Scene 11
Secretary (comes in weak and tottering, pressing a scarf to his breast).
Where’s Clara? Thank God I came here again. Where is she? (Sinks into a chair.)
Karl.
She went to—Why, isn’t she back yet? Her talk—I am afraid—— (Goes out.)
Sec.
She is avenged. The wretch lies—— But I too—— Why, O God! Now I can’t——
Anthony.
What’s wrong? What’s the matter with you?
Sec.
It’ll soon be over. Don’t turn your daughter out. Give me your hand on it. Do you hear? Don’t turn her out, if she——
Anthony.
This is strange talk. Why should I——? Oh, I’m beginning to see! Perhaps I wasn’t unjust to her?
Sec.
Give me your hand on it.
Anthony.
No! (Puts both hands in his pockets.) But I’ll stand out of her way. She knows that. I’ve told her so.
Sec. (in horror).
You have—unhappy man, now I begin to understand you!
Karl (rushes in).
Father, father, there’s some one in the well! If only it isn’t——
Anthony.
Bring the big ladder! Bring ropes and hooks! What are you tarrying for? Quick! Even if it’s the bailiff!
Karl.
Everything’s there already. The neighbours were there before me. If only it isn’t Clara!
Anthony.
Clara? (Clutching at a table.)
Karl.
She went to get some water, and they found her handkerchief.
Sec.
Now I know why the bullet struck me. It is Clara.
Anthony.
Go and see. (Sits down.) I can’t. (Karl goes out.) And yet——(Stands up again.) If I understand you properly (to Secretary) it’s quite right.
Karl (comes back).
Clara’s dead. Her head’s all broken in by the edge of the well, when she—— Father, she didn’t fall in, she jumped in. A girl saw her.
Anthony.
Let her think well before she speaks. It is too dark for her to have seen that for certain.
Sec.
Do you doubt it? You’d like to, but you can’t. Just think of what you said to her. You sent her out on the road to death, and I, I’m to blame that she didn’t turn back. When you suspected her misfortune, you thought of the tongues that would hiss at it, but not of the worthlessness of the snakes that own them. You said things to her that drove her to despair. And I, instead of folding her in my arms, when she opened her heart to me in nameless terror, thought of the knave that might mock at me, and——I made myself dependent on a man who was worse than I, and I’m paying for it with my life. And you, too, though you stand there like a rock, you too will say some day, “Daughter, I wish you had not spared me the head-shakes and shoulder-shruggings of the Pharisees; it humiliates me more, that you are not here to sit by my deathbed and wipe the sweat of anguish from my brow.”
Anthony.
She has spared me nothing. They saw her.
Sec.
She did what she could. You were not worthy that she should succeed.
Anthony.
Or she, perhaps! (Noises without.)
Karl.
They’re bringing her. (Going.)
Anthony (standing immovable till the end, calls him back).
Into the back room with her, where her mother lay.
Sec.
I must go to meet her. (Tries to get up and falls.) Oh, Karl! (Karl helps him out.)
Anthony.
I don’t understand the world any more. (Stands thinking.)