Pastor.
Then it is not on my account you are leaving?
Marie.
Certainly not!
Pastor.
Does any one here know of your intention?
Marie.
No one!
Pastor.
Miss Marie, I am still a young man; if I should mention such a word as
"life's happiness," it would, perhaps, sound absurd. Therefore, I will
not speak of myself. My fate is in my own hands. But if you realize
this moment what you owe to this house--and I say this not for mine,
nor for their sake, I say it for yours and yours alone; though I am but
a poor mortal--it pains me--but be that as it may--Marie, if you cause
a discord in this house, the blame will rest upon yourself.
Marie.
Perhaps!
Pastor.
Pardon me--I will not question you. I wish to know nothing; that, in
the end, is always the best. Did I not love you as well as myself, I
would not speak another word; but as matters stand now, I will say
one--aye, one more word--I would not have dared to say otherwise. The
greatest, the highest thing one possesses in this world, is his life's
_melody_--a certain strain that ever vibrates, that his soul forever
sings--waking or dreaming, loudly or softly, internally or externally.
Others may say: "His temperament or his character is so, or so." He
only smiles, for he knows his melody and he knows it alone. You see,
Miss Marie, my life's happiness you have destroyed, but my life's
melody you can not take from me. That is pure and will always remain
so. And now I say to you, Miss Marie, if you fill this house, where you
have obtained everything you possess--honor, bread, and love--if you
fill this house with sorrow--if you dare to sin against your father and
your mother----
Marie.
One moment, Pastor. My father and my mother--what do you know about
them? My father I don't know myself, but my mother? Ah yes, I know her
well; and from her I have inherited my life's melody. This melody has a
beautiful text. Do you want to know what it is, Pastor? It is, "_Thou
shalt steal_. Steal everything for thyself--thy life's happiness--thy
love--all--all. Only others will enjoy it in the end." Yes, Pastor, my
mother is a thief. On St. John's eve she came stealthily over yonder
garden hedge; and as my mother, so am I! And now, Pastor, ask me no
more; I need all my senses, for to-day my entire happiness is at stake!
There--now you know all!
Pastor.
Yes, now I know! Farewell, Miss Marie. I will forget this day, perhaps;
_you_--never----
[_Exit_.]
Gertrude.
[_Enters door L._] Was that George, who just now left?
Marie.
Were you at that door, listening?
Gertrude.
_Marie_!--For shame!!!!!
Marie.
Now go and dress yourself; I will call George. Go now, go!
Gertrude.
And will you come and tell me at once?
Marie.
At once! Yes!! [Gertrude _exits_.] [Marie _calling softly_.] George!
George!
George.
[_Enters from veranda_.] Are you alone?
Marie.
[_Nods_.]
George.
Have you arranged it so?
Marie.
You wished to speak to me, so I have arranged it!
George.
Marie, I wished to tell you. One hour more I am a free man--and my mind
is made up. It is yet time to change our fates. What will you answer
me?
Marie.
Answer you? Why, I don't know what you want.
George.
You know it well enough. I want _you_! Do you hear me? _You_, who
belong to me for life--I want you!
Marie.
[_Softly--happily_.] I thought the fires were out--and you had
forgotten me--and now you want me?
George.
[_Softly_.] Are you not mine? Are you not my wife in the eyes of
heaven?
Marie.
Yes, but in the eyes of the world it is _Gertrude_!
George.
Must it, then, be so?
Marie.
[_Doubtingly_.] Go--go--you love her----
George.
Yes, I do love her. How could I help that? Do you not also love her?
Marie.
[_Bitterly_.] Ah, I don't know. A few moments ago, when I saw her in
your arms--and you wept, too--only, because you love her!! Oh, but I
can bear it!! I will bear it like--like--ah!---- But there--that is no
one's affair but mine----
George.
So, so, that is no one's affair but yours, eh? You might have invented
a sweeter torture. I meant to remain an honorable man all my life; if
unable--well, there are plenty of bullets left.
Marie.
And do you wish to die?
George.