SCENE I.
Jozwowicz. Anton.
Doctor.—Anton, come here. We can talk quietly, for they are preparing my room. What news from the city?
Anton.—Good news. In an hour or so a delegation of the voters will be here. You must say something to them—you understand? Something about education—public roads, heavy taxes. You know what to say better than I do.
Doctor.—I know, I know; and how do they like my platform?
Anton.—You have made a great hit. I congratulate you. It is written with scientific accuracy. The papers of the Conservative party have gone mad with wrath.
Doctor.—Very good. What more?
Anton.—Three days ago your election was doubtful in the suburbs. I learned about it, however—gathered the electors and made a speech. "Citizens," I said, in the end, "I know only one remedy for all your misery—it is called Jozwowicz. Long live Progress!" I also attacked the Conservative party.
Doctor.—Anton, you are a great boy. Then there is a hope of victory?
Anton.—Almost a surety. And then, even if we do not win now, the future is open to us. And do you know why? Because—leaving out the details of the election, you and I, while talking of our business affairs, need not laugh at each other, like Roman augurs. Progress and truth are on our side, and every day makes a new breach in the old wall. We are only aiding the centuries and we must conquer. I am talking calmly: Our people, our electors are merely sheep, but we wish to make men of them, and therein lies our strength. As for me, if I were not persuaded that in my principles lie truth and progress, I would spit on everything and become a monk.
Doctor.—But it would be a dreadful thing if we do not win this time.
Anton.—I am sure we will win. You are a fearful candidate for our adversaries. You have only one antagonist who is at all dangerous—Husarski, a rich and popular nobleman.
Doctor.—Once I am in parliament, I will try to accomplish something.
Anton.—I believe in you, and for that reason I am working for you. Ha! ha! "They have already taken from us everything," said Count Hornicki at the club yesterday, "importance, money—even good manners." Well, at least I have not taken their good manners from them. To the devil with them!
Doctor.—No, you have truly not taken their good manners from them.
Anton.—But it is said in the city that your prince has given a thousand florins to those whose houses were burned. This may be bad for us. You must do something also.
Doctor.—I did what I could.
Anton.—I must also tell you that yesterday—What is the matter with you? I am talking to you and you are thinking about something else.
Doctor.—Excuse me. I am in great trouble. I cannot think as calmly as usual.
Anton.—The idea!
Doctor.—You could not understand it.
Anton.—I am the coachman of the carriage in which you are riding—I must know everything.
Doctor.—No. It does not concern you.
Anton.—It does concern me, because you are losing your energy. We have no need of any Hamlets.
Doctor (gloomily).—You are mistaken. I have not given up.
Anton.—I see. You close your mouth on this subject. It is not in your character to give up.
Doctor.—No. You must work to have me elected. I would lose doubly if we were bitten.
Anton.—They must have burned you like the deuce, for you hiss dreadfully.
Doctor.—An old story. A peasant did not sleep for six years, did not eat, bent his neck, wounded his hands, and carried logs for a hut. After six years a lord came along, kicked the hut and said: "My castle shall stand here." We are sceptical enough to laugh at such things.
Anton.—He was a real lord!
Doctor.—A lord for generations. He carried his head so high that he did not notice what cracked beneath his feet.
Anton.—I like the story. And what about the peasant?
Doctor.—According to the peasant tradition, he is thinking of a flint and tinder.
Anton.—Glorious idea! Truly we despise tradition too much. There are good things in it.
Doctor.—Enough. Let us talk of something else.
Anton (looking around).—An old and rich house. It would make a splendid cabin.
Doctor.—What do you say?
Anton.—Nothing. Has the old prince a daughter?
Doctor.—Yes. Why?
Anton (laughing).—Ha, ha! Your trouble has the scent of a perfume used by a lady. I smell here the petticoat of the princess. Behind the member of parliament is Jozwowicz, just as behind the evening dress there is the morning gown. What a strong perfume!
Doctor.—You may sell your perspicacity at another market. It is my personal affair.
Anton.—Not at all, for it means that you put only half your soul into public affairs. To the deuce with such business! Look at me. They howl at me in the newspapers, they laugh at me—but I do not care. I will tell you more! I feel that I shall never rise, although I am not lacking in strength nor intelligence. I could try to get the first place in camp to command, but I do not do it. Why? Because I know myself very well. Because I know that I am lacking in order, authority, tact. I have been and I am a tool, used by such as you, and which to-morrow may be kicked aside when it is no more needed. But my self-love does not blind me. I do not care most for myself—I am working for my convictions—that is all. Any day I may be ousted from my position. There is often misery in my house, and although I love my wife and children—no matter. When it is a question of my convictions, I will work, act, agitate. I put my whole soul in it. And for you, the petticoat of a princess bars your way. I did not expect this from you. Tfu! spit on everything and come with us.
Doctor.—You are mistaken. I have no desire for martyrdom, but for victory. And the more personal ties there are between me and public affairs, the more I will serve them with my mind, heart, and deeds—with all that constitutes a man. Do you understand?
Anton.—Amen. His eyes shine like the eyes of a wolf—now I recognize you.
Doctor.—What more do you wish?
Anton.—Nothing more. I will only tell you that our motto should be:
Attack the principles, and not the people.
Doctor.—Your virginal virtue may rest assured. I shall not poison any one.
Anton.—I believe you, but I must tell you that I know you well. I appreciate your energy, your learning, your common sense, but I should not like to cross you in anything.
Doctor.—So much the better for me.
Anton.—But if it is a question of the nobility, notwithstanding our programme I make you a present of them. You shall not cut their heads off.
Doctor.—To be sure. And now go and get to work for me—or rather, for us.
Anton.—For us, Jozwowicz. Do not forget that.
Doctor.—I will not swear it to you, but I promise you that I will not forget.
Anton.—But how will you manage that nobleman?
Doctor.—Do you require that I make you my confidant?
Anton.—In the first place, I do not need your confidence, because in our camp we have sufficient perspicacity. There is the matter of the prince's daughter—that is all. But I am always afraid that for her sake you will abandon public affairs. As I am working for you, I am responsible for you, therefore we must be frank.
Doctor.—Let us be frank.
Anton.—Therefore you have said to yourself: I shall get rid of that nobleman. Do it then. It is your business—but I ask you once more: Do you wish to become a member of parliament for us, or for the princess? That is my business.
Doctor.—I throw my cards on the table. I, you, we are all new people, and all of us have this quality—we are not dolls, painted with the same color. There is room in us for convictions, love, hatred—in a word, as I told you, for everything of which a man of complex nature is composed. Nature has given me a heart and the right to live, therefore I desire for happiness; it gave me a mind, therefore I serve my chosen idea. One does not exclude the other. Why should you mix the princess with our public affairs—you, an intelligent man? Why do you wish to replace life by a phrase? I have the right to be happy, and I shall achieve it. And I shall know how to harmonize the idea with the life, like a sail with a boat. I shall sail more surely then. You must understand me; in that is our strength—that we know how to harmonize. In that lies our superiority over others, for they do not know how to live. What I will amount to with that woman, I do not know. You call me a Hamlet—perhaps I may become a Hamlet, but you have no need of it.
Anton.—It seems to me that you are again right. But thus you will fight two battles, and your forces will have to be divided.
Doctor.—No! I am strong enough.
Anton.—Say frankly—she is betrothed.
Doctor.—Yes.
Anton.—And she loves her fiancé.
Doctor.—Or she deceives herself.
Anton.—At any rate, she does not love you.
Doctor.—In the first place, I must get rid of him. In the mean while, go and work.
Anton (consulting watch).—In a few moments the committee will be here to see you.
Doctor.—Very well. The prince is coming with the Countess Miliszewska and her son, my opponent. Let us be going.