Scene 3
Wolfram (enters).
Good morning, Miss Clara, isn’t your father at home?
Clara.
He’s just gone out.
Wolfram.
I came to—my jewels have turned up!
Clara.
O father, if only you were here! There are his spectacles! He’s forgotten them. If only he’d notice it and come back! How did you find them? Where? At whose house?
Wolfram.
My wife—Tell me frankly, Miss Clara, did you never hear anything strange about my wife?
Clara.
I did.
Wolfram.
That she—(tapping his forehead). What?
Clara.
That she’s a bit wrong in the head? Yes.
Wolfram (bursting into anger).
My God! My God! All in vain! I’ve never let a servant go, that I’ve once taken into my house. I’ve paid each one double wages and winked at all sorts of carelessness, to purchase their silence, and yet—Oh the false, ungrateful creatures! Oh my poor children! ’Twas for your sakes alone that I tried to conceal it.
Clara.
Don’t blame your servants. They’re innocent enough. Ever since that day the house next door was burned down, when your wife stood at the open window and laughed and clapped and puffed her cheeks and blew at the flames to fan them, people have had to choose between calling her a she-devil or a madwoman. And hundreds of people saw that.
Wolfram.
That is true. Well, since the whole town knows my misfortune, it would be folly to ask you to keep it quiet. Listen to me, then. This theft, that your brother is in prison for, was due to insanity.
Clara.
Your own wife——
Wolfram.
I’ve known for a long time that she, who once was the noblest and kindest of women, had turned malicious and spiteful. She rejoices when she sees an accident, if a maid breaks a glass or cuts her finger. But I only discovered to-day, when it was too late, that she steals things about the house, hides money, and destroys papers. I had lain down on the bed and was just dozing off, when I saw her come quietly up to me and stare at me to see if I was asleep. I closed my eyes tight, and then she took my keys out of my waistcoat, that I’d hung over the chair, opened the desk, took some money out, locked the desk again, and put the key back. I was horrified, but I controlled myself and kept quiet. She left the room and I went after her on tip-toe. She went right to the top of the house and threw the money into an old chest of my grandfather’s that stood empty there. Then she looked nervously about her on all sides, and hurried away without seeing me. I lit a candle and looked through the chest, and found there my youngest daughter’s doll, a pair of the maid’s slippers, an account book, some letters and unfortunately—or God be praised, which?—right at the bottom I found the jewels!
Clara.
Oh my poor mother! It is too shameful!
Wolfram.
God knows, I’d sacrifice the trinkets if I could undo what’s done. But I’m not to blame. Much as I honour your father, it was natural for me to suspect your brother. He had polished the desk, and the jewels disappeared with him. I noticed it almost immediately, because I had to get some papers out of the very drawer they were in. But I had no intention of taking severe steps against him. I informed bailiff Adam, and asked him to investigate the matter secretly; but he would not hear of caution. He said it was his duty to report the case at once and he was going to do it. Your brother was a boozer and a borrower, and had so much weight with the mayor that he could get him to do anything he wanted. The man seems to be incensed against your father in the extreme. I don’t know why. I simply couldn’t calm him down. He stuffed his fingers in his ears and shouted as he ran, “If you’d made me a present of the jewels I wouldn’t be as pleased as I am now!”
Clara.
The bailiff once set his glass down beside father’s in the inn, and nodded to him to clink with him. Father pulled his away and said: “People in red coats with blue facings used once to have to drink out of wooden cans, and they used to have to stand outside at the window, or, if it rained, in the doorway; and they had to take their hats off, when the landlord served them, and if they wanted to clink with any one, they waited till old Fallmeister came along.” O God, O God! Anything can happen in this world! Mother paid for that with her death.
Wolfram.
Offend no one, and bad men least of all. Where’s your father?
Clara.
Gone to see the wood-cutter in the hills.
Wolfram.
I’ll ride out and look for him. I’ve already been at the mayor’s, but didn’t find him at home. If I had, your brother would have been here by this time. However, the secretary sent a messenger at once. You’ll see him before night. (Goes out.)