All. (_Except_ Robert, _who remains, troubled, rush to the window_) That"s not a Moor!
Alma. (_Still sobbing_) Robert--is that--a Moor?
Robert. (_Darkly_) No, that"s my friend"s Indian servant.
Frau Heinecke. Your friend?--is that the count?
Robert. Yes.
(_The servant comes in, and they crowd about him._)
Robert. Ragharita, your master is welcome in the house of my father!
(_Servant goes out. Great excitement_. Frau Heinecke _draws out the arm-chairs and polishes the mirror_.)
Alma. (_From the mirror_) Is your count young or old? (Robert _makes no answer_) My eyes are red!--Red as fire, aren"t they, Auguste? And he may be young! (_She goes out, left_)
Michalski. Come, Auguste, we won"t disturb the great gentlemen!
Heinecke. Herr Count, I"ll say, take a seat in this arm-chair, I"ll say! Oh, we know how to act with the n.o.bility!
Frau Heinecke. There was a baron here once--a gentleman friend of Herr Kurt. Don"t you remember, Father? He came to ask after Alma--But a count! we never had a count!
Robert. Who did you say had been here, Mother?
(_Enter_ Count Trast, _a man between forty and fifty, with gray hair and a long, blond beard. He is dressed with careless foreign elegance_.
Robert _rushes to him and takes his hand._)
Trast. (_Aside to_ Robert) How is this? Hasn"t the home fever abated yet! (_Aloud_) So here we have the long-expected son! (_Shakes his hand_) Do you know, my fine people, that a sort of foster-son of yours is standing here? The friendship with this dear old comrade of mine gives me almost a right to that t.i.tle!
(Heinecke _tiptoes out of the door._)
Frau Heinecke. Wouldn"t the Count like a piece of pound-cake? There is still some there.
Trast. Thanks, I shall be glad--I certainly shall!
(Frau Heinecke _curtseys out of the room._)
Trast. You"re pale, my boy, and your hands are shaking--what"s wrong?
Robert. Oh, nothing! The happiness--the excitement! It"s only natural!
Trast. Naturally! (_Aside_) He"s lying! (_To_ Robert) Tell me, how long do you intend to stay here? I want to regulate my stay in this great Europe by that!
Robert. That"s impossible, my friend! Our ways will have to part!
Trast. Nonsense!
Robert. I shall ask my employer to give me a position here. The climate in India--you understand----?
Trast. That"s pleasant! He doesn"t want to leave his mother"s ap.r.o.n-strings again, eh?
Robert. Don"t make fun of me. Since we"re going to part--I have to say it some time--I thank you, you kind old wicked fellow, for all you"ve done for me. It was the most fortunate moment of my life when you saw me standing feverishly behind my young employer in the Club at Buitenzorg, when he was throwing one hundred-gulden note after the other onto the green cloth.
Trast. Why was I such a fool? If you"re going to--Ugh! It isn"t decent!
Robert. Trast! don"t hurt me. See, I owe everything to you. When I heard your name then--the name of Trast and Company that is known from Yokohama to Aden, I felt as though I were standing before the Kaiser himself!
Trast. Kaiser, by the grace of coffee!
Robert. Muhlingk"s undertaking in Batavia was on the road to ruin that minute.
Trast. No wonder, when it had the worst good-for-nothing in the Archipelago for its head.
Robert. There was nothing ahead of me but failure and discharge. And then you took the poor home-sick clerk under your pinion, your name opened a hundred doors for me and I grew up into manhood under your care! And Herr Benno Muhlingk led his merry life as he pleased, and I ran the entire business.
Trast. And the end of the story is that the firm of Muhlingk, along with its clever representative, is a few thousands richer because of us. It"s a shame! you ought to have profited by it yourself. Well, I"ll open your employer"s eyes to the kind of a man you"ve been! If he doesn"t at least make you a partner, I shall declare such a corner in coffee, in my righteous wrath, that the n.o.ble German oak-leaf[6] shall be valued as never before. But, seriously, why do you insist on this caprice of remaining with the Muhlingks? I offer you a tremendous salary and a pair of trousers every Christmas. (Robert _shakes his head_) It isn"t only grat.i.tude that makes a man cling to such an insane idea! Of course if the inventory of the firm included a fair German maiden--(_Aside_) Aha! (_To_ Robert) Speaking of maidens, just listen to what happened to me last night. After we had left each other I wandered aimlessly along the street. A friendly poster invited into a masked ball. A hundred Indian dancers were to present their exciting dance according to the advertis.e.m.e.nt--well, that is my specialty--I went in. Everything seemed arranged to lead a young monk to forget his oath. And then suddenly there came before me a young girl, tender and fresh as a half-ripe peach. She seemed to be without a partner. I presented myself. Not at all bashful, she begged for a little plaything that hung on my watch-chain, in a little baby voice. It was my patron saint Ganesa, G.o.d of success, who rides on a little rat. And I smelled a rat myself. What do you suppose I found beneath her childish innocence? Naif depravity!
Robert. (_Nervously_) Are such things possible?
Trast. Listen. My heart always beats according to the tempo required by the custom of the land whose hospitality I am enjoying. I always keep a harem in the Orient; in Italy I climb the garden wall by moonlight, in France I pay the dressmaker"s bills, and--Lord!--in Germany--well, I know the return journey from virtue, too! All according to rule! In the Orient one loves with his senses, in Italy with his imagination, in France with his pocketbook, in Germany with his conscience! So I tried to change this sinning child to a repentant Magdalen. Before I could get started, however, the champagne had to be uncorked--then came a gentleman, half demon and half fool, and claimed the lady as his own. I respected the ancient law of precedence, and went to bed the poorer by one good act. But I would give a good deal to know how it happened that a sweet little thing like--(Robert _covers his face with his hands_) Good Lord!--what is it?--Shh!
(_Enter_ Frau Heinecke.)
Frau Heinecke. Bobby!
Robert. Mother!
Frau Heinecke. Have you got a corkscrew by you? (_To_ Trast) My daughter would like to offer you a bottle of wine. It"s no ordinary wine, either, it"s the best there is!
Robert. Comes from the Avenue, I suppose?
Frau Heinecke. (_Proudly_) It does indeed.
Robert. There! (_Throws down his knife on the table_)
Frau Heinecke. How you _do_ act!
Robert. Yes, I forgot!--Forgive me!