MARGOT
The richly furnished office of a prosperous lawyer. Pictures, bronzes, carved furniture, costly hangings. In the foreground, on the left, a window; turned toward it, a writing-table with a writing-chair behind. Near the window, a leather arm-chair. At the narrow side of the table, in the foreground, a low seat. On the right, a sofa, table, and chairs. In the background, a door which, when opened, reveals the clerks working at long tables. To the right, back, another door. The backward projection of the writing-table forms a revolving-stand for reference books. On the writing-table, among documents and writing materials, are photographs in standing frames and a slender vase filled with dark red roses.
It is winter, about six o'clock in the evening. The lamps are lighted.
Ebeling is seated in the writing-chair. He is a man of about forty, attractive, winning in manner, his clothes betokening wealth and refinement; he wears a short, dark beard, and his hair is slightly gray at the temples. Von Tietz, sitting opposite him in the arm-chair, is about thirty, very smartly dressed--in appearance a type of the ordinary drawing-room devotee.
Ebeling (holding out a box of cigars).
There! Now let's chat. Will you smoke?
v. Tietz (helping himself).
Really now--if I'm disturbing you----
Ebeling.
See here, my dear fellow, if you were disturbing me, I'd make short work of you. But (looking toward the clock) my office hours are over. And we'll find out immediately what else there is. (He rings.)
v. Bonath appears with a bundle of papers.
Ebeling.
Is any one still there?
Bonath.
No, Herr Ebeling, but a lady is expected.
Ebeling.
Yes, I know. Well, let me have the papers. (Bonath lays them before him.)
Ebeling.
(To v. Tietz.) You can go on speaking. These are only signatures.--Have you a light?
v. Tietz.
(Who has stood up and is looking around the room.) Yes, thank you.
Ebeling.
See that this decision is delivered to Baron von Kanoldt at once.
Bonath.
Yes, Herr Ebeling.
v. Tietz.
You've become a collector, I see.
Ebeling (signing).
One must have some diversion.
v. Tietz.
What's that? Looks like a Terburg. Is it an original?
Ebeling (signing).
Would you expect it to be a copy?
v. Tietz.
H'm, your practice is certainly splendid.
Ebeling.
There are a lot of people, though, who think they are cleverer than I--and take great pains to justify their opinion. (To Bonath.) Will it be necessary to work overtime?
Bonath.
Not to-day, Herr Ebeling.
Ebeling.
Then you can announce Frau von Yburg as soon as she comes. (v. Tietz listens attentively.)
Bonath.
Very well, Herr Ebeling. (Goes out.)
v. Tietz.
The lady you are expecting is Frau von Yburg?
Ebeling.
Of course you know that I've been the Yburg's legal adviser for years.
v. Tietz (sitting down).
Well, really, this is quite a marvellous coincidence. It's on account of the Yburgs that I've come to see you.
Ebeling (interested).
Is that so? What's the matter?
v. Tietz.
My dear friend, if you hadn't so completely drawn away from all society since your wife l---- (alarmed.) I beg your pardon.
Ebeling.
Go on! Say it! Left me! Walked out of the house! You may say it. But then--drop it! Even our old fraternity friendship doesn't oblige us to be everlastingly putting each other on the grill.
v. Tietz.
No, really--it escaped me somehow. I'm awfully sorry.
Ebeling.
Oh, well, never mind. You know, I speak of it quite disinterestedly. And it's a good many years since then. Only--I'd rather not be attacked unawares.
v. Tietz.
Don't worry. I'll be on my guard. But--as we've mentioned it--there's something I wanted to ask you before--only I hadn't the courage. Tell me, do you always keep her picture on your table?
Ebeling (in a hard voice).
Yes.
v. Tietz.
Then you still love her?
Ebeling.
No. I only keep the picture there to warn me against making a fool of myself again. So many charming women sit there where you're sitting, women just on the point of divorce--and therefore in need of consolation. Every now and then one of them undertakes to faint--um--and then I have to-- (Holds out his arms.)
v. Tietz (bursting out laughing).
Aha! Very interesting! Very interesting!
Ebeling.
In short, it does no harm to keep the picture there.
v. Tietz.
Of course, everyone knows how much courted you are. For instance, no matter when I come to see you, I always find those beautiful roses on your table. They speak for themselves. Heavens! What a luxury! Roses in January!
Ebeling.
Things like that come anonymously. If I knew who the sender was, I wouldn't accept them.
v. Tietz.
Let me with all due modesty give you a piece of advice: you ought to marry.
Ebeling.
(Ironically, shaking his finger at him across the table.) Thank you. But didn't you want to speak to me about the Yburgs?
v. Tietz.
Yes. What was I going to say?--Oh, yes. Well, if you hadn't taken it into your head to live like a hermit, you'd know that, for some time past, I've been a very frequent visitor at the Yburgs's.
Ebeling.
Oh, yes, I know. I go there myself sometimes--only not when other people are around.
v. Tietz.
Well, then, to make a long story short--why should I mince matters with you?--I am courting Margot.
Ebeling (startled).
Ah--you, too? You're also one of the crowd?
v. Tietz (conceitedly).
I trust that I stand up a bit above the crowd.
Ebeling.
Indeed? I thought perhaps the social glamour of the Yburgs was attracting you. A thing like that can't help dazzling one. But that you----
v. Tietz.
Is it so surprising? That girl is so bewitching--so--so entirely unlike these forward, city-bred girls. With her, at least, one knows what one can count on. She's so--so the essence of everything innocent and chaste and pure.
Ebeling (quoting).
"Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow,"--thy dowry shall not escape me.
v. Tietz.
No, no--don't joke. It's out of place. I won't deny that, as an official without fortune--that would also be very--h'm--but----
Ebeling.
Yes, but what have I got to do with it?
v. Tietz.
See here, my dear friend, we scattered remnants of the old college fraternity have grown so accustomed to ask your help in times of need, to look up to you as a sort of father confessor----
Ebeling.
Do you want me to go and propose for you?
v. Tietz.
We'll talk of that later. But first I'd like to ask you something. See here, what rôle is Baron von Kanoldt playing in this family?
Ebeling.
So that's it!
v. Tietz.
You're his counsel in his divorce proceedings, aren't you?
Ebeling.
As the affair has become common talk, I need make no secret of it.
v. Tietz.
They say that it is the wife who has been the martyr. And yet, after fifteen years, he begins the divorce proceedings. Why should he?
Ebeling.
My dear fellow, you must put that question to some one who's not so well informed as I am.
v. Tietz.
Oh, see here, I don't want to be indiscreet about it, but the further the case goes, the more persistent are the rumours that he has designs on Margot's hand--and, furthermore, that her mother is encouraging him!
Ebeling.
Frau von Yburg will be here in a few minutes.--Ask her!
v. Tietz.
What do you take me for?
Ebeling (shrugging his shoulders).
Oh, well then----
v. Tietz.
But just think! that man--forty, if he's a day, fat, worn out, a roué whose amorous adventures are common gossip to every cabby on the street!
Ebeling.
Pardon me, my clients are all virtuous, young, handsome, desirable--of inestimable pulchritude.
v. Tietz.
See here--are you chaffing me?
Ebeling.
I'm only trying to make you understand that you've unwittingly walked into the enemy's camp.
v. Tietz (standing up).
Very well--if you don't want to----
Ebeling.
(Also stands up, and puts his hand on v. Tietz's shoulder.) My dear fellow, you're ten years younger than I. You're one of your country's young hopefuls. Go ahead and do what your heart and pocket-book bid you.
v. Tietz.
I didn't need you to tell me that. (A knock at the door.)
Ebeling.
Come in.
Bonath.
Frau von Yburg and----
Ebeling.
Ask her in.
(Bonath stands aside, opening the door. Enter Frau v. Yburg and Margot. Frau v. Yburg is a woman of about forty, dressed simply but tastefully; her bearing is dignified, self-possessed, refined, and betrays a natural, unaffected knowledge of the demands of convention; but hidden behind her assurance, and scarcely noticeable, are the traces of an old sorrow, a helpless glance, and a forced smile. Margot is a lovely young girl, extremely well-bred, with a somewhat shy, reserved manner.)
v. Tietz (at sight of Margot).
Ah!
Frau v. Yburg.
I brought my little girl along, Herr Ebeling, to let her catch a glimpse of the lion's den. I hope that you won't mind.
Ebeling (kissing her hand).
A thousand times welcome, dear ladies. (Shakes hands with Margot.)
Frau v. Yburg.
Good evening, Herr von Tietz. This is indeed a pleasure. (Gives him her hand.)
v. Tietz.
I'm very happy to meet you both--I hadn't hoped to see Fräulein Yburg here. But our friend believes in military promptitude. I have just received permission to take my leave.
Frau v. Yburg.
I hope that you will come to see us soon, Herr von Tietz.
v. Tietz.
That's very kind of you. (Bowing to Margot.) Fräulein Yburg!
Ebeling (accompanying him to the door).
Good-bye, my dear fellow. No bad feelings now----
v. Tietz.
Oh, I say! Of course not! (Goes out.)
Ebeling.
Won't you sit down?
Frau v. Yburg.
Oh, no. Margot is only going to glance around a bit. Yes, my little girl, you may well look about. Between these four walls many a fate has been shaped.
Ebeling.
Let us rather say, has been mended.
Margot (softly, suddenly looking up).
Mine, too?
Frau v. Yburg.
(Looking at her with evident disapproval.) Perhaps Margot may call for me again in half an hour. You won't mind?
Ebeling.
It will give me great pleasure.
Frau v. Yburg.
Then run away, dear, pay your visit, and let the carriage bring you back again. (Sits down, right.)
Margot.
(Giving him her hand with social assurance, but a little timidly, none the less.) Au revoir, Herr Ebeling.
Ebeling.
Au revoir, Fräulein Margot. (Accompanies her to the door, and calls.) Bonath, see to it that Fräulein Yburg finds her way out. She is coming back later.
Voice of Bonath.
Very well, Herr Ebeling.
(Ebeling bows to Margot, who is already out of sight, and closes the door.)
Ebeling.
Well, Frau von Yburg, we've brought matters to this point.
Frau v. Yburg (sighing).
Yes.
Ebeling.
The divorce was granted yesterday morning.
Frau v. Yburg.
Yes, I know.
Ebeling.
Well, aren't you pleased?
Frau v. Yburg.
My dear Herr Ebeling, my heart is so full of gratitude--really, I don't know how to thank you--for myself and also for my poor, dear child. But I'm so helpless--so perplexed--I really don't know--I----
Ebeling.
Why, what can be wrong?
Frau v. Yburg.
Yes--just fancy--well, then--she won't do it!
Ebeling (astonished).
What's that?
Frau v. Yburg.
Think of the monstrosity of it! She won't do it.
Ebeling.
Has she been notified that the divorce has been granted?
Frau v. Yburg.
Yesterday--just after the proceedings--Baron von Kanoldt--came--with his proposal.
Ebeling.
H'm!--quicker than I had expected.
Frau v. Yburg.
My husband, of course, was simply thunderstruck. One can surely sympathise with him--von Kanoldt--a man in the forties--divorced--with grown children--and such a reputation! But when he saw that I took the man's part--I had to do that, didn't I?
Ebeling.
That was our only course.
Frau v. Yburg.
Then his position, his wealth, his connections at court--oh, yes, and naturally our long friendship-- Of course, my husband doesn't surmise what this man did to her! In the end, he agreed that Margot herself should decide.
Ebeling.
Well, and--? What----?
Frau v. Yburg.
She came, looked him quietly in the face, and asked for time to think it over.
Ebeling.
It seems to me your husband was very clever. Otherwise, he might perhaps have----
Frau v. Yburg.
Yes, but when we were alone, just fancy! she declared quite simply: "No, I won't do it." I exclaimed, "Why, my dear child, you're out of your mind! You know that we've done everything for the sake of this day!" "Yes, I know all about it--but I won't." "You've been wishing it for three years," I said to her. And what do you suppose she answered! "I never wished it. You talked it into me--and he."
Ebeling.
"He?" Pardon me, who?
Frau v. Yburg.
You, Herr Ebeling.
Ebeling (standing up in his excitement).
My dear lady, it was my duty to carry out what you and Fräulein Margot desired--and what, in short, the circumstances demanded.
Frau v. Yburg.
Oh, I know! My God, how well I realise it! And what a task you've accomplished! No--when I remember how much persuasion, how much subtle reasoning, how much-- Ah, and how I've suffered these three years! See, my hair is quite gray!--And I still can't understand it! I still look upon the girl as if she were a stranger, a mysterious being who has lost her way and accidentally come to me. I--I who was brought up so strictly, watched, and carefully tended all my life, kept worlds away from any taint of the unconventional-- And she, too-- No, on that point, I can't reproach myself. And yet--this horror! No, I shall never, never understand it! Ah, and to have to bear it all alone! Oh, yes, I had to do that. My husband, with his long army training, would have forced him to fight--and then we should all have been dragged in the dust. Margot's life--our position in society--everything! Ah, if you hadn't been here, Herr Ebeling! Do you remember how I came to you? I think I was half dead from wretchedness! With the letter to him in my hand, the letter that I had taken from her as she lay distracted in my arms! Do you remember?
Ebeling.
Oh, don't speak of it! As I read that handwriting--still so childish--and that helpless, stammering question: "What has happened to me?"--God knows, everything turned black before my eyes! Oh! it's too horrible!
Frau v. Yburg.
And then you yourself said to me, "You're right--the blackguard must. I'll make him."
Ebeling.
I said it in the heat of the first great indignation. Please take that into consideration. After I went to work, I religiously kept to my programme to leave all threats and violence out of the question. Not only because-- Ah, as I've come to feel now, such a calm method of procedure would be impossible. But then I had to keep in mind that a new life--I don't venture to say a happy one--was to be gained through me. To-day, some one is grateful to me--the very one who at first opposed me most violently--that poor, wretched wife.
Frau v. Yburg.
And now everything would have been forgiven. I can't understand it. I don't know--I----
Ebeling.
So she won't do it?
Frau v. Yburg.
And that's why I've fled to you in my need! Later, when she returns, I want to have gone. You understand? I've arranged it this way so that you could bring her to her senses. A little heart to heart talk, you know. But if your influence doesn't help, then I don't know--then----
Ebeling (walking up and down).
And so she won't do it.
Frau v. Yburg.
Yes, just explain it to me! The only possible way in which to rehabilitate herself in her own eyes! And she throws it to the winds! What can she be thinking of? What----
Ebeling.
And so she won't do it!
Frau v. Yburg.
What's come over you, Herr Ebeling? You're not listening!
Ebeling (firmly, quietly).
Very well, then she shall not.
Frau v. Yburg.
For God's sake! You, too! You, too, want----
Ebeling.
My dear friend, I have done all that lay in my power, often against my own convictions, I can assure you. She knows what she is doing. She will not. Very well. I'm not here to bait her to her ruin. I am very sorry, but this time I must refuse my assistance.
Frau v. Yburg.
But what will happen? Must all our work count for nothing--your work, my work? For I have worked over her with all my powers, I need not hesitate to say it, worked to place her again on those spiritual heights where a young girl of family by right belongs. I have led her back to Religion, for whoever has anything to expiate must possess Religion. I have read with her only the most carefully selected books, books that could never, never endanger a young girl's imagination. And I have taken special care to see to it that when she was in the company of young people, she should, if possible, be stricter and even more reserved than the most timid of her friends. For her need of such behaviour was double theirs, wasn't it? And you yourself will admit that my efforts have been successful. No one could deny it and look into those clear, steadfast eyes of hers. (Ebeling nods assent.) She has become all soul--all----
Ebeling (doubtingly, sadly).
Ah!
Frau v. Yburg.
Yes, indeed, Herr Ebeling. No clandestine, no unseemly wish finds its way into her heart. I'll vouch for that. She glides through life like a silent spirit, cleansed and purified.
Ebeling.
And therefore we are to throw her into the jaws of that beast.
Frau v. Yburg.
Is there any other way? Do you know of any?
Ebeling (tormented).
H'm! She certainly has suitors enough!
Frau v. Yburg.
She'll reject them all--as she has heretofore. She simply says, "I shall not begin my new life with a lie. I think too much of myself for that. And to confess, to tell the man, and have him turn his back on me, or out of pure pity raise me to his own level--I think entirely too much of myself for that."
Ebeling.
I believe one can readily appreciate her feelings.
Frau v. Yburg.
But what will become of her? Is she to wither and wear away--this heavenly young creature? (Ebeling walks about, growing more and more excited. A pause.) Herr Ebeling, speak! Advise me!
Ebeling (firmly).
I know of only one solution: she must choose some one who knows it.
Frau v. Yburg.
Who could that be--except----?
Ebeling (breathing heavily).
Except that man, there is only one other.
Frau v. Yburg.
(Stares at him uncomprehendingly with her hands clasped, then stammering.) Oh! oh, God! What a joy that would be!
Ebeling.
What more can I say? Such things come and grow great in a man, one knows not how. She bore her sorrow, her shame, I mine. At first, perhaps, it was no more than a casual fancy--no, an interest, for my inclinations were always involved--but to-day it has become a passion, a passion that, lonely man as I am, gnaws me to the very core of my being.
Frau v. Yburg.
But how have you managed through it all to keep so quiet, so deliberate, so----?
Ebeling.
One learns, little by little, to be master of oneself. And five minutes ago there was absolutely no hope, (bursting out) but if she no longer wants him--why shouldn't I--oh! (Hides his face in his hand, trembling with emotion.)
Frau v. Yburg.
Wait! I don't see, after you've led him on to this point, how you'll ever justify all this to Baron von Kanoldt.
Ebeling.
I don't know! Until now, I've led a tolerably respectable life. For, in the disgrace that she (pointing to the picture of his wife) brought upon me, I played no part.
Frau v. Yburg.
Oh, yes, everyone in society knows that.
Ebeling.
But I haven't once asked myself whether what I am now going to do--or should like to do--conforms to the prevailing standards of propriety. One ought to think it over, to let some time elapse--in short, I don't know! All I can say is that if she doesn't want him, if she won't take that--(checking himself)--him, well, then, the path is open to any one--to me as well as to another.
Frau v. Yburg (hesitating).
I feel that I ought to warn you of just one thing more. She has never seemed to consider you as anything more than a fatherly sort of friend.
Ebeling.
H'm! (Laughs bitterly.) Even though I'm a couple of years younger than----, I've certainly acted more like a father to her. But you're probably right. (Knocking.) Come in. (Bonath enters.)
Bonath.
I've let the clerks go home. Have you any further orders, Herr Ebeling?
Ebeling.
You can go, too, Bonath. But tell my man to answer the door.
Bonath.
Very well, Herr Ebeling. Good evening. (Bonath goes out.)
Ebeling.
Frau von Yburg, your daughter will return in a few minutes. Meanwhile, the scene has changed not altogether insignificantly. Do you still approve of that little private heart to heart talk--or not?
Frau v. Yburg.
Ah, my dear friend, I have such boundless confidence in you. You've been her good angel for so long. I don't hesitate for a moment to leave her in your hands. And you'll carefully observe all the conventions? Of course you will.
Ebeling.
But what can I say to her?
Frau v. Yburg.
You're so skilled in reading the heart. You'll have found a way to make her confess something before she's aware of it. Only let me beg of you--if you find nothing in what she says that gives you reason to hope, then please don't worry her. She has already suffered so much.
Ebeling.
Very well, then, I'll proceed upon the assumption that I have only to comply with the request that brought you to me to-day.
Frau v. Yburg.
If you would----
Ebeling.
Hush! (Listens at the door, then pointing to the right.) May I ask you to go out this door? You know your way.
Frau v. Yburg.
And please, please, spare her delicacy. You've no idea how pure she is--in spite of----
Ebeling.
If I didn't know that-- (Knocking. He opens the door, right.) Good-bye.
(Frau v. Yburg goes out.)
Ebeling.
Come in.
The Servant.
A young lady is outside. She wants to know whether her mother is still here.
Ebeling.
(Hurrying to the centre door--vivaciously.) Just fancy Fräulein Margot, your mother thought you'd no longer be coming, and has only just left. (Margot appears at the centre door, and stands there, hesitating.) But won't you come in for a few moments?
Margot.
Gladly, if I may. (Looking about irresolutely.) Only I don't know whether I----
Ebeling.
What, my dear child?
Margot.
It isn't usually mamma's way to go off without me.
Ebeling.
Then I'll take you home myself. You need have no fears.
Margot.
Oh, I'm not afraid.
Ebeling (inviting her to sit down).
Won't you----?
Margot.
I'd like to look around a bit first; may I? I couldn't a while ago.
Ebeling.
I'm only too happy to think that you take some interest in my home.
Margot.
Dear me, mamma has so often told me about it. Of late years her visits to you were our principal topic of conversation. I think I've known every tiny nook here for a long, long time.
Ebeling.
Really?
Margot.
Oh, there's the stand with the horrible law books! (Sighing.) Ah, Herr Ebeling, everything in life is Law--and everything is in books.
Ebeling.
My dear young girl, the hardest laws are never to be found in books.
Margot.
Yes, you are right. The laws that drag us down to destruction are the laws that we make for ourselves. And all those beautiful women! I suppose one must be very beautiful to join them?
Ebeling (parrying lightly).
Most of them are clients who have presented me with their pictures as a token of gratitude.
Margot.
Well, but I'm your client, too--and yet I should never dare to offer you my picture in that way.
Ebeling.
If you only----
Margot (startled).
Oh, and there's your-- (Looks at him questioningly, confused.)
Ebeling.
Yes, that's my former wife.
Margot.
I saw her only once in my life. I was a mere child then. She was very lovely.
Ebeling.
Yes, she was lovely.
Margot.
Oh, and the wonder--wonderful roses! Mamma has told me that you always have such lovely roses.
Ebeling (lightly).
Yes, I have an agreement with a gardener. He keeps me supplied.
Margot (seemingly convinced).
Oh!
Ebeling.
May I present them to you, Fräulein Margot?
Margot.
Oh, dear me, no. The gardener who keeps you supplied might be offended.
Ebeling (laughing).
As you wish.
Margot.
And this is the inquisitional chair--where the poor secrets are dragged out?
Ebeling.
Quite the contrary! The secrets come forth of their own accord. I always have to say "stop."
Margot.
Well, then, I needn't hesitate to sit down. (Does so.) My secret you know--(sighing)--only too well!
Ebeling.
My dear Fräulein Margot; the real secret of your life, the law that governs your thoughts and feelings, I believe no one knows--not even your mother.
Margot (smiling and shrugging her shoulders).
My good mamma! And I'm here to give you proofs of that fact, am I?
Ebeling (evasively).
Oh!
Margot.
The reason for my being here isn't the one you've given me.
Ebeling.
Indeed! What is it?
Margot.
I wasn't left here alone for nothing! Please go ahead, Herr Ebeling, do your duty and talk me nicely into marrying Baron von--(shudders). See?--I've never once been able to bring his name to my lips. And yet I'm to pass my whole life with that man! Can one picture anything more horrible? (Shudders again.) Do you know of any occupation for me, Herr Ebeling?
Ebeling.
Occupation? Why?
Margot.
I want to leave home.
Ebeling
Is that your earnest intention?
Margot (nods).
But, unfortunately, I've learned nothing. And then--it has to be an occupation that wouldn't humiliate me--and that wouldn't spoil my hands (takes off her gloves), for I love my hands. I don't care a bit about my face, but my hands--they're like two friends. I can keep up long conversations with them--especially with the left. That one's so weak. So, something that wouldn't spoil the hands--and would leave me time for reading--and--well, I want to be alone.
Ebeling.
I might have suggested nursing, even though it requires the constant use of the hands. But, of course, you'd never be alone.
Margot.
No. I have no love for my fellow-creatures. I don't want to do anything for them.
Ebeling.
Those are hard words, Fräulein Margot.
Margot.
I am hard. What have my fellow-creatures ever done for me?
Ebeling.
And--your parents?
Margot.
You refer to mamma? Mamma certainly means well. But mamma has torn my soul from my body. She has made use of the old principle of family rule--which may have had some sense in the Stone Age--and has turned me into a doll, a doll-creature that moves its eyes and says ba when you press its head.--Just watch, Herr Ebeling!--Now haven't I a touching fashion of casting up my eyes when I look at you in this simple, thoughtful, innocent way?--And when I let the lids fall again in all the bashful piety that I still can muster--isn't it simply sweet?
Ebeling (earnestly).
My dear young girl, I really believe I must begin to say "stop" now!
Margot.
Dear me! You're already disgusted with me! But if you had any idea--do you know what you'd think? "Pity that I wasted such pains on a creature like her!"
Ebeling.
I should never think that, my dear child. I should only pity you and love you the more.
Margot.
I don't want to be pitied! And loved? (Shakes her head.) At least not that way--and not the other, either. That's still stupider. When I listen to my friends--this one loves me, and that one loves me, and this one kept my glove, and that one kissed my handkerchief--ugh! It reminds me of the cackling of a lot of hens. Herr Ebeling, do you believe criminals are scornful?
Ebeling.
Why do you ask?
Margot.
Please answer.
Ebeling.
It's very often true of born criminals.
Margot.
Well, then, I've the criminal nature.
Ebeling (laughing against his will).
Tut, tut, my dear child, why so--all of a sudden?
Margot.
Because I inwardly shrug my shoulders at everything that goes by the name of Innocence. I keep thinking to myself, "You silly sheep, what do you know about it?"--Ah, and yet, I envy them! At the balls, I see everything as through a veil. The things that the men chatter about sound far, far away--oceans off. I always feel like saying, "Don't trouble about me. Go to that girl over there. She's stupid enough." And then--after I've come home--I weep, weep from sheer envy and utter boredom, weep until I have to turn my pillow.--And mamma? Mamma drags me from ball to ball: I mustn't be unlike the others, you know!
Ebeling.
My dear child, if this goes against your nature, why don't you make some resistance? Why don't you show your mother that you have thoughts and feelings of your own which must be respected?
Margot.
Ah, my dear Herr Ebeling, just be a whipped dog yourself, year in year out! The dog doesn't resist either--but suddenly, some day--when he's at the very end of his endurance--he bites his master's hand. I shall bite soon!
Ebeling.
Oh, I'll grant you that your mother has probably made some mistakes. But only out of love, or because she knew no better. Just ask yourself what would have become of you if you'd been left to yourself all this time?
Margot.
I should have been embittered just the same--you're right--but I should not have let myself fall.
Ebeling.
Who knows?
Margot.
Never! And I'll tell you something to prove it. Severely as I have been watched--and--surely there's nothing coquettish about me?
Ebeling.
Certainly not.
Margot.
You can believe me when I say that, in the general moral tone prevailing over our society just now--and of which our mothers naturally know nothing--there lurks a temptation which has over and over again enticed even me. Such things are so personal, so secret--one cannot describe them. Oh, I could have done whatever I wished! But I said to myself: the first time, you were ignorant, you were sacrificed--or, at least, you can talk it into yourself that you were sacrificed--but if ever again--no, I can't say it after all!
Ebeling.
I understand, my child.
Margot.
If ever again--then you'll be lost--forever! Then there can be no more ideals, no more poetry--nothing lofty--nothing for which to work--and, worst of all, nothing of which to dream. For to dream--ah, one must dream, mustn't one? When one no longer has that!----
Ebeling (moved).
Yes, dear child.
Margot.
But you mustn't think that I'm trying to make myself interesting, or that I stand here before you beautifully whitened and purified! Oh, no! What I'm going to say to you now has never been said to any one, to any man before. And you are going to despise me utterly. But I must say it--once, once in my life--and then the old hypocrisy can go on again. Well, I don't know what it is, but it's like a fire in me. No, worse, much worse! When I think of that frightful man, my heart fairly shrivels up. And yet--I can never get away from it. There's always a terror, a horror in me; and yet there is always an eternal--an eternal hunger. Yes--a restlessness--a search--the whole day long. It's strongest toward twilight. Then I want to go out--out into the wide world--to fly to unknown lands. Then I think to myself--out there, no one knows you; out there, there is no sin. Ah, it's as if I were lashed! And I heap such reproaches upon myself because of it! Even now you have not heard the worst. I must tell you the worst, too. Well, you know how I hate that man--yet, sometimes it seems to me that I must go to him and say to him--Behold, here I am again!
Ebeling (jumps up, muttering to himself).
What has he done? The scoundrel! The blackguard!
Margot.
There! Now you know on whom you've wasted your sympathy! Now I can go. (Stands up, snatches her muff, and prepares to leave.)
Ebeling.
(Who has been silently walking up and down more hotly.) It appears then that you still love that man.
Margot (with a short, cutting laugh).
Oh, Herr Ebeling, if you've gathered that from all I've said, then I might just as well have addressed myself to the four walls. I've been hoping for three long years that you would secretly manage the thing in such a way that I'd never have to see him again in all my life--never, never--not even from a distance.
Ebeling.
Why did you never confide in me before? Why to-day for the first time?
Margot.
Can one do such a thing? Is one ever allowed to? I'm a well-bred young girl, you know. I must observe the conventions. How I came to do it to-day, I don't know myself. But formerly when you were alone with me, did you ever, at any time, give me to understand, even by a glance, that you--you knew anything--about me? Do you think such an attitude gives one courage? Ah, and in my need I've prayed so often, "Dear God, let him see into my soul! If he doesn't free me, no one will." Instead, you've only plunged me the deeper--pushed me before you--always deeper into misery--into the arms of that beast--into the filth. (Sinks into a chair, sobbing.)
Ebeling.
(Regards her confusedly, then approaches her.) Dear child! That wasn't my intention! (Laying his hand on her shoulder caressingly.) My dear, dear child!
Margot.
(Grasps his hand, and presses her cheek to it. As he tries to free it, she holds it the more closely.) Oh, don't leave me. I'm so lonely!
Ebeling.
My dear, dear child. (He bends down to her and kisses her on the brow. She throws her arms about his neck and draws herself close to him. He kisses her lips. She lets her head fall heavily upon his shoulder and remains motionless while he caresses her gently. With a sudden impulse she flings him from her, and sinks back in the chair.) Margot, my darling. Have I hurt you? Are you offended at what I did? If I've misunderstood, if I have abused your confidence, I earnestly beg you to forgive me.
Margot.
Oh, I've so hungered--so hungered--for this--kiss!
Ebeling (turning eagerly toward her).
Margot!
Margot (warding him off).
No! Go away! Go away!
Ebeling.
But you don't refuse me? And I'm not too old?
Margot (passionately bursting into laughter).
Oh!
Ebeling.
I was never free from the fear that you might not see anything in me except an image of that wasted, old creature. (Instead of answering, Margot stretches out her arms to him with a soft cry of longing. Ebeling draws the low stool to the writing-chair on which she is sitting, sits down upon it, and embraces her.) Margot, my youth, my whole youth that I've squandered and frittered away comes back to me once more through you. And now all will be well with you, too. It was only a nightmare. Your true self had nothing to do with it. Only--you must take heart again--you must think of yourself now.
Margot (ecstatically).
Yes, I am equal to anything now. I am not afraid to face the worst. I can even marry that man. I shall send him my acceptance quite calmly.--Of course. Why not?
Ebeling (shocked).
What!
Margot.
Why should you be astonished at that? Now that I know you love me? Only for a year! Perhaps for two! Yes, two! Oh, please, two! Then, later, when you've left me, let others come! It's all the same, who! For marriage, of course, I'm entirely spoiled! But I'll be revenged on him! On him and on Virtue and on Loyalty and on all that stuff with which they've so long tormented me. And the evening before my wedding--then may I--come to you again? Toward twilight! It must be on a Sunday. I'll arrange for that, so we can be alone. Ah, I shall count the days till then! Why do you look at me like that? (Ebeling stands up and throws himself on the sofa, burying his face in his hands. A long pause.) What can I have done? (She stands up. Another pause.) Surely I haven't done you any wrong by loving you?
Ebeling.
Go home now, my child.
Margot.
I wanted to leave some time ago, but you made me stay. (She buttons her coat, throws on her boa, and is about to go out. Then she turns around resolutely, and places herself before him.) Oh, I know--I'm disgraced--I'm not worthy of anything better--; but I needn't have had to endure such scorn and contempt! (Ebeling rises, looks at her, groans, buries his face in his hands, and falls back into the chair. Margot kneels beside him, weeping.) Dear--dearest--what is it? What's wrong, my darling?
Ebeling (compelling himself to be composed).
Stand up! (She does so.) I am going to tell you. (Stands up himself.) I asked your mother's consent to my marrying you to-day. There, now you know it. Good-bye. (Sits down in the writing-chair. A pause.)
Margot.
(Does not move. Her face becomes hard and bitter.) And now that you see what sort I am----H'm, yes. Ah, well, you'll soon console yourself. There are so many others. Why should it be just I? Let me suggest one of my friends--a dear--a pretty girl--with white teeth. Why take it to heart? It hurts for the moment--but one easily forgets. Such girls as I deserve nothing better. To them--one does this! (Plucks the petals from the roses which are standing before her in the vase.) And then one throws them away--like this! (Throws the petals in his face.)
Ebeling (brushing away the petals).
What have the roses done to you, my child?
Margot.
I sent them to you. I, too, may destroy them.
Ebeling (springing up).
It was you, you who all these years----?
Margot.
Good evening, Herr Ebeling. (She goes out.)
Ebeling.
(Pauses for a moment irresolutely, struggling with himself, then hurries after her. His voice is heard.) Stay here! Stay here! Come in here! (He reappears at the centre door, pulling her by the arm.) Come in here! Come back!
Margot.
What do you want of me? I'll cry for help----
Ebeling.
Come here! (Drags her to the writing-table.)
Margot.
Leave me alone!
Ebeling.
Be quiet! Be quiet! (Picks up one of the pictures standing on the table.) There! That woman dragged my name in the gutter. Will you do the same? Answer me! (Margot stands motionless, the tears running down her cheeks.) Answer, I say.
Margot (slowly and heavily).
Ah, one thinks and says so much when there's no longer a particle of hope in one's life.
Ebeling.
I understand. (He throws the picture on the ground; frame and glass are dashed to pieces.) Let us go to your parents. We'll arrange with them what's best to be done. (As she doesn't move.) Well? (Margot shakes her head.) You don't want to?
Margot.
Not that way! As I am now, humiliated--mortified--disgraced--no, not that way! I am so tired of playing Magdalen! No! When I come, I'll come with a free step. I'll be able to look every man in the face! But I must find out first what I am still worth, and (looking him full in the face) it must be a great, great deal--to be worthy of you.
Ebeling (moved).
Give me your hands, dear.
Margot (doing so).
When we see each other again, they'll be red and ugly. (Ebeling kisses her hands and presses them to his face.) Good-bye. (She turns to go.)
Curtain.