I remember the day very clearly. But I have entirely forgotten what we
were talking about.
WEGRAT
Just what we said has passed out of my mind, too, but I can still
remember what an extraordinary talk it was.... In some way the world
seemed to open up more widely. And I felt something like envy toward
you, as I often did in those days. There rose within me a feeling that
I, too, could do anything--if I only wanted. There was so much to be
seen and experienced--and the flow of life was irresistible. Nothing
would be needed but a little more nerve, a little more self-assurance,
and then to plunge in. ... Yes, that was what I felt while you were
talking. ... And then Gabrielle came toward us along the narrow road
from the village, between the acacias. She carried her straw hat in her
hand, and she nodded to me. And all my dreams of the future centered in
her after that, and once more the whole world seemed fitted into a
frame, and yet it was big and beautiful enough. ... Why does the color
all of a sudden come back into those things? It was practically
forgotten, all of it, and now, when she is dead, it comes to life again
with a glow that almost scares me. ... Oh, it were better not to think
of it at all. What's the use? What's the use? (_Pause; he goes to one
of the windows_)
JULIAN (_struggling to overcome his embarrassment_) It is both wise and
brave of you to resume your regular activities so promptly.
WEGRAT
Oh, once you have made up your mind to go on living. ... There
is nothing but work that can help you through this sense of being
alone--of being _left_ alone.
JULIAN
It seems to me that your grief makes you a little unjust
toward--much that is still yours.
WEGRAT
Unjust...? Oh, I didn't mean to. I hope you don't feel hurt, children
...! Felix, you understand me fully, don't you? There is so much, from
the very beginning, that draws--that lures--that tears the young ones
away from us. We have to struggle to keep our children almost from the
very moment they arrive--and the struggle is a pretty hopeless one at
that. But that's the way of life: they cannot possibly belong to us.
And as far as other people are concerned.... Even our friends come into
our lives only as guests who rise from the table when they have eaten,
and walk out. Like us, they have their own streets, their own affairs.
And it's quite natural it should be so.... Which doesn't prevent us
from feeling pleased, Julian--sincerely pleased, when one of them finds
his way back to us. Especially if it be one on whom we have put great
store throughout life. You may be sure of that, Julian. (_They shake
hands_) And as long as you remain in Vienna, I shall see you here
quite often, I trust. It will give me genuine pleasure.
JULIAN
I'll be sure to come.
MAID (_enters_)
The carriage is here, Professor. (_She goes out_)
WEGRAT
I'm coming. (_To Julian_) You must have a lot to tell me. You were as
good as lost. You understand it will interest me to hear all you have
done--and still more what you intend to do. Felix told us the other day
about some very interesting sketches you had showed him.
JULIAN
I'll go with you, if you care to have me.
WEGRAT
Thanks. But it would be still nicer of you to stay right here and take
dinner with us.
JULIAN
Well ...
WEGRAT
I'll be through very quickly. To-day I have nothing but a few business
matters to dispose of--nothing but signing a few documents. I'll be
back in three-quarters of an hour. In the meantime the children will
keep you company as they used to in the old days. ... Won't you,
children?--So you're staying, are you not? Good-by for a little while
then. (_He goes out_)
[_Long pause._
FELIX
Why didn't you go with him?
JULIAN
Your mother was without blame. If any there be, it falls on me alone.
I'll tell you all about it.
FELIX (_nods_)
JULIAN
It had been arranged that we were to go away together. Everything was
ready. We meant to leave the place secretly because, quite naturally,
your mother shrank from any kind of statement or explanation. Our
intention was to write and explain after we had been gone a few days.
The hour of our start had already been settled. He ... who later became
her husband, had just gone to Vienna for a couple of days in order to
get certain documents. The wedding was to take place in a week.
(_Pause_) Our plans were all made. We had agreed on everything. The
carriage that was to pick us up a little ways off had already been
hired. In the evening we bade each other good-night, fully convinced
that we should meet next morning, never to part again.--It turned out
differently.--You mustn't keep in mind that it was your mother. You
must listen to me as if my story dealt with perfect strangers. ... Then
you can understand everything.
FELIX
I am listening.
JULIAN
I had come to Kirchau in June, one beautiful Summer morning--with
him.... You know about that, don't you? I meant to stay only a few
days. But I stayed on and on. More than once I tried to get away while
it was still time. But I stayed. (_Smiling_) And with fated
inevitability we slipped into sin, happiness, doom, betrayal--and
dreams. Yes, indeed, there was more of those than of anything else.
And after that last farewell, meant to be for a night only--as I got
back to the little inn and started to make things ready for our
journey--only then did I for the first time become really conscious of
what had happened and was about to happen. Actually, it was almost as
if I had just waked up. Only then, in the stillness of that night, as I
was standing at the open window, did it grow clear to me that next
morning an hour would come by which my whole future must be determined.
And then I began to feel ... as if faint shiverings had been streaming
down my body. Below me I could see the stretch of road along which I
had just come. It ran on and on through the country, climbing the hills
that cut off the view, and losing itself in the open, the limitless....
It led to thousands of unknown and invisible roads, all of which at
that moment remained at my disposal. It seemed to me as if my future,
radiant with glory and adventure, lay waiting for me behind those
hills--but for me alone. Life was mine--but only this one life. And in
order to seize it and enjoy it fully--in order to live it as it had
been shaped for me by fate--I needed the carelessness and freedom I had
enjoyed until then. And I marveled almost at my own readiness to give
away the recklessness of my youth and the fullness of my existence....
And to what purpose?--For the sake of a passion which, after all,
despite its ardor and its transports, had begun like many others, and
would be destined to end like all of them.
FELIX
Destined to end...? _Must_ come to an end?
JULIAN
Yes. Must. The moment I foresaw the end, I had in a measure reached it.
To wait for something that must come, means to go through it a thousand
times--to go through it helplessly and needlessly and resentfully. This
I felt acutely at that moment. And it frightened me. At the same time I
felt clearly that I was about to act like a brute and a traitor toward
a human being who had given herself to me in full confidence.--But
everything seemed more desirable--not only for me, but for her
also--than a slow, miserable, unworthy decline. And all my scruples
were submerged in a monstrous longing to go on with my life as before,
without duties or ties. There wasn't much time left for consideration.
And I was glad of it. I had made up my mind. I didn't wait for the
morning. Before the stars had set, I was off.
FELIX
You ran away....
JULIAN
Call it anything you please.--Yes, it was a flight, just as good and
just as bad, just as precipitate and just as cowardly as any
other--with all the horrors of being pursued and all the joys of
escaping. I am hiding nothing from you, Felix. You are still young, and
it is even possible that you may understand it better than I can
understand it myself to-day. Nothing pulled me back. No remorse stirred
within me. The sense of being free filled me with intoxication.... At
the end of the first day I was already far away--much farther than any
number of milestones could indicate. On that first day her image began
to fade away already--the image of her who had waked up to meet painful
disillusionment, or worse maybe. The ring of her voice was passing out
of my memory.... She was becoming a shadow like others that had been
left floating much farther behind me in the past.
FELIX
Oh, it isn't true! So quickly could she not be forgotten. So
remorselessly could you not go out in the world. All this is meant as a
sort of expiation. You make yourself appear what you are not.
JULIAN
I am not telling you these things to accuse or defend myself. I am
simply telling you the truth. And you must hear it. It was your mother,
and I am the man who deserted her. And there is something more I am
compelled to tell you. On the very time that followed my flight I must
look back as the brightest and richest of any I have ever experienced.
Never before or after have I reveled to such an extent in the splendid
consciousness of my youth and my freedom from restraint. Never have I
been so wholly master of my gifts and of my life.... Never have I been
a happier man than I was at that very time.
FELIX (_calmly_)
And if she had killed herself?
JULIAN
I believe I should have thought myself worth it--in those days.
FELIX
And so you were, perhaps, at that time.--And she thought of doing it, I
am sure. She wanted to put an end to the lies and the qualms, just as
hundreds of thousands of girls have done before. But millions fail to
do it, and they are the most sensible ones. And I am sure she also
thought of telling the truth to him she took to husband. But, of
course, the way through life is easier when you don't have to carry a
burden of reproach or, what is worse, of forgiveness.
JULIAN
And if she had spoken....
FELIX
Oh, I understand why she didn't. It had been of no use to anybody. And
so she kept silent: silent when she got back from the wedding--silent
when her child was born--silent when, ten years later, the lover came
to her husband's house again--silent to the very last.... Fates of that
kind are to be found everywhere, and it isn't even necessary to
be--depraved, in order to suffer them or invoke them.
JULIAN
And there are mighty few whom it behooves to judge--or to condemn.
FELIX
I don't presume to do so. And it doesn't even occur to me that I am now
to behold deceivers and deceived where, a few hours ago, I could only
see people who were dear to me and whose relationships to each other
were perfectly pure. And it is absolutely impossible for me to feel
myself another man than I have deemed myself until to-day. There is no
power in all this truth.... A vivid dream would be more compelling than
this story out of bygone days, which you have just told me. Nothing has
changed--nothing whatever. The thought of my mother is as sacred to me
as ever. And the man in whose house I was born and raised, who
surrounded my childhood and youth with care tenderness, and whom my
mother--loved.... He means just as much to me now as he ever meant--and
perhaps a little more.
JULIAN
And yet, Felix, however powerless this truth may seem to you--there is
one thing you can take hold of in this moment of doubt: it was as my
son your mother gave birth to you....
FELIX
At a time when you had run away from her.
JULIAN
And as my son she brought you up.
FELIX
In hatred of you.
JULIAN
At first. Later in forgiveness, and finally--don't forget it--in
friendship toward me.... And what was in her mind that last night?--Of
what did she talk to you?--Of those days when she experienced the
greatest happiness that can fall to the share of any woman.
FELIX
As well as the greatest misery.
JULIAN
Do you think it was mere chance which brought those very days back to
her mind that last evening?... Don't you think she knew that you would
go to me and ask for that picture?... And do you think your wish to see
it could have any other meaning than of a final greeting to me from
your mother?... Can't you understand that, Felix?... And in this
moment--don't try to resist--you have it before your eyes--that picture
you held in your hand yesterday: and your mother is looking at
you.--And the glance resting on you, Felix, is the same one that rested
on me that passionate and sacred day when she fell into my arms and you
were conceived.--And whatever you may feel of doubt or confusion, the
truth has now been revealed to you once for all. Thus your mother
willed it, and it is no longer possible for you to forget that you are
my son.
FELIX
Your son.... That's nothing but a word. And it's cried in a
desert.--Although I am looking at you now, and although I know that I
am your son, I can't grasp it.
JULIAN
Felix...!
FELIX
Since I learned of this, you have become a stranger to me. (_He turns
away_)
CURTAIN
THE FOURTH ACT
_The garden belonging to Mr. von Sala's house. At the left is seen the
white, one-storied building, fronted by a broad terrace, from which six
stone steps lead down into the garden. A wide door with panes of glass
leads from the terrace into the drawing-room. A small pool appears in
the foreground, surrounded by a semi-circle of young trees. From that
spot an avenue of trees runs diagonally across the stage toward the
right. At the opening of the avenue, near the pool, stand two columns
on which are placed the marble busts of two Roman emperors. A
semi-circular stone seat with back support stands under the trees to
the right of the pool. Farther back glimpses of the glittering fence
are caught through the scanty leafage. Back of the fence, the woods on
a gently rising hillside are turning red. The autumnal sky is pale
blue. Everything is quiet. The stage remains empty for a few moments._
_Sala and Johanna enter by way of the terrace. She is in black. He has
on a gray suit and carries a dark overcoat across his shoulders. They
descend the steps slowly._
SALA
I think you'll find it rather cool. (_He goes back into the room, picks
up a cape lying there, and puts it around Johanna's shoulders; little
by little they reach the garden_)
JOHANNA
Do you know what I imagine?... That this day is our own--that it
belongs to us alone. We have summoned it, and if we wanted, we could
make it stay.... All other people live only as guests in the world
to-day. Isn't that so?... The reason is, I suppose, that once I heard
you speak of this day.
SALA
Of this...?
JOHANNA
Yes--while mother was still living.... And now it has really come. The
leaves are red. The golden mist is lying over the woods. The sky is
pale and remote--and the day is even more beautiful, and sadder, than I
could ever have imagined. And I am spending it in your garden, and your
pool is my mirror. (_She stands looking down into the pool_) And yet we
can no more make it stay, this golden day, than the water here can hold
my image after I have gone away.
SALA
It seems strange that this clear, mild air should be tinged with a
suggestion of winter and snow.
JOHANNA
Why should it trouble you? When that suggestion has become reality
here, you are already in the midst of another Spring.
SALA
What do you mean by that?
JOHANNA
Oh, I suppose that where you go they have no winter like ours.
SALA (_pensively_)
No, not like ours. (_Pause_) And you?
JOHANNA
I...?
SALA
What are you going to do, I mean, when I am gone?
JOHANNA
When you are gone...? (_She looks at him, and he stands staring into
the distance_) Haven't you gone long ago? And at bottom, are you not
far away from me even now?
SALA
What are you saying? I am here with you.... What are you going to do,
Johanna?
JOHANNA
I have already told you. Go away--just like you.
SALA (_shakes his head_)
JOHANNA
As soon as possible. I have still the courage left. Who knows what may
become of me later, if I stay here alone.
SALA
As long as you are young, all doors stand open, and the world begins
outside every one of them.
JOHANNA
But the world is wide and the sky infinite only as long as you are not
clinging to anybody. And for that reason I want to go away.
SALA
Away--that's so easily said. But preparations are needed for that
purpose, and some sort of a scheme. You use the word as if you merely
had to put on wings and fly off into the distance.
JOHANNA
To be determined is--the same as having wings.
SALA
Are you not at all afraid, Johanna?
JOHANNA
A longing free from fear would be too cheap to be worth while.
SALA
Where will it lead you?
JOHANNA
I shall find my way.
SALA
You can choose your way, but not the people that you meet.
JOHANNA
Do you think me ignorant of the fact that I cannot expect only
beautiful experiences? What is ugly and mean must also be waiting for
me.
SALA
And how are you going to stand it?--Will you be able to stand it at
all?
JOHANNA
Of course, I am not going to tell the truth always as I have done to
you. I shall have to lie--and I think of it with pleasure. I shall not
always be in good spirits, nor always sensible. I shall make mistakes
and suffer. That's the way it has to be, I suppose.
SALA
Of all this you are aware in advance, and yet...?
JOHANNA
Yes.
SALA
And why?... Why are you going away, Johanna?
JOHANNA
Why am I going away?... I want a time to come when I must shudder at
myself. Shudder as deeply as you can only when nothing has been left
untried. Just as you have had to do when you looked back upon your
life. Or have you not?
SALA
Oh, many times. But just in such moments of shuddering there is nothing
left behind at all--everything is once more present. And the present is
the past. (_He sits down on the stone seat_)
JOHANNA
What do you mean by that?
SALA (_covers his eyes with his hand and sits silent_)
JOHANNA
What is the matter? Where are you anyhow?
[_A light wind stirs the leaves and makes many of them drop to the
ground._
SALA
I am a child, riding my pony across the fields. My father is behind and
calls to me. At that window waits my mother. She has thrown a gray
satin shawl over her dark hair and is waving her hand at me.... And I
am a young lieutenant in maneuvers, standing on a hillock and reporting
to my colonel that hostile infantry is ambushed behind that wooded
piece of ground, ready to charge, and down below us I can see the
midday sun glittering on bayonets and buttons.... And I am lying alone
in my boat adrift, looking up into the deep-blue Summer sky, while
words of incomprehensible beauty are shaping themselves in my
mind--words more beautiful than I have ever been able to put on
paper.... And I am resting on a bench in the cool park at the lake of
Lugano, with Helen sitting beside me; she holds a book with red cover
in her hand; over there by the magnolia, Lillie is playing with the
light-haired English boy, and I can hear them prattling and
laughing.... And I am walking slowly back and forth with Julian on a
bed of rustling leaves, and we are talking of a picture which we saw
yesterday. And I see the picture: two old sailors with worn-out faces,
who are seated on an overturned skiff, their sad eyes directed toward
the boundless sea. And I feel their misery more deeply than the artist
who painted them; more deeply than they could have felt it themselves,
had they been alive.... All this--all of it is there--if I only close
my eyes. It is nearer to me than you, Johanna, when I don't see you and
you keep quiet.
JOHANNA (_stands looking at him with wistful sympathy_)
SALA
The present--what does it mean anyhow? Are we then locked breast to
breast with the moment as with a friend whom we embrace--or an enemy
who is pressing us? Has not the word that just rings out turned to
memory already? Is not the note that starts a melody reduced to memory
before the song is ended? Is your coming to this garden anything but a
memory, Johanna? Are not your steps across that meadow as much a matter
of the past as are the steps of creatures dead these many years?
JOHANNA
No, it mustn't be like that. It makes me sad.
SALA (_with a return to present things_)
Why?... It shouldn't, Johanna. It is in hours like those we know, that
we have lost nothing, and that in reality we cannot lose anything.
JOHANNA
Oh, I wish you had lost and forgotten everything, so that I might be
everything to you!
SALA (_somewhat astonished_)
Johanna....
JOHANNA (_passionately_)
I love you. (_Pause_)
SALA
In a few days I shall be gone, Johanna. You know it--you have known it
right along.
JOHANNA
I know. Why do you repeat it? Do you think, perhaps, that all at once I
may begin to clutch at you like a love-sick thing, dreaming of
eternities?--No, that isn't my way--oh, no!... But I want to tell you
once at least that I am fond of you. May I not for once?--Do you hear?
I love you. And I wish that sometime later on you may hear it just as I
am saying it now--at some other moment no less beautiful than
this--when we two shall no longer be aware of each other.
SALA
Indeed, Johanna, of one thing you may be sure: that the sound of your
voice shall never leave me.--But why should we talk of parting forever?
Perhaps we shall meet again sooner or later ... in three years ... or
in five.... (_With a smile_) Then you have become a princess perhaps,
and I may be the ruler of some buried city.... Why don't you speak?
JOHANNA (_pulls the cape more closely about her_)
SALA
Do you feel cold?
JOHANNA
Not at all.--But now I must go.
SALA
Are you in such a hurry?
JOHANNA
It is getting late. I must be back before my father gets home.
SALA
How strange! To-day you are hurrying home, fearful of being too late,
lest your father get worried. And in a couple of days....
JOHANNA
Then he will no longer be waiting for me. Farewell, Stephan.
SALA
Until to-morrow, then.
JOHANNA
Yes, until to-morrow.
SALA
You'll come through the garden gate, of course?
JOHANNA
Wasn't that a carriage that stopped before the house?
SALA
The doors are locked. Nobody can get out into the garden.
JOHANNA
Good-by, then.
SALA
Until to-morrow.
JOHANNA
Yes. (_She is about to go_)
SALA
Listen, Johanna.--If I should say to you now: stay!
JOHANNA
No, I must go now.
SALA
That was not what I meant.
JOHANNA
What then?
SALA
I mean, if I should beg you to stay--for--a long time?
JOHANNA
You have a peculiar way of jesting.
SALA
I am not jesting.
JOHANNA
Do you forget, then, that you--are going away?
SALA
I am not bound in any respect. There is nothing to prevent me from
staying at home if I don't feel like going away.
JOHANNA
For my sake?
SALA
I didn't say so. Maybe for my own sake.
JOHANNA
No, you mustn't give it up. You would never forgive me if I took that
away from you.
SALA
Oh, you think so? (_Watching her closely_) And if both of us were
to go?
JOHANNA
What?
SALA
If you should risk going along with me? Well, it takes a little courage
to do it, of course. But you would probably not be the only woman. The
Baroness Golobin is also going along, I hear.
JOHANNA
Are you talking seriously?
SALA
Quite seriously. I ask if you care to go with me on that journey ... as
my wife, of course, seeing that we have to consider externals like
that, too.
JOHANNA
I should...?
SALA
Why does that move you so deeply?
JOHANNA
With you?--With you...?
SALA
Don't misunderstand me, Johanna. That's no reason why you should be
tied to me for all time. When we get back, we can bid each other
good-by--without the least ado. It is a very simple matter. For all
your dreams cannot be fulfilled by me--I know that very well.... You
need not give me an answer at once. Hours like these turn too easily
into words that are not true the next day. And I hope I may never hear
you speak one word of that kind.
JOHANNA (_who has been looking at Sala as if she wanted to drink up
every one of his words_) No, I am not saying anything--I am not saying
anything.
SALA (_looking long at her_)
You are going to think it over, and you'll let me know to-morrow
morning?
JOHANNA
Yes. (_She looks long at him_)
SALA
What is the matter?
JOHANNA
Nothing.--Until to-morrow. Farewell. (_He accompanies her to the garden
gate, through which she disappears_)
SALA (_comes back and stands looking into the pool_)