ACT III
SCENE I.—The Parlour. JUST (with a letter in his hand)
JUST. Must I come again into this cursed house! A note from my master to her ladyship that would be his sister. I hope nothing will come of this, or else there will be no end to letter carrying. I should like to be rid of it; but yet I don't wish to go into the room. The women ask so many questions, and I hate answering—Ah! the door opens. Just what I wanted, the waiting puss!
SCENE II.—FRANZISKA AND JUST
FRAN. (calling through the door by which she has just entered). Fear not; I will watch. See! (observing JUST) I have met with something immediately. But nothing is to be done with that brute.
JUST. Your servant.
FRAN. I should not like such a servant.
JUST. Well, well, pardon the expression! There is a note from my master to your mistress—her ladyship—his sister, wasn't it?—sister.
FRAN. Give it me! (Snatches it from his hand.)
JUST. You will be so good, my master begs, as to deliver it. Afterwards you will be so good, my master begs, as not to think I ask for anything!
FRAN. Well?
JUST. My master understands how to manage the affair. He knows that the way to the young lady is through her maid, methinks. The maid will therefore be so good, my master begs, as to let him know whether he may not have the pleasure of speaking with the maid for a quarter of an hour.
FRAN. With me?
JUST. Pardon me, if I do not give you your right title. Yes, with you. Only for one quarter of an hour; but alone, quite alone, in private tête-à-tête. He has something very particular to say to you.
FRAN. Very well! I have also much to say to him. He may come; I shall be at his service.
JUST. But when can he come? When is it most convenient for you, young woman? In the evening?
FRAN. What do you mean? Your master can come when he pleases; and now be off.
JUST. Most willingly! (Going.)
FRAN. I say! one word more! Where are the rest of the Major's servants?
JUST. The rest? Here, there, and everywhere.
FRAN. Where is William?
JUST. The valet? He has let him go for a trip.
FRAN. Oh! and Philip, where is he?
JUST. The huntsman? Master has found him a good place.
FRAN. Because he does not hunt now, of course, But Martin?
JUST. The coachman? He is off on a ride.
FRAN. And Fritz?
JUST. The footman? He is promoted.
FRAN. Where were you then, when the Major was quartered in Thuringia with us that winter? You were not with him, I suppose!
JUST. Oh! yes, I was groom; but I was in the hospital.
FRAN. Groom! and now you are—
JUST. All in all; valet and huntsman, footman and groom.
FRAN. Well, I never! To turn away so many good, excellent servants, and to keep the very worst of all! I should like to know what your master finds in you!
JUST. Perhaps he finds that I am an honest fellow.
FRAN. Oh! one is precious little if one is nothing more than honest. William was another sort of a man! So your master has let him go for a trip!
JUST. Yes, he . . . let him—because he could not prevent him.
FRAN. How so?
JUST. Oh! William will do well on his travels. He took master's wardrobe with him.
FRAN. What! he did not run away with it?
JUST. I cannot say that exactly; but when we left Nürnberg, he did not follow us with it.
FRAN. Oh! the rascal!
JUST. He was the right sort! he could curl hair and shave—and chatter—and flirt—couldn't he?
FRAN. At any rate, I would not have turned away the huntsman, had I been in the Major's place. If he did not want him any longer as huntsman, he was still a useful fellow. Where has he found him a place?
JUST. With the Commandant of Spandau.
FRAN. The fortress! There cannot be much hunting within the walls either.
JUST. Oh! Philip does not hunt there.
FRAN. What does he do, then?
JUST. He rides—on the treadmill.
FRAN. The treadmill!
JUST. But only for three years. He made a bit of a plot amongst master's company, to get six men through the outposts.
FRAN. I am astonished; the knave!
JUST. Ah! he was a useful fellow; a huntsman who knew all the foot-paths and by-ways for fifty miles round, through forests and bogs. And he could shoot!
FRAN. It is lucky the Major has still got the honest coachman.
JUST. Has he got him still?
FRAN. I thought you said Martin was off on a ride: of course he will come back!
JUST. Do you think so?
FRAN. Well, where has he ridden to?
JUST. It is now going on for ten weeks since he rode master's last and only horse—to water.
FRAN. And has not he come back yet? Oh! the rascal!
JUST. The water may have washed the honest coachman away. Oh! he was a famous coachman! He had driven ten years in Vienna. My master will never get such another again. When the horses were in full gallop, he only had to say “Wo! and there they stood, like a wall. Moreover, he was a finished horse-doctor!
FRAN. I begin now to be anxious about the footman's promotion.
JUST. No, no; there is no occasion for that. He has become a drummer in a garrison regiment.
FRAN. I thought as much!
JUST. Fritz chummed up with a scamp, never came home at night, made debts everywhere in master's name, and a thousand rascally tricks. In short, the Major saw that he was determined to rise in the world (pantomimically imitating the act of hanging), so he put him in the right road.
FRAN. Oh! the stupid!
JUST. Yet a perfect footman, there is no doubt of that. In running, my master could not catch him on his best horse if he gave him fifty paces; but on the other hand, Fritz could give the gallows a thousand paces, and, I bet my life, he would overhaul it. They were all great friends of yours, eh, young woman?. . . William and Philip, Martin and Fritz! Now, Just wishes you good-day. (Exit.)
SCENE III.—FRANZISKA, and afterwards the LANDLORD
FRAN. (looking after him seriously). I deserve the hit! Thank you, Just. I undervalued honesty. I will not forget the lesson. Ah! our unfortunate Major! (Turns round to enter her mistress' room, when the LANDLORD comes.)
LAND. Wait a bit, my pretty maid.
FRAN. I have not time now, Mr Landlord.
LAND. Only half a moment! No further tidings of the Major? That surely could not possibly be his leave-taking!
FRAN. What could not?
LAND. Has not our ladyship told you? When I left you, my pretty maid, below in the kitchen, I returned accidentally into this room—
FRAN. Accidentally—with a view to listen a little.
LAND. What, girl! how can you suspect me of that? There is nothing so bad in a landlord as curiosity. I had not been here long, when suddenly her ladyship's door burst open: the Major dashed out; the lady after him; both in such a state of excitement; with looks—in attitudes—that must be seen to be understood. She seized hold of him; he tore himself away; she seized him again—“Tellheim.” “Let me go, Madam.” “Where?” Thus he drew her as far as the staircase. I was really afraid he would drag her down; but he got away. The lady remained on the top step; looked after him; called after him; wrung her hands. Suddenly she turned round; ran to the window; from the window to the staircase again; from the staircase into the room, backwards and forwards. There I stood; she passed me three times without seeing me. At length it seemed as if she saw me; but heaven defend us! I believe the lady took me for you. “Franziska,” she cried, with her eyes fixed upon me, “am I happy now?” Then she looked straight up to the ceiling, and said again—“Am I happy now?” Then she wiped the tears from her eyes, and smiled, and asked me again—“Franziska, am I happy now?” I really felt, I know not how. Then she ran to the door of her room, and turned round again towards me, saying—“Come, Franziska, whom do you pity now?” and with that she went in.
FRAN. Oh! Mr. Landlord, you dreamt that.
LAND. Dreamt! No, my pretty maid; one does not dream so minutely. Yes, what would not I give—I am not curious: but what would not I give—to have the key to it!
FRAN. The key? Of our door? Mr. Landlord, that is inside; we took it in at night; we are timid.
LAND. Not that sort of key; I mean, my dear girl, the key—the explanation, as it were; the precise connexion of all that I have seen.
FRAN. Indeed! Well, good-bye, Mr. Landlord. Shall we have dinner soon?
LAND. My dear girl, not to forget what I came to say—
FRAN. Well? In as few words as possible.
LAND. Her ladyship has my ring still. I call it mine—
FRAN. You shall not lose it.
LAND. I have no fear on that account: I merely put you in mind. Do you see, I do not wish to have it again at all. I can guess pretty well how she knew the ring, and why it was so like her own. It is best in her hands. I do not want it any more; and I can put them down—the hundred pistoles which I advanced for it, to the lady's bill. Will not that do, my pretty maid?
SCENE IV.—PAUL WERNER, LANDLORD, FRANZISKA
WER. There he is!
FRAN. A hundred pistoles? I thought it was only eighty.
LAND. True, only ninety, only ninety. I will do so, my pretty maid, I will do so.
FRAN. All that will come right, Mr. Landlord.
WER. (coming from behind, and tapping FRANZISKA on the shoulder). Little woman—Little woman.
FRAN. (frightened). Oh! dear!
WER. Don't be alarmed! I see you are pretty, and a stranger, too. And strangers who are pretty must be warned. Little woman! little woman! I advise you to beware of that fellow! (pointing to the LANDLORD).
LAND. Ah! What an unexpected pleasure! Herr Werner! Welcome, welcome! Yes, you are just the same jovial, joking, honest Werner! So you are to beware of me, my pretty maid. Ha! ha! ha!
WER. Keep out of his way everywhere!
LAND. My way? Am I such a dangerous man? Ha! ha! ha! Hear him, my pretty maid! A good joke, isn't it?
WER. People like him always call it a joke, if one tells them the truth.
LAND. The truth. Ha! ha! ha! Better and better, my pretty maid, isn't it? He knows how to joke! I dangerous? I? Twenty years ago there might have been something in it. Yes, yes, my pretty maid, then I was a dangerous man: many a one knew it; but now—
WER. Oh! the old fool!
LAND. There it is! When we get old, danger is at an end! It will be so with you too, Herr Werner!
WER. You utter old fool!Little woman, you will give me credit for enough common sense not to speak of danger from him. That one devil has left him, but seven others have entered into him.
LAND. Oh! hear him! How cleverly he can turn things about, Joke upon joke, and always something new! Ah! he is an excellent man, Paul Werner is. (To FRANZISKA, as if whispering.) A well-to-do man, and a bachelor still. He has a nice little freehold three miles from here. He made prize-money in the war, and was a sergeant to the Major. Yes, he is a real friend of the Major's; he is a friend who would give his life for him.
WER. Yes; and that is a friend of the Major's—that is a friend . . . whose life the Major ought to take (pointing to the LANDLORD).
LAND. How! What! No, Herr Werner, that is not a good joke. I no friend to the Major! I don't understand that joke.
WER. Just has told me pretty things.
LAND. Just! Ah! I thought Just was speaking through you. Just is a nasty, ill-natured man. But here on the spot stands a pretty maid—she can speak, she can say if I am no friend of the Major's—if I have not done him good service. And why should not I be his friend? Is not he a deserving man? It is true, he has had the misfortune to be discharged; but what of that? The king cannot be acquainted with all deserving officers; and if he knew them, he could not reward them all.
WER. Heaven put those words into your mouth. But Just. . . certainly there is nothing remarkable about Just, but still Just is no liar; and if that what he has told me be true—
LAND. I don't want to hear anything about Just. As I said, this pretty maid here can speak. (Whispering to her.) You know, my dear; the ring! Tell Herr Werner about it. Then he will learn better what I am. And that it may not appear as if she only said what I wish, I will not even be present. I will go; but you shall tell me after, Herr Werner, you shall tell me, whether Just is not a foul slanderer.(Exit)
SCENE V.—WERNER, FRANZISKA
WER. Little woman, do you know my Major?
FRAN. Major von Tellheim? Yes, indeed, I do know that good man.
WER. Is he not a good man? Do you like him?
FRAN. From the bottom of my heart.
WER. Indeed! I tell you what, little woman, you are twice as pretty now as you were before. But what are the services, which the landlord says he has rendered our Major?
FRAN. That is what I don't know; unless he wished to take credit to himself for the good result which fortunately has arisen from his knavish conduct.
WER. Then what Just told me is true? (Towards the side where the LANDLORD went off.) A lucky thing for you that you are gone! He did really turn him out of his room?—To treat such a man so, because the donkey fancied that he had no more money! The Major no money!
FRAN. What! Has the Major any money?
WER. By the load. He doesn't know how much he has. He doesn't know who is in his debt. I am his debtor, and have brought him some old arrears. Look, little woman, in this purse (drawing it out of one pocket) are a hundred louis d'ors; and in this packet (drawing it out of another pocket) a hundred ducats. All his money!
FRAN. Really! Why then does the Major pawn his things? He pledged a ring, you know—
WER. Pledged! Don't you believe it. Perhaps he wanted to get rid of the rubbish.
FRAN. It is no rubbish; it is a very valuable ring; which, moreover, I suspect, he received from a loving hand.
WER. That will be the reason. From a loving hand! Yes, yes; such a thing often puts one in mind of what one does not wish to remember, and therefore one gets rid of it.
FRAN. What!
WER. Odd things happen to the soldier in winter quarters. He has nothing to do then, so he amuses himself, and to pass the time he makes acquaintances, which he only intends for the winter, but which the good soul with whom he makes them, looks upon for life. Then, presto! a ring is suddenly conjured on to his finger; he hardly knows himself how it gets there; and very often he would willingly give the finger with it, if he could only get free from it again.
FRAN. Oh! and do you think this has happened to the Major?
WER. Undoubtedly. Especially in Saxony. If he had had ten fingers on each hand, he might have had all twenty full of rings.
FRAN. (aside). That sounds important, and deserves to be inquired into. Mr. Freeholder, or Mr. Sergeant—
WER. Little woman, if it makes no difference to you, I like “Mr. Sergeant” best.
FRAN. Well, Mr. Sergeant, I have a note from the Major to my mistress. I will just carry it in, and be here again in a moment. Will you be so good as to wait? I should like very much to have a little talk with you.
WER. Are you fond of talking, little woman? Well, with all my heart. Go quickly. I am fond of talking too: I will wait.
FRAN. Yes, please wait. (Exit.)
SCENE VI.—PAUL WERNER
WER. That is not at all a bad little woman. But I ought not to have promised her that I would wait, for it would be most to the purpose, I suppose, to find the Major. He will not have my money, but rather pawns his property. That is just his way. A little trick occurs to me. When I was in the town, a fortnight back, I paid a visit to Captain Marloff's widow. The poor woman was ill, and was lamenting that her husband had died in debt to the Major for four hundred thalers, which she did not know how to pay. I went to see her again to-day; I intended to tell her that I could lend her five hundred thalers, when I had received the money for my property; for I must put some of it by, if I do not go to Persia. But she was gone; and no doubt she has not been able to pay the Major. Yes, I'll do that; and the sooner the better. The little woman must not take it ill of me; I cannot wait.
(Is going in thought, and almost runs against the MAJOR,who meets him.)
SCENE VII.—MAJOR VON TELLHEIM, PAUL WERNER
MAJ. T. Why so thoughtful, Werner?
WER. Oh! that is you. I was just going to pay you a visit in your new quarters, Major.
MAJ. T. To fill my ears with curses against the Landlord of my old one. Do not remind me of it.
WER. I should have done that by the way: yes. But more particularly, I wish to thank you for having been so good as to take care of my hundred louis d'ors. Just has given them to me again. I should have been very glad if you would have kept them longer for me. But you have got into new quarters, which neither you nor I know much about. Who knows what sort of place it is? They might be stolen, and you would have to make them good to me; there would be no help for it. So I cannot ask you to take them again.
MAJ. T. (smiling). When did you begin to be so careful, Werner?
WER. One learns to be so. One cannot now be careful enough of one's money. I have also a commission for you, Major, from Frau Marloff; I have just come from her. Her husband died four hundred thalers in your debt; she sends you a hundred ducats here, in part payment. She will forward you the rest next week. I believe I am the cause that she has not sent you the whole sum. For she also owed me about eighty thalers, and she thought I was come to dun her for them—which, perhaps, was the fact—so she gave them me out of the roll which she had put aside for you. You can spare your hundred thalers for a week longer, better than I can spare my few groschens.There, take it! (Hands him the ducats.)
MAJ. T. Werner!
WER. Well! Why do you stare at me so? Take it, Major!
MAJ. T. Werner!
WER. What is the matter with you? What annoys you?
MAJ. T. (angrily striking his forehead, and stamping with his foot.) That . . . the four hundred thalers are not all there.
WER. Come! Major, did not you understand me?
MAJ. T. It is just because I did understand you! Alas, that the best men should to-day distress me most!
WER. What do you say?
MAJ. T. This only applies partly to you. Go, Werner! (Pushing back WERNER'S hand with the money in it.)
WER. As soon as I have got rid of this.
MAJ. T. Werner, suppose I tell you that Frau Marloff was here herself early this morning—
WER. Indeed?
MAJ. T. That she owes me nothing now—
WER. Really?
MAJ. T. That she has paid me every penny—What will you say then?
WER. (thinks for a minute). I shall say that I have told a lie, and that lying is a low thing, because one may be caught at it.
MAJ. T. And you will be ashamed of yourself?
WER. And what of him who compels me to lie? Should not he be ashamed too? Look ye, Major; if I was to say that your conduct has not vexed me, I should tell another lie, and I won't lie any more.
MAJ. T. Do not be annoyed, Werner. I know your heart, and your affection for me. But I do not require your money.
WER. Not require it! Rather sell, rather pawn, and get talked about!
MAJ. T. Oh! people may know that I have nothing more. One must not wish to appear richer than one is.
WER. But why poorer? A man has something as long as his friend has.
MAJ. T. It is not proper that I should be your debtor.
WER. Not proper! On that summer day which the sun and the enemy made hot for us, when your groom, who had your canteen, was not to be found, and you came to me and said—“Werner, have you nothing to drink?” and I gave you my flask, you took it and drank, did you not? Was that proper? Upon my life, a mouthful of dirty water at that time was often worth more than such filth (taking the purse also out of his pocket, and holding out both to him). Take them, dear Major! Fancy it is water. God has made this, too, for all.
MAJ. T. You torment me: don't you hear, I will not be your debtor.
WER. At first, it was not proper; now, you will not. Ah! that is a different thing. (Rather angrily.) You will not be my debtor? But suppose you are already, Major? Or, are you not a debtor to the man who once warded off the blow that was meant to split your head; and, at another time, knocked off the arm which was just going to pull and send a ball through your breast? How can you become a greater debtor to that man? Or, is my neck of less consequence than my money? If that is a noble way of thinking, by my soul it is a very silly one too.
MAJ. T. To whom do you say that, Werner? We are alone, and therefore I may speak; if a third person heard us, it might sound like boasting. I acknowledge with pleasure, that I have to thank you for twice saving my life. Do you not think, friend, that if an opportunity occurred I would have done as much for you, eh?
WER. If an opportunity occurred! Who doubts it, Major? Have I not seen you risk your life a hundred times for the lowest soldier, when he was in danger?
MAJ. T. Well!
WER. But—
MAJ. T. Why cannot you understand me? I say, it is not proper that I should be your debtor; I will not be your debtor. That is, not in the circumstances in which I now am.
WER. Oh! so you would wait till better times. You will borrow money from me another time, when you do not want any: when you have some yourself, and I perhaps none.
MAJ. T. A man ought not to borrow, when he has not the means of repaying.
WER. A man like yourself cannot always be in want.
MAJ. T. You know the world. . . Least of all should a man borrow from one who wants his money himself.
WER. Oh! yes; I am such a one! Pray, what do I want it for? When they want a sergeant, they give him enough to live on.
MAJ. T. You want it, to become something more than a sergeant—to be able to get forward in that path in which even the most deserving, without money, may remain behind.
WER. To become something more than a sergeant! I do not think of that. I am a good sergeant; I might easily make a bad captain, and certainly a worse general.
MAJ. T. Do not force me to think ill of you, Werner! I was very sorry to hear what Just has told me. You have sold your farm, and wish to rove about again. Do not let me suppose that you do not love the profession of arms so much as the wild dissolute way of living which is unfortunately connected with it. A man should be a soldier for his own country, or from love of the cause for which he fights. To serve without any purpose—to-day here, to-morrow there—is only travelling about like a butcher's apprentice, nothing more.
WER. Well, then, Major, I will do as you say. You know better what is right. I will remain with you. But, dear Major, do take my money in the meantime. Sooner or later your affairs must be settled.You will get money in plenty then; and then you shall repay me with interest. I only do it for the sake of the interest.
MAJ. T. Do not talk of it.
WER. Upon my life, I only do it for the sake of the interest. Many a time I have thought to myself—“Werner, what will become of you in your old age? when you are crippled? when you will have nothing in the world? when you will be obliged to go and beg!” And then I thought again—“No, you will not be obliged to beg: you will go to Major Tellheim; he will share his last penny with you; he will feed you till you die; and with him you can die like an honest fellow.”
MAJ. T. (taking WERNER'S hand). And, comrade, you do not think so still?
WER. No, I do not think so any longer. He who will not take anything from me, when he is in want, and I have to give, will not give me anything when he has to give, and I am in want. So be it. (Is going.)
MAJ. T. Man, do not drive me mad! Where are you going? (Detains him.) If I assure you now, upon my honour, that I still have money—If I assure you, upon my honour, that I will tell you when I have no more—that you shall be the first and only person from whom I will borrow anything—will that content you?
WER. I suppose it must. Give me your hand on it, Major.
MAJ. T. There, Paul! And now enough of that, I came here to speak with a certain young woman.
SCENE VIII.—FRANZISKA (coming out of MINNA'S room), MAJOR
VON TELLHEIM, PAUL WERNER
FRAN. (entering). Are you there still, Mr. Sergeant? (Seeing TELLHEIM.) And you there too, Major? I will be at your service instantly. (Goes back quickly into the room.)
SCENE IX.—MAJOR VON TELLHEIM, PAUL WERNER
MAJ. T. That was she! But it seems you know her, Werner.
WER. Yes, I know her.
MAJ. Yet, if I remember rightly, when I was in Thuringia you were not with me.
WER. No; I was seeing after the uniforms in Leipsic.
MAJ. T. Where did you make her acquaintance, then?
WER. Our acquaintance is very young. Not a day old. But young friendship is warm.
MAJ. T. Have you seen her mistress, too?
WER. Is her mistress a young lady? She told me you are acquainted with her mistress.
MAJ. T. Did not you hear? She comes from Thuringia.
WER. Is the lady young?
MAJ. T. Yes.
WER. Pretty?
MAJ. T. Very pretty.
WER. Rich?
MAJ. T. Very rich.
WER. Is the mistress as fond of you as the maid is? That would be capital!
MAJ. T. What do you mean?
SCENE X.—FRANZISKA (with a letter in her hand), MAJOR VON TELLHEIM, PAUL WERNER
FRAN. Major—
MAJ. T. Franziska, I have not yet been able to give you a “Welcome” here.
FRAN. I thought, I am sure that you have done it. I know you are friendly to me; so am I to you. But it is not at all kind to vex those who are friendly to you so much.
WER. (aside). Ah! now I see it. It is so!
MAJ. T. My destiny, Franziska! Did you give her the letter?
FRAN. Yes; and here I bring you. . . (holding out a letter).
MAJ. T. An answer!
FRAN. No, your own letter again.
MAJ. T. What! She will not read it!
FRAN. She would have liked, but—we can't read writing well.
MAJ. T. You are joking!
FRAN. And we think that writing was not invented for those who can converse with their lips whenever they please.
MAJ. T. What an excuse! She must read it. It contains my justification—all the grounds and reasons.—
FRAN. My mistress wishes to hear them all from you yourself, not to read them.
MAJ. T. Hear them from me myself! That every look, every word of hers, may embarrass me; that I may feel in every glance the greatness of my loss.
FRAN. Without any pity! Take it. (Giving him his letter.) She expects you at three o'clock. She wishes to drive out and see the town; you must accompany her.
MAJ. T. Accompany her!
FRAN. And what will you give me to let you drive out by yourselves? I shall remain at home.
MAJ. T. By ourselves!
FRAN. In a nice close carriage.
MAJ. T. Impossible!
FRAN. Yes, yes, in the carriage, Major. You will have to submit quietly; you cannot escape there! And that is the reason. In short, you will come, Major, and punctually at three. . .. Well, you wanted to speak to me too alone. What have you to say to me? Oh! we are not alone. (Looking at WERNER.)
MAJ. T. Yes, Franziska; as good as alone. But as your mistress has not read my letter, I have nothing now to say to you.
FRAN. As good as alone! Then you have no secrets from the Sergeant?
MAJ. T. No, none.
FRAN. And yet I think you should have some from him.
MAJ. T. Why so?
WER. How so, little woman?
FRAN. Particularly secrets of a certain kind. . .. All twenty, Mr. Sergeant! (Holding up both her hands, with open fingers.)
WER. Hist! hist! girl.
MAJ. T. What is the meaning of that?
FRAN. Presto! conjured on to his finger, Mr. Sergeant (as if she was putting a ring on her fingers).
MAJ. T. What are you talking about?
WER. Little woman, little woman, don't you understand a joke?
MAJ. T. Werner, you have not forgotten, I hope, what I have often told you; that one should not jest beyond a certain point with a young woman!
WER. Upon my life I may have forgotten it! Little woman, I beg—
FRAN. Well, if it was a joke, I will forgive you this once.
MAJ. T. Well, if I must come, Franziska, just see that your mistress reads my letter beforehand? That will spare me the pain of thinking again—of talking again, of things which I would willingly forget. There, give it to her! (He turns the letter in giving it to her, and sees that it has been opened.) But do I see aright? Why it has been opened.
FRAN. That may be. (Looks at it.) True, it is open. Who can have opened it? But really we have not read it, Major; really not. And we do not wish to read it, because the writer is coming himself. Come; and I tell you what, Major! don't come as you are now—in boots, and with such a head. You are excusable, you do not expect us. Come in shoes, and have your hair fresh dressed. You look too soldierlike, too Prussian for me as you are.
MAJ. T. Thank you, Franziska.
FRAN. You look as if you had been bivouacking last night.
MAJ. T. You may have guessed right.
FRAN. We are going to dress, directly too, and then have dinner. We would willingly ask you to dinner, but your presence might hinder our eating; and observe, we are not so much in love that we have lost our appetites.
MAJ. T. I will go. Prepare her somewhat, Franziska, beforehand, that I may not become contemptible in her eyes, and in my own. Come, Werner, you shall dine with me.
WER. At the table d'hote here in the house? I could not eat a bit there.
MAJ. T. With me, in my room.
WER. I will follow you directly. One word first with the little woman.
MAJ. T. I have no objection to that. (Exit.)
SCENE XI.—PAUL WERNER, FRANZISKA
FRAN. Well, Mr. Sergeant!
WER. Little woman, if I come again, shall I too come smartened up a bit?
FRAN. Come as you please: my eyes will find no fault with you. But my ears will have to be so much the more on their guard. Twenty fingers, all full of rings. Ah! ah! Mr. Sergeant!
WER. No, little woman; that is just what I wished to say to you. I only rattled on a little. There is nothing in it. One ring is quite enough for a man. Hundreds and hundreds of times I have heard the Major say—“He must be a rascally soldier, who can mislead a young girl.” So think I too, little woman. You may trust to that! I must be quick and follow him. A good appetite to you. (Exit.)
FRAN. The same to you! I really believe, I like that man! (Going in, she meets MINNA coming out.)
SCENE XII.—MINNA, FRANZISKA
MIN. Has the Major gone already, Franziska? I believe I should have been sufficiently composed again now to have detained him here.
FRAN. And I will make you still more composed.
MIN. So much the better! His letter! oh! his letter! Each line spoke the honourable noble man. Each refusal to accept my hand declared his love for me. I suppose he noticed that we had read his letter. I don't mind that, if he does but come. But are you sure he will come? There only seems to me to be a little too much pride in his conduct. For not to be willing to be indebted for his good fortune, even to the woman he loves, is pride, unpardonable pride! If he shows me too much of this, Franziska—
FRAN. You will discard him!
MIN. See there! Do you begin to pity him again already! No, silly girl, a man is never discarded for a single fault. No; but I have thought of a trick—to pay him off a little for this pride, with pride of the same kind.
FRAN. Indeed, you must be very composed, my lady, if you are thinking of tricks again.
MIN. I am so; come. You will have a part to play in my plot. (Exeunt.)