ACT I
SCENE I
A summer parlor in the COLONEL'S house. Handsome furnishings. In the centre of rear wall an open door, behind it a verandah and garden; on the sides of rear wall large windows. Right and left, doors; on the right, well in front, a window. Tables, chairs, a small sofa.
IDA is sitting in front on the right reading a book. The COLONEL enters through centre door with an open box in his hand in which are dahlias.
COLONEL.
Here, Ida, are the new varieties of dahlias our gardener has grown. You'll have to rack your brains to find names for them. Day after tomorrow is the Horticultural Society meeting, when I am to exhibit and christen them.
IDA.
This light-colored one here should be called the "Adelaide."
COLONEL.
Adelaide Buneck, of course. Your own name is out of the running, for as a little dahlia you have long been known to the flower-trade.
IDA.
One shall be called after your favorite writer, "Boz."
COLONEL.
Splendid! And it must be a really fine one, this yellow one here with violet points. And the third one—how shall we christen that?
IDA (stretching out her hand entreatingly to her father).
"Edward Oldendorf."
COLONEL.
What! The professor? The editor? Oh no, that will not do! It was bad enough for him to take over the paper; but that he now has allowed himself to be led by his party into running for Parliament—that I can never forgive him.
IDA.
Here he comes himself.
COLONEL (aside).
It used to be a pleasure to me to hear his footstep; now I can hardly keep from being rude when I see him.
Enter OLDENDORF.
OLDENDORF.
Good morning, Colonel!
IDA (with a friendly greeting).
Good morning, Edward. Help me to admire the new dahlias that father has grown.
COLONEL.
But do not trouble the professor. Such trifles no longer interest him; he has bigger things in his head.
OLDENDORF.
At all events I have not lost my ability to enjoy what gives you pleasure.
COLONEL (grumbling to himself).
You have not given me much proof of that. I fear you take pleasure in doing the very things that vex me. You are doubtless quite busy now with your election, Mr. Future Member of Parliament!
OLDENDORF.
You know, Colonel, that I myself have less than any one else to do with it.
COLONEL.
Oh, I don't believe that! It is the usual custom in such elections, I imagine, to pay court to influential persons and shake hands with the voters, to make speeches, scatter promises, and do all the other little devil's tricks.
OLDENDORF.
You yourself do not believe, Colonel, that I would do anything discreditable?
COLONEL.
Not? I am not so sure, Oldendorf. Since you have turned journalist, edit your Union and daily reproach the State with its faulty organization, you are no longer what you used to be.
OLDENDORF (who up to this point has been conversing with IDA about the flowers, but now turns to the COLONEL).
Does what I now say or write conflict with my former views? It would be hard to convince me of that. And still less can you have noticed any change in my feelings or in my conduct toward you.
COLONEL (obdurate).
Well, I don't see what reason you would have for that. I am not going to spoil my morning by quarreling. Ida may try to straighten things out with you. I am going to my flowers. [Takes the box and exit toward the garden.]
OLDENDORF.
What has put your father in such a bad humor? Has something in the newspaper vexed him again?
IDA.
I do not think so. But it annoys him that now in politics you again find it necessary to advocate measures he detests and attack institutions he reveres. (Shyly.) Edward, is it really impossible for you to withdraw from the election?
OLDENDORF.
It is impossible.
IDA.
I should then have you here, and father could regain his good humor; for he would highly appreciate the sacrifice you were making for him, and we could look forward to a future as peaceful as our past has been.
OLDENDORF.
I know that, Ida, and I feel anything but pleasure at the prospect of becoming member for this town; yet I cannot withdraw.
IDA (turning away).
Father is right. You have changed entirely since becoming editor of the paper.
OLDENDORF.
Ida! You too! If this is going to cause discord between us I shall indeed feel badly.
IDA.
Dear Edward! I am only grieving at losing you for so long.
OLDENDORF.
I am not yet elected. If I do become member and can have my way, I will take you to the capital and never let you leave my side again.
IDA.
Ah, Edward, we can't think of that now! But do spare father.
OLDENDORF.
You know how much I stand from him; and I don't give up hope of his becoming reconciled to me. The election once over, I will make another appeal to his heart. I may wrest from him a favorable answer that will mean our marriage.
IDA.
But do humor his little foibles. He is in the garden near his dahlia bed; express your delight over the gay colors. If you go at it skilfully enough perhaps he may still call one the "Edward Oldendorf." We have been talking of it already. Come! [Exeunt both.]
Enter SENDEN, BLUMENBERG, CARL, SCHMOCK.
SENDEN (entering).
Is the Colonel alone?
CARL.
Professor Oldendorf is with him.
SENDEN.
Take in our names. [Exit CARL.] This everlasting Oldendorf! I say, Blumenberg, this connection of the old gentleman with the Union must stop. We cannot really call him one of us so long as the professor frequents this house. We need the Colonel's influential personality.
BLUMENBERG.
It is the best-known house in town—the best society, good wine, and art.
SENDEN.
I have my private reasons, too, for bringing the Colonel over to our side. And everywhere the professor and his clique block our way.
BLUMENBERG.
The friendship shall cease. I promise you that it shall cease, gradually, within the next few weeks. The first step has already been taken. The gentlemen of the Union have fallen into the trap.
SENDEN.
Into what trap?
BLUMENBERG.
The one I set for them in our paper. [Turning upon SCHMOCK who is standing in the doorway.] Why do you stand here, Schmock? Can't you wait at the gate?
SCHMOCK.
I went where you did. Why should I not stand here? I know the Colonel as well as you do.
BLUMENBERG.
Don't be forward and don't be impudent. Go and wait at the gate, and when I bring you the article, quickly run with it to the press—understand?
SCHMOCK.
How can I help understanding when you croak like a raven?
[EXIT.]
[Illustration: Permission F Bruckmann, A -G, Munich
AT THE CONCERT ADOLPH VON MENZEL.]
BLUMENBERG (to SENDEN).
He is a vulgar person, but he is useful! Now that we are alone, listen! The other day when you brought me to call here, I begged the Colonel just to write down his ideas on the questions of the day.
SENDEN.
Yes, alas! You piled on the flattery much too thick, but the old gentleman did, nevertheless, at last take fire.
BLUMENBERG.
We begged him to read to us what he had written; he read it to us, we praised it.
SENDEN.
It was very tiresome all the same.
BLUMENBERG.
I begged it of him for our paper.
SENDEN.
Yes, unfortunately! And now I must carry these bulky things to your press. These articles are too heavy; they won't do the Coriolanus any good.
BLUMENBERG.
Yet I printed them gladly. When a man has written for a paper he becomes a good friend of that paper. The Colonel at once subscribed for the Coriolanus, and, the next day, invited me to dinner.
SENDEN (shrugging his shoulders).
If that is all you gain by it!
BLUMENBERG.
It is merely the beginning.—The articles are clumsy; why should I not say so?
SENDEN.
God knows they are!
BLUMENBERG.
And no one knows who the author is.
SENDEN.
That was the old gentleman's stipulation. I imagine he is afraid of
Oldendorf.
BLUMENBERG.
And precisely what I anticipated has come to pass. Oldendorf's paper has today attacked these articles. Here is the latest issue of the Union.
SENDEN.
Let me look at it. Well, that will be a fine mix-up! Is the attack insulting?
BLUMENBERG.
The Colonel will be sure to consider it so. Don't you think that that will help us against the professor?
SENDEN.
Upon my honor you are the slyest devil that ever crept out of an inkstand!
BLUMENBERG.
Give it to me, the Colonel is coming. Enter the COLONEL.
COLONEL.
Good morning, gentlemen!—[aside] and that Oldendorf should just happen to be here! If only he will remain in the garden! Well, Mr. Editor, how is the Coriolanus?
BLUMENBERG.
Our readers admire the new articles marked with an arrow. Is there any chance that some more—
COLONEL (drawing a manuscript from his pocket and looking round).
I rely on your discretion. As a matter of fact I wanted to read it through again on account of the structure of the sentences.
BLUMENBERG.
That can best be done in the proof-reading.
COLONEL.
I think it will do. Take it; but not a word—
BLUMENBERG.
You will let me send it at once to press. [At the door.] Schmock!
[SCHMOCK appears at the door, takes the manuscript and exit quickly.]
SENDEN.
Blumenberg is keeping the sheet up to the mark, but, as he has enemies, he has to fight hard to defend himself.
COLONEL (amused).
Enemies? Who does not have them? But journalists have nerves like women. Everything excites you; every word that any one says against you rouses your indignation! Oh come, you are sensitive people!
BLUMENBERG.
Possibly you are right, Colonel. But when one has opponents like this Union—
COLONEL.
Oh, yes, the Union. It is a thorn in the flesh to both of you. There is a great deal in it that I cannot praise; but, really when it comes to sounding an alarm, attacking, and pitching in, it is cleverer than your paper. The articles are witty; even when they are on the wrong side one cannot help laughing at them.
BLUMENBERG.
Not always. In today's attack on the best articles the Coriolanus has published in a long time I see no wit at all.
COLONEL.
Attack on what articles?
BLUMENBERG.
On yours, Colonel. I must have the paper somewhere about me.
[Searches, and gives him a copy of the Union.]
COLONEL.
Oldendorf's paper attacks my articles! [Reads.] "We regret such lack of knowledge—"
BLUMENBERG.
And here—
COLONEL.
"It is an unpardonable piece of presumption"—What! I am presumptuous?
BLUMENBERG.
And here—
COLONEL.
"One may be in doubt as to whether the naïveté of the contributor is comical or tragical, but at all events he has no right to join in the discussion"—[Throwing down the paper.] Oh, that is contemptible! It is a low trick!
Enter IDA and OLDENDORF from the garden.
SENDEN (aside).
Now comes the cloud-burst!
COLONEL.
Professor, your newspaper is making progress. To bad principles is now added something else—baseness.
IDA (frightened).
Father!
OLDENDORF (coming forward).
Colonel, how can you justify this insulting expression?
COLONEL (holding out the paper to him).
Look here! That stands in your paper! In your paper, Oldendorf!
OLDENDORF.
The tone of the attack is not quite as calm as I could have wished—
COLONEL.
Not quite so calm? Not really?
OLDENDORF.
In substance the attack is justified.
COLONEL.
Sir! You dare say that to me!
IDA.
Father!
OLDENDORF.
Colonel, I do not comprehend this attitude, and I beg you to consider that we are speaking before witnesses.
COLONEL.
Do not ask for any consideration. It would have been your place to show consideration for the man whose friendship you are otherwise so ready to claim.
OLDENDORF.
But, first of all, tell me frankly what is your own connection with the articles attacked in the Coriolanus?
COLONEL.
A very chance connection, too insignificant in your eyes to deserve your regard. The articles are by me!
IDA.
Heavens!
OLDENDORF (vehemently).
By you? Articles in the paper of this gentleman?
IDA (entreating him).
Edward!
OLDENDORF (more calmly).
The Union has attacked not you but an unknown person, who to us was merely a partisan of this gentleman. You would have spared us both this painful scene had you not concealed from me the fact that you are a correspondent of the Coriolanus.
COLONEL.
You will have to stand my continuing not to make you a confidant of my actions. You have here given me a printed proof of your friendship, which does not make me long for other proofs.
OLDENDORF (taking up his hat).
I can only say that I deeply regret the occurrence, but do not feel myself in the least to blame. I hope, Colonel, that, when you think the matter over calmly, you will come to the same conclusion. Good-by, Miss Ida. Good day to you.
[Exit as far as centre door.]
IDA (entreating).
Father, don't let him leave us that way!
COLONEL.
It is better than to have him stay.
Enter ADELAIDE.
ADELAIDE (entering in elegant traveling costume, meets OLDENDORF at the door).
Not so fast, Professor!
[OLDENDORF kisses her hand and leaves.]
IDA. }(together Adelaide! [Falls into her arms.]).
COLONEL. } Adelaide! And at such a moment!
ADELAIDE (holding IDA fast and stretching out her hand to the
COLONEL).
Shake hands with your compatriot. Aunt sends love, and Rosenau Manor, in its brown autumn dress, presents its humble compliments. The fields lie bare, and in the garden the withered leaves dance with the wind.—Ah, Mr. von Senden!
COLONEL (introducing).
Mr. Blumenberg, the editor.
SENDEN.
We are delighted to welcome our zealous agriculturist to the city.
ADELAIDE.
And we should have been pleased occasionally to meet our neighbor in the country.
COLONEL.
He has a great deal to do here. He is a great politician, and works hard for the good cause.
ADELAIDE.
Yes, indeed, we read of his doings in the newspaper. I drove through your fields yesterday. Your potatoes are not all in yet. Your steward didn't get through with the work.
SENDEN.
You Rosenau people are privileged to get through a week earlier than any one else.
ADELAIDE.
On the other hand, we have nothing to do but to farm. (Amicably.)
The neighbors send greetings.
SENDEN.
Thank you. We must relinquish you now to friends who have more claim on you than we have. But will you not receive me in the course of the day so that I can ask for the news from home? [ADELAIDE inclines her head.]
SENDEN.
Good-by, Colonel. (To IDA.) My respectful compliments, Miss Berg.
[Exit together with BLUMENBERG.]
IDA (embracing ADELAIDE).
I have you at last. Now everything will be all right!
ADELAIDE.
What is to be all right? Is anything not all right? Back there some one passed me more quickly than usual, and here I see glistening eyes and a furrowed brow. [Kisses her on the eyes.] They shall not ruin your pretty eyes. And you, honored friend, turn a more friendly countenance to me.
COLONEL.
You must stay with us all winter; it will be the first you have given us in a long time; we shall try to deserve such a favor.
ADELAIDE (seriously).
It is the first one since my father's death that I have cared to mingle with the world again. Besides, I have business that calls me here. You know I came of age this summer, and my legal friend, Judge Schwarz, requires my presence. Listen, Ida, the servants are unpacking, go and see that things are properly put away. (Aside.) And put a damp cloth over your eyes for people can see that you have been crying. [Exit IDA to the right. ADELAIDE quickly goes up to the COLONEL.] What is the matter with Ida and the professor?
COLONEL.
That would be a long story. I shall not spoil my pleasure with it now.
We men are at odds; our views are too opposed.
ADELAIDE.
But were not your views opposed before this, too? And yet you were on such good terms with Oldendorf!
COLONEL.
They were not so extremely opposed as now.
ADELAIDE.
And which of you has changed his views?
COLONEL.
H'm! Why, he, of course. He is led astray in great part by his evil companions. There are some men, journalists on his paper, and especially there is a certain Bolz.
ADELAIDE (aside).
What's this I hear?
COLONEL.
But probably you know him yourself. Why, he comes from your neighborhood.
ADELAIDE.
He is a Rosenau boy.
COLONEL.
I remember. Your father, the good old general, could not endure him.
ADELAIDE.
At least he sometimes said so.
COLONEL.
Since then this Bolz has become queer. His mode of life is said to be irregular, and I fear his morals are pretty loose. He is Oldendorf's evil genius.
ADELAIDE.
That would be a pity!—No, I do not believe it!
COLONEL. What do you not believe, Adelaide?
ADELAIDE (smiling).
I do not believe in evil geniuses. What has gone wrong between you and Oldendorf can be set right again. Enemies today, friends tomorrow—that is the way in politics; but Ida's feelings will not change so quickly. Colonel, I have brought with me a beautiful design for a dress. That new dress I mean to wear this winter as bridesmaid.
COLONEL.
No chance of it! You can't catch me that way, girl. I'll carry the war into the enemy's country. Why do you drive other people to the altar and let your own whole neighborhood joke you about being the Sleeping Beauty and the virgin farmer?
ADELAIDE (laughing).
Well, so they do.
COLONEL.
The richest heiress in the whole district! Courted by a host of adorers, yet so firmly intrenched against all sentiment; no one can comprehend it.
ADELAIDE.
My dear Colonel, if our young gentlemen were as lovable as certain older ones—but, alas! they are not.
COLONEL.
You shan't escape me. We shall hold you fast in town, until we find one among our young men whom you will deem worthy to be enrolled under your command. For whoever be your chosen husband, he will have the same experience I have had—namely, that, first or last, he will have to do your bidding.
ADELAIDE (quickly).
Will you do my bidding with regard to Ida and the professor? Now I have you!
COLONEL.
Will you do me the favor of choosing your husband this winter while you are with us? Yes? Now I have you!
ADELAIDE.
It's a bargain! Shake hands! [Holds out her hand to him.]
COLONEL (puts his hand in hers, laughing).
Well, you're outwitted.
[Exit through centre door.]
ADELAIDE (alone).
I don't think I am. What, Mr. Conrad Bolz! Is that your reputation among people! You live an irregular life? You have loose morals? You are an evil genius?—
Enter KORB.
KORB (through the centre door with a package).
Where shall I put the account-books and the papers, Miss Adelaide?
ADELAIDE.
In my apartment. Tell me, dear Korb, did you find your room here in order?
KORB.
In the finest order. The servant has given me two wax candles; it is pure extravagance.
ADELAIDE.
You need not touch a pen for me this whole day. I want you to see the town and look up your acquaintances. You have acquaintances here, I suppose?
KORB.
Not very many. It is more than a year since I was last here.
ADELAIDE (indifferently).
But are there no people from Rosenau here?
KORB.
Among the soldiers are four from the village. There is John Lutz of
Schimmellutz—
ADELAIDE.
I know. Have you no other acquaintance here from the village?
KORB.
None at all, except him, of course—
ADELAIDE.
Except him? Whom do you mean?
KORB.
Why, our Mr. Conrad.
ADELAIDE.
Oh, to be sure! Are you not going to visit him? I thought you had always been good friends.
KORB.
Going to visit him? That is the first place I am going to. I have been looking forward to it during the whole journey. He is a faithful soul of whom the village has a right to be proud.
ADELAIDE (warmly).
Yes, he has a faithful heart.
KORB (eagerly).
Ever merry, ever friendly, and so attached to the village! Poor man, it is a long time since he was there!
ADELAIDE.
Don't speak of it!
KORB.
He will ask me about everything—about the farming—
ADELAIDE (eagerly).
And about the horses. The old sorrel he was so fond of riding is still alive. KORB. And about the shrubs he planted with you.
ADELAIDE.
Especially about the lilac-bush where my arbor now stands. Be sure you tell him about that.
KORB.
And about the pond. Three hundred and sixty carp!
ADELAIDE.
And sixty gold-tench; don't forget that. And the old carp with the copper ring about his body, that he put there, came out with the last haul, and we threw him back again.
KORB.
And how he will ask about you, Miss Adelaide!
ADELAIDE.
Tell him I am well.
KORB.
And how you have carried on the farming since the general died; and that you take his newspaper which I read aloud to the farm-hands afterward.
ADELAIDE.
Just that you need not tell him. [Sighing, aside.] On these lines I shall learn nothing whatever. [Pause, gravely.] See here, dear Korb, I have heard all sorts of things about Mr. Bolz that surprise me. He is said to live an irregular life.
KORB.
Yes, I imagine he does; he always was a wild colt.
ADELAIDE.
He is said to spend more than his income.
KORB.
Yes, that is quite possible. But I am perfectly sure he spends it merrily.
ADELAIDE (aside).
Small consolation I shall get from him! (Indifferently.) He has now a good position, I suppose; won't he soon be looking for a wife?
KORB.
A wife? No, he is not doing that. It is impossible.
ADELAIDE.
Well, I heard something of the kind; at least he is said to be much interested in a young lady. People are talking of it.
KORB.
Why, that would be—no, I don't believe it. (Hastily.) But I'll ask him about it at once.
ADELAIDE.
Well, he would be the last person to tell you. One learns such things from a man's friends and acquaintances. The village people ought to know it, I suppose, if a Rosenau man marries.
KORB.
Of course they should. I must get at the truth of that.
ADELAIDE.
You would have to go about it the right way. You know how crafty he is.
KORB.
Oh, I'll get round him all right. I'll find some way.
ADELAIDE.
Go, dear Korb! [Exit KORB.] Those were sad tidings with which the Colonel met me. Conrad—immoral, unworthy? It is impossible! A noble character cannot change to that extent. I do not believe one word of what they say!
[EXIT.]
SCENE II
Editorial room of the "Union." Doors in the centre and on both sides. On the left, in the foreground, a desk with newspapers and documents. On the right, a similar, smaller table. Chairs.
Enter BOLZ, through the side door on the right, then MILLER through the centre door.
BOLZ (eagerly).
Miller! Factotum! Where is the mail?
MILLER (nimbly with a package of letters and newspapers).
Here is the mail, Mr. Bolz; and here, from the press, is the proof-sheet of this evening's issue to be corrected.
BOLZ (at the table on the left quickly opening, looking through, and marking letters with a pencil).
I have already corrected the proof, old rascal!
MILLER.
Not quite. Down here is still the "Miscellaneous" which Mr. Bellmaus gave the type-setters.
BOLZ.
Let us have it!
[Reads in the newspaper.]
"Washing stolen from the yard"—"Triplets born"—"Concert"—"Concert"—"Meeting of an Association"—"Theatre"—all in order—"Newly invented engine"—"The great sea-serpent spied."
[Jumping up.]
What the deuce is this? Is he bringing up the old sea-serpent again? It ought to be cooked into a jelly for him, and he be made to eat it cold.
[Hurries to the door on the right.]
Bellmaus, monster, come out!
Enter BELLMAUS.
BELLMAUS (from the right, pen in hand).
What is the matter! Why all this noise?
BOLZ (solemnly).
Bellmaus, when we did you the honor of intrusting you with the odds and ends for this newspaper, we never expected you to bring the everlasting great sea-serpent writhing through the columns of our journal!—How could you put in that worn-out old lie?
BELLMAUS.
It just fitted. There were exactly six lines left.
BOLZ.
That is an excuse, but not a good one. Invent your own stories. What are you a journalist for? Make a little "Communication," an observation, for instance, on human life in general, or something about dogs running around loose in the streets; or choose a bloodcurdling story such as a murder out of politeness, or how a woodchuck bit seven sleeping children, or something of that kind. So infinitely much happens, and so infinitely much does not happen, that an honest newspaper man ought never to be without news.
BELLMAUS.
Give it here, I will change it.
[Goes to the table, looks into a printed sheet, cuts a clipping from it with large shears, and pastes it on the copy of the newspaper.]
BOLZ.
That's right, my son, so do, and mend thy ways.
[Opening the door on the right.]
Kämpe, can you come in a moment? (To MILLER, who is waiting at the door.) Take that proof straight to the press!
[MILLER takes the sheet from BELLMAUS and hurries off.]
Enter KÄMPE.
KÄMPE.
But I can't write anything decent while you are making such a noise.
BOLZ.
You can't? What have you just written, then? At most, I imagine, a letter to a ballet-dancer or an order to your tailor.
BELLMAUS.
No, he writes tender letters. He is seriously in love, for he took me walking in the moonlight yesterday and scorned the idea of a drink.
KÄMPE (who has seated himself comfortably).
Gentlemen, it is unfair to call a man away from his work for the sake of making such poor jokes.
BOLZ.
Yes, yes, he evidently slanders you when he maintains that you love anything else but your new boots and to some small degree your own person. You yourself are a love-spurting nature, little Bellmaus. You glow like a fusee whenever you see a young lady. Spluttering and smoky you hover around her, and yet don't dare even to address her. But we must be lenient with him; his shyness is to blame. He blushes in woman's presence, and is still capable of lovely emotions, for he started out to be a lyric poet.
BELLMAUS.
I don't care to be continually reproached with my poems. Did I ever read them to you?
BOLZ.
No, thank Heaven, that audacity you never had. (Seriously.) But, now, gentlemen, to business. Today's number is ready. Oldendorf is not yet here, but meanwhile, let us hold a confidential session. Oldendorf must be chosen deputy from this town to the next Parliament; our party and the Union must put that through. How does our stock stand today?
KÄMPE.
Remarkably high. Our opponents agree that no other candidate would be so dangerous for them, and our friends everywhere are most hopeful. But you know how little that may signify. Here is the list of the voters. Our election committee sends word to you that our calculations were correct. Of the hundred voters from our town, forty surely ours. About an equal number are pledged to the other party; the remnant of some twenty votes are undecided. It is clear that the election will be determined by a very small majority.
BOLZ.
Of course we shall have that majority—a majority of from eight to ten votes. Just say that, everywhere, with the greatest assuredness. Many a one who is still undecided will come over to us on hearing that we are the stronger. Where is the list of our uncertain voters? [Looks it over.]
KÄMPE.
I have placed a mark wherever our friends think some influence might be exerted.
BOLZ.
I see two crosses opposite one name; what do they signify?
KÄMPE.
That is Piepenbrink, the wine-dealer Piepenbrink. He has a large following in his district, is a well-to-do man, and, they say, can command five or six votes among his adherents.
BOLZ.
Him we must have. What sort of a man is he?
KÄMPE.
He is very blunt, they say, and no politician at all.
BELLMAUS.
But he has a pretty daughter.
KÄMPE.
What's the use of his pretty daughter? I'd rather he had an ugly wife—one could get at him more easily.
BELLMAUS.
Yes, but he has one—a lady with little curls and fiery red ribbons in her cap.
BOLZ.
Wife or no wife, the man must be ours. Hush, some one is coming; that is Oldendorf's step. He needn't know anything of our conference. Go to your room, gentlemen. To be continued this evening.
KÄMPE (at the door).
It is still agreed, I suppose, that in the next number I resume the attack on the new correspondent of the Coriolanus, the one with the arrow.
BOLZ.
Yes, indeed. Pitch into him, decently but hard. Just now, on the eve of the election, a little row with our opponents will do us good; and the articles with the arrow give us a great opening.
[Exeunt KÄMPE and BELLMAUS.]
Enter OLDENDORF through centre door.
OLDENDORF.
Good-day, Conrad.
BOLZ (at the table on the right, looking over the list of voters).
Blessed be thy coming! The mail is over there; there is nothing of importance.
OLDENDORF.
Do you need me here today?
BOLZ.
No, my darling. This evening's issue is ready. For tomorrow Kämpe is writing the leading article.
OLDENDORF.
About what?
BOLZ.
A little skirmish with the Coriolanus. Another one against the unknown correspondent with the arrow who attacked our party. But do not worry; I told Kämpe to make the article dignified, very dignified.
OLDENDORF.
For Heaven's sake, don't! The article must not be written.
BOLZ.
I fail to comprehend you. What use are political opponents if you cannot attack them?
OLDENDORF.
Now see here! These articles were written by the Colonel; he told me so himself today.
BOLZ.
Thunder and lightning!
OLDENDORF (gloomily).
You may imagine that along with this admission went other intimations which place me just now in a very uncomfortable position as regards the Colonel and his family.
BOLZ (seriously).
And what does the Colonel want you to do?
OLDENDORF.
He will be reconciled to me if I resign the editorship of this paper and withdraw as candidate for election.
BOLZ.
The devil! He is moderate in his demands!
OLDENDORF.
I suffer under this discord; to you, as my friend, I can say so.
BOLZ (going up to him and pressing his hand).
Solemn moment of manly emotion!
OLDENDORF.
Don't play the clown just now. You can imagine how unpleasant my position in the Colonel's house has become. The worthy old gentleman either frigid or violent; the conversation spiced with bitter allusions; Ida suffering—I can often see that she has been crying. If our party wins and I become member for the town, I fear I shall lose all hope of marrying Ida.
BOLZ (vehemently).
And if you withdraw it will be a serious blow to our party. (Rapidly and emphatically.) The coming session of Parliament will determine the fate of the country. The parties are almost equal. Every loss is a blow of a vote to our cause. In this town we have no other candidate but you, who is sufficiently popular to make his election probable. If you withdraw from the contest, no matter what the reason, our opponents win.
OLDENDORF.
Unfortunately what you say is true.
BOLZ (with continued vehemence).
I won't dwell on my confidence in your talents. I am convinced that, in the House, and, possibly, as one of the ministers, you will be of service to your country. I merely ask you, now, to remember your duty to our political friends, who have pinned their faith on you, and to this paper and ourselves, who for three years have worked for the credit of the name of Oldendorf which heads our front page. Your honor is at stake, and every moment of wavering is wrong.
OLDENDORF (dignified).
You are exciting yourself without reason. I too deem it wrong to retire now when I am told that our cause needs me. But in confessing to you, my friend, that my decision means a great personal sacrifice, I am not compromising either our cause or ourselves as individuals.
BOLZ (soothingly).
Right you are! You are a loyal comrade. And so peace, friendship, courage! Your old Colonel won't be inexorable.
OLDENDORF.
He has grown intimate with Senden, who flatters him in every way, and has plans, I fear, which affect me also. I should feel still more worried but for knowing that I have now a good advocate in the Colonel's house. Adelaide Runeck has just arrived.
BOLZ.
Adelaide Runeck? She into the bargain! (Quickly calling through the door on the right.) Kämpe, the article against the knight of the arrow is not to be written. Understand?
Enter KÄMPE.
KÄMPE (at the door, pen in hand).
But what is to be written, then?
BOLZ.
The devil only knows! See here! Perhaps I can induce Oldendorf to write the leading article for tomorrow himself. But at all events you must have something on hand.
KÄMPE.
But what?
BOLZ (excitedly).
For all I care write about emigration to Australia; that, at any rate, will give no offense.
KÄMPE.
Good! Am I to encourage it or advise against it?
BOLZ (quickly).
Advise against it, of course; we need every one who is willing to work here at home. Depict Australia as a contemptible hole. Be perfectly truthful but make it as black as possible—how the Kangaroo, balled into a heap, springs with invincible malice at the settler's head, while the duckbill nips at the back of his legs; how the gold-seeker has, in winter, to stand up to his neck in salt water while for three months in summer he has not a drop to drink; how he may live through all that only to be eaten up at last by thievish natives. Make it very vivid and end up with the latest market prices for Australian wool from the Times. You'll find what books you need in the library. [Slams the door to.]
OLDENDORF (at the table).
Do you know Miss Runeck? She often inquires about you in her letters to Ida.
BOLZ.
Indeed? Yes, to be sure, I know her. We are from the same village—she from the manor-house, I from the parsonage. My father taught us together. Oh, yes, I know her!
OLDENDORF.
How comes it that you have drifted so far apart? You never speak of her.
BOLZ.
H'm! It is an old story—family quarrels, Montagues and Capulets. I have not seen her for a long time.
OLDENDORF (smiling).
I hope that you too were not estranged by politics.
BOLZ.
Politics did, indeed, have something to do with our separation; you see it is the common misfortune that party life destroys friendship.
OLDENDORF.
Sad to relate! In religion any educated man will tolerate the convictions of another; but in politics we treat each other like reprobates if there be the slightest shade of difference of opinion between us.
BOLZ (aside).
Matter for our next article! (Aloud.) "The slightest shade of difference of opinion between us." Just what I think! We must have that in our paper! (Entreating). Look! A nice little virtuous article: "An admonition to our voters—Respect our opponents, for they are, after all, our brothers!" (Urging him more and more.) Oldendorf, that would be something for you—there is virtue and humanity in the theme; writing will divert you, and you owe the paper an article because you forbade the feud. Please do me the favor! Go into the back room there and write. No one shall disturb you.
OLDENDORF (smiling).
You are just a vulgar intriguer!
BOLZ (forcing him from his chair).
Please, you'll find ink and paper there. Come, deary, come! [He accompanies him to the door on the left. Exit OLDENDORF. BOLZ calling after him.] Will you have a cigar? An old Henry Clay? [Draws a cigar-case from his pocket.] No? Don't make it too short; it is to be the principal article! [He shuts the door, calls through the door on the right.] The professor is writing the article himself. See that nobody disturbs him! [Coming to the front.] So that is settled.—Adelaide here in town! I'll go straight to her! Stop, keep cool, keep cool! Old Bolz, you are no longer the brown lad from the parsonage. And even if you were, she has long since changed. Grass has grown over the grave of a certain childish inclination. Why are you suddenly thumping so, my dear soul? Here in town she is just as far off from you as on her estates. [Seating himself and playing with a pencil.] "Nothing like keeping cool," murmured the salamander as he sat in the stove fire.
Enter KORB.
KORB.
Is Mr. Bolz in?
BOLZ (jumping up).
Korb! My dear Korb! Welcome, heartily welcome! It is good of you not to have forgotten me. [Shakes hands with him.] I am very glad to see you.
KORB.
And I even more to see you. Here we are in town. The whole village sends greetings! From Anton the stable-boy—he is now head man—to the old night watchman whose horn you once hung up on the top of the tower. Oh, what a pleasure this is!
BOLZ.
How is Miss Runeck? Tell me, old chap!
KORB.
Very well indeed, now. But we have been through much. The late general was ill for four years. It was a bad time. You know he was always an irritable man.
BOLZ.
Yes, he was hard to manage.—
KORB.
And especially during his illness. But Miss Adelaide took care of him, so gentle and so pale, like a perfect lamb. Now, since his death, Miss Adelaide runs the estate, and like the best of managers. The village is prospering again. I will tell you everything, but not until this evening. Miss Adelaide is waiting for me; I merely ran in quickly to tell you that we are here.
BOLZ.
Don't be in such a hurry, Korb.—So the people in the village still think of me!
KORB.
I should say they did! No one can understand why you don't come near us. It was another matter while the old gentleman was alive, but now—
BOLZ (seriously).
My parents are dead; a stranger lives in the parsonage.
KORB.
But we in the manor-house are still alive! Miss Runeck would surely be delighted—
BOLZ.
Does she still remember me?
KORB.
Of course she does. This very day she asked about you.
BOLZ.
What did she ask, old chap?
KORB.
She asked me if it was true what people are saying, that you have grown very wild, make debts, run after girls, and are up to the devil generally.
BOLZ.
Good gracious! You stood up for me, I trust?
KORB.
Of course! I told her that all that might be taken for granted with you.
BOLZ.
Confound it! That's what she thinks of me, is it? Tell me, Korb, Miss
Adelaide has many suitors, has she not?
KORB.
The sands of the sea are as nothing to it.
BOLZ (vexed).
But yet she can finally choose only one, I suppose.
KORB (slyly).
Correct! But which one? That's the question.
BOLZ.
Which do you think it will be?
KORB.
Well, that is difficult to say. There is this Mr. von Senden who is now living in town. If any one has a chance it is probably he. He fusses about us like a weasel. Just as I was leaving he sent to the house a whole dozen of admission cards to the great fête at the club. It must be the sort of club where the upper classes go arm-in-arm with the townspeople.
BOLZ.
Yes, it is a political society of which Senden is a director. It is casting out a great net for voters. And the Colonel and the ladies are going?
KORB.
I hear they are. I, too, received a card.
BOLZ (to himself).
Has it come to this? Poor Oldendorf!—And Adelaide at the club fête of
Mr. von Senden!
KORB (to himself).
How am I going to begin and find out about his love-affairs? (Aloud.) Oh, see here, Mr. Conrad, one thing more! Have you possibly some real good friend in this concern to whom you could introduce me?
BOLZ.
Why, old chap?
KORB.
It is only—I am a stranger here, and often have commissions and errands where I need advice. I should like to have some one to consult should you chance to be away, or with whom I could leave word for you.
BOLZ.
You will find me here at almost any time of day. [At the door.] Bellmaus! [Enter BELLMAUS.] You see this gentleman here. He is an honored old friend of mine from my native village. Should he happen not to find me here, you take my place.—This gentleman's name is Bellmaus, and he is a good fellow.
KORB.
I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Bellmaus.
BELLMAUS.
And I to make yours. You have not told me his name yet.
BOLZ.
Korb. He has had a great deal to carry in his life, and has often carried me on his back, too.
BELLMAUS.
I too am pleased, Mr. Korb. [They shake hands.]
KORB.
Well, that is in order, and now I must go or Miss Adelaide will be waiting.
BOLZ.
Good-by! Hope to see you very soon again.
[Exit KORB; exit BELLMAUS through door on the right.]
BOLZ (alone).
So this Senden is courting her! Oh, that is bitter!
Enter HENNING, followed by MILLER.
HENNING (in his dressing-gown, hurriedly, with a printed roll in his hand).
Your servant, Mr. Bolz! Is "opponent" spelt with one p or with two p's? The new proofreader has corrected it one p.
BOLZ (deep in his thoughts).
Estimable Mr. Henning, the Union prints it with two p's.
HENNING.
I said so at once. [To MILLER.] It must be changed; the press is waiting.
[Exit MILLER hastily.]
I took occasion to read the leading article. Doubtless you wrote it yourself. It is very good, but too sharp, Mr. Bolz. Pepper and mustard—that will give offense; it will cause bad blood.
BOLZ (still deep in his thoughts, violently).
I always did have an antipathy to this man!
[Illustration: Permission Union Deutsche Verlagsgesellschaft,
Stuttgart. NATURE ENTHUSIASTS. ADOLPH VON MENZEL]
HENNING (hurt).
How? What? Mr. Bolz? You have an antipathy to me?
BOLZ.
To whom? No, dear Mr. Henning, you are a good fellow and would be the best newspaper owner in the world, if only you were not often as frightened as a hare. [Embraces him.] My regards to Mrs. Henning, sir, and leave me alone. I am thinking up my next article.
HENNING (while he is being thrust out).
But do, please, write very moderately and kindly, dear Mr. Bolz.
BOLZ (alone, walking to and fro again).
Senden avoids me whenever he can. He stands things from me that any one else would strongly resent. Is it possible that he suspects—
Enter MILLER.
MILLER (hurriedly).
A lady I don't know wishes to pay her respects to you.
BOLZ.
A lady! And to me?
MILLER.
To the editor. [Hands him a card.]
BOLZ (reads).
Leontine Pavoni-Gessler, née Melloni from Paris. She must have to do with art. Is she pretty?
MILLER.
H'm! So, so!
BOLZ.
Then tell her we are very sorry that we cannot have the pleasure, that it is the editor's big washing-day.
MILLER.
What?
BOLZ (vehemently).
Washing, children's washing. That we are sitting up to the elbows in soapsuds.
MILLER (laughing).
And I am to—
BOLZ (impatiently).
You're a blockhead! [At the door.] Bellmaus! [Enter BELLMAUS.]
Stay here and receive the visitor. [Gives him the card.]
BELLMAUS.
Ah, that is the new ballet-dancer who is expected here. [Inspecting his coat.] But I'm not dressed for it!
BOLZ.
All the more dressed she will be. [To MILLER.] Show the lady in.
[Exit MILLER.]
BELLMAUS.
But really I cannot—
BOLZ (irritably).
Oh the devil, don't put on airs! [Goes to the table, puts papers in the drawer, seizes his hat.]
Enter MADAME PAVONI.
MADAME PAVONI.
Have I the honor of seeing before me the editor of the Union?
BELLMAUS (bowing).
To be sure—that is to say—won't you kindly be seated? [Pushes up chairs.]
BOLZ.
Adelaide is clear-sighted and clever. How can she possibly fail to see through that fellow?
MADAME PAVONI.
Mr. Editor, the intelligent articles about art which adorn your paper—have prompted me—
BELLMAUS.
Oh, please!
BOLZ. (having made up his mind).
I must gain entrance into this club-fête!
[Exit with a bow to the lady. BELLMAUS and MADAME PAVONI sit facing each other.]