THE LAST VISIT
Frau Mulbridge.
Well, now we have seen our poor, dear captain for the last time.
Mulbridge.
Yes. He was a good fellow, our captain and--awfully fond of horses.
Frau Mulbridge.
Why, Daisy, what's the matter, dear? You've been standing here all alone, and yet, until now, you wouldn't stir from the coffin.
Daisy.
I saw him quite well from here, mother, dear.
Mulbridge (caressing her).
My girlie--my little girl. Yes--we all loved him.
Frau Mulbridge.
(To Tempski, who is sobbing.) There, there, Tempski, hush now. (A bell rings, right.) There's the bell; go and open the door. (Tempski goes out at the right.)
Mulbridge (to the Groom).
And we'll be off to the stables!
Frau Mulbridge.
Sh! The Lieutenant!
Mulbridge (to the Groom).
Go on! (Pushes the Groom out, left.)
(Lieutenant von Wolters enters. He is an attractive young officer, very smart in appearance, wearing the uniform of an Uhlan. Kellermann, a self-possessed, sharp-eyed man, follows him. While they are entering, Tempski comes in at the right, quietly places a wreath on one of the piles near the columns, and goes out again.)
v. Wolters.
Well, Herr-- (He puts his hand to his eyes, overcome for the moment, then stiffly, trying to conceal his emotion.) Herr--Kellermann was the name, wasn't it?
Kellermann.
At your service, Lieutenant.
v. Wolters.
You have done everything very satisfactorily. I am much obliged to you. You understand that the removal of the coffin to the church is to be accomplished as secretly as possible.
Kellermann.
I'm silent as the grave, Lieutenant. My business sort of carries that with it, don't you know.
v. Wolters.
It will be dark about half past five. I have ordered the troops that are to accompany the casket to be here at half past six. At the church--the catafalque and the rest--I can confidently leave all that to you?
Kellermann.
Most assuredly, Lieutenant. I shall see that everything is of the finest.
v. Wolters.
But remember your instructions: all superfluous ostentation is to be rigorously avoided--to-morrow at the funeral procession, also.
Kellermann.
I understand, Lieutenant--because of the way he met his death.
v. Wolters.
The reason does not concern you. (Turns to go.)
Mulbridge. Beg pardon, Lieutenant, but may I speak to you? I've been in the captain's service seven years. I've been in Germany nearly eighteen years--have a German wife and daughter. I'm not as young as I used to be. What's going to become of the horses and the racing-stable, and-- the rest?
Frau Mulbridge.
Yes, it's really too bad about him, Lieutenant. He's so fond of his horses. Why, if ever you want to speak to him, you have to go and stay at the stable. That's the only way I can manage to see him.
Mulbridge.
And she's a great help to me, too, Lieutenant.
v. Wolters.
I can understand your anxiety, Mulbridge. The captain spoke about you on our last journey together. He especially commended you and your family to my care. But, of course, everything will depend upon the heir.
Frau Mulbridge.
And who is the heir, Lieutenant?
v. Wolters.
No one knows. He had no relatives. But be assured that whoever it is, I will do my best to----
Mulbridge.
Thank you, Lieutenant! Thank you! (He says a few words aside to his wife and goes out, left.)
v. Wolters.
Have you anything else to do here, Herr Kellermann?
Kellermann.
Yes, indeed, a great many things, Lieutenant. (Goes out at the centre, carrying several wreaths, and then returns for more. Frau Mulbridge helps him.)
v. Wolters.
Oh, by the way, may I have a word with you, Daisy? (Daisy comes forward, v. Wolters continues aside to her.) My dear child, I know that the captain had a great deal of confidence in you.
Daisy.
Yes, he had.
v. Wolters.
Well then, listen. Some one wishes to come here before the casket is removed some one who must not be seen.
Daisy.
Very well. She may.
v. Wolters (amazed).
What----? She----?
Daisy.
Why, it must be the lady.
v. Wolters.
What lady?
Daisy.
The lady for whom he let himself be shot.
v. Wolters.
What! You know----?
Daisy.
She had to come, of course. Who else should it be?
v. Wolters.
H'm! Well then, listen carefully. If the undertaker--or any other stranger--should still be here when it begins to grow dark, throw on a wrap and wait at the door downstairs until a carriage stops. Will you?
Daisy.
Certainly I will. And Tempski?
v. Wolters.
Yes, Tempski, faithful as he is----
Daisy.
Tempski was never around in those days.
v. Wolters (looking at her in astonishment).
Oh--so Tempski--was never--around--in those days! H'm! Well then, I'll undertake to get rid of Tempski myself. Thank you, my child. (Gives her his hand, then aloud.) I have another errand, but I'll be back soon. (Goes out at the right.)
Frau Mulbridge.
What did the lieutenant want of you?
Daisy.
Nothing in particular--something about the wreaths.
Kellermann (coming in from the back).
Yes, with all those wreaths, we'll have to have an extra carriage for the flowers. He was a fine man, he was--a highly respected man! And on horseback! Why, I've won every time I bet on him! Ah, yes, but sooner or later they all have to come to me!
Frau Mulbridge.
And he was such a kind master! He was just like a child sometimes--so light-hearted and happy--like a little boy! Lately, to be sure, he-- (The bell rings.) Well, Daisy!
Daisy.
(Who has stood without moving, lost in thought.) I guess Tempski will go.
Frau Mulbridge.
Yes, yes, you're right. Tempski is outside.
Tempski (brings in a wreath, sobbing).
F-from--our--major.
Frau Mulbridge.
Why, Tempski, it's perfectly natural that the major----
Tempski.
From--our--major.
Frau Mulbridge.
Take the wreath from him, Daisy.
Daisy.
Yes, mother, dear. (She does so. Tempski goes out, crying.)
Kellermann (reaching for the wreath).
From his major that must go on the coffin!
Daisy.
I'll do it.
Kellermann (in doubt).
Don't you think----?
Frau Mulbridge.
Yes, let her; she looks after everything.
Kellermann.
But nail it tightly, little lady--else it'll fall off when they're carrying him to the church.
Daisy.
Yes, yes. (Goes out back with the wreath. During the following conversation, the strokes of a hammer are heard.)
Frau Mulbridge.
Everything is so well arranged here. I don't see why they've got to take him to the church.
Kellermann.
The official statement is that it will prevent any demonstration in the street. You know, the town folks haven't taken very kindly to this murdering business of late. But, of course, that's not the real reason. The truth of the matter is that several very influential ladies would like to attend the funeral without being seen. H'm!--love never dies, they say. Ah, the captain was no saint, I can tell you!
Frau Mulbridge.
What do you know about it?
Kellermann.
Oh, well, there's a lot of talk about the veiled figures that used to go in and out of here at twilight. And if these mirrors could speak--! That reminds me--I'd almost forgotten--we must cover the mirrors. (Daisy appears in front of the curtain. She is staring into space.)
Frau Mulbridge.
But since the casket is to be taken away in less than an hour--what's the use?
Kellermann.
That doesn't make any difference. The mirrors have got to be draped. It would be a blemish on my art--and I wouldn't answer for it.
Frau Mulbridge.
Daisy!
Daisy.
Yes, mother, dear.
Frau Mulbridge.
Go get a pair of lace curtains to hang over the mirrors.
Daisy.
Yes, mother, dear. (She does not stir.)
Frau Mulbridge.
Daisy! You're not listening.
Daisy.
Yes I am, mother, dear. You asked me to-- (Falters.)
Frau Mulbridge.
I asked you to fetch a pair of lace curtains.
Daisy.
Yes, mother, dear. (Goes out, left.)
Frau Mulbridge.
Now that the child isn't here--tell me, Herr Kellermann, do you know anything about the cause of the duel? We're all groping in the dark here at the house.
Kellermann.
Well, they're saying all sorts of things. But the dead are my friends. I never say anything against them. It's a business principle with me.
Frau Mulbridge.
Yes--but the man who shot him, is he still walking around free as air?
Kellermann.
Yes, that's the way with these fine folks. They fall upon one another like highwaymen. Your honour or your life! The man who survives can laugh. The man who falls--well, he falls into my arms. But, see here, getting into a duel with that fellow, that Baron Renoir--why it was nothing short of suicide! I tell you, where that man goes, no grass grows! On the turf, at the card-table, with the women--always the same story. That man shot him down like a rabbit. Oh, of course, it's always a fine thing to lay down your life for a woman. That's a phrase that----
Frau Mulbridge.
Do you really think that a woman----?
Kellermann.
Sh! Here comes your little girl. (Daisy enters with two vases, which she is carrying very carefully.)
Frau Mulbridge.
What's that you're bringing?
Daisy.
I stopped and filled them first.
Frau Mulbridge.
But you were to get a pair of lace curtains!
Daisy.
Oh, forgive me, mother, dear. I thought you said vases. I'll go (Exit with the vases.)
Frau Mulbridge.
I don't know what's come over the child! Why, she's been such a help these days--thought of everything, wanted to do everything herself.
Kellermann.
A nice little girl--how old is she?
Frau Mulbridge.
Seventeen, her last birthday.
Kellermann.
Is she at school?
Frau Mulbridge.
She's been going to the Art Institute. She wants to teach drawing.
Kellermann.
I suppose the captain thought a lot of her?
Frau Mulbridge.
Oh, dear me, yes. She was always around him from the time that she was a mere child. They used to play together out in the yard like two little kittens! Of course, when she grew older, that sort of thing stopped. But lately, when he seemed so worried, I----
Kellermann.
So he seemed worried, did he?
Frau Mulbridge.
Yes, indeed. I've had my suspicions for the last two months. Well, when he seemed so worried, I used to manage to send her in to him pretty often. She read aloud to him--and so on. (Daisy enters with a couple of curtains, and a dark coat on her arm.)
Kellermann.
Thanks, thanks, little lady. (Takes the curtains from her and stands on a chair under one of the mirrors.) What lovely Venetian lace! Ah, yes, every mirror comes to this sooner or later!
Daisy.
I'd like to get a breath of fresh air, would you mind, mother, dear? I feel so----
Frau Mulbridge.
Yes, yes, dear. Go out for a little while. (Daisy puts on her coat.)
Kellermann (in front of the other mirror).
Why, here's a little bunch of flowers!
v. Daisy (eagerly).
Oh, please, please, let me have it.
Kellermann (blowing off the dust).
If it doesn't fall to pieces. (Hands it to her.) Ah, yes, many, many loved him! He had a beautiful life, he had a beautiful death, and, as for a beautiful funeral--just leave that to Kellermann! (Takes his hat.) I'll be back again for the procession. Good evening, ladies.
Frau Mulbridge.
Good evening. (To Daisy, seeing her take off her coat.) I thought you said you were going out?
Daisy.
Oh, well, I've changed my mind now.
Frau Mulbridge.
I'm glad, because one feels so--so alone in here.
v. Daisy (with a glance backward).
But we are not alone yet.
Frau Mulbridge (shuddering slightly).
That's just it.
v. Daisy (staring straight before her).
I'm not afraid.
Frau Mulbridge.
Tell me something, Daisy, dear. Weren't you in there last night?
v. Daisy (alarmed).
Last night? I?
Frau Mulbridge.
Yes, at the coffin.
Daisy.
What should I be doing at the coffin?
Frau Mulbridge.
Well, I thought I heard some one go past the door.
Daisy.
You must have been dreaming, mother, dear.
Frau Mulbridge.
Very likely. I haven't been sleeping well these nights. See here, Daisy, perhaps he's left us something--you, at least--tell me, haven't you been thinking about that sometimes?
v. Daisy (apart, with a glance at the clock).
If she doesn't come soon----!
Frau Mulbridge.
What's that you were saying? (The bell rings. Daisy starts.) Why, what's the matter with you? (v. Wolters enters.)
v. Wolters (calling).
Tempski!
Tempski (at the threshold, in military attitude).
Here, Lieutenant!
v. Wolters.
Hurry over to the garrison church and see if everything is ready.
Frau Mulbridge.
Why, Kellermann will see----
v. Wolters.
And then go--or no--stay there until the casket arrives. Do you understand?
Tempski.
At your command, Lieutenant. (He goes out.)
v. Wolters.
That's attended to. And now, my dear Frau Mulbridge, there's something that I want to confide to you. A visitor is coming here presently--a lady. (Frau Mulbridge glances anxiously at Daisy, who nods.) She is not to be seen by any one--except Daisy. Daisy, it appears, used to open the door for her sometimes in former days.
Frau Mulbridge.
Daisy--? What does this mean?
Daisy.
Oh, Tempski might have gossiped, you know.
Frau Mulbridge.
And so he let you open the door?
Daisy.
I never gossip, mother.
Frau Mulbridge.
I'm finding things out now! Why did I never hear of this before?
Daisy.
Oh, you were always in the stables with father in the evening.
Frau Mulbridge.
And there I was trying to keep this child from any knowledge of the things that went on in here--and he----
v. Wolters.
We've no time for that now, Frau Mulbridge. Daisy, you will watch outside, won't you?
Frau Mulbridge (protesting).
Oh, that's too----
v. Daisy (firmly).
Yes, I'll watch. (The bell rings softly.) Should I----? (v. Wolters nods.)
Frau Mulbridge (calling her back).
Daisy! (Daisy goes out without noticing her mother.)
v. Wolters.
May I ask, Frau Mulbridge, that you----
Frau Mulbridge.
Very well. We have served him faithfully, and I'll not start making any trouble now at the end. (Exit, left. v. Wolters goes to the door at the right, listens, and then opens it cautiously. The Unknown Lady enters. She is heavily veiled, dressed entirely in black, and carries a spray of white roses. As she enters, she staggers slightly and leans against the writing-table for support.)
v. Wolters (who has softly locked the door).
May I show you the way, Countess? (The Lady shakes her head and motions questioningly toward the back. v. Wolters nods, and she goes out through the curtained doorway. After a short pause, v. Wolters opens the door at the right.)
v. Wolters (calling).
Daisy! (Daisy appears at the threshold.) Kindly see that no one enters the house while this lady is here--no one, do you understand?
Daisy.
Oh, yes, I understand very well.
v. Wolters.
It may be that she has something else to say to me. If the men should come for the casket before she has left, take them around the other way. Keep the main entrance clear.
Daisy.
No, that wouldn't be safe.
v. Wolters.
Well, what shall we do?
v. Daisy (breathing heavily).
I'll--think of something.
v. Wolters.
His death grieves you, too, dear child?
Daisy.
Me? Oh, yes--me too. (She goes out. v. Wolters walks to and fro, pauses to listen in front of the curtain, turns on the electric lamp, again walks to and fro, etc. At a slight movement of the curtain, he stops, expectant. The Lady, still veiled, comes forward slowly until she has reached one of the chairs on the left. A pause.)
The Lady.
Ah, Herr von Wolters--to let them close the coffin before I--I had seen him--I must confess, I had not expected that of you, Herr von Wolters.
v. Wolters.
I didn't dare prevent it, Countess--just because of your coming. It was the only way to have the house to ourselves.
The Lady.
Don't call me countess, Herr von Wolters. I am not a countess here. (Glancing toward the door.) I am only an unhappy woman whom no one in this house knows, whom no one is to know.
v. Wolters.
Wouldn't you care to rest for a moment?
The Lady.
Are we quite safe here?
v. Wolters.
Quite. The little girl who, you say, is not unknown to you, is outside at the entrance. I have told her mother of your visit and she will not enter the house. If you wish, however, we can lock the door.
The Lady.
Yes, do. Or, no, perhaps it would be better not to--in case any one----
v. Wolters.
Very well.
The Lady.
(Throws back her veil, revealing a very beautiful face, which is deathly pale and wears an expression of the deepest affliction. She sinks into the chair. A pause.) I wanted to lay my roses on his breast. Ah, Herr von Wolters, I loved that man with an infinite love. Perhaps grief will give my life a new and holier meaning--who knows? We seek beauty--and find grief. Tell me, Herr von Wolters, you were his best friend, did you never suspect----?
v. Wolters.
Never, never.
The Lady.
And when you received my letter early this morning asking you to come at once--not even then?
v. Wolters.
I could draw--various conclusions--from that.
The Lady.
For instance----?
v. Wolters.
Oh, please--really, you must excuse me----
The Lady.
No, Herr von Wolters. We are here--but why don't you sit down? (He does so.) We are here together, you and I, to hold the last rites over our sainted dead. His friend and his beloved who else has any right to be here? Herr von Wolters, I have given you my full confidence--I have made a strange confession to you. You will not betray me?
v. Wolters.
Ah!
The Lady.
And so, in this sacred hour, there must be no concealment between us. Answer me now. What does the world say?
v. Wolters (embarrassed).
The world says so many things, Countess.
The Lady.
Tell me, to what extent has my name been associated with this affair?
v. Wolters.
I can't conceal the fact from you, Countess. Your name is mentioned.
The Lady (thoughtfully).
Yes, that's what my husband says.
v. Wolters.
But please let me add that not a shadow, not the slightest suspicion, has ever----
The Lady.
But what else can they think?
v. Wolters.
My dear Countess, when a woman is as beauti-- I mean, that when a woman is the centre of so much interest, it's not surprising that some notice was taken of the attentions which he--
The Lady (somewhat impatiently).
Yes--but----?
v. Wolters.
It naturally was observed that my friend----
The Lady.
Our friend had a--what shall I say--a susceptible heart. We knew that, who knew him so well. This was not the first time he had--been interested in a woman. And that was why I arranged to have him seen in our house as little as possible--lately, not at all.
v. Wolters.
That fact did not escape notice, Countess. And as Baron Renoir was frequently seen with you--instead of----
The Lady (somewhat excited).
Don't mention that name, Herr von Wolters! I can't stand it! What could have possessed that man Renoir--? But do tell me the rest. I've heard only the merest details. They've only told me what they thought necessary.
v. Wolters.
No one knows what actually occurred between the two men. He begged me to ask no questions. You know, he was so reserved of late. It may be that certain expressions which passed between them a few days ago--after they had been drinking--had something to do with it--no one knows. Perhaps there was some insult which was given in private--and which neither of them would make public. The assurance that the injury, whatever it may have been, was irreparable, must satisfy us.
The Lady.
Oh, how I hate that man Renoir!--quite apart from the trouble which he has gotten me into! My husband warned me against him long ago. "That scoundrel will compromise you some day," he said, "and then I'll have to fight a duel with him." Instead--this! Oh, you poor, poor darling! And now, when all was so quiet and peaceful between us!
v. Wolters.
My dear Countess, if you think that the change which came over him in the last few months betokened peace and quiet----
The Lady (nervously).
I don't know anything about that! It wasn't my fault! Was I to blame if he insisted on having notions? Tell me one thing, Herr von Wolters, did he die easily?
v. Wolters.
No one dies easily, Countess.
The Lady.
Was he still living when they reached the house?
v. Wolters.
No, he died on the field.
The Lady.
Do you know my first name, Herr von Wolters?
v. Wolters.
Certainly.
The Lady (hesitating).
Did he--by any chance--speak--that name?
v. Wolters.
That would have betrayed his secret, Countess.
The Lady.
I only meant--at the very last--when he was no longer--conscious.
v. Wolters.
No, Countess. But--pardon me, I don't want to be indelicate--but did he ever call you by some little--little term of endearment--some-- (Stops, embarrassed.)
The Lady.
Why do you ask?
v. Wolters.
At the very end, he kept murmuring something that sounded like "Girlie"--or----
The Lady (indignantly).
My dear Herr von Wolters, our intimacy was of a different sort.
v. Wolters.
Pardon me, Countess, but you yourself asked. (She nods. A short pause.)
The Lady.
Good heavens--these curtains over the mirrors! They make me feel as if I were looking a blind man in the eyes!
v. Wolters.
Would you like to have me remove them?
The Lady.
No, no. Never mind. I want to ask you something, Herr von Wolters. Tell me, what do you think of me?
v. Wolters (confused).
What do you mean, Countess?
The Lady.
I want to know what I have done that I should be doomed to bring so much sorrow into the lives of others. I had only just left school when a strange young man shot himself under my window. It was on my account that my husband was transferred here from his former garrison. Tell me, what mark of Cain do I bear that all men follow me? I dress as simply as I can. I never go out without a double veil. Sometimes I have actually been tempted to throw vitriol in my face!
v. Wolters (candidly).
Oh, that would have been a shame, Countess!
The Lady (severely).
Herr von Wolters!
v. Wolters.
Yes, Countess, to mar that image of divinity would be a sin--and I do not hesitate to repeat it beside the coffin of my friend.
The Lady.
Don't! (Reaches him her hand, which he kisses respectfully.) Dear me, how strange it seems! Yesterday we scarcely knew one another--those few visits at my house don't count. To-day--this short conversation--and here we are, sitting side by side, the guardians of a secret which will be buried forever with him. It will, Herr von Wolters?
v. Wolters.
Ah, my dear Countess, please do not offend me.
The Lady.
Very well, I shall not worry. Did you love him very dearly?
v. Wolters.
I thought a great deal of him, Countess. He took care of me when I was a young fellow quite alone in the world. He was so-- Really, I don't know how I shall-- (breaking down.)
The Lady.
Courage, dear friend! We must both try to be brave.
v. Wolters (firmly).
Thank you, Countess. You will not have to reprove me again.
The Lady.
You evaded my question before. Do you consider me very guilty, Herr von Wolters?
v. Wolters.
He loved you, Countess. That makes you holy in my eyes.
The Lady.
I thank you for that word--little as I deserve it. It has never been my way to undervalue myself. But your opinion meant so much to me----
v. Wolters (puzzled).
What difference could my humble opinion----
The Lady.
Don't say that, my dear friend. There are few people--perhaps not even my own husband--who have ever seen me as you see me at this moment--so weak, so helpless, so--I had almost said--unguarded. Remember that--and spare me.
v. Wolters.
I hope that I have not been inconsiderate, Countess.
The Lady.
(Putting her hand to her brow, stammering.) No, no, no; it's--it's grieving for him that makes me lose my wits. The world had so long set me on a pedestal that I thought I belonged there. Now I feel as if I were torn down. Now I lie there-- Herr von Wolters, pay no attention to me!
v. Wolters.
If I could only help you, Countess!
The Lady (smiling sorrowfully).
Help me--you? And yet, why not? His friend and his beloved! It is we, you and I, who are paying the last honours to the dead. Who could know his worth better than we? Whose grief could be more eloquent than ours? No, no, no--I must not talk. Ah, I see him before me now with his bright, careless smile--his conqueror's smile! I suppose you never were courted by women as he was?
v. Wolters.
My dear Countess, I lead a fairly quiet, uneventful life.
The Lady.
But you're not--you're not a Puritan, are you?
v. Wolters.
I must let others judge of that, Countess.
The Lady.
Oh! I should like to cry out my sorrow to the whole world--say to them all, "You sordid souls, you couldn't know how much I loved him! What do I care if you damn me, if you----" (The bell rings. She starts.) There's the bell!
v. Wolters (reassuringly).
Probably just a wreath.
The Lady.
And if it's not--a----?
v. Wolters.
Why, Daisy is outside. But to make sure-- (Listens at the door, then opens it cautiously.) Daisy! (The Lady drops her veil. Daisy appears at the threshold.)
Daisy.
What is it, Herr von Wolters?
v. Wolters.
Who rang?
Daisy.
It was a wreath.
v. Wolters (to The Lady).
Just as I supposed.
The Lady (to Daisy).
Come here, dear. (Daisy comes forward.) You used to open the door for me, didn't you?
Daisy.
Yes.
The Lady.
But you don't know who I am?
Daisy.
No.
The Lady.
You'll not try to find out?
Daisy.
Oh, no.
The Lady.
Was he fond of you?
Daisy.
Oh, yes.
The Lady.
And have you been crying since he died?
Daisy.
No.
The Lady.
You're a pretty little girl.
v. Daisy (going).
Has my lady any more questions?
The Lady.
(Taking out a gold purse, to v. Wolters.) Do you think one might give her anything? (v. Wolters shakes his head.) Thank you, dear. We shall see each other again. (As Daisy lingers.) What is it?
Daisy.
Very well--since I shall see my lady again. (Goes out.)
The Lady.
It did seem though, as if she were waiting for something.
v. Wolters.
If you will pardon me for the suggestion, it was surely not--not for money.
The Lady.
By the way, this incident reminds me of something I was just about to-- Herr von Wolters, are you my friend?
v. Wolters.
If you consider me worthy of that distinction, Countess.
The Lady.
Most assuredly. Well, Herr von Wolters, there is something that troubles me--something that desecrates my grief, if I may use the word. There's the anxiety--the fear that-- Yes, yes--I must tell you all. Herr von Wolters, he has my letters. Do you understand? (He nods.) Didn't he give you something for me--a small, sealed package, perhaps--nothing?
v. Wolters.
You are forgetting, Countess, that I was ignorant of all this until a short time ago.
The Lady.
Yes, that's true. H'm--it's really too bad. Who has the keys?
v. Wolters.
Why, he gave them to me just before the duel. I have them with me.
The Lady.
You've looked through the writing-table?
v. Wolters.
Yes, I had to hand over his papers to the legal authorities. I didn't consider myself entitled to touch his private correspondence at present.
The Lady.
Why not?
v. Wolters.
He made a will the day before the duel.
The Lady.
Really? In whose favor?
v. Wolters.
I don't know.
The Lady.
What! Didn't he make any allusion--nothing----?
v. Wolters.
The only thing he said was that he had named me as executor.
The Lady.
But he had no relatives. Who is to inherit his large fortune?
v. Wolters.
As I've said, I don't know. However, he made a remark that I didn't quite understand, and that I--pardon me--would rather not repeat, if you don't mind.
The Lady.
Oh, please!
v. Wolters.
It might give you pain, Countess.
The Lady (sadly).
Nothing can give me pain after this.
v. Wolters.
Well, he said with a decided emphasis--though perhaps he did not intend that I should notice it--he said, "The one who loved me best shall be my heir."
The Lady.
What! He said that? Who could have loved him best if not I? (Terrified.) For God's sake, Herr von Wolters!
v. Wolters.
Don't be alarmed, Countess. That would be too grotesque.
The Lady.
Perhaps this is his revenge.
v. Wolters.
Revenge? On you? What for?
The Lady.
No, no--I'm quite out of my senses, I-- But, as you have the keys, you won't mind doing me this slight favour.
v. Wolters.
What favour, Countess?
The Lady.
Search for the letters with me--now. It seems to me your duty, not only as a friend but as a gentleman.
v. Wolters.
Pardon me, my dear Countess, you were certainly his last--perhaps his only great love. But his life was varied--and if we were to open his desk now--I really don't know what we might find there.
The Lady.
You mean there would be letters from other----?
v. Wolters.
I must say no more.
The Lady.
Well, I'll shut my eyes. I'll only look for my own handwriting.
v. Wolters.
The will is to be opened in a few days, Countess. He has doubtless inserted a clause authorising me as executor to return certain papers to their owners--or destroy them.
The Lady.
Ah, I see you're a Puritan, after all.--No, no, I'll not trouble your conscience. This loyalty which you bear him to the very grave is so beautiful, so poetical, and I feel so near to you because of it--(Putting her hand over her eyes.) Oh, those curtains in front of the mirrors! They make me feel as if I were dead myself, (v. Wolters is about to tear them down.) No, no--don't. Thanks. Tell me, how long will it be before the will is opened?
v. Wolters.
Unfortunately, the day is not yet appointed.
The Lady.
I shall not sleep a moment until then. Not even my love, my grief, can outweigh this terrible fear. My honour, my future, my life--everything is at stake!
v. Wolters (amazed).
Countess!
The Lady.
Please stop calling me Countess.
v. Wolters.
Forgive me. What should I----?
The Lady.
Call me your friend. I want to be that. From this day you become closer to me than any other being in all the world. Are you not the legacy, as it were, that our dear dead has left me?--Ah, you and I must become like brother and sister, two beings who have--nothing--to conceal from one another. Herr von Wolters, will you be my guide, my confidant--my friend?
v. Wolters.
Countess! My dear, dear Countess!
The Lady (softly).
But you're not to----
v. Wolters.
Forgive me. Your kindness to me makes me feel so--confused--I----
The Lady.
Why should it? I feel certain that if he could see us at this moment, he himself would join our hands together.
v. Wolters.
Countess, if you ever need a man who would let himself be torn to pieces for you----
The Lady.
No, not that. I only want you to take this great weight from my soul.
v. Wolters.
Ah, Countess, I am a man of my word.
The Lady.
And that's what you call being torn to pieces for me?
v. Wolters (trembling).
Whether I can answer for this to him and to my own conscience--whether I can ever again think of him--without shame--will depend upon what we shall find in there.
The Lady.
But you will open it? (A pause.) Herr von Wolters, you'll not let me die of fear and distraction?
v. Wolters.
I'll open it.
The Lady (laying her hand on his arm).
Thanks, thanks! Ah, you are good----
v. Wolters (taking out the key).
Don't thank me. I feel as if he could hear it in there.
The Lady (shuddering involuntarily).
No--no! (v. Wolters turns the key in the keyhole unavailingly.) Won't it work?--Heavens, why your hand is trembling. Let me have it.
v. Wolters (with a last attempt at resistance).
The keys were entrusted to me, Countess.
The Lady (coaxingly).
Oh, do let me have it. (Sits at the writing-table and opens the drawer. With a low cry of surprise.) Empty!
v. Wolters (bending over her).
Empty?
The Lady.
Are you sure that this was----?
v. Wolters.
Yes, that was the drawer in which he kept his private papers. I'm sure of it.
The Lady (staring straight ahead).
Well, how can you explain----?
v. Wolters.
Perhaps he burned everything.
The Lady (springing to her feet).
And perhaps not!--Who knows?--This is the way he played with the honour of the woman who gave him all! This is my thanks! This is the action of a gentleman!
v. Wolters.
No gentleman, Countess, can do more than let himself be shot for a woman.
The Lady.
Who asked him to do it? Was it my fault if jealousy of Renoir drove him mad? And perhaps this is really his revenge! Perhaps we'll live to see even more interesting disclosures!--This is my reward! This-- (Daisy appears at the door in the centre.) What do you want?
Daisy.
I beg your pardon. My lady is looking for--letters?
The Lady.
So you've been in there eavesdropping, have you?
Daisy.
I brought in a wreath.
The Lady.
Well, what do you know about my letters?
Daisy.
Here they are. (Takes a small package of letters from her dress and hands it to The Lady.) I intended to give them to you secretly when you left.
The Lady.
(Snatches the letters from her hand and looks at them.) How do you happen to have these letters?
v. Daisy (wonderingly).
Why, how should I happen to have them? He gave them to me.
The Lady.
To you? Who are you? Why to you?
Daisy.
Because he knew that I would do exactly what he told me to do.
The Lady (to v. Wolters).
Can you understand this?
v. Wolters (gently).
What did he tell you to do, Daisy?
Daisy.
He said to me, "These letters belong to the lady who used to come to see me sometimes. No one is to know about her--not even Herr von Wolters.--When I am dead, the lady will----
v. Wolters.
Did he say that?
Daisy.
Yes. "When I am dead, the lady will probably come here again. If she does, give her these letters. If she doesn't, then burn them with the others."
v. Wolters.
What others?
Daisy.
Those over there in the stove.
The Lady (examining the letters).
Look at this! Unsealed! Unwrapped!
v. Daisy (smiling).
He knew that I wouldn't read them.
The Lady.
I suppose from now on I shall be at your mercy!
Daisy.
I don't know you, my lady. And even if I did, you need have no fear.
The Lady (to v. Wolters).
Isn't she kind!
v. Daisy (always respectfully).
But I should like to ask you a favour, my lady.
The Lady.
By all means. What could I deny you, my dear?
Daisy.
(Goes into the room behind and returns with the flowers that The Lady had brought.) Oh please, please take these roses--away--with you.
The Lady.
What does this mean?
v. Daisy (imploringly).
Oh, please take them!
The Lady.
What right have you to make such a shameless request of me?
Daisy.
I heard--forgive me, I didn't want to--I heard the way you spoke about him before. And it seems to me that your flowers no longer belong upon his coffin.
The Lady.
What do you say to that, Herr von Wolters? This person acts as if she were the mistress of the house!
v. Daisy (proudly).
I am.
The Lady.
(Stares at her through her lorgnette and smiles.) Oh, really!
v. Daisy (her bearing pure and proud).
The night before he died I became--his wife. (A long pause.)
The Lady.
I hope you'll come and take tea with me in the near future, Herr von Wolters.
v. Wolters.
Pray, excuse me, but official duties will make it impossible for me to----
The Lady.
(Taken aback, but quickly recovering herself.) Thank you just the same. (A loud ring.)
v. Daisy (starts and looks at the clock).
There are the troops already.--Would you be so kind, Herr von Wolters--? Please let no one come in here. (v. Wolters bows and hurries out at the right.) May I take you out the back way, my lady? No one will see you--or at least, only my mother. (As the heavy steps of the soldiers are heard, to herself, in suppressed agony.) And meanwhile--they will--take the coffin--away! (Regaining possession of herself.) But wouldn't it be better to drop your veil? (The Lady does so.) And your roses--do take them! (The Lady snatches the roses from her hand.) This way, please. (She opens the door at the left and goes out slowly behind The Lady, her eyes turned longingly toward the room behind.)
Curtain.