Dimitri. Yes. Starschenski. I am glad if all goes quietly and well with him and according to his liking. I hope he may ride forth some night and come visit us. Dimitri. He is too shy. Starschenski. Tell him that I beg him to come. He must be stirred up. Marina (bitterly). Yes, he must be. When I saw him, he was always hugging the walls. Elga. He is a woman! I don't want to have him here. Starschenski. You are too hard. He has a gentle spirit that is, perhaps, richer than ours. I hope he will come and warm his feet at my hearth. Dimitri. Our father often treated him all too unkindly. Elga (hardly). So you say. Father treated him justly! Elga (heartily, obligingly. Yes, little mother, to the end of the world. (MARINA goes out, supported by ELGA.) Dimitri. Three hours on old nags, and how we have ridden! Starschenski. Furiously, as you live. Grischka. It is not worth while to live tamely and slowly. Starschenski. It is worth while! Dimitri. So you say! It is not worth my while. Grischka. Nor mine. Dimitri. It seems to me as if we were all running around with a spear broken off in our backs. Grischka. Yes. On from delirium to delirium, from intoxication to intoxication, so we may not feel it. Starschenski. You are poor. Dimitri. You are not? Starschenski. No. Dimitri. You do not feel the poisoned wound in which the spear sticks? (A servant has brought in carafes with wine, placed glasses on the table and poured out the wine.) Starschenski (raising his glass). Drink! You have said: I do not feel it. I did think as you do, and where you sought delirium, sought death. I sought it in Sobieski's battles-and I buried myself in stillness, like Cousin Oginski. I was a fool. I do not feel the spear and the boring wound. (He touches his glass to theirs.) There is happiness! Grischka. Do you think so? Starschenski. Yes; there is happiness. Dimitri. Where? Starschenski. Sit down. There is happiness in women. Starschenski. You laugh? What are you laughing at? Dimitri. At what you said. Starschenski. Do you know it to be otherwise? Grischka (laughing). I should think so. As far as I am concerned all women have grown stale. Starschenski. All? Dimitri. All, one after another, as I have enjoyed them. Starschenski. Perhaps. All are stale but one. Dimitri. Oho! And she is? Starschenski. She! Grischka (after a short silence). Brother, you are a marvel of a man! After almost three years of married life you speak like this. Starschenski. Yes; I still speak like this. Dimitri. And not a word of satiety? Starschenski. Not a word of it! Listen to me: that rainy night, four years ago, when I was walking through the streets of Warsaw, and she appeared before me for the first time Dimitri. Hard times, those, for father and sister. Grischka. Bad times. Starschenski. Bad for them, but not for me. Grischka. Curse the pack of hounds, who hunted my father into misery. Dimitri. Damn the serfs and cowardly bailiffs who made beggars of father and sister. Starschenski. Yes; she was wretched; she looked like a beggar, as she ran after me and implored help . . but no more of that! As soon as I entered the room with her . . Dimitri. Yes, the room where, sick unto death, tossing on the straw, his head pillowed on a saddle, our poor father still awaited his end like a hero. Starschenski. I saw only her! The candle flickered up, but I saw only her! And since that hour, in every waking minute of the long years. . I have seen only her! (More and more abstractedly.) She transforms the universe for me! She is the universe to me! I see only her! Dimitri (after some hesitation, craftily). Brother! Starschenski. Nothing! It is nothing! Whatever I can do for you is nothing. Grischka. No, you have done much for us. Our debt of gratitude is too great, we shall never be able to repay it; bitter enough is it to have to heap it up still greater! In the meantime we are in the conflict. We are fighting for the freedom and honor of the class to which we belong. In so doing we serve also the cause of the people. Starschenski. I don't. Grischka. Do as you like about that. We do not begrudge you any of your good fortune. We, however, have no home. Our enemies give us no peace. Without money, no assured rest is ours be it never so short. Starschenski. Ask for all you want. lips. Dimitri. A thousand gold guldens. Starschenski. You shall have them; but keep your finger on your (The old STEWARD enters.) Starschenski. What do you want, Timoska? The Steward. I disturb you. I will come some other time. Starschenski. Come here, Timoska.-Pardon me-I have had to form the habit of managing my estate seriously. There are considerably over a hundred horses in my fields. More than five hundred peasants are at work there. Dimitri. You are a model landlord. Starschenski. Now give me your report, Timoska! You see he is my right hand. We two wander all day long through my fields, forests and dairy-farms. Grischka. The eye of the master makes the cow fat. Dimitri. And the serf lean, that's true. Starschenski. It is all the same. It does one good to fulfil a duty. One is more joyous at meals after work done. And Elga will laugh! Grischka. Yes, she laughs almost too much. But, by the way, Dimitri, let's go to her! (Both bow slightly and go out.) Starschenski. What have you to grumble about, old man? Speak frankly. The Steward. It is exasperating, sire. Starschenski. What? The Steward. The blond serf has broken the shafts of the carriage to pieces. Starschenski. Have new ones made. Is there nothing more? Starschenski. Hm!- Something more? The Steward. Yes, sire, something more. Starschenski. Well, must one pull the words out of you with pincers? Did the big thunderstorm do much damage? The Steward. No. Starschenski. Has a marten gotten into the dovecote or what? The Steward. It is exasperating, sire! I am glad that you no longer sit discontentedly in the dark and brood. I am glad that we have a young mistress, and that you cradle a little daughter on your knee Starschenski (impatiently). Well, and what are you not glad for? The Steward. That you have so much to do with Pan Dimitri and Pan Grischka. Starschenski. Little enough in the last year, it seems to me. Starschenski. Listen, you grayhead: you are old and faithful therefor, I pardon you. I shall even talk with you about it. Pan Grischka and Pan Dimitri may do what they will. I can not be guardian of their souls. As for me, I am loyal to the King and cultivate my land. But now tell me what made you speak of this? The Steward. They come too often. The Steward. Pan Dimitri and Pan Grischka.-The peasants in the village know of it. Starschenski. It is nine months since they were last here. The Steward. The peasants know otherwise. Starschenski. Then they are blockheads! The Steward. Sire,-I have seen it with these eyes Starschenski. What have you seen? The Steward. How the secret messenger comes and goes at night. Starschenski (amazed and astonished). A secret messenger comes and goes? Whence does he come? Where does he go? The Steward. Through the same little gate. Starschenski. Back there in the garden? Near the old tower? Starschenski. To the devil with you!! Go! What is this nonsence you are chattering (The STEWARD goes after making a profound bow.) Starschenski (stands abstractedly.) Elga (enters). Don't you hear me, I am calling you? Elga. How? What? Were you dreaming? Starschenski (with a deep-drawn sigh). Bad dreams!— Elga. You dreamed bad dreams? What did you dream, poor sleep-walker. Starschenski. Kiss me! Elga (kissing him passionately). There! there! and there! Do you want still more? Starschenski. Look at me. Elga. Well? (looks him straight and full in the eyes.) What is it? Starschenski (after he has looked at her long and searchingly). Nothing! Elga. What is the matter with you? Starschenski (relieved). Nothing! It is well. (He kisses her on the forehead.) SCENE THIRD The scene changes into a bedroom. ELGA is busied in front of her dressing-table. The NURSE with the sleeping CHILD in her arms, is near her. And Elga. Go, nurse, go carefully and take the child with you. you and she are not to sleep in the next room, tonight. Dortka will help you carry the cradle into the yellow room. I am frightfully tired and do not want to be disturbed tonight. The Nurse. Oh, indeed it is not necessary, my lady. I know her. I know beforehand, when she is going to be restless. Tonight, all night long, she will lie in her little bed as quiet and still as a little fish. Elga. Do what I say, just the same. The Nurse. Of course I will. Why else am I an obedient servant? She is waking. Come little monkey, come. You make such big eyes. See what pretty things the dear mother is putting on. A little star on her breast! Pretty little shining red stones in her ears. Elga (absorbed in her mirror). What, you are still there! Go! Go away at once. (The NURSE goes out with the CHILD.) Elga (sings to herself). I am a wild bird I am a white falcon, A swan-white hawk! |