Scene _same as_ Act I. _It is evening; only a slight glow of sunset
still shines through the windows_.
[Marie _and_ Theresa _discovered_.]
THERESA.
[_Bringing in a lighted lamp_.] Miss Marie! Miss Marie!--What is she
staring at all the time? Miss Marie!
MARIE [_starting_.]
[_From the window_.] What do you want?
THERESA.
Shall I lay the supper?
MARIE.
Not yet.
THERESA.
It's half-past seven.
MARIE.
And he left at half-past six. The performance must have been over long
ago. She will not come.
THERESA.
Who? Is any one coming to supper?
MARIE.
No, no, no. [_As_ Theresa _is going_.] Theresa! do you suppose you
could pick a couple of bouquets in the garden?
THERESA.
I might try, but I couldn't tell what I was getting. It's almost pitch
dark.
MARIE.
Yes, yes. You may go.
THERESA.
Shall I try to pick the flowers, or--
MARIE.
No--thank you, no.
THERESA.
[_Aside_.] What is the matter with her?
[_Exit_.
_Enter_ Mrs. Schwartze.
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Well, Marie, whatever happens I've put on my other cap,--the one with
the ribbons. Is it straight?
MARIE.
Yes, mamma dear, very nice.
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Hasn't Aunt Frankie come up yet?
MARIE.
No.
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Heavens! I forgot the two gentlemen entirely. And papa has locked
himself up, and will hear nothing and see nothing. Oh, if the General
should be offended! It is our most aristocratic connection. That would
be a misfortune indeed.
MARIE.
Oh, mamma dear, when he hears what is the matter!
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Yes, yes, I know. And the pastor has not come either. Marie, one
minute. If she should ask you--
MARIE.
Who?
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Why, Magda.
MARIE.
Magda!
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
What am I to you, Marie? They call it stepmother. I'm more than that,
am I not?
MARIE.
Certainly, mamma dear.
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
You see, then I could not get used to having two such big daughters.
But it's all right now? [Marie _nods_.] And we do love each other?
MARIE.
Very much, mamma dear. [_She kisses her_.]
_Enter_ Franziska.
FRANZISKA.
[_Irritably_.] One's always disturbing these affecting tableaux!
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
What did the General say?
FRANZISKA.
The General? H'm, he was angry enough. "To leave us alone for an hour
and a half, that's nice courtesy," he said. And I think myself--
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
[_To_ Marie, _very sadly_.] There, what did I tell you?
FRANZISKA.
Well, this time I smoothed the thing over, so that the gentlemen went
away in a good humor.
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Really! Oh, I thank you, Frankie, a thousand times.
FRANZISKA.
Yes, I'm good enough to run errands and play the scullery-maid; but
when it comes to being one of the family, an old aunt with her heart
full of love--
MARIE.
Who has offended you, Aunt Frankie?
FRANZISKA.
Yes, that's very fine. But a little while ago, when I was so upset, no
one troubled himself about me one bit. To guarantee an income so that
our little miss can be married, I am--
MARIE.
Aunt Frankie!
FRANZISKA.
But as long as I live--
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
What are you talking about?
FRANZISKA.
We know, we two. And to-day. Who brought back your daughter to you?
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
But she hasn't yet--
FRANZISKA.
I brought back your daughter to you. And who thanks me for it? And who
recognizes that I have pardoned her? For I have pardoned her
[_weeping_] everything!
_Enter_ Theresa, _in great excitement_.
MARIE.
What is it, Theresa?
THERESA.
I am so frightened--
MARIE.
What's the matter?
THERESA.
The carriage--
MARIE.
What carriage?
THERESA.
The same as last night.
MARIE.
Is it there? Is it there? [_Runs to the window_.] Mamma, mamma, come,
she's there--the carriage--
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Why, there _is_ a carriage.
MARIE.
[_Beating on the door at the left_.] Papa, papa! Come quickly, be
merciful, come quickly!
[_Exit_ Theresa _at a sign from_ Franziska.]
_Enter_ Schwartze.
SCHWARTZE.
What's the matter?
MARIE.
Magda--the carriage!
SCHWARTZE.
Good God! [_Hurries to the window_.]
MARIE.
Look--look! She's standing up! She's trying to look into the windows.
[_Clapping her hands_.] Papa! papa!
SCHWARTZE.
What is it you have to say?
MARIE.
[_Frightened_.] I? Nothing.
SCHWARTZE.
Perhaps you were going to say, "She stood before your door and you
would not open it." Eh?
MARIE.
Yes, yes.
SCHWARTZE.
Do you hear, wife? She stands before our door. Shall we--in spite of
our pride--shall we call her in?
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Oh, Leopold, since everybody thinks so much of her--
MARIE.
Ah! She's driving away!
SCHWARTZE.
No, no, she's not. Come, we will bring her to you.
FRANZISKA.
Yes, yes, bring her to me, too.
[_Exit_ Schwartze _and_ Mrs. Schwartze.
MARIE.
She's sitting back again! If only the carriage doesn't-- What a long
time they are! They must have got downstairs. [_Frightened, almost
beside herself_.] There--there--oh, don't go away! Magda! Magda!
FRANZISKA.
Don't scream so! What's the matter?
MARIE.
She's looking round. She's seen them. She's stopping. She's bursting
open the door. She's jumped out! Now! Now! She's in father's arms!
[_Covers her face and sobs_.] Oh, Aunt Frankie! Aunt Frankie!
FRANZISKA.
What else could a father do? Since I have forgiven her, he could
not--he could not hold out--
MARIE.
She's between father and mother. Oh, how grand she is! She's
coming--she's coming. What a homely little thing I shall seem beside
her! Oh, I am so frightened! [_Leans against the wall, left. A pause.
Voices of_ Magda _and her parents are heard outside_.]
_Enter_ Magda, _brilliantly dressed, with a large mantle, and a Spanish
veil on her head. She embraces_ Marie.
MAGDA.
My puss! My little one! How my little one has grown! My
pet--my--[_kissing her passionately_]. But what's the matter? You're
dizzy. Come, sit down. No, no, please sit down. Now. Yes, you must.
[_Places_ Marie _in an arm-chair_.] Dear little hands, dear little
hands! [_Kneels before her, kissing and stroking her hands_.] But
they're rough and red, and my darling is pale. There are rings round
her eyes.
SCHWARTZE.
[_Lays his hand lightly on her shoulder_.] Magda, we are here too.
MAGDA.
Yes, yes--I'm entirely--[_Standing up, affectionately_.] Dear old papa!
How white you have become! Dear papa! [_Taking his hand_.] But what's
the matter with your hand? It's trembling.
SCHWARTZE.
Nothing, my child. Don't ask about it.
MAGDA.
H'm--and you've grown handsomer with the years. I can't look at you
enough. I shall be very proud with such a handsome papa. But she must
get better [_indicating_ Marie]. She's as white as milk. Do you take
iron? Eh? You must take iron? [_tenderly_]. Just to think that I am at
home! It seems like a fairy tale. It was a capital idea of yours to
call me back without any explanations--_senza complimenti_--for we've
outgrown those silly misunderstandings long ago.
SCHWARTZE.
Misunderstandings!
MAGDA.
I came near driving away. Would not that have been bad of me? But you
must acknowledge, I have scratched at the door--very quietly, very
modestly--like Lady when she had run away. Where is Lady? Her place is
empty. [_Whistles_.]
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Why, she's been dead seven years!
MAGDA.
Ah, _povera bestia_--yes, I forgot. And, mamma!--yes, mamma! I haven't
looked at you yet. How pretty you've grown! You used to have an air of
belated youth about you that was not becoming. But now you're a dear,
old little mother. One wants to lay one's head quietly in your lap. I
will, too. It'll do me good. Ah, what fine quarrels we used to have! I
was a contrary little beast. And you held up your end. But now we'll
smoke the pipe of peace, sha'n't we?
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
You're joking with me, Magda.
MAGDA.
Sha'n't I? Mayn't I? There, there,--pure love, pure love. We will have
nothing but love. We shall be the best of friends.
FRANZISKA.
[_Who has for a long time tried to attract attention_.] And we also,
eh, my dear Magda?
MAGDA.
_Tiens, tiens_! [_Examines her critically through her lorgnette_.] Same
as ever. Always active? Always, as of old, the centre of the family?
FRANZISKA.
Oh--
MAGDA.
Well, give us your hand! There. I never could bear you, and shall never
learn, I'm afraid. That runs in the blood, doesn't it?
FRANZISKA.
I have already forgiven you.
MAGDA.
Really! Such magnanimity! I hardly-- Do you really forgive everything?
From top to bottom? Even that you stirred up my mother against me
before she ever came into the house? That you made my father--[_Puts
her hand to her lips_.] _Meglio tacere! Meglio tacere!_
MARIE.
[_Interrupting_.] For Heaven's sake, Magda!
MAGDA.
Yes, my darling--nothing, not a word.
FRANZISKA.
She has a fine presence!
MAGDA.
And now let me look about me! Ah, everything's just the same. Not a
speck of dust has moved.
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
I hope, Magda, that you won't find any specks of dust.
MAGDA.
I'm sure of that, _mammina_. That wasn't what I meant. Twelve years!
Without a trace! Have I dreamed all that comes between?
SCHWARTZE.
You will have a great deal to tell us, Magda.
MAGDA.
[_Starting_.] What? Well, we will see, we will see. Now I should
like-- What would I like? I must sit still for a moment. It all comes
over me so. When I think-- From that door to the window, from this
table to the old bureau,--that was once my world.
SCHWARTZE.
A world, my child, which one never outgrows, which one never should
outgrow--you have always held to that?
MAGDA.
What do you mean? And what a face you make over it! Yes, yes,
though--that question came at the right time. I have been a fool! I
have been a fool! My dear old papa, this happiness will be short.
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Why?
MAGDA.
What do you think of me? Do you think I am as free as I appear? I'm a
weary, worn-out drudge who is only fortunate when the lash is on her
back.
SCHWARTZE.
Whose drudge? What lash?
MAGDA.
That I can't explain, dear father. You don't know my life. You probably
wouldn't understand it, either. Every day, every hour has its work laid
out. Ah, well, now I must go back to the hotel.
MARIE.
No, Magda, no.
MAGDA.
Yes, puss, yes. There have been six or seven men there for ever so
long, waiting for an audience. But I tell you what, I must have you
to-night. Can't you sleep with me?
SCHWARTZE.
Of course. That is--what do you mean--sleep where?
MAGDA.
At the hotel.
SCHWARTZE.
What? You won't stay! You'll put such an affront on us?
MAGDA.
What are you thinking of? I have a whole retinue with me.
SCHWARTZE.
Your father's house is the place for this retinue.
MAGDA.
I don't know. It is rather lively. First, there's Bobo, my parrot, a
darling,--he wouldn't be bad; then my pet maid, Giulietta, a little
demon,--I can't live without her; then my courier,--he's a tyrant, and
the terror of landlords; and then we mustn't forget my teacher.
FRANZISKA.
He's a very old man, I hope.
MAGDA.
No, he's a very young man.
SCHWARTZE.
[_After a silence_.] Then you must have forgotten your--your _dame
d'honneur_.
MAGDA.
What _dame d'honneur_?
SCHWARTZE.
You can't travel about from country to country with a young man
without--
MAGDA.
Ah! does that disquiet you? I can,--be quite easy,--I can. In my world
we don't trouble ourselves about such things.
SCHWARTZE.
What world is that?
MAGDA.
The world I rule, father dear. I have no other. There, whatever I do is
right because I do it.
SCHWARTZE.
That is an enviable position. But you are still young. There must be
cases when some direction--in short, whose advice do you follow in your
transactions?
MAGDA.
There is no one who has the right to advise me, papa dear.
SCHWARTZE.
Well, my child, from this hour your old father claims that right.
Theresa! [Theresa _answers from outside_.] Go to the German House and
bring the baggage--
MAGDA.
[_Entreatingly_.] Pardon, father dear, you forget that my orders are
necessary.
SCHWARTZE.
What?--Yes, yes, I forgot. Do what you will, my daughter.
MARIE.
Magda--oh, Magda!
MAGDA.
[_Taking her mantle_.] Be patient, darling. We'll have a talk soon all
to our two selves. And you'll all come to breakfast with me, won't you?
We can have a good chat and love each other!--so much!
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
We--breakfast with you?
MAGDA.
I want to have you all under my roof.
SCHWARTZE.
The roof of a hotel?
MAGDA.
Yes, papa dear, I have no other home.
SCHWARTZE.
And this?
MARIE.
Don't you see how you've hurt him?
_Enter the_ Pastor. _He stops, and seems to control strong emotion_.
Magda _examines him with her lorgnette_.
MAGDA.
He too! Let me see.
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Just think. She is going away again!
HEFFTERDINGT.
I don't know whether I am known to the lady.
MAGDA.
[_Mockingly_.] You're too modest, Pastor. And now since I have seen you
all--[_Puts on her mantle_.]
SCHWARTZE.
[_Quickly, aside_.] You must keep her.
HEFFTERDINGT.
I? If you are powerless, how can I--
SCHWARTZE.
Try!
HEFFTERDINGT.
[_Constraining himself, with embarrassment_.] Pardon me, madam, it
seems very officious of me--if I--will you give me a few moments'
interview?
MAGDA.
What have we two to say to each other, my dear pastor?
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Oh, do, please! He knows best about everything.
MAGDA.
[_Ironically_.] Indeed!
MARIE.
I may never ask you for anything again, but do this one thing for my
sake!
MAGDA.
[_Patting her and looking from one to the other_.] Well, the child asks
so prettily. Pastor, I am at your service. [Marie _thanks her
silently_.]
FRANZISKA.
[_Aside to_ Mrs. Schwartze.] Now he'll give her a lecture. Come.
SCHWARTZE.
You were once the cause of my sending her from my home. To-day you must
see to it that she remains. [Heffterdingt _expresses doubt_.]
SCHWARTZE.
Marie!
MARIE.
Yes, papa.
[_Exit_ Schwartze, Mrs. Schwartze, Franziska, _and_ Marie.
MAGDA.
[_Sits down and examines him through her lorgnette_.] So this is the
man who undertakes by a five minutes' interview entirely and absolutely
to break my will. That they believe in your ability to do it shows me
that you are a king in your own dominions. I make obeisance. And now
let me see you ply your arts.
HEFFTERDINGT.
I understand no arts, madam, and would avail myself of none. If they
put some trust in me here, it is because they know that I seek nothing
for myself.
MAGDA.
[_Ironically_.] That has always been the case?
HEFFTERDINGT.
No, madam. I had, once in my life, a strong, an intense desire. It was
to have you for my wife. I need only look at you to see that I was
presumptuous. Since then I have put the wish away from me.
MAGDA.
Ah, Pastor, I believe you're paying court to me now.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Madam, if it were not discourteous--
MAGDA.
Oh, then even a shepherd of souls may be discourteous!
HEFFTERDINGT.
I should commiserate you on the atmosphere which has surrounded you.
MAGDA.
[_With mocking superiority_.] Really? What do you know about my
atmosphere?
HEFFTERDINGT.
It seems to me that it has made you forget that serious men are to be
taken seriously.
MAGDA.
Ah! [_Rising_.] Well, then I will take you seriously; and I will tell
you that you have always been unbearable to me, with your well-acted
simplicity, your droning mildness, your-- Since, however, you
condescended to cast your eyes on my worthlessness and drove me from
home with your suit,--since then, I have hated you.
HEFFTERDINGT.
It seems to me that according to this I was the foundation of your
greatness.
MAGDA.
You're right there. Here I was parched and stifled. No, no, I don't
hate you. Why should I hate you so much? It's all so far, so very far,
behind me. If you only knew how far! You have sat here day after day in
this heavy close air, reeking of lavender, tobacco, and cough mixture,
while I have felt the storm breaking about my head. Pastor, if you had
a suspicion of what life really is,--of the trial of strength, of the
taste of guilt, of conquest, and of pleasure,--you would find yourself
very comical with your clerical shop-talk. Ha, ha, ha! Pardon me, I
don't believe such a laugh has rung through this respectable house for
twelve years; for there's no one here who knows how to laugh. Is there,
eh?
HEFFTERDINGT.
No, I fear not.
MAGDA.
Fear, you say. That sounds as though you deprecated it. But don't you
hate laughter?
HEFFTERDINGT.
Most of us cannot laugh, madam.
MAGDA.
And to those who could, laughter is sin. You might laugh yourself. What
have you to be solemn about? You need not look at the world with this
funereal mien. Surely you have a little blond wife at home who knits
industriously, and half a dozen curly heads around her, of course. It's
always so in parsonages.
HEFFTERDINGT.
I have remained single, madam.
MAGDA.
Ah! [_Silence_.] Did I hurt you so much, then?
HEFFTERDINGT.
Let that be, shall we not? It is so long ago.
MAGDA.
[_Letting her mantle fall_.] And your work,--does not that bring
happiness enough?
HEFFTERDINGT.
Thank God, it does. But if one takes it really in earnest, one cannot
live only for one's self; at least, I cannot. One cannot exult in the
fulness of one's personality, as you would call it. And then many
hearts are opened to me-- One sees too many wounds there, that one
cannot heal, to be quite happy.
MAGDA.
You're a remarkable man-- I don't know--if I could only get rid of the
idea that you're insincere.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Will you let me ask you one question before you go?
MAGDA.
Well!
HEFFTERDINGT.
It is about an hour since you entered this house, your home--no, not so
much. I could not have been waiting for you nearly as long as that.
MAGDA.
For me? You? Where?
HEFFTERDINGT.
In the corridor outside your room.
MAGDA.
What did you want there?
HEFFTERDINGT.
My errand was useless, for now you are here.
MAGDA.
Do you mean to say that you came for me--you to whom I-- If any one had
an interest in keeping me away, it was you.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Are you accustomed to regard everything which those about you do as the
result of selfish interest?
MAGDA.
Of course. It's so with me! [_Struck by a new thought_.] Or perhaps
you-- No, I'm not justified in that assumption. [_Sharply_.] Ah, such
nonsense! it is only fit for fairy tales. Well, Pastor, I'll own that I
like you now better, much better than of old when you--what shall I
say?--made an honorable proposal.
HEFFTERDINGT.
H'm!
MAGDA.
If you could only end it all with a laugh--this stony visage of yours
is so unfriendly--one is quite _sconcertata_. What do you say? _Je ne
trouve pas le mot_.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Pardon me, may I ask the question now?
MAGDA.
Good Lord, how inquisitive the holy man is! And you don't see
that I was coquetting with you a little. For, to have been a man's
fate,--that flatters us women,--we are grateful for it. You see I have
acquired some art meanwhile. Well, out with your question!
HEFFTERDINGT.
Why--why did you come home?
MAGDA.
Ah!
HEFFTERDINGT.
Was it not homesickness?
MAGDA.
No. Well, perhaps a very little. I'll tell you. When I received the
invitation to assist at this festival--why they did me the honor, I
don't know--a very curious feeling began to seethe within me,--half
curiosity and half shyness, half melancholy and half defiance,--which
said: "Go home incognito. Go in the twilight and stand before the
paternal house where for seventeen years you lived in bondage. There
look upon what you were. But if they recognize you, show them that
beyond their narrow virtues there may be something true and good."
HEFFTERDINGT.
Only defiance then?
MAGDA.
At first, perhaps. Once on the way, though, my heart beat most
wonderfully, as it used to do when I'd learnt my lesson badly. And I
always did learn my lessons badly. When I stood before the hotel, the
German House,--just think, the German House, where the great officials
and the great artists stayed,--there I had again the abject reverence
as of old, as if I were unworthy to step on the old threshold. I
entirely forgot that I was now myself a so-called great artist. Since
then, every evening I have stolen by the house,--very quietly, very
humbly,--always almost in tears.
HEFFTERDINGT.
And nevertheless you are going away.
MAGDA.
I must.
HEFFTERDINGT.
But--
MAGDA.
Don't ask me why. I must.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Has any one offended your pride? Has any one said a word of your
needing forgiveness?
MAGDA.
Not yet--or, yes, if you count the old cat.
HEFFTERDINGT.
What is there in the world which draws you away again after an hour?
MAGDA.
I will tell you. I felt it the first minute I came. The paternal
authority already stretches its net over me again, and the yoke stands
ready beneath which I must bow.
HEFFTERDINGT.
But there is neither yoke nor net here. Do not fear shadows. Here are
only wide-opened arms which wait to clasp the lost daughter to the
empty breast.
MAGDA.
Oh, I beg you, none of that. I do not intend to furnish a pendant to
the prodigal son. If I came back as a daughter, as a lost daughter, I
should not hold my head up before you as I do; I should grovel in the
dust in full consciousness of all my sins. [_With growing
excitement_.] And that I will not do--that I cannot do--for I am
what I am, and I cannot be another. [_Sadly_.] And therefore I have no
home--therefore I must go forth again--therefore--
_Enter_ Mrs. Schwartze.
HEFFTERDINGT.
For Heaven's sake, hush!
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Excuse me, Pastor, I only wanted to know about supper. [_Imploringly
to_ Magda, _who sits turned away with her hands before her face_.] We
happen to have a warm joint to-day. You know, Pastor, the gentlemen of
the card-club were to be with us. Now, Magda, whether you're going away
or not, can't you eat a mouthful in your father's house?
HEFFTERDINGT.
Don't ask now, my dear madam.
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
Oh, if I'm interrupting--I only thought--
HEFFTERDINGT.
Later.
MARIE.
[_Appearing in the doorway_.] Will she stay? [Magda _shrinks at the
sound of the voice_.]
MRS. SCHWARTZE.
'Sh! [_Exit_ Mrs. Schwartze _and_ Marie.
HEFFTERDINGT.
You have no home, Miss Magda? Did you hear the old mother beseeching
and alluring with the best that she has, though it's only a poor dish?
Did you hear Marie's voice trembling with tears in the fear that I
should not prevail? They trust me too much; they think I only need to
speak the word. They don't suspect how helpless I stand here before
you. Look! Behind that door are three people in a fever of sorrow and
love. If you cross this threshold, you rob each of them of so much
life. And you have no home?
MAGDA.
If I have one, it is not here.
HEFFTERDINGT.
[_Embarrassed_.] Perhaps-- Nevertheless you should not go. Only a few
days,--just not to take away the idea that you belong here. So much you
owe to them!
MAGDA.
[_Sadly_.] I owe nothing now to any one here.
HEFFTERDINGT.
No? Really nothing? Then I must tell you about a certain day,--eleven
years ago now. I was called into this house in haste, for the Colonel
was dying. When I came, he lay there stiff and motionless, his face
drawn and white; one eye was already closed, in the other still
flickered a little life. He tried to speak, but his lips only quivered
and mumbled.
MAGDA.
What had happened?
HEFFTERDINGT.
What had happened? I will tell you. He had just received a letter in
which his eldest daughter bade him farewell.
MAGDA.
My God!
HEFFTERDINGT.
It was a long time before he recovered from the apoplectic stroke. Only
a trembling in the right arm, which you perhaps have noticed, now
remains.
MAGDA.
That is indeed a debt I owe.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Ah, if that were all, Miss Magda! Pardon me, I call you by the name I
used long ago. It springs to my lips.
MAGDA.
Call me what you like. Go on.
HEFFTERDINGT.
The necessary result followed. When he received his discharge,--he will
not believe in the cause, don't speak to him of it,--then his mind
broke down.
MAGDA.
Yes, yes; that is my debt too.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Then you see, Miss Magda, began my work. If I speak of it, you must not
think I am pluming myself on it to you. What good would that do me? For
a long, long time I nursed him, and by degrees I saw his mind revive
again. First I let him collect slugs from the rose-bushes.
MAGDA.
[_With a shudder_.] Ugh!
HEFFTERDINGT.
Yes, so far had it gone; then I gave him charge of some money, and then
I made him my assistant in the institutions with whose management I was
intrusted. There is a hospital and a soup-kitchen and an infirmary, and
it makes a great deal to be done. So he became a man once more. I have
tried to influence your step-mother too; not because I was greedy for
power. Perhaps you'll think that of me. In short, the old tension
between her and Marie has been slowly smoothed away. Love and
confidence have descended upon the house.
MAGDA.
[_Staring at him_.] And why did you do all this?
HEFFTERDINGT.
Well, first it is my calling. Then I did it for his sake, for I love
the old man; and above all--for--your sake.
[Magda _starts, and points to herself interrogatively_.]
HEFFTERDINGT.
Yes, for your sake. For this weighed upon me: The day will come when
she will turn homeward,--perhaps as victor; but perhaps also as
vanquished, broken and ruined in body and soul-- Pardon me these
thoughts, I had heard nothing of you-- In either case she shall find a
home ready for her. That was my work, the work of long years; and now I
implore you not to destroy it.
MAGDA.
[_In anguish_.] If you knew through what I have passed, you would not
try to keep me.
HEFFTERDINGT.
That is all shut out. This is home. Let it alone; forget it.
MAGDA.
How can I forget it? How dare I?
HEFFTERDINGT.
Why should you resist when all stretch their hands out to you in
rejoicing? It's very easy. Let your heart speak when you see all around
overflowing with love for you.
MAGDA.
[_In tears_.] You make me a child again. [_A pause_.]
HEFFTERDINGT.
Then you will stay?
MAGDA.
[_Springing up_.] But they must not question me!
HEFFTERDINGT.
Must not question you?
MAGDA.
About my life outside there. They wouldn't understand,--none of them;
not even you.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Well, then, they sha'n't.
MAGDA.
And you will promise me, for yourself and for the others?
HEFFTERDINGT.
Yes, I can promise it.
MAGDA.
[_In a stifled voice_.] Call them, then.
HEFFTERDINGT.
[_Opening the door on the left_.] She will stay.
_Enter_ Marie; _then_ Mrs. Schwartze, Franziska, _and_ Schwartze. Marie
_throws herself joyfully into_ Magda's _arms_. Mrs. Schwartze _also
embraces her_.
SCHWARTZE.
It was your duty, my child.
MAGDA.
Yes, father. [_She softly takes his right hand in both of hers, and
carries it tenderly to her lips_.]
FRANZISKA.
Thank Heaven! Now we can have supper at last! [_Opens the sliding door
into the dining-room. The supper-table is seen, all set, and lighted
brightly by a green-shaded hanging-lamp_.]
MAGDA.
[_Gazing at it_.] Oh, look! The dear old lamp! [_The women go slowly
out_.]
SCHWARTZE.
[_Stretching out his hands_.] This is your greatest work, Pastor.
HEFFTERDINGT.
Oh, don't, I beg you! And there's a condition attached.
SCHWARTZE.
A condition?
HEFFTERDINGT.
We must not ask about her life.
SCHWARTZE.
[_Startled_.] What? What? I must, not--
HEFFTERDINGT.
No, no; you must not ask--you must not ask--or-- [_Struck by a new
thought_.] If you do not--yes--I am sure she will confess everything
herself.