OLDENDORF.
You yourself do not believe, Colonel, that I would do anything discreditable?
COLONEL.
Not? I am not so sure, Oldendorf. Since you have turned journalist, edit your _Union_ and daily reproach the State with its faulty organization, you are no longer what you used to be.
OLDENDORF (_who up to this point has been conversing with_ IDA _about the flowers, but now turns to the_ COLONEL).
Does what I now say or write conflict with my former views? It would be hard to convince me of that. And still less can you have noticed any change in my feelings or in my conduct toward you.
COLONEL (_obdurate_).
Well, I don"t see what reason you would have for that. I am not going to spoil my morning by quarreling. Ida may try to straighten things out with you. I am going to my flowers. [_Takes the box and exit toward the garden._]
OLDENDORF.
What has put your father in such a bad humor? Has something in the newspaper vexed him again?
IDA.
I do not think so. But it annoys him that now in politics you again find it necessary to advocate measures he detests and attack inst.i.tutions he reveres. (_Shyly._) Edward, is it really impossible for you to withdraw from the election?
OLDENDORF.
It is impossible.
IDA.
I should then have you here, and father could regain his good humor; for he would highly appreciate the sacrifice you were making for him, and we could look forward to a future as peaceful as our past has been.
OLDENDORF.
I know that, Ida, and I feel anything but pleasure at the prospect of becoming member for this town; yet I cannot withdraw.
IDA (_turning away_).
Father is right. You have changed entirely since becoming editor of the paper.
OLDENDORF.
Ida! You too! If this is going to cause discord between us I shall indeed feel badly.
IDA.
Dear Edward! I am only grieving at losing you for so long.
OLDENDORF.
I am not yet elected. If I do become member and can have my way, I will take you to the capital and never let you leave my side again.
IDA.
Ah, Edward, we can"t think of that now! But do spare father.
OLDENDORF.
You know how much I stand from him; and I don"t give up hope of his becoming reconciled to me. The election once over, I will make another appeal to his heart. I may wrest from him a favorable answer that will mean our marriage.
IDA.
But do humor his little foibles. He is in the garden near his dahlia bed; express your delight over the gay colors. If you go at it skilfully enough perhaps he may still call one the "Edward Oldendorf."
We have been talking of it already. Come! [_Exeunt both._]
_Enter_ SENDEN, BLUMENBERG, CARL, SCHMOCK.
SENDEN (_entering_).
Is the Colonel alone?
CARL.
Professor Oldendorf is with him.
SENDEN.
Take in our names. [_Exit_ CARL.] This everlasting Oldendorf! I say, Blumenberg, this connection of the old gentleman with the _Union_ must stop. We cannot really call him one of us so long as the professor frequents this house. We need the Colonel"s influential personality.
BLUMENBERG.
It is the best-known house in town--the best society, good wine, and art.
SENDEN.
I have my private reasons, too, for bringing the Colonel over to our side. And everywhere the professor and his clique block our way.
BLUMENBERG.
The friendship shall cease. I promise you that it shall cease, gradually, within the next few weeks. The first step has already been taken. The gentlemen of the _Union_ have fallen into the trap.
SENDEN.
Into what trap?
BLUMENBERG.
The one I set for them in our paper. [_Turning upon_ SCHMOCK _who is standing in the doorway._] Why do you stand here, Schmock? Can"t you wait at the gate?
SCHMOCK.