Part 15
[_Is silent for a short time._] What poems have you made since? In marble I mean. Since the day I left you.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
I have made no poems since that day—only frittered away my life in modelling.
IRENE.
And that woman, whom you are now living with——?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Interrupting vehemently._] Do not speak of her now! It makes me tingle with shame.
IRENE.
Where are you thinking of going with her?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Slack and weary._] Oh, on a tedious coasting-voyage to the North, I suppose.
IRENE.
[_Looks at him, smiles almost imperceptibly, and whispers._] You should rather go high up into the mountains. As high as ever you can. Higher, higher,—always higher, Arnold.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_With eager expectation._] Are _you_ going up there?
IRENE.
Have you the courage to meet me once again?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Struggling with himself, uncertainly._] If we could—oh, if only we could——!
IRENE.
Why can we not do what we will? [_Looks at him and whispers beseechingly with folded hands._] Come, come, Arnold! Oh, come up to me——!
[_MAIA enters, glowing with pleasure, from behind the hotel, and goes quickly up to the table where they were previously sitting._]
MAIA.
[_Still at the corner of the hotel, without looking around._] Oh, you may say what you please, Rubek, but—[_Stops, as she catches sight of IRENE_]—Oh, I beg your pardon—I see you have made an acquaintance.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Curtly._] Renewed an acquaintance. [_Rises._] What was it you wanted with me?
MAIA.
I only wanted to say this: you may do whatever you please, but _I_ am not going with you on that disgusting steamboat.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Why not?
MAIA.
Because I want to go up on the mountains and into the forests—that’s what I want. [_Coaxingly._] Oh, you must let me do it, Rubek.—I shall be so good, so good afterwards!
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Who is it that has put these ideas into your head?
MAIA.
Why _he_—that horrid bear-killer. Oh you cannot conceive all the marvellous things he has to tell about the mountains. And about life up there! They’re ugly, horrid, repulsive, most of the yarns he spins—for I almost believe he’s lying—but wonderfully alluring all the same. Oh, won’t you let me go with him? Only to see if what he says is true, you understand. _May_ I, Rubek?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Yes, I have not the slightest objection. Off you go to the mountains—as far and as long as you please. I shall perhaps be going the same way myself.
MAIA.
[_Quickly._] No, no, no, you needn’t do that! Not on _my_ account!
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
I _want_ to go to the mountains. I have made up my mind to go.
MAIA.
Oh thanks, thanks! May I tell the bear-killer at once?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Tell the bear-killer whatever you please.
MAIA.
Oh thanks, thanks, thanks! [_Is about to take his hand; he repels the movement._] Oh, how dear and good you are to-day, Rubek!
[_She runs into the hotel._
[_At the same time the door of the pavilion is softly and noiselessly set ajar. THE SISTER OF MERCY stands in the opening, intently on the watch. No one sees her._
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Decidedly, turning to Irene._] Shall we meet up there then?
IRENE.
[_Rising slowly._] Yes, we shall certainly meet.—I have sought for you so long.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
When did you begin to seek for me, Irene?
IRENE.
[_With a touch of jesting bitterness._] From the time when I realised that I had given away to you something rather indispensable, Arnold. Something one ought never to part with.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Bowing his head._] Yes, that is bitterly true. You gave me three or four years of your youth.
IRENE.
More, more than _that_ I gave you—spendthrift as I then was.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Yes, you were prodigal, Irene. You gave me all your naked loveliness——
IRENE.
—to gaze upon——
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
—and to glorify——
IRENE.
Yes, for your own glorification.—And the child’s.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
And yours too, Irene.
IRENE.
But you have forgotten the most precious gift.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
The most precious—? What gift was _that_?
IRENE.
I gave you my young, living soul. And that gift left me empty within—soulless. [_Looking at him with a fixed stare._] It was _that_ I died of, Arnold.
[_The SISTER OF MERCY opens the door wide and makes room for her. She goes into the pavilion._
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Stands and looks after her; then whispers._] Irene!
ACT SECOND
_Near a mountain health resort. The landscape stretches in the form of an immense treeless upland towards a long mountain lake. Beyond the lake rises a range of peaks with blue-white snow in the clefts. In the foreground on the left a purling brook falls in severed streamlets down a steep wall of rock, and thence flows smoothly over the upland until it disappears to the right. Dwarf trees, plants, and stones along the course of the brook. In the foreground on the right a hillock, with a stone bench on the top of it. It is a summer afternoon, towards sunset._
_At some distance over the upland, on the other side of the brook, a troop of children is singing, dancing, and playing. Some are dressed in peasant costume, others in town-made clothes. Their happy laughter is heard, softened by distance, during the following._
_PROFESSOR RUBEK is sitting on the bench, with a plaid over his shoulders, and looking down at the children’s play._
_Presently MAIA comes forward from among some bushes on the upland to the left, well back, and scans the prospect with her hand shading her eyes. She wears a flat tourist cap, a short skirt, kilted up, reaching only midway between ankle and knee, and high, stout lace-boots. She has in her hand a long alpenstock._
MAIA.
[_At last catches sight of RUBEK and calls._] Hallo!
[_She advances over the upland, jumps over the brook, with the aid of her alpenstock, and climbs up the hillock._
MAIA.
[_Panting._] Oh, how I have been rushing around looking for you, Rubek.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Nods indifferently and asks._] Have you just come from the hotel?
MAIA.
Yes, that was the last place I tried—that flytrap.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Looking at her for a moment._] I noticed that you were not at the dinner-table.
MAIA.
No, we had our dinner in the open air, we two.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
"We two"? What two?
MAIA.
Why, I and that horrid bear-killer, of course.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Oh, he.
MAIA.
Yes. And first thing to-morrow morning we are going off again.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
After bears?
MAIA.
Yes. Off to kill a brown-boy.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Have you found the tracks of any?
MAIA.
[_With superiority._] You don’t suppose that bears are to be found in the naked mountains, do you?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Where, then?
MAIA.
Far beneath. On the lower slopes; in the thickest parts of the forest. Places your ordinary town-folk could never get through——
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
And you two are going down there to-morrow?
MAIA.
[_Throwing herself down among the heather._] Yes, so we have arranged.—Or perhaps we may start this evening.—If you have no objection, that’s to say?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
I? Far be it from me to——
MAIA.
[_Quickly._] Of course Lars goes with us—with the dogs.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
I feel no curiosity as to the movements of Mr. Lars and his dogs. [_Changing the subject._] Would you not rather sit properly on the seat?
MAIA.
[_Drowsily._] No, thank you. I’m lying so delightfully in the soft heather.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
I can see that you are tired.
MAIA.
[_Yawning._] I almost think I’m beginning to feel tired.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
You don’t notice it till afterwards—when the excitement is over——
MAIA.
[_In a drowsy tone._] Just so. I will lie and close my eyes.
[_A short pause._
MAIA.
[_With sudden impatience._] Ugh, Rubek—how can you endure to sit there listening to these children’s screams! And to watch all the capers they are cutting, too!
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
There is something harmonious—almost like music—in their movements, now and then; amid all the clumsiness. And it amuses me to sit and watch for these isolated moments—when they come.
MAIA.
[_With a somewhat scornful laugh._] Yes, you are always, always an artist.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
And I propose to remain one.
MAIA.
[_Lying on her side, so that her back is turned to him._] There’s not a bit of the artist about _him_.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_With attention._] Who is it that’s not an artist?
MAIA.
[_Again in a sleepy tone._] Why, he—the other one, of course.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
The bear-hunter, you mean?
MAIA.
Yes. There’s not a bit of the artist about him—not the least little bit.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Smiling._] No, I believe there’s no doubt about that.
MAIA.
[_Vehemently, without moving._] And so ugly as he is! [_Plucks up a tuft of heather and throws it away._] So ugly, so ugly! Isch!
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Is that why you are so ready to set off with him—out into the wilds?
MAIA.
[_Curtly._] I don’t know. [_Turning towards him._] You are ugly, too, Rubek.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Have you only just discovered it?
MAIA.
No, I have seen it for long.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Shrugging his shoulders._] One doesn’t grow younger. One doesn’t grow younger, Frau Maia.
MAIA.
It’s not that sort of ugliness that I mean at all. But there has come to be such an expression of fatigue, of utter weariness, in your eyes—when you deign, once in a while, to cast a glance at me.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Have you noticed that?
MAIA.
[_Nods._] Little by little this evil look has come into your eyes. It seems almost as though you were nursing some dark plot against me.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Indeed? [_In a friendly but earnest tone._] Come here and sit beside me, Maia; and let us talk a little.
MAIA.
[_Half rising._] Then will you let me sit upon your knee? As I used to in the early days?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
No, you mustn’t—people can see us from the hotel. [_Moves a little._] But you can sit here on the bench—at my side.
MAIA.
No, thank you; in that case I’d rather lie here, where I am. I can hear you quite well here. [_Looks inquiringly at him._] Well, what is it you want to say to me?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Begins slowly._] What do you think was my real reason for agreeing to make this tour?
MAIA.
Well—I remember you declared, among other things, that it was going to do _me_ such a tremendous lot of good. But—but——
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
But——?
MAIA.
But now I don’t believe the least little bit that that was the reason——
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Then what is your theory about it now?
MAIA.
I think now that it was on account of that pale lady.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Madame von Satow——!
MAIA.
Yes, she who is always hanging at our heels. Yesterday evening she made her appearance up here too.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
But what in all the world——!
MAIA.
Oh, I know you knew her very well indeed—long before you knew me.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
And had forgotten her, too—long before I knew you.
MAIA.
[_Sitting upright._] Can you forget so easily, Rubek?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Curtly._] Yes, very easily indeed. [_Adds harshly._] When I _want_ to forget.
MAIA.
Even a woman who has been a model to you?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
When I have no more use for her——
MAIA.
One who has stood to you undressed?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
That means nothing—nothing for us artists. [_With a change of tone._] And then—may I venture to ask—how was _I_ to guess that she was in this country?
MAIA.
Oh, you might have seen her name in a Visitors’ List—in one of the newspapers.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
But I had no idea of the name she now goes by. I had never heard of any Herr von Satow.
MAIA.
[_Affecting weariness._] Oh well then, I suppose it must have been for some other reason that you were so set upon this journey.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Seriously._] Yes, Maia—it was for another reason. A quite different reason. And _that_ is what we must sooner or later have a clear explanation about.
MAIA.
[_In a fit of suppressed laughter._] Heavens, how solemn you look!
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Suspiciously scrutinising her._] Yes, perhaps a little more solemn than necessary.
MAIA.
How so——?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
And _that_ is a very good thing for us both.
MAIA.
You begin to make me feel curious, Rubek.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Only curious? Not a little bit uneasy.
MAIA.
[_Shaking her head._] Not in the least.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Good. Then listen.—You said that day down at the Baths that it seemed to you I had become very nervous of late——
MAIA.
Yes, and you really have.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
And what do you think can be the reason of _that_?
MAIA.
How can I tell——? [_Quickly._] Perhaps you have grown weary of this constant companionship with me.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Constant—? Why not say "everlasting"?
MAIA.
Daily companionship, then. Here have we two solitary people lived down there for four or five mortal years, and scarcely been an hour away from each other.—We two all by ourselves.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_With interest._] Well? And then——?
MAIA.
[_A little oppressed._] You are not a particularly sociable man, Rubek. You like to keep yourself to yourself and think your own thoughts. And of course I can’t talk properly to _you_ about _your_ affairs. I know nothing about art and that sort of thing—[_With an impatient gesture._] And care very little either, for that matter!
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Well, well; and that’s why we generally sit by the fireside, and chat of _your_ affairs.
MAIA.
Oh, good gracious—I have no affairs to chat about.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Well, they are trifles, perhaps; but at any rate the time passes for us in that way as well as another, Maia.
MAIA.
Yes, you are right. Time passes. It is passing away from you, Rubek.—And I suppose it is really _that_ that makes you so uneasy——
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Nods vehemently._] And so restless! [_Writhing in his seat._] No, I shall soon not be able to endure this pitiful life any longer.
MAIA.
[_Rises and stands for a moment looking at him._] If you want to get rid of me, you have only to say so.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Why _will_ you use such phrases? Get rid of you?
MAIA.
Yes, if you want to have done with me, please say so right out. And I will go that instant.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_With an almost imperceptible smile._] Do you intend that as a threat, Maia?
MAIA.
There can be no threat for you in what I said.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Rising._] No, I confess you are right there. [_Adds after a pause._] You and I cannot possibly go on living together like this——
MAIA.
Well? And then——?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
There is no “then” about it. [_With emphasis on his words._] Because we two cannot go on living together _alone_—it does not necessarily follow that we must part.
MAIA.
[_Smiles scornfully._] Only draw away from each other a little, you mean?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Shakes his head._] Even that is not necessary.
MAIA.
Well then? Come out with what you want to do with me.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_With some hesitation._] What I now feel so keenly—and so painfully—that I require, is to have some one about me who really and truly stands close to me——
MAIA.
[_Interrupts him anxiously._] Don’t _I_ do that, Rubek?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Waving her aside._] Not in that sense. What I need is the companionship of another person who can, as it were, complete me—supply what is wanting in me—be _one_ with me in all my striving.
MAIA.
[_Slowly._] It’s true that things like that are a great deal too hard for me.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Oh no, they are not at all in your line, Maia.
MAIA.
[_With an outburst._] And heaven knows I don’t want them to be, either!
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
I know that very well.—And it was with no idea of finding any such help in my life-work that I married you.
MAIA.
[_Observing him closely._] I can see in your face that you are thinking of some one else.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Indeed? I have never noticed before that you were a thought-reader. But you can see _that_, can you?
MAIA.
Yes, I can. Oh, I know you so well, so well, Rubek.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Then perhaps you can also see _who_ it is I am thinking of?
MAIA.
Yes, indeed I can.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Well? Have the goodness to——?
MAIA.
You are thinking of that—that model you once used for—[_Suddenly letting slip the train of thought._] Do you know, the people down at the hotel think she’s mad.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Indeed? And pray what do the people down at the hotel think of you and the bear-killer?
MAIA.
That has nothing to do with the matter. [_Continuing the former train of thought._] But it was this pale lady you were thinking of.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Calmly._] Precisely, of her.—When I had no more use for her—and when, besides, she went away from me—vanished without a word——
MAIA.
Then you accepted me as a sort of makeshift, I suppose?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_More unfeelingly._] Something of the sort, to tell the truth, little Maia. For a year or a year and a half I had lived there lonely and brooding, and had put the last touch—the very last touch, to my work. “The Resurrection Day” went out over the world and brought me fame—and everything else that heart could desire. [_With greater warmth._] But I no longer loved my own work. Men’s laurels and incense nauseated me, till I could have rushed away in despair and hidden myself in the depths of the woods. [_Looking at her._] You, who are a thought-reader—can you guess what then occurred to me?
MAIA.
[_Lightly._] Yes, it occurred to you to make portrait-busts of gentlemen and ladies.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Nods._] To order, yes. With animals’ faces behind the masks. _These_ I threw in gratis—into the bargain, you understand. [_Smiling._] But that was not precisely what I had in my mind.
MAIA.
What, then?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Again serious._] It was _this_, that all the talk about the artist’s vocation and the artist’s mission, and so forth, began to strike me as being very empty, and hollow, and meaningless at bottom.
MAIA.
Then what would you put in its place?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Life, Maia.
MAIA.
Life?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Yes, is not life in sunshine and in beauty a hundred times better worth while than to hang about to the end of your days in a raw, damp hole, and wear yourself out in a perpetual struggle with lumps of clay and blocks of stone?
MAIA.
[_With a little sigh._] Yes, I have always thought so, certainly.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
And then I had become rich enough to live in luxury and in indolent, quivering sunshine. I was able to build myself the villa on the Lake of Taunitz, and the palazzo in the capital,—and all the rest of it.
MAIA.
[_Taking up his tone._] And last but not least, you could afford to treat yourself to me, too. And you gave me leave to share in all your treasures.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Jesting, so as to turn the conversation._] Did I not promise to take you up with me to a high mountain and show you all the glory of the world?
MAIA.
[_With a gentle expression._] You have perhaps taken me up with you to a high enough mountain, Rubek—but you have not shown me all the glory of the world.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_With a laugh of irritation._] How insatiable you are, Maia! Absolutely insatiable! [_With a vehement outburst._] But do you know what is the most hopeless thing of all, Maia? Can you guess that?
MAIA.
[_With quiet defiance._] Yes, I suppose it is that you have gone and tied yourself to me—for life.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
I would not have expressed myself so heartlessly.
MAIA.
But you would have meant it just as heartlessly.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
You have no clear idea of the inner workings of an artist’s nature.
MAIA.
[_Smiling and shaking her head._] Good heavens, I haven’t even a clear idea of the inner workings of my own nature.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Continuing undisturbed._] I live at such high speed, Maia. We live so, we artists. I, for my part, have lived through a whole lifetime in the few years we two have known each other. I have come to realise that I am not at all adapted for seeking happiness in indolent enjoyment. Life does not shape itself that way for me and those like me. I must go on working—producing one work after another—right up to my dying day. [_Forcing himself to continue._] That is why I cannot get on with you any longer, Maia—not with you alone.
MAIA.
[_Quietly._] Does that mean, in plain language, that you have grown tired of me?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Bursts forth._] Yes, that is what it means! I have grown tired—intolerably tired and fretted and unstrung—in this life with you! Now you know it. [_Controlling himself._] These are hard, ugly words I am using. I know that very well. And you are not all to blame in this matter;—that I willingly admit. It is simply and solely I myself, who have once more undergone a revolution—[_Half to himself_]—an awakening to my real life.
MAIA.
[_Involuntarily folding her hands._] Why in all the world should we not part then?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Looks at her in astonishment._] Should you be willing to?
MAIA.
[_Shrugging her shoulders._] Oh yes—if there’s nothing else for it, then——
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Eagerly._] But there is something else for it. There _is_ an alternative——
MAIA.
[_Holding up her forefinger._] Now you are thinking of the pale lady again!
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Yes, to tell the truth, I cannot help constantly thinking of her. Ever since I met her again. [_A step nearer her._] For now I will tell you a secret, Maia.
MAIA.
Well?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Touching his own breast._] In here, you see—in here I have a little bramah-locked casket. And in that casket all my sculptor’s visions are stored up. But when she disappeared and left no trace, the lock of the casket snapped to. And she had the key—and she took it away with her.—You, little Maia, you had no key; so all that the casket contains must lie unused. And the years pass! And I have no means of getting at the treasure.
MAIA.
[_Trying to repress a subtle smile._] Then get her to turn the key for you again——
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Not understanding._] Maia——?
MAIA.
—for here she is, you see. And no doubt it’s on account of this casket that she has come.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
I have not said a single word to her on this subject!
MAIA.
[_Looks innocently at him._] My dear Rubek—is it worth while to make all this fuss and commotion about so simple a matter?
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Do you think this matter is so absolutely simple?
MAIA.
Yes, certainly I think so. Do you attach yourself to whoever you most require. [_Nods to him._] I shall always manage to find a place for myself.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
Where do you mean?
MAIA.
[_Unconcerned, evasively._] Well—I need only take myself off to the villa, if it should be necessary. But it won’t be; for in town—in all that great house of ours—there must surely, with a little good will, be room enough for three.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
[_Uncertainly._] And do you think _that_ would work in the long run?
MAIA.
[_In a light tone._] Very well, then—if it won’t work, it won’t. It is no good talking about it.
PROFESSOR RUBEK.
And what shall we do then, Maia—if it does _not_ work?
MAIA.