on a stool with her hands folded in her lap_)
SALA (_enters_)
Good morning, Johanna.
JOHANNA (_rises, goes to meet him, and draws him close to herself_) Are you coming for the last time?
SALA
For the last time? What an idea! There has not been the slightest change in our arrangements. To-day is the seventh of October, and the ship will leave Genoa on the twenty-sixth of November.
JOHANNA
Some day you will suddenly have disappeared. And I shall be standing by the garden door, and nobody will come to open it.
SALA
But that sort of thing is not needed between us two.
JOHANNA
No, indeed--bear that in mind.
FELIX (_enters_)
Oh, is that you, Mr. von Sala? (_They shake hands_) Well, how far have you got with your preparations?
SALA
There are hardly any needed. I shall pack my trunk, pull down the shades, lock the doors--and be off for the mysteries of far-away. There is something I want to ask you apropos of that, Felix. Would you care to come along?
FELIX (_startled_)
If I care.... Are you asking seriously, Mr. von Sala?
SALA
There is just so much seriousness in my question as you wish to put into it.
FELIX
What does it mean anyhow? If I want to go along to Asia? What use could they have for me in a venture of that kind?
SALA
Oh, that's pretty plain.
FELIX
Is the expedition not going to be one of purely scientific character?
SALA
Yes, that's what it is meant for, I suppose. But it is quite possible that various things may happen that would make the presence of some young men like you very desirable.
FELIX
Men like me...?
SALA
When Rolston went out there seven years ago, a lot of things happened which were not provided for in the original program. And they had to fight a regular battle, on a small scale, in the Kara-Kum district, not far from the river Amu-Daria.
REUMANN (_who has entered while Sala was speaking_)
To those who had to stay behind forever the scale of your battle was probably large enough. (_All greet each other and shake hands without letting the conversation be interrupted_)
SALA
In that respect you are probably right, Doctor.
FELIX
Pardon me, Mr. von Sala, but does this come from you alone? Is it just a sudden notion--or something more?
SALA
I have received no direct request from anybody to speak of this. But after the conference which took place at the Foreign Department yesterday, and which I attended, I feel entitled to add a little more.--Oh, no secrets at all!--You have probably read, Felix, that a member of the General Staff as well as several artillery and engineering officers are being sent with us in what might be termed a semi-official capacity. On account of the latest news from Asia--which, however, does not seem very reliable to me, as it has come by way of England--it has been decided to secure the additional cooperation of some young line officers, and all arrangements of this kind must be left to private initiative.
FELIX
And there might be a possibility for me...?
SALA
Will you permit me to speak to Count Ronsky?
FELIX
Have you already mentioned my name to him?
SALA