Chapter 73

_Behind the scenes musicians are heard playing._ WEILER, _looking about him, slowly through the centre door; the_ FORESTER'S _wife at the same time from the left with an air of being very busy. Then_ ANDREW, WILLIAM, _and finally_ MARY.

SOPHY. There, the musicians have come already. I wonder where I put the cellar-key. The musicians must have something to drink. You here, Weiler?

WEILER.

Yes, I'm here. But where is the old man--the forester?

SOPHY.

My husband? Isn't he outside?

WEILER.

I want to see him about the wood-cutters.

SOPHY.

Can't you wait?

WEILER.

Wait? Bless you, no. I have my hands full.

SOPHY.

Then get along with you!

WEILER (_quietly filling his short clay pipe with tobacco_).

Yes.

SOPHY.

Is he perhaps already with Herr Stein--

WEILER.

Yes; the sand was already strewn on Tuesday. And the garlands outside at the door. If I do not mistake we are today celebrating the engagement of Miss Mary to Mr. Robert Stein? Then they will be even more chummy when he can say "my father-in-law, Mr. Stein." And that is by no means all. Now Stein has also bought the estate where Ulrich is forester. The fat lawyer from town fixed up the deeds yesterday. And this morning Stein got out of bed as proprietor of Düsterwalde.

SOPHY.

The table here--

WEILER (_while they carry the table together, on the left_).

Won't Ulrich have an easy time of it, now that his old friend has become his master, and is going to be his father-in-law into the bargain!

SOPHY.

Nearer the stove. We must get in one more table.

WEILER (_chuckling to himself_).

Regular ale-house politicians those two, Stein and Ulrich. Every day they have a row.

SOPHY.

What are you talking there about a row? They're only fooling.

[_Exit in a hurry; reënters immediately afterward_.]

WEILER (_going as far as the door, gesticulating behind her_).

Fooling? Don't you believe it! The one is hot-headed, the other obstinate. Ever since there was talk of buying the estate, the clearing of the forest has been the daily apple of discord. Rich people always pretend to know something, even if they don't know the first thing. Now Stein thinks that by cutting down every other row of trees in the forest the first would have more light and room for growing. Maybe Godfrey has hunted that up in some old book. But when he comes with that theory to Ulrich he strikes the wrong man. Only day before yesterday I thought they were going to eat each other up, so that nothing would remain of either of them. Stein says: "The forest will be _cleared_." The forester: "The forest will _not_ be cleared." Stein: "But it _shall_ be cleared." The forester: "It _shall not_ be cleared." Stein jumps up, buttons his coat, two buttons at a time, knocks down two chairs, and is gone. Well, I thought, that is the end of the friendship! But Lord bless my soul! That happened the night before last, and early yesterday morning--it was scarcely dawn--who comes whistling from the castle and knocks at the forester's window, as though nothing had happened? That's Stein. And who has already been waiting for a quarter of an hour and grunts forth from under his white moustache, "I'm coming?" That's Ulrich. And now both of them, without asking each other's pardon, go together out into the forest, as though there never had been a quarrel! Nobody takes any notice of it any longer. At night they quarrel, in the morning they go together into the forest, as though it could not be otherwise. But does he treat his boy any differently? Robert? Does he? Didn't he want to leave home half a dozen times? And afterward he is too good. Queer business that!

[During the last words he has retreated step by step before the table which ANDREW and WILLIAM are carrying in and placing against the table which already stands on the left in the direction from the footlights to the back of stage.]

SOPHY.

Put it here. That's it. And now chairs, boys. From the upper room. Weiler might--

[ANDREW and WILLIAM exeunt.]

WEILER (in a hurry, making ready to go).

Well, if Weiler did not have his hands full! Outside with the wood-cutters--then with the fir-seed and with the salt--there--I don't know where my head's standing with all the work. And the old man--

[A pantomime expressive of ULRICH'S severity.]

SOPHY.

Well, I don't want to be to blame if you neglect anything.

[Exit.]

WEILER (very calmly).

All right!

[Laying his finger against his nose.]

But I wonder whether he will still always be the first to patch up differences? I mean Stein. Now that he is the forester's master? Well; I don't want to prophesy, but--the master is always right because he is the master. Humph! I wish something serious would come to pass. At any rate, I am getting tired of merry faces again.

[Enter ANDREW and WILLIAM, carrying chairs.]

SOPHY. Seven, eight, nine, ten, chairs.

[Counts once more, softly.]

Correct!

WEILER.

That was a queer expression that Godfrey had on his face yesterday, Mr. Andrew. I bet you had another quarrel with him.

SOPHY.

With that vindictive brutal fellow?

[_She sets the table._]

ANDREW.

Who can live in peace with him?

SOPHY.

Well, what's done can't be undone. But you'd better look out for him.

WEILER.

So say I. For there is not a muscle in that fellow's body which is not wicked.

ANDREW.

I am not afraid of him.

SOPHY.

Come, William; run into the garden. Get me some crown-imperials, snap-dragons, larkspurs--something big, so that it will look like something in the glass. The Steins will soon be here with Mr. Möller, the bookkeeper.

WEILER.

The old bachelor--

SOPHY.

Just look, Andrew, whether cousin Wilkens isn't coming yet.

[_ANDREW and WILLIAM exeunt._]

WEILER.

Wilkens is coming too?

SOPHY (with emphasis).

Mr. Wilkens? He will not stay away when his niece's daughter announces her engagement.

WEILER.

No, indeed. He has money, has Mr. Wilkens. The richest farmer for miles around. I also was Mr. Weiler once, before my creditors closed up my coffee store. Then they jammed the "Mr." in the door and there it is still. Now people say simply "Weiler"--"Weiler might"--"As long as Weiler is here," etc. Sometimes, when I am in the humor, I get angry over it. A strange pleasure, to get angry, but it is a pleasure. Hey! There comes the bride-to-be.

[_MARY appears; during the following dialogue the women set the table._]

WEILER.

My! Like a squirrel!

SOPHY.

Weiler means to pay you a compliment, Mary. He has a peculiar manner.

WEILER.

That is true. It does not matter whether the flattery is coarse or fine. If a woman only notices that one means to flatter her, she is satisfied. It is just as when boys stroke a kitten. Whether they pet it gently or roughly, whether it likes it or not, it cannot help purring.

MARY.

And I presume you mean to pet me with this comparison.

WEILER.

If you feel obliged to purr it must have been a petting.

MARY (looking out of the window).

He is coming, mother.

SOPHY.

Who? Robert?

WEILER.

I had better be off to my wood-cutters. Otherwise the old man will make a row.

[Exit.]

SOPHY (calling after him).

If you cannot come in I will save your portion. An uncomfortable fellow! And it is not likely that he will acquire polite manners at this late day. That is a relic of his better days. And for that reason your father is indulgent with him because they were old comrades. Godfrey also was one of them. When he had wasted his property in drink he fell in with Stein.

[_Surveying the table_.]

Here at the head the father of the bridegroom; next to him your father; then the good droll pastor. If it had not been for him, Robert would have gone long ago.

MARY.

Mother, at that time Robert was so wild, so impetuous--

SOPHY.

You are right. At that time the pastor and we could scarcely keep him. [_Counts once more the afore-mentioned persons_.] Then here Mr. Möller; and there your godfather, my cousin Mr. Wilkens; then I myself here; there Robert and you; finally, at the foot, Andrew and William. How the time passes! If I think back to my engagement day! Then I was not as happy as I am today.

MARY.

Mother, I wonder whether every girl that is to become a bride feels as I do? SOPHY. Not every one has such good cause to be glad as you have.

MARY.

But is it gladness that I feel? I am so depressed, mother, so--

SOPHY.

Of course. You are like the flower on which clings a dewdrop. It hangs its head, and yet the dew is no burden.

MARY.

I feel as if it were wrong of me to leave my father, even if it is to go with Robert.

SOPHY.

The Bible says, "A woman shall leave father and mother and cleave to her husband."--But my case was quite different from yours. Your father was a stately man, no longer quite young, but tall and straight like a pine. At that time his beard was still black as coal. Many a girl that would gladly have married him set her cap at him; that I knew. But to me he seemed too serious, too severe. He took everything so seriously, and he cared nothing for amusements. It was no easy matter to accommodate myself to him. I never had to worry about the means of subsistence; and if I should say that he ever treated me harshly, I should be telling a lie; even if he pretended to be harsh.

MARY.

And that was all you had expected? Was that all.

SOPHY.

As if the good Lord could grant everything that is dreamt of by the heart of a girl who herself does not know what she desires! But here comes Robert. We will be quite merry, so that no gloomy thoughts will come to him.