ACT V
The dining-room at Count Kellinghausen's. In the middle of the stage a table with six covers. On the right a sofa, table, and chairs. Sideboard on the left. In the centre at the back a wide door leading into the drawing-room. Door on the right into anteroom, door on the left into inner apartments. A window on the right, in the foreground. Grey light of a winter's day. Ellen is busy arranging the flowers on the table. Conrad in the background. Enter Beata from the left.
Ellen.
Oh, mother, I'm so glad you've come. Will the flowers do?
Beata.
Beautifully, dear. (Conrad goes out.)
Ellen.
And the cards? Look--I've put you here, of course, with Baron Ludwig on your right, and Prince Usingen on your left.--Mother! You're not listening.
Beata.
Yes I am. But Brachtmann is older than the Prince. They must change places.
Ellen.
Very well. And this is Uncle Richard's seat, next to father's.
Enter Kellinghausen.
Kellinghausen.
What about father?
Ellen.
I was only saying that I had put Uncle Richard next to you.
Kellinghausen.
Next to me?--Yes, yes; of course. Quite right. (He pets her.) Now, you monkey, be off!
Beata.
I shall see you before luncheon, dear.
Ellen.
Yes, mother. (Goes out.)
Kellinghausen.
I came to speak to you about our arrangements. I have just received a telegram from Rossitsch. Your rooms are ready for you. To prevent any talk, I shall take you there and leave you. I suppose you are ready to start this evening?
Beata.
Whenever you please, dear Michael.
Kellinghausen.
You don't seem to have made any preparations.
Beata (smiling).
I have so few to make!
Kellinghausen.
I have no objection to Ellen's remaining with you till the spring. Then we can see about sending her to a boarding-school.
Beata.
I consent to that too.
Kellinghausen.
You could hardly expect your refusal to make much difference.
Beata (still smiling).
Don't be afraid. I understand my position.
Kellinghausen.
And who is to blame for it?
Beata.
My dear Michael, we neither of us care for tragedy. Why not let that be?
Kellinghausen.
You're right.--Where have you put my seat?
Beata.
Here.
Kellinghausen.
Another torture to undergo!
Beata.
Isn't it more than you can bear?
Kellinghausen.
Perhaps--but it can't be helped. I had to have these people--I've got to go through with it.
Beata.
Yes, you've got to go through with it. And so have I. I need them more than you do.
Kellinghausen.
You? Why?
Beata.
You will see later.
Kellinghausen.
You have no right to keep anything from me----
Beata.
Are you keeping nothing from me? (He turns away.) Michael, here is a letter in which I have written something I can't well say to you. Will you promise not to open it till luncheon is over?
Kellinghausen.
Yes.
Beata.
You give me your word?
Kellinghausen.
Yes.
Beata (giving him the letter).
Here it is.
Kellinghausen.
Thank you. Then--I suppose--we-- (Goes to the door.)
Beata.
Michael!
Kellinghausen.
Eh?
Beata.
You know I'm not very strong--oh, don't misunderstand me! I'm not trying to work on your feelings--but you know how much is at stake. If Richard Völkerlingk should die suddenly, and I----
Kellinghausen (tortured).
I beg of you, Beata! I----
Beata.
Well?
Kellinghausen.
Go on.
Beata.
You had something to say.
Kellinghausen (confused).
I--I was only going to tell you--that there will be no duel.
Beata.
Ah.--Then the danger I spoke of is removed, and I----
Enter Conrad.
Conrad.
His Highness Prince Usingen and Baron Brachtmann are in the drawing-room.
Kellinghausen.
I will come at once. (Conrad goes out.)
Beata.
If you don't mind I will join you at table.
Kellinghausen.
You are not well.
Beata (carelessly).
It's nothing to speak of. Don't keep them waiting.--(Kellinghausen stands before her, shaken with tearless sobs. Beata goes up to him and lays her hand softly on his arm.) Michael, dear, when I think how I have hurt you I should like to fall down before you and kiss your hands--I should like to show you--what is in my heart--but it's too late to say such things now----
Kellinghausen.
Good-bye. (He goes out. Beata rings and Conrad enters.)
Beata.
Ask Countess Ellen to bring me my drops. (Conrad goes out. Beata stretches out her arms and passes her hands over her face.)
Enter Ellen.
Ellen (in the doorway).
Mother! Are you ill? (Beata stretches out her arms again, half beckoning Ellen, half warding her off. Ellen, hastening to her.) Mother! Mother! what is it?
Beata (softly).
Nothing, nothing. (She strokes Ellen's hair, lets her arms slip gradually from the girl's shoulders, and finds the phial containing the drops in her left hand. A long shudder.) Give me the drops.
Ellen.
How you snatch! Here they are. (Beata turns the phial about in her hand.) Mother, are we really going to Rossitsch, this evening?
Beata (nodding).
Yes.
Ellen.
In midwinter? Why do we go?
Beata.
H'm----
Ellen.
What will Norbert say? It looks as though you wanted to separate us----
Beata.
Does it? Does it really look so?
Ellen.
No, no, no--forgive me! No.
Beata.
But others might want to separate you--for life--for life, Ellen! Do you understand?
Ellen.
Mother!
Beata.
Shall I tell you what to do if ever that happens? Wait till you are of age, and then go to him wherever he is, and say: "My mother sent me." Do you see?
Ellen.
Yes, yes--but why----?
Beata.
By and by, at Rossitsch, I'll tell you. When we sit together in the big hall, over the fire, with the wind singing in the chimney. You'll like that, won't you, dear? We'll be so jolly together, you and I. And now, darling, go. (Passionately.) No, come back-- (kissing her) and now-- (smiling at her) go dear, go! (Ellen goes out.)
Enter Conrad.
Beata.
Has every one come?
Conrad.
All but Baron Richard.
Beata.
You may announce luncheon, then. (Conrad goes out. A moment later he throws open the doors, and Baron Ludwig, Prince Usingen, Baron Brachtmann, and Kellinghausen enter.)
Beata.
Prince--Herr von Brachtmann--how do you do? (To Baron Ludwig.) You Excellency, you are to sit on my right.
Baron Ludwig.
You do me too much honour. (Conrad closes the folding-doors.)
Kellinghausen.
And now, gentlemen, shall we begin à la Russe, with a little caviare? (He leads the others to the table near the sofa, where cold dishes and liqueurs are set out.)
Prince.
Your true German can't abide a Russian, but we all adore their caviare.
Baron Ludwig.
Where can my brother be? The feast is given for him and he is the last to appear.
Brachtmann.
He's probably doing what we all do the day after. Poring over the papers.
Prince.
And wondering how it is that yesterday's laurels have already turned into thorns.
Baron Ludwig.
Ah, that's part of the game.
Prince.
No, it's the end of the game.
Beata.
What do you mean, Prince?
Prince.
That our growth ceases when we gain our end. Attainment means being nailed fast--nailed to a cross, sometimes!
Kellinghausen.
(While Conrad hands about glasses of wine.) Gentlemen, won't you drop your epigrams and try some of my port?
Prince.
It's his Excellency's doing. He always begins!
Enter a footman.
The Footman.
Baron Richard von Völkerlingk. (There is an expectant murmur.)
Enter Richard.
Brachtmann (aside to Prince).
I told you there was nothing wrong.
Prince.
Wait and see.
Richard (kissing Beata's hand).
Forgive my being so late. A dozen things turned up at the last moment. Excuse me, Michael. (The Prince makes a sign to Brachtmann.)
Kellinghausen.
(Shaking hands composedly with Richard.) Don't mention it, my dear fellow. We are lucky to get you at all. The man of the hour you can't have a moment to yourself.
Richard.
I've not had many yet. (Shakes hands with him again and then turns to the others.)
Beata.
Shall we have luncheon? Völkerlingk, you can join us when you've had your caviare. (Richard makes a gesture refusing the hors-d'œ uvre.)
Brachtmann (aside to the Prince).
Well?
Prince.
Irreproachable, as usual.
Brachtmann.
Thank God! (They all seat themselves.)
Prince (to Baron Ludwig).
I can't make your brother out. You know him better than we do. Look at his face--what's the matter with him?
Baron Ludwig.
We are such complicated machines, your Highness. It's impossible to explain any one with a word.
Beata.
Take a hundred, then. (With a short excited laugh.) Life is long enough!
Kellinghausen (to himself).
Yes. Life is long enough.
Richard.
Instead of discussing my appearance I wish you would criticise my speech.
Prince.
What a gourmet he is, Countess! He wants the disapproval of his friends to season the praise of his enemies!
Richard.
Now, then, Brachtmann?
Brachtmann.
Why, my dear fellow, if you insist--I must tell you frankly that I had hoped you would lay more stress on the view of marriage as a divine institution.
Richard.
I have the greatest respect for that view of marriage, but I fear it might have invalidated the scientific side of my argument. What do you say, Prince?
Prince.
And what if it did? It's much more gratifying to our vanity to think ourselves the objects of divine solicitude than the victims of natural law. (Brachtmann and Baron Ludwig protest. Beata laughs.)
Kellinghausen.
Really, Usingen----!
Baron Ludwig.
Isn't your Highnesses scepticism a little overdone? Surely society has made us the natural protectors of the social order. The order may change with the times--all we ask is that it should maintain the moral balance of power. (Beata laughs.) You are amused, Countess?
Beata (still laughing).
I was only laughing to think how often I'd heard it before--the moral balance of power, and all the rest! I'm sure our ancestors sang the same song when they threw their victims to Moloch. And our souls are still thrown by the million to the Moloch of social expediency. We are all expected to sacrifice our personal happiness to the welfare of the race! (She laughs excitedly.)
Kellinghausen (almost threateningly).
Beata!
Baron Ludwig.
Countess, you are conjuring up a phantom.
Beata.
It may be a phantom, but it has us by the throat.--(To Richard.) What are you thinking of, Völkerlingk? You are not going to refuse our celebrated game-pie?
Richard.
I beg your pardon. I wasn't thinking. (He helps himself to the dish.)
Beata.
You must know that that pie is an invention of my own!
Prince.
Dear me, Countess, are you at home in every branch of learning?
Beata.
Oh, I had the making of a great cook in me. I believe I'm the last of the old school--the model housekeeper, the domestic wife, the high-priestess of the family! (She goes on laughing excitedly and Michael nervously echoes her laugh.)
Richard.
(Making a perceptible effort to change the conversation.) My dear Countess, no one ever ventures to dispute your statements. But there is one family about which I want to say a word and that is the one we are in. (Rising.) I drink to the house of Kellinghausen!
The Others.
Hear--hear!
Richard.
The house of Kellinghausen! As I look back over my life, I don't know how to sum up all I owe to it. (He turns to Beata.) To you, my dear friend----
Kellinghausen (with forced gaiety).
Is this a settlement in full, my dear fellow?
Richard.
(Taken aback, but recovering himself instantly.) You're right, Michael. There's no use trying; but there's something I want to say to you.
Kellinghausen.
Hear! hear!
Richard (to the others).
Since yesterday, you all know what I owe him. My success is his doing, all his doing. If I've gained my end, if I've reached the goal at last, it's to Kellinghausen I owe it. Here's to my good friend and yours!
The Others.
Hear! Hear! (They clink their glasses.)
Kellinghausen.
(With a strained laugh, as he and Richard touch glasses.) You might have left that out.
Richard.
I should have written it if I hadn't said it.
Kellinghausen (still on his feet).
Gentlemen--Beata--I may speak for all of you, I believe? I think our friend Völkerlingk proved conclusively yesterday that if he has taken my place it is because he has the best right to it. (On the verge of an outburst.) A better right to it--than-- (He is checked by a terrified glance from Beata, who utters a low exclamation.) Well--well--I'm not much of a speech-maker.--Gentlemen--Beata--long life to our friend Völkerlingk--long life to my successor!
Beata.
(In a low voice, while the others gather about Richard.) Long life to him! (She presses her hand to her heart, and rests heavily against the arm of her chair.)
Prince (to Kellinghausen).
Is anything wrong with the Countess?
Kellinghausen.
Beata!
Beata (raising herself with a smile).
Yes?
Kellinghausen.
Would you not rather go into the drawing-room? You look tired. (She shakes her head.)
Richard.
(In a formal tone, with a glance at Michael.) We all beg of you, Countess----
Beata.
(Looking from one to the other with growing apprehension.) No--no--no--I'm quite--quite--on the contrary--I have a toast to propose. (Richard makes a startled gesture.) Yes--a toast of my own! But please all sit down first----
Prince.
Woman disposes!
Kellinghausen.
Beata, you are overtaxing yourself. Be careful.
Beata.
My dear friends, you all go on wishing each other a long life but which of us is really alive? Which of us really dares to live? Somewhere, far off in the distance, we catch a glimpse of life--but we hide our eyes and shrink away from it like transgressors. And that's our nearest approach to living! Do you really think you're alive--any one of you? Or do you think I am? (She springs up with an inspired look.) But I, at least--I--whose whole life is one long struggle against death--I who never sleep, who hardly breathe, who barely stand--I at least know how to laugh, how to love life and be thankful for it! (She staggers to her feet, raising her glass, her voice no more than a hoarse whisper.) And as the only living soul among you, I drink to the joy of living!
The Others (holding out their glasses).
Good! Good! Bravo!
Beata.
(Draws a deep breath, sets down her glass, and looks about her confusedly. Her eyes rest on Richard, and then turn to Michael, to whom she speaks.) I think I will take your advice and go into the other room for a little while. (She rises with an effort.)
Kellinghausen.
There, Beata! I warned you.
Baron Ludwig (offering her his arm).
Won't you take my arm, Countess?
Beata.
No, no--thanks! Michael, make my excuses. I shall be back in a few minutes. (She lingers in the doorway with a last smile and a last look at Richard.) Good-bye. I shall be back--in a few minutes. (Goes out.)
Kellinghausen (to the others).
Don't be alarmed. My wife often breaks down in this way--I knew by her excitement that it was coming. Please sit down again. I assure you that in a few minutes she--(A heavy fall is heard in the next room. Richard starts violently. Michael half springs from his seat, but controls himself with an effort. There is a short pause.)--she'll be coming back laughing as usual. (Whispers are heard behind the door to the left. Richard is seen to listen intently.) What are you listening to? What's the matter?
Richard (agitated).
I beg your pardon--I thought I-- (Ellen is heard to utter a piercing scream. The men start to their feet. Michael rushes out.)
Baron Ludwig.
Surely that was Countess Ellen's voice?
Prince.
It doesn't look as if the Countess were going to come back laughing as usual.
Michael enters with a ghastly face.
Kellinghausen (hoarsely).
The nearest doctor--any one--quick! (Goes out again. Richard makes a motion as though to follow him, then turns and rushes out of the door to the right.)
Brachtmann.
The Countess is subject to such attacks; but this seems--different.
Prince.
H'm--yes--quite so. (There is a long silence.)
Brachtmann (to Baron Ludwig).
Your brother may not be able to find a doctor.
Baron Ludwig.
We must hope for the best. (Another silence.)
Prince.
Perhaps we had better be going----
Brachtmann.
(Nods his assent; then to Baron Ludwig.) Are you coming?
Baron Ludwig.
I shall wait for my brother. (He shakes hands with them.)
Prince.
H'm. (He and Brachtmann go out. Baron Ludwig walks up and down the room shaking his head.)
Enter Conrad.
Baron Ludwig.
Well?
Conrad.
I can't say yet, your Excellency. (He goes to the table.) We are looking for the drops. Countess Ellen gave them to the Countess herself before luncheon.
Baron Ludwig.
I thought I saw something in her hand at luncheon. Has any one looked in her hand?
Conrad.
No. (He goes out. There is a pause.)
Enter Richard and a doctor.
Richard.
Well? Has anything----
Baron Ludwig.
Nothing.
Richard.
Will you come this way, doctor?
The Doctor.
Thank you. (Richard and the doctor go out. Baron Ludwig continues to pace the floor.)
Enter Norbert by door on the right.
Norbert.
Uncle, what has happened? I've just met Brachtmann and Usingen. They said--uncle-- (Baron Ludwig points silently to the door on the left. Norbert hurries through it. Another pause. Baron Ludwig continues to pace up and down. The doctor, Richard and Michael come slowly into the room.)
The Doctor (after a silence).
Count, I am extremely sorry to have come too late. But it may be some comfort to you to know that I could have done nothing. Death was the result of heart disease--the end must have been instantaneous. May I ask who was the Countess's regular physician?
Kellinghausen.
Dr. Kahlenberg.
The Doctor.
I will notify him at once. Permit me to offer my sympathy.
Kellinghausen.
Thank you, doctor. (Shakes his hand and accompanies him to the door. The doctor goes out. Baron Ludwig shakes Kellinghausen's hand silently, nods to Richard and withdraws.)
Richard.
Thank you, Michael--for letting me be with her----
Kellinghausen.
Read this. (Hands him Beata's letter.)
Richard.
(Takes the letter, shudders at sight of the handwriting, tries to read it, and then hands it back.) I cannot----
Kellinghausen.
Then I will read it to you. It's meant for both of us. (He reads.) "Dear Michael, even if the poison is found in me they will think I took it by mistake. To avoid suspicion I shall do it while we are all at luncheon. I see that some one must pay the penalty--better I than he. He has his work before him--I have lived my life. And so I mean to steal a march on him. Whatever you have agreed upon between you, my death will cancel the bargain--he cannot die now without causing the scandal you have been so anxious to avert. I have always loved happiness, and I find happiness now in doing this for his sake, and the children's and yours. Beata." As she says, this cancels our agreement. You see that I must give you back your word.
Richard.
And you see, Michael----
Enter Norbert.
Norbert.
(Throws himself weeping into Kellinghausen's arms.) Uncle Michael!
Kellinghausen.
Go, my son--go to Ellen. (Norbert wrings Richard's hand without speaking, and goes out.)
Richard.
And you see, Michael, that I live because I must--that I live--because I am dead----