Chapter 4

_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!

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._]