Part 2

What hour is it?

Theodemir.

The ninth, Sire.

Teja.

And what do they who are free--the unmarried, and they whose wives are not here?

Theodemir.

They lie by the fires and are silent.

(_Exit_ Ildibad.)

Teja.

See to it that something is brought to them also. I already ordered it. Will they sleep?

Theodemir.

No one will sleep.

Teja.

At midnight, come and fetch me.

Theodemir.

Yea, Sire. (_Makes as if to go_.)

Teja (_with a shade of anxiety_).

Theodemir, stay!... Thou hast always been my adversary.

Theodemir.

I was, Sire. For a long time I have ceased to be.

Teja (_stretches out his arms_).

Come! (_They hold each other in a close embrace; then they clasp hands_.) I would fain hold thee here, but truly thou must go to thy wife. (Ildibad _again enters_.) And forget not to have food brought to those who are gazing at the fires. They should have occupation. Brooding profiteth not in such an hour.

Theodemir.

Yea, Sire. (_Exit_.)

_TENTH SCENE_.

TEJA. ILDIBAD.

Teja.

Now, my old man, we should have nothing further to do upon this earth. Shall we talk?

Ildibad.

Sire, if I might beg a favour for myself.

Teja.

Still favours, at this time?... I believe thou wouldst flatter me, old companion!

Ildibad.

Sire, I am old. My arm would grow weary with bearing a spear, more quickly than is good for thy life. And by my fault shouldst thou not fall, Sire.... If no one else sleeps, think not evil of me, and let me sleep away the two hours.

Teja.

(_With a new gleam of deep anxiety_.) Go, but not far away.

Ildibad.

Surely, Sire, I have always lain as a dog before thy tent. In respect of that, on this last night, nothing will be changed.... Hast thou orders to give, Sire?

Teja.

Good-night! (_Exit_ Ildibad.)

_ELEVENTH SCENE_.

TEJA. _Afterward_ BALTHILDA. (TEJA _left alone, throws himself on his couch, staring straight before him with a bitter, wearied smile_. BALTHILDA _enters shyly. In one hand she carries a basket containing meat, bread, and fruits; in the other, a golden tankard of wine. She advances a few steps toward the table_.)

Teja (_half rising_).

Who art thou?

Balthilda (_feebly and timidly_).

Knowest thou me not, King?

Teja (_rising from his couch_).

The torches burn dimly.... Thy voice I have heard before!... What wilt thou of me?

Balthilda.

I am indeed thy wife, King.

Teja (_after a silence_).

And what wilt thou of me?

Balthilda.

My mother sendeth me. I am to bring thee food and wine. The others eat and drink, and so my mother saith---- (_She stops_.)

Teja.

How didst thou enter here?... Did not the watch forbid thee to enter?

Balthilda (_drawing herself up_).

I am the Queen, Sire.

Teja.

Yea, verily. And Ildibad, what said he?

Balthilda.

Thy old spearbearer lay and slept. I stepped across him, Sire.

Teja.

I thank thee, Balthilda.... I am not hungry. I thank thee. (_Silence_. Balthilda _stands and looks tearfully at him_.)

Teja.

I see, thou hast still a request to make of me. I pray thee, speak!

Balthilda.

My King, if I return home with a well-filled basket, then shall I be mocked by all the women.... And the men shall say----

Teja (_smiling_).

And what shall the men say?

Balthilda.

He esteemeth her so little that--he consenteth not to take food from her hand.

Teja.

On my word, I assure thee, Balthilda, the men have other things to think on ... yet nevertheless ... reproach thou shalt not suffer through me. Set thy basket there.... Have ye still much of such things?

Balthilda.

Sire, these two weeks have my mother and I and the women about us put aside the best of our share--flour and fruits--and the fowls have we not killed till this very day.

Teja.

Then indeed must ye have been mightily hungry, ye women?

Balthilda.

Ah, it hath done us no hurt, Sire.... It was for a feast.

Teja.

In truth? Ye believed we should celebrate a feast to-day?

Balthilda.

Well ... is it then not a feast, Sire?

Teja.

(_Is silent and bites his nether lip, examining her furtively_.) Wilt thou not be seated, Balthilda?... I should not yet let thee go home! That too would be a reproach, would it not?

(Balthilda _is silent and looks down_.)

Teja.

And if I bade thee, wouldst thou wish to stay?

Balthilda.

Sire, how should a wife not wish to stay beside her husband?

Teja.

Hast thou then the feeling in thy heart, that I--am--thy--husband?

Balthilda.

Indeed, how could it be otherwise? The Bishop hath joined us together.

Teja.

And wert thou glad when he did it?

Balthilda.

Yea.... Nay, I was not glad then.

Teja.

Why not?

Balthilda (_with a bright glance_).

Perhaps because, because ... I was afraid, Sire, and I was praying.

Teja.

What didst thou pray?

Balthilda.

That God would grant to me, his humble handmaid, the power to bring thee the happiness which thou needest, and which thou awaitest from me.

Teja.

Which I from thee--that didst thou pray?

Balthilda.

Sire, may I not offer thee the food, and the wine?

Teja.

Nay, nay!... Hearken, Balthilda: without, by our fires, are warriors--they are hungry--I am not hungry.

Balthilda.

Sire, give them what thou pleasest ... give them everything!

Teja.

I thank thee, Balthilda. (_Raising the curtain_.) Ho there, watch! Come in, but prudently so as not to wake the old man.... (_Watcher enters_.) Here, take this basket with food and wine, and divide it honestly.... Say your Queen sends it.

Watcher.

May I thank the Queen, Sire?

(Teja _nods_. Watcher _shakes her hand heartily. Exit_.)

Teja.

Go--and bring me to eat!

Balthilda (_perplexed_).

Sire--why--mockest thou--me?

Teja.

Dost thou then not understand me? If thou wilt be my wife, thou must offer me my property, not thine!

Balthilda.

Is not all of mine thy property, Sire?

Teja.

Hm! (_Silence. He takes her hands._) Call me not Sire and call me not King.... Knowest thou not my name?

Balthilda.

Thy name is Teja!

Teja.

Say it yet once again!

Balthilda (_softly, turning away_).

Teja!

Teja.

Is the name so strange to thee?

(Balthilda _shakes her head_.)

Teja.

Then why hesitate?

Balthilda.

Not for that, Sire! Since I knew that I was to serve thee as thy wife, I have often named thee by day and in the night. Only I never said it aloud....

Teja.

And before thou knewest it, what was then thy thought?

Balthilda.

Sire, why dost thou ask?

Teja.

And why dost thou not answer?

Balthilda.

Sire, when I heard of thy bloody commands, and the others feared thee--then I often thought: How unhappy must he be that the destiny of the Goths compelleth him to such deeds!

Teja.

That hast thou thought?--That hast thou----?

Balthilda.

Sire, was it wrong that I should think it?

Teja.

Thou hadst never seen my face, and thou didst understand me? And they who were around me, the wise men and tried soldiers, they understood me not!... Who art thou, woman? Who hath taught thee to read my heart? Thee, thee alone of all?

Balthilda.

Sire--I----

Teja.

All shuddered and muttering hid themselves from me in corners--and saw not the way, the only way which haply might still have saved them. When the butcher's knife was already at their throat, they still told themselves some tale of compromise. And then came the crafty Greeks, measured themselves with them, and killed them one by one. Thus perished the hundred thousand. And I wrapped myself in grief and anger--I cast hope away from me like a bloody rag, I sprang into the breach with scornful laughter. I sowed horrors about me, when my own heart was convulsed with horror of myself. I have not once been drunk with all the blood. I have killed, killed, and still knew all the while: it is in vain! (_He sinks to his seat overcome with anguish, and stares straight before him_.)

Balthilda (_with a shy attempt at a caress_).

My poor dear King! Dear Teja!

Teja.

(_Raises his head and looks confusedly around him_.) My God, what do I here?... Why do I tell all this to thee? Thou must not despise me because I am such a babbler.... Nor must thou believe that it is aught of remorse that compels me to this confession.... Perhaps I feel pity for the victims, but my conscience stands high above all that!... Far higher than my poor Gothic throne.... Look not upon me so.... There is in thy eye something that compels me to reveal my inmost thought to thee.... Who hath endued thee with this power over me?... Begone!... Nay, stay ... Stay! I wish to tell thee yet something, quite in secret, before thou goest.... Besides, I should not cry out so, otherwise the watch may hear.... Incline thine ear to me. Never yet have I confessed it to any man, nor have I held it possible that I should ever confess it.... I bear an envy within me which devoureth my heart, whenever I think--knowest thou toward whom?... Toward Totilas.... Yea, toward Totilas in his grave.... They called him the "shining" Totilas and their affection still cleaveth to him to-day.... Their eyes still flash when they even think of him.

Balthilda.

Ah, Sire, how thou dost fret thyself!

Teja (_anxiously_).

Didst thou ever see him?

Balthilda.

Never.

Teja.

God be thanked! For hadst thou ever seen him as I saw him on the morning of the battle in which he fell ... arrayed in golden armour ... and the white steed pranced beneath him, and his yellow locks streamed like sunlight about him. And he laughed the foe in the face.... Laughed like a child!... Ah, laughing to die like him!

Balthilda.

His lot was easy, Sire! He went from hence, but left to thee as an inheritance the half-destroyed kingdom.... How shouldst thou then have laughed?

Teja (_eagerly_).

Is it not so?--Is it not so?--How ... Ah, that doeth good! (_Stretching himself_.) Ah, thou doest me good!

Balthilda.

How proud thou makest me, Sire!

Teja.

But hadst thou seen him and compared him to me, thou wouldst spit upon me!

Balthilda (_fervently_).

I should have seen only thee, Sire dear, dear Sire!

(Teja _looks askance at her, shyly and distrustfully, then walks silently to the left, sinks down before the seat on the throne, and burying his face in the chair, weeps bitterly_.)

Balthilda.

(_Follows him shyly and kneels down beside him_.) Teja, beloved, if I hurt thee, pardon me!

Teja (_rises and grasps her arm_).

Tell it to no one!

Balthilda.

What, Sire?

Teja.

That thou hast seen me weep! Swear it to me!

Balthilda.

It hath been told me that I am now even as a piece of thy body--and of thy soul also!... Wherefore should I swear?

Teja.

If thou art a piece of my body, then come nearer to me, that thou mayst not see my tears.

Balthilda.

Let me dry them for thee! See, for this cause am I here.

Teja.

Ah, 'tis well with me.... I must indeed have died of shame, for never yet hath a Gothic man been seen to weep. Even when we buried Totilas, we wept not.... Yet I am not ashamed.... If I but knew why suddenly it is so well with me!... Balthilda, I will tell thee something. But thou must not laugh me to scorn.

Balthilda.

How should I laugh at thee, beloved?

Teja.

I am hungry.

Balthilda (_springing up in surprise_).

Alas, surely thou hast given everything away!

Teja.

Oh, by no means! Go just over there, wilt thou? (_She obeys_.) Behind my couch--seest thou the fireplace?

Balthilda.

Here where the ashes lie?

Teja.

There standeth a chest?

Balthilda.

Yea.

Teja.

Wilt thou open the lid?

Balthilda.

Ah, it is heavy!

Teja.

Now feel within! Deep, deep!... There Ildibad the old miser--well?

Balthilda (_disappointedly_).

A couple of bread crusts; is that all, Sire?

Teja.

There is indeed nothing more.

Balthilda.

May I not then go quickly over to the Wagenburg?... Perhaps still ...

Teja.

Oh nay.... They themselves need the fragments.... Bring that hither! As brothers we shall share it--eh? And then there is sufficient for both. Wilt thou?

Balthilda.

Yea. (_She sits beside him_.)

Teja.

So, now give to me! Ah, that is good to the taste! Is it not good to the taste? But ah, thou also must eat.

Balthilda.

I fear there is not enough for thee.

Teja.

Nay, that is against the agreement.... So.... Is it not good to the taste?

Balthilda.

To me nothing hath ever tasted half so sweet.

Teja.

Pray come nearer to me ... I will take the crumbs from thy lap ... So--why is it that suddenly I am hungry? See, now we celebrate our marriage feast.

Balthilda.

And better than those without, with meat and wine--do we not?

Teja.

Well, did I not tell thee?... But thou hast a bad seat!

Balthilda.

Nay, I am seated well!

Teja.

Come, stand up! Pray, stand up!

Balthilda (_rising_).

Well?

Teja.

Sit there, just above!

Balthilda (_terrified_).

Upon the throne--for God's sake--how dare I----?

Teja.

Art thou not then the Queen?

Balthilda (_decidedly_).

If I must sit there in earnest! But in jest--nay!

Teja.

Ah, the stupid bit of wood! (_He hurls down the throne_.) At least it should be of use for something!... So now lean against it!

Balthilda.

Beloved, doest thou justly?

Teja (_surprised_).

Nay! (_He sets the throne up again, leads her to her former place, and places her head against the seat_.) There indeed thou art well seated--yea!... And we trespass not against this trash. If the Bishop had seen that--he, ha, ha, ha! Wait, I will eat again!

Balthilda.

There, take!

Teja.

Still--remain quite still! I shall fetch it for myself. (_He kneels upon the podium beside her_.) Now I am quite upon my knees before thee.... What is there that we do not learn!... Thou art beautiful!... I never knew my mother!

Balthilda.

Never knew!

Teja.

Never had a sister.... No one.... Never played in my life.... That I am surely learning last not least.

Balthilda.

Why last not least?

Teja.

Ask not--nay? Ah thou, thou! Ha, ha, ha! Pray eat! Bite from mine--yea? Obediently--thou knowest what the Bishop said?

Balthilda (_bites and then springs up_).

But wilt thou not also drink?

Teja.

Ah, surely! Bring me only the milk jar! Bring me only the milk jar.... Thou knowest the one that Ildibad told us of.

Balthilda (_who has walked across_).

Is this the one?

Teja (_rising_).

That is indeed it. But thou also must drink.

Balthilda.

Is it fitting so?

Teja.

I know not. It should be!

Balthilda.

So be it, then. (_She drinks and shakes with laughter_.) Ugh! That hath a bad taste.

Teja.

Give it to me. (_He drinks_.) Nay! (_He drinks again_.) Go!... Art thou then such a despiser of nourishment?... Yea, who art thou then? And how comest thou hither? And just what wilt thou of me?

Balthilda.

I will love thee!

Teja.

Thou--my wife! Thou ... (_They fly into one another's arms. Softly_.) And wilt thou not kiss me?

(Balthilda _shakes her head, ashamed_.)

Teja.

Why not?

(Balthilda _again shakes her head_.)

Teja.

Yet tell me, why not?

Balthilda.

I will tell thee in thine ear.

Teja.

Well?

Balthilda.

Thou hast a downy beard.[1]

Teja.

(_Wipes his month in terror, then in assumed anger_.) What have I? Knowest thou not who I am? How then dost thou suffer thyself to tell thy King he--say it yet once more! I will but see.

Balthilda (_laughing_).

A--downy--beard.

Teja (_laughing_).

Now, wait!

_TWELFTH SCENE_.

THE SAME. ILDIBAD.

Ildibad.

Sire, thou calledst? (_He stands rigid with astonishment, and is about to retire silently_.)

Teja.

(_Collects himself abruptly. He appears to wake out of a dream. His manners and bearing revert to the gloomy energy which previously had the ascendency_.) Stop, stay, what happens without?

Ildibad.

The warriors return from the Wagenburg, sire, and most of the wives come with them.

Teja.

Are the leaders assembled?

Ildibad.

Yea, Sire.

Teja.

They might have patience for a moment more.

Ildibad.

Yea, Sire.

Teja.

For I also have a wife.

Ildibad.

Yea, verily, Sire.

[_Exit_.]

_THIRTEENTH SCENE_.

TEJA. BALTHILDA.

Balthilda.

Teja, beloved, what happeneth to thee?

Teja.

(_Remains standing before her and takes her head in his hands_.) To me, it is as if in this hour we had strayed hand in hand through a whole world of joy and sorrow. That disappeareth--all disappeareth. I am again the--I was--nay, I am not he.--But be thou high above all the women, the Queen ... Wilt thou?

Balthilda.

Sire, what dost thou require of me?

Teja.

Thou wilt not entreat and wilt not cry out?

Balthilda.

Nay, Sire.

Teja.

The day draweth nigh. Before us standeth death.

Balthilda.

Sire, I understand thee not. None can attack us, and until the ships come----

Teja.

The ships come never more.

(Balthilda _strokes herself on the cheeks, and then stands motionless_.)

Teja.

But we men are going forth upon the field, to fight.

Balthilda.

That can ye not do--that is surely--impossible.

Teja.

We must. Art thou the Queen, and perceivest not that we must?

Balthilda.

Yea--I--per--ceive--it.

Teja.

The King fights in the foremost rank, and we shall see each other no more alive.... Knowest thou that?

Balthilda.

Yea, I know it!... (_Silence. They look at each other_.)

Teja.

Thy blessing will I have upon the way. (_He sinks on his knees before her; she lays her hands upon his head, bends down to him, trembling, and kisses him on the forehead_.)

Teja.

(_Springs up and tears back the curtain_.) Enter, who waiteth there!

_FOURTEENTH SCENE_.

THE SAME. AMALABERGA, EURIC, AGILA, ATHANARIC, THEODEMIR, _and other leaders_.

Amalaberga.

King, I sent my child to thee.... I hear ye men have to act.... Give her again to me.

Teja.

Here hast thou thy child! (_Exeunt_ Amalaberga _and_ Balthilda.)

_FIFTEENTH SCENE_.

THE SAME. _Except_ AMALABERGA _and_ BALTHILDA.

Teja.

(_Stares after them, rouses himself, and perceives the Bishop_.) Bishop, I treated thee basely this evening. Forgive me and have my thanks, for surely I also know why the Goth loveth death.... (_Grasps his sword_.) Now be ye ready? Have the farewells been said?

Theodemir.

Sire, we have disobeyed thy command. Which of our wives betrayed it, and which of us told it, that cannot be determined. Enough, they all know it.

Teja.

And then have cried ah and woe?

Theodemir.

Sire, they have silently kissed the blessing of death upon our brows.

Teja (_exclaims half to himself_).

They also! (_Aloud_.) Truly we are a nation of kings. It is our misfortune. So come! (_He strides to the background. The others follow. Amid the noisy cries of the people greeting the King, the curtain falls_.)

II

FRITZCHEN

A DRAMA IN ONE ACT

PERSONS

Herr von Drosse, Major (retired), Lord of the Manor. Helene, his wife. Fritz, their son. Agnes, niece of Frau von Drosse. Von Hallerpfort, lieutenant. Stephan, overseer. Wilhelm, servant.

FRITZCHEN

_The action takes place on Herr von Drosse's estate. Time, the present_.

_The scene represents a drawing-room on the ground floor. In the rear are wide glass doors which stand open, and permit a view of the terrace and splendid park lying beyond. Windows to the right and left. On the right side, a sofa with table and chairs; on the left, a secretary with writing materials. Handsome old-fashioned decorations, pictures of battles, portraits in oval frames, racing prints, etc. The terrace is sheltered by a broad awning which slightly subdues the glare of the bright summer afternoon._

_FIRST SCENE_.

Wilhelm (_servant over sixty, in half livery, is engaged in arranging the samovar for the afternoon coffee_). Agnes (_extremely slender, nervous, with traces of mental distress--twenty years of age--blonde hair smoothed on the temples, light muslin gown, a garden hat in her hand--enters from the terrace_).

Agnes.

Wilhelm, has the postman been here?

Wilhelm (_sighing_).

Yes, yes, he was here.

Agnes.

Where are the things?

Wilhelm.

They are on the table, Fräulein.

Agnes.

(_Goes quickly to the table and with feverish haste looks through the small pile of newspapers and letters lying there_.) Again, nothing!

Wilhelm.

Yes, indeed--and this is the seventh day. Ah, it is really heart-breaking.

Agnes.

Are your master and mistress still taking their afternoon nap?

Wilhelm.

I have just heard the Major. He will be here directly--there he is now!

_SECOND SCENE_.

THE SAME. MAJOR VON DROSSE (_about fifty, tall, broad-shouldered, rather stout. Dark-grayish full beard parted in the middle, waving right and left over his shoulders. In the full, well-browned face with flashing eyes and bushy eyebrows, there are energy and abundant vitality, controlled by the self-command and chivalric manner of an old officer. Brief in speech, domineering, but never without a gleam of inner kindness_).

Major.

Afternoon, Agnes!

Agnes.

Afternoon, uncle!

Major.

(_Goes to the table, examines the letters, sits down and looks straight before him for a little while_.) Wilhelm!

Wilhelm.

What does the Major wish?

Major.

Stephan is to come at once to the castle.

Wilhelm.

Very well, Major. (_Exit_.)

Major.

Agnes, my child, just listen to me ... You are a reasonable creature ... One that I can talk to.... So the rascal has again not written. He should have come to us, day before yesterday. Has made no excuses--doesn't write--nothing. That has not happened during the six years that he has been away from home. I ordered him most strictly to send a letter, or at least a card, every day--for with her illness, your aunt must be guarded against the slightest anxiety or excitement. He knows that, and moreover has always observed it conscientiously. I can't any longer be responsible for your aunt and her weakened heart. Unless we use every means to keep her in her--visionary life, she will go to pieces.

Agnes.

Uncle!

Major.

We must make up our minds to that, Agnes. Really, I do what I can. Yesterday I even forged a telegram to her--you know that, eh! I did intend to write to his intimate friend Hallerpfort, but thought better of it. I shall drive into town directly after dark. Without your aunt knowing it, of course--for now, during the harvest, that would upset her still more. So you will stay all night with her, and er--well, the rest I will arrange with Stephan.

Agnes.

Very well, dear uncle.

Major.

Just come here, girl, look me in the face ... We two know each other and ... Eh?

(Agnes _casts down her eyes_.)

Major.

Now see, I know very well that for two years you have been secretly corresponding with Fritz.

Agnes.

Uncle! (_Presses her hands to her face_.)

Major.

There, that will do, that will do, that will do.... You can well believe, if I had been opposed to it on principle, I should have long since put an end to the business, shouldn't I?... But there are things--well, in short, that you don't understand. Well, I should not have begun about the matter to-day, but necessity knows no law, eh? And if I go to see him this evening, I don't wish to grope altogether in the dark.... So--on the basis of what has just been said--have you, perhaps, by any chance had a letter from him?

Agnes.

No, uncle!

Major.

Hm!

Agnes (_hesitating, embarrassed_).

For some time we have not corresponded.

Major.

So?--Ho, ho ...! Who is to blame for that?

Agnes.

Ah, let us not talk about that, uncle. But from another quarter, I have had news of him.

Major.

When?

Agnes.

Yesterday.

Major.

And that you have----?

Agnes.

(_Taking a letter from her pocket_.) Please read--and I think you will not reproach me.

Major (_unfolding the letter_).