ACT IV
SCENE I.—MINNA'S Room. MINNA (dressed handsomely and richly,
but in good taste), FRANZISKA
(They have just risen from a table, which a servant is clearing.)
FRAN. You cannot possibly have eaten enough, my lady.
MIN. Don't you think so, Franziska? Perhaps I had no appetite when I sat down.
FRAN. We had agreed not to mention him during dinner. We should have resolved likewise, not to think of him.
MIN. Indeed, I have thought of nothing but him.
FRAN. So I perceived. I began to speak of a hundred different things, and you made wrong answers to each. (Another servant brings coffee.) Here comes a beverage more suited to fancies—sweet, melancholy coffee.
MIN. Fancies! I have none. I am only thinking of the lesson I will give him. Did you understand my plan, Franziska?
FRAN. Oh! yes; but it would be better if he spared us the putting it in execution.
MIN. You will see that I know him thoroughly. He who refuses me now with all my wealth, will contend for me against the whole world, as soon as he hears that I am unfortunate and friendless.
FRAN. (seriously). That must tickle the most refined self-love.
MIN. You moralist! First you convict me of vanity—now of self-love. Let me do as I please, Franziska. You, too, shall do as you please with your Sergeant.
FRAN. With my Sergeant?
MIN. Yes. If you deny it altogether, then it is true. I have not seen him yet; but from all you have said respecting him, I foretell your husband for you.
SCENE II.—RICCAUT DE LA MARLINI?RE, MINNA, FRANZISKA
RIC. (before he enters). Est-il permis, Monsieur le Major?
FRAN. Who is that? Any one for us? (going to the door).
RIC. Parbleu! I am wrong. Mais non—I am not wrong. C'est la chambre—
FRAN. Without doubt, my lady, this gentleman expects to find Major von Tellheim here still.
RIC. Oui, dat is it! Le Major de Tellheim; juste, ma belle enfant, c'est lui que je cherche. Où est-il?
FRAN. He does not lodge here any longer.
RIC. Comment? Dere is four-and-twenty hour ago he did lodge here, and not lodge here any more? Where lodge he den?
MIN. (going up to him). Sir—
RIC. Ah! Madame, Mademoiselle, pardon, lady.
MIN. Sir, your mistake is quite excusable, and your astonishment very natural. Major von Tellheim has had the kindness to give up his apartments to me, as a stranger, who was not able to get them elsewhere.
RIC. Ah! voilà de ses politesses! C'est un très-galant homme que ce Major!
MIN. Where has he gone now?—truly I am ashamed that I do not know.
RIC. Madame not know? C'est dommage; j'en suis fâché.
MIN. I certainly ought to have inquired. Of course his friends will seek him here.
RIC. I am vary great his friend, Madame.
MIN. Franziska, do you not know?
FRAN. No, my lady.
RIC. It is vary nécessaire dat I speak him. I come and bring him a nouvelle, of which he will be vary much at ease.
MIN. I regret it so much the more. But I hope to see him perhaps shortly. If it is a matter of indifference from whom he hears this good news, I would offer, sir—
RIC. I comprehend. Mademoiselle parle français? Mais sans doute; telle que je la vois! La demande était bien impolie; vous me pardonnerez, Mademoiselle.
MIN. Sir—
RIC. No! You not speak French, Madame?
MIN. Sir, in France I would endeavour to do so; but why here? I perceive that you understand me, sir; and I, sir, shall doubtless understand you; speak as you please.
RIC. Good, good! I can also explain me in your langue. Sachez donc, Mademoiselle, you must know, Madame, dat I come from de table of de ministre, ministre de, ministre de. . . What is le ministre out dere, in de long street, on de broad place?
MIN. I am a perfect stranger here.
RIC. Si, le ministre of de war departement. Dere I have eat my dinner; I ordinary dine dere, and de conversation did fall on Major Tellheim; et le ministre m'a dit en confidence, car Son Excellence est de mes amis, et il n'y a point de mystères entre nous; Son Excellence, I say, has trust to me, dat l'affaire from our Major is on de point to end, and to end good. He has made a rapport to de king, and de king has resolved et tout à fait en faveur du Major. “Monsieur,” m'a dit Son Excellence, “vous comprenez bien, que tout dépend de la manière, dont on fait envisager les choses au roi, et vous me connaissez. Cela fait un très-joli garçon que ce Tellheim, et ne sais-je pas que vous l'aimez? Les amis de mes amis sont aussi les miens. Il coûte un peu cher au Roi ce Tellheim, mais est-ce que l'on sert les rois pour rien? Il faut s'entr'aider en ce monde; et quand il s'agit de pertes, que ce soit le Roi qui en fasse, et non pas un honnête homme de nous autres. Voilà le principe, dont je ne me dépars jamais.” But what say Madame to it? N'est pas, dat is a fine fellow! Ah! que Son Excellence a le cœur bien placé! He assure me au reste, if de Major has not reçu already une lettre de la main—a royal letter, dat to-day infailliblement must he receive one.
MIN. Certainly, sir, this news will be most welcome to Major von Tellheim. I should like to be able to name the friend to him, who takes such an interest in his welfare.
RIC. Madame, you wish my name? Vous voyez en moi—you see, lady, in me, le Chevalier Riccaut de la Marlinière, Seigneur de Prêt-au-val, de la branche de Prens d'or. You remain astonished to hear me from so great, great a family, qui est véritablement du sang royal. Il faut le dire; je suis sans doute le cadet le plus aventureux que la maison n'a jamais eu. I serve from my eleven year. Une affaire d'honneur make me flee. Den I serve de holy Papa of Rome, den de Republic St. Marino, den de Poles, den de States General, till enfin I am brought her. Ah! Mademoiselle, que je voudrais n'avoir jamais vu ce pays-ci! Had one left me in de service of de States General, should I be now at least colonel. But here always to remain capitaine, and now also a discharged capitaine.
MIN. That is ill luck.
RIC. Oui, Mademoiselle, me voilà réformé, et par là mis sur le pavé!
MIN. I am very sorry for you.
RIC. Vous êtes bien bonne, Mademoiselle. . . No, merit have no reward here. Réformer a man, like me! A man who also have ruin himself in dis service! I have lost in it so much as twenty thousand livres. What have I now? Tranchons le mot; je n'ai pas le sou, et me voilà exactement vis-à-vis de rien.
MIN. I am exceedingly sorry.
RIC. Vous êtes bien bonne, Mademoiselle, But as one say—misfortune never come alone! qu'un malheur ne vient jamais seul: so it arrive with me. What ressource rests for an honnête homme of my extraction, but play? Now, I always played with luck, so long I not need her. Now I very much need her, je joue avec un guignon, Mademoiselle, que surpasse toute croyance. For fifteen days, not one is passed, dat I always am broke. Yesterday, I was broke dree times. Je sais bien, qu'il y avait quelque chose de plus que le jeu. Car parmi mes pontes se trouvaient certaines dames. I will not speak more. One must be very galant to les dames. Dey have invite me again to-day, to give me revanche; mais—vous m'entendez, Mademoiselle,—one must first have to live, before one can have to play.
MIN. I hope, sir—
RIC. Vous êtes bien bonne, Mademoiselle.
MIN. (Takes FRANZISKA aside.) Franziska, I really feel for the man. Would he take it ill, if I offer him something?
FRAN. He does not look to me like a man who would.
MIN. Very well! Sir, I perceive that—you play, that you keep the bank; doubtless in places where something is to be won. I must also confess that I . . . am very fond of play.
RIC. Tant mieux, Mademoiselle, tant mieux! Tous les gens d'esprit aiment le jeu à la fureur.
MIN. That I am very fond of winning; that I like to trust my money to a man, who—knows how to play. Are you inclined, sir, to let me join you? To let me have a share in your bank?
RIC. Comment, Mademoiselle, vous voulez être de moitié avec moi? De tout mon coeur.
MIN. At first, only with a trifle. (Opens her desk and takes out some money.)
RIC. Ah! Mademoiselle, que vous êtes charmante!
MIN. Here is what I won a short time back; only ten pistoles. I am ashamed, so little—
RIC. Donnez toujours, Mademoiselle, donnez. (Takes it.)
MIN. Without doubt, your bank, sir, is very considerable.
RIC. Oh! yes, vary considerable. Ten pistoles! You shall have, Madame, an interest in my bank for one third, pour le tiers. Yes, one third part it shall be—something more. With a beautiful lady one must not be too exac. I rejoice myself, to make by that a liaison with Madame, et de ce moment je recommence à bien augurer de ma fortune.
MIN. But I cannot be present, sir, when you play.
RIC. For why it nécessaire dat you be present? We other players are honourable people between us.
MIN. If we are fortunate, sir, you will of course bring me my share. If we are unfortunate—
RIC. I come to bring recruits, n'est pas, Madame?
MIN. In time recruits might fail. Manage our money well, sir.
RIC. What does Madame think me? A simpleton, a stupid devil?
MIN. I beg your pardon.
RIC. Je suis des bons, Mademoiselle. Savez vous ce que cela veut dire? I am of the quite practised—
MIN. But still, sir,—
RIC. Je sais monter un coup—
MIN. (amazed). Could you?
RIC. Je file la carte avec une adresse.
MIN. Never!
RIC. Je fais sauter la coupe avec une dextérité.
MIN. You surely would not, sir!—
RIC. What not, Madame; what not? Donnes moi un pigeonneau à plumer, et—
MIN. Play false! Cheat!
RIC. Comment, Mademoiselle? Vous appelez cela cheat? Corriger la fortune, l'enchaîner sous ses doigts, être sûr de son fait, dat you call cheat? Cheat! Oh! what a poor tongue is your tongue! what an awkward tongue!
MIN. No, sir, if you think so—
RIC. Laissez-moi faire, Mademoiselle, and be tranquille! What matter to you how I play! Enough! to-morrow, Madame, you see me again or with hundred pistol, or you see no more. Votre très-humble, Mademoiselle, votre très-humble. (Exit quickly.)
MIN. (looking after him with astonishment and displeasure). I hope the latter, sir.
SCENE III.—MINNA AND FRANZISKA
FRAN. (angrily). What can I say? Oh! how grand! how grand!
MIN. Laugh at me; I deserve it. (After reflecting, more calmly.) No, do not laugh; I do not deserve it.
FRAN. Excellent! You have done a charming act—set a knave upon his legs again.
MIN. It was intended for an unfortunate man.
FRAN. And what is the best part of it, the fellow considers you like himself. Oh! I must follow him, and take the money from him. (Going.)
MIN. Franziska, do not let the coffee get quite cold; pour it out.
FRAN. He must return it to you; you have thought better of it; you will not play in partnership with him. Ten pistoles! You heard, my lady, that he was a beggar! (MINNA pours out the coffee herself.) Who would give such a sum to a beggar? And to endeavour, into the bargain, to save him the humiliation of having begged for it! The charitable woman who, out of generosity, mistakes the beggar, is in return mistaken by the beggar. It serves you right, my lady, if he considers your gift as—I know not what. (MINNA hands a cup of coffee to FRANZISKA.) Do you wish to make my blood boil still more? I do not want any. (MINNA puts it down again.) “Parbleu, Madame, merit have no reward here” (imitating the Frenchman). I think not, when such rogues are allowed to walk about unhanged.
MIN. (coldly and slowly, while sipping her coffee). Girl, you understand good men very well; but when will you learn to bear with the bad? And yet they are also men; and frequently not so bad as they seem. One should look for their good side. I fancy this Frenchman is nothing worse than vain. Through mere vanity he gives himself out as a false player; he does not wish to appear under an obligation to one; he wishes to save himself the thanks. Perhaps he may now go, pay his small debts, live quietly and frugally on the rest as far as it will go, and think no more of play. If that be so, Franziska, let him come for recruits whenever he pleases. (Gives her cup to FRANZISKA.) There, put it down! But, tell me, should not Tellheim be here by this time?
FRAN. No, my lady, I can neither find out the bad side in a good man, nor the good side in a bad man.
MIN. Surely he will come!
FRAN. He ought to remain away! You remark in him—in him, the best of men—a little pride; and therefore you intend to tease him so cruelly!
MIN. Are you at it again? Be silent! I will have it so. Woe to you if you spoil this fun of mine . . . if you do not say and do all, as we have agreed. I will leave you with him alone; and then—but here he comes.
SCENE IV.—PAUL WERNER (comes in, carrying himself very
erect as if on duty), MINNA, FRANZISKA
FRAN. No, it is only his dear Sergeant.
MIN. Dear Sergeant! Whom does the “dear” refer to?
FRAN. Pray, my lady, do not make the man embarrassed. Your servant, Mr. Sergeant; what news do you bring us?
WER. (goes up to MINNA, without noticing FRANZISKA). Major von Tellheim begs to present, through me, Sergeant Werner, his most respectful compliments to Fräulein von Barnhelm, and to inform her that he will be here directly.
MIN. Where is he then?
WER. Your ladyship will pardon him; we left our quarters before it began to strike three; but the paymaster met us on the way; and because conversation with those gentlemen has no end, the Major made me a sign to report the case to your ladyship.
MIN. Very well, Mr. Sergeant. I only hope the paymaster may have good news for him.
WER. Such gentlemen seldom have good news for officers.—Has your ladyship any orders? (Going.)
FRAN. Why, where are you going again, Mr. Sergeant? Had not we something to say to each other?
WER. (In a whisper to FRANZISKA, and seriously). Not here, little woman; it is against respect, against discipline . . . Your ladyship—
MIN. Thank you for your trouble. I am glad to have made your acquaintance. Franziska has spoken in high praise of you to me. (WERNER makes a stiff bow, and goes.)
SCENE V.—MINNA, FRANZISKA
MIN. So that is your Sergeant, Franziska?
FRAN. (aside). I have not time to reproach her for that jeering your. (Aloud.) Yes, my lady, that is my Sergeant. You think him, no doubt, somewhat stiff and wooden. He also appeared so to me just now; but I observed, he thought he must march past you as if on parade. And when soldiers are on parade, they certainly look more like wooden dolls than men. You should see and hear him when he is himself.
MIN. So I should, indeed!
FRAN. He must still be in the next room; may I go and talk with him a little?
MIN. I refuse you this pleasure unwillingly: but you must remain here, Franziska. You must be present at our conversation. Another thing occurs to me. (Takes her ring from her finger.) There, take my ring; keep it for me, and give me the Major's in the place of it.
FRAN. Why so?
MIN. (whilst FRANZISKA is fetching the ring). I scarcely know, myself; but I fancy I see, beforehand, how I may make use of it. Some one is knocking. Give it to me, quickly. (Puts the ring on.) It is he.
SCENE VI.—MAJOR VON TELLHEIM (in the same coat, but otherwise
as FRANZISKA advised), MINNA, FRANZISKA
MAJ. T. Madam, you will excuse the delay.
MIN. Oh! Major, we will not treat each other in quite such a military fashion. You are here now; and to await a pleasure, is itself a pleasure. Well (looking at him and smiling) dear Tellheim, have we not been like children?
MAJ. T. Yes, Madam; like children, who resist when they ought to obey quietly.
MIN. We will drive out, dear Major, to see a little of the town, and afterwards to meet my uncle.
MAJ. T. What!
MIN. You see, we have not yet had an opportunity of mentioning the most important matters even. He is coming here to-day. It was accident that brought me here without him, a day sooner.
MAJ. T. Count von Bruchsal! Has he returned?
MIN. The troubles of the war drove him into Italy: peace has brought him back again. Do not be uneasy, Tellheim; if we formerly feared on his part the greatest obstacle to our union—
MAJ. T. To our union!
MIN. He is not your friend. He has heard too much good of from too many people, not to become so. He longs to become personally acquainted with the man whom his heiress has chosen. He comes as uncle, as guardian, as father, to give me to you.
MAJ. T. Ah! dear lady, why did you not read my letter? Why would you not read it?
MIN. Your letter! Oh! yes, I remember you sent me one. What did you do with that letter, Franziska? Did we, or did we not read it? What was it you wrote to me, dear Tellheim?
MAJ. T. Nothing but what honour commands me.
MIN. That is, not to desert an honourable woman who loves you. Certainly that is what honour commands. Indeed, I ought to have read your letter. But what I have not read, I shall hear, shall not I?
MAJ. T. Yes, you shall hear it.
MIN. No, I need not even hear it. It speaks for itself. As if you could be guilty of such an unworthy act, as not to take me! Do you know that I should be pointed at for the rest of my life? My countrywomen would talk about me, and say. “That is she, that is the Fräulein von Barnhelm, who fancied that because she was rich could carry marry the noble Tellheim; as if such men were to be caught with money.” That is what they would say, for they are all envious of me. That I am rich, they cannot deny; but they do not wish to acknowledge that I am also a tolerably good girl, who would prove herself worthy of her husband. Is that not so, Tellheim?
MAJ. T. Yes, yes, Madam, that is like your countrywomen. They will envy you exceedingly a discharged officer, with sullied honour, a cripple, and a beggar.
MIN. And are you all that? If I mistake not, you told me something of the kind this forenoon. Therein is good and evil mixed. Let us examine each charge more closely. You are discharged? So you say. I thought your regiment was only drafted into another. How did it happen that a man of your merit was not retained?
MAJ. T. It has happened, as it must happen. The great ones are convinced that a soldier does very little through regard for them, not much more from a sense of duty, but everything for his own advantage. What then can they think they owe him? Peace has made a great many, like myself superfluous to them; and at last we shall all be superfluous.
MIN. You talk as a man must talk, to whom in return the great are quite superfluous. And never were they more so than now. I return my best thanks to the great ones that they have given up their claims to a man whom I would very unwillingly have shared with them. I am your sovereign, Tellheim; you want no other master. To find you discharged, is a piece of good fortune I dared scarcely dream of? But you are not only discharged; you are more. And what are you more? A cripple, you say! Well! (looking at him from head to foot), the cripple is tolerably whole and upright—appears still to be pretty well, and strong. Dear Tellheim, if you expect to go begging on the strength of your limbs, I prophesy that you will be relieved at very few doors; except at the door of a good-natured girl like myself.
MAJ. T. I only hear the joking girl now, dear Minna.
MIN. And I only hear the “dear Minna” in your chiding. I will not joke any longer; for I recollect that after all you are something of a cripple. You are wounded by a shot in the right arm; but all things considered, I do not find much fault with that. I am so much the more secure from your blows.
MAJ. T. Madam!
MIN. You would say, “You are so much the less secure from mine.” Well, well, dear Tellheim, I hope you will not drive me to that.
MAJ. T. You laugh, Madam. I only lament that I cannot laugh with you.
MIN. Why not? What have you to say against laughing? Cannot one be very serious even whilst laughing? Dear Major, laughter keeps us more rational than vexation. The proof is before us. Your laughing friend judges of your circumstances more correctly than you do yourself. Because you are discharged, you say your honour is sullied; because you are wounded in the arm, you call yourself a cripple. Is that right? Is that no exaggeration? And is it my doing that all exaggerations are so open to ridicule? I dare say, if I examine your beggary that it will also be as little able to stand the test. You may have lost your equipage once, twice, or thrice; your deposits in the hands of this or that banker may have disappeared together with those of other people; you may have no hope of seeing this or that money again which you may have advanced in the service; but are you a beggar on that account? If nothing else remained to you but what my uncle is bringing for you—
MAJ. T. Your uncle, Madam, will bring nothing for me.
MIN. Nothing but the two thousand pistoles which you so generously advanced to our government.
MAJ. T. If you had but read my letter, Madam!
MIN. Well, I did read it. But what I read in it, on this point, is a perfect riddle. It is impossible that any one should wish to turn a noble action into a crime. But explain to me, dear Major.
MAJ. T. You remember, Madam, that I had orders to collect the contribution for the war most strictly in cash in all the districts in your neighbourhood. I wished to forego this severity, and advanced the money that was deficient myself.
MIN. I remember it well. I loved you for that deed before I had seen you.
MAJ. T. The government gave me their bill, and I wished, at the signing of the peace, to have the sum entered amongst the debts to be repaid by them. The bill was acknowledged as good, but my ownership of the same was disputed. People looked incredulous, when I declared that I had myself advanced the amount in cash. It was considered as bribery, as a douceur from the government, because I at once agreed to take the smallest sum with which I could have been satisfied in a case of the greatest exigency. Thus the bill went from my possession, and if it be paid, will certainly not be paid to me. Hence, Madam, I consider my honour to be suspected! not on account of my discharge, which, if I had not received, I should have applied for. You look serious, Madam! Why do you not laugh? Ha! ha! ha! I am laughing.
MIN. Oh! stifle that laugh, Tellheim, I implore you! It is the terrible laugh of misanthropy. No, you are not the man to repent of a good deed, because it may have had a bad result for yourself. Nor can these consequences possibly be of long duration. The truth must come to light. The testimony of my uncle, of our government—
MAJ. T. Of your uncle! Of your government! Ha! ha! ha!
MIN. That laugh will kill me, Tellheim. If you believe in virtue and Providence, Tellheim, do not laugh so! I never heard a curse more terrible than that laugh! But, viewing the matter in the worst light, if they are determined to mistake your character here, with us you will not be misunderstood. No, we cannot, we will not, misunderstand you, Tellheim. And if our government has the least sentiment of honour, I know what it must do. But I am foolish; what would that matter? Imagine, Tellheim, that you have lost the two thousand pistoles on some gay evening. The king was an unfortunate card for you: the queen (pointing to herself) will be so much the more favourable. Providence, believe me, always indemnifies a man of honour—often even beforehand. The action which was to cost you two thousand pistoles, gained you me. Without that action, I never should have been desirous of making your acquaintance. You know I went uninvited to the first party where I thought I should meet you. I went entirely on your account. I went with a fixed determination to love you—I loved you already! with the fixed determination to make you mine, if I should find you as dark and ugly as the Moor of Venice. So dark and ugly you are not; nor will you be so jealous. But, Tellheim, Tellheim, you are yet very like him! Oh! the unmanageable, stubborn man, who always keeps his eye fixed upon the phantom of honour, and becomes hardened against every other sentiment! Your eyes this way! Upon me, me, Tellheim! (He remains thoughtful and immovable, with his eyes fixed on one spot.) Of what are you thinking? Do you not hear me?
MAJ. T. (absent). Oh, yes; but tell me, how came the Moor into the service of Venice? Had the Moor no country of his own? Why did he hire his arm and his blood to a foreign land?
MIN. (alarmed). Of what are you thinking, Tellheim? It is time to break off. Come! (taking him by the hand). Franziska, let the carriage be brought round.
MAJ. T. (disengaging his hand, and following FRANZISKA). No, Franziska; I cannot have the honour of accompanying your mistress. Madam, let me still retain my senses unimpaired for to-day, and give me leave to go. You are on the right way to deprive me of them. I resist it as much as I can. But hear, whilst I am still myself, what I have firmly determined, and from which nothing in the world shall turn me. If I have not better luck in the game of life; if a complete change in my fortune does not take place; if—
MIN. I must interrupt you, Major. We ought to have told him that at first, Franziska.—You remind of nothing.—Our conversation would have taken quite a different turn, Tellheim, if I had commenced with the good news which the Chevalier de la Marlini?re brought just now.
MAJ. T. The Chevalier de la Marlini?re! Who is he?
FRAN. He may be a very honest man, Major von Tellheim, except that—
MIN. Silence, Franziska! Also a discharged officer from the Dutch service, who—
MAJ. T. Ah! Lieutenant Riccaut!
MIN. He assured us he was a friend of yours.
MAJ. T. I assure you that I am not his.
MIN. And that some minister or other had told him, in confidence, that your business was likely to have the very best termination. A letter from the king must now be on its way to you.
MAJ. T. How came Riccaut and a minister in company? Something certainly must have happened concerning my affair; for just now the paymaster of the forces told me that the king had set aside all the evidence offered against am, and that I might take back my promise, which I had given in writing, not to depart from here until acquitted. But that will be all. They wish to give me an opportunity of getting away. But they are wrong, I shall not go. Sooner shall the utmost distress waste me away before the eyes of my calumniators, than—
MIN. Obstinate man!
MAJ. T. I require no favour; I want justice. My honour—
MIN. The honour of such a man—
MAJ. T. (warmly). No, Madam, you may be able to judge of any other subject, but not of this. Honour is not the voice of conscience, not the evidence of a few honourable men—
MIN. No, no, I know it well. Honour is . . . honour.
MAJ. T. In short, Madam. . . You did not let me finish.—I was going to say, if they keep from me so shamefully what is my own; if my honour be not perfectly righted—I cannot, Madam, ever be yours, for I am not worthy, in the eyes of the world, of being yours. Minna von Barnhelm deserves an irreproachable husband. It is a worthless love which does not scruple to expose its object to scorn. He is a worthless man, who is not ashamed to owe a woman all his good fortune; whose blind tenderness—
MIN. And is that really your feeling, Major? (turning her back suddenly). Franziska!
MAJ. T. Do not be angry.
MIN. (aside to FRANZISKA). Now is the time! What do you advise me, Franziska?
FRAN. I advise nothing. But certainly he goes rather too far.
MAJ. T. (approaching to interrupt them). You are angry, Madam.
MIN. (ironically). I? Not in the least.
MAJ. T. If I loved you less—
MIN. (still in the same tone). Oh! certainly, it would be a misfortune for me. And hear, Major, I also will not be the cause of your unhappiness. One should love with perfect disinterestedness. It is as well that I have not been more open! Perhaps your pity might have granted to me what your love refuses. (Drawing the ring slowly from her finger.)
MAJ. T. What does this mean, Madam?
MIN. No, neither of us must make the other either more or less happy. True love demands it. I believe you, Major; and you have too much honour to mistake love.
MAJ. T. Are you jesting, Madam?
MIN. Here! take back the ring with which you plighted your troth to me. (Gives him the ring.) Let it be so! We will suppose we have never met.
MAJ. T. What do I hear?
MIN. Does it surprise you? Take it, sir. You surely have not been pretending only!
MAJ. T. (takes the ring from her). Heavens! can Minna speak thus?
MIN. In one case you cannot be mine; in no case can I be yours. Your misfortune is probable; mine is certain. Farewell! (Is going.)
MAJ. T. Where are you going, dearest Minna?
MIN. Sir, you insult me now by that term of endearment.
MAJ. T. What is the matter, Madam? Where are you going?
MIN. Leave me. I go to hide my tears from you, deceiver! (Exit.)
SCENE VII.—MAJOR VON TELLHEIM, FRANZISKA
MAJ. T. Her tears? And I am to leave her. (Is about to follow her.)
FRAN. (holding him back). Surely not, Major. You would not follow her into her own room!
MAJ. T. Her misfortune? Did she not speak of misfortune?
FRAN. Yes, truly; the misfortune of losing you, after—
MAJ. T. After? After what? There is more in this. What is it, Franziska? Tell me! Speak!’
FRAN. After, I mean, she has made such sacrifices on your account.
MAJ. T. Sacrifices for me!
FRAN. Well, listen. It is a good thing for you, Major, that you are freed from your engagement with her in this manner.—Why should I not tell you? It cannot remain a secret long. We have fled from home. Count von Bruchsal has disinherited my mistress, because she would not accept a husband of his choice. On that every one deserted and slighted her. What could we do? We determined to seek him, whom—
MAJ. T. Enough! Come, and let me throw myself at her feet.
FRAN. What are you thinking about! Rather go, and thank your good fortune.
MAJ. T. Pitiful creature! For what do you take me? Yet no, my dear Franziska, the advice did not come from your heart. Forgive my anger!
FRAN. Do not detain me any longer. I must see what she is about. How easily something might happen to her. Go now, and come again, if you like. (Follows MINNA.)
SCENE VIII.—MAJOR VON TELLHEIM
MAJ. T. But, Franziska! Oh! I will wait your return here.—No, that is more torturing!—If she is in earnest, she will not refuse to forgive me.—Now I want your aid, honest Werner!—No, Minna, I am no deceiver! (Rushes off.)