May I not stay with you now, of all times?
COLONEL (_with an effort_).
I shall be better off alone, now.
[_Exit through centre door_.]
ADELAIDE (_alone_).
My poor Colonel! Injured vanity is hard at work in his faithful soul.
And Ida. [_Gently opens the door on the left, remains standing_.] She is writing. It is not difficult to guess to whom. [_Closes the door_.]
And for all of this mischief that evil spirit Journalism is to blame.
Everybody complains of it, and every one tries to use it for his own ends. My Colonel scorned newspaper men until he became one himself, and Senden misses no opportunity of railing at my good friends of the pen, merely because he wishes to put himself in their place. I see Piepenbrink and myself becoming journalists, too, and combining to edit a little sheet under the t.i.tle of _Naughty Bolz_. So the _Union_ is in danger of being secretly sold. It might be quite a good thing for Conrad: he would then have to think of something else besides the newspaper. Ah! the rogue would start a new one at once!
_Enter_ OLDENDORF _and_ CARL.
OLDENDORF (_while still outside of the room_).
And the Colonel will receive no one?
CARL.
No one, Professor. [_Exit_.]
ADELAIDE (_going up to_ OLDENDORF).
Dear Professor, this is not just the right moment for you to come. We are very much hurt and out of sorts with the world, but most of all with you.
OLDENDORF.
I am afraid you are, but I must speak to him.
_Enter_ IDA _through the door on the left_.
IDA (_going toward him_).
Edward! I knew you would come!
OLDENDORF.
My dear Ida! [_Embraces her_.]
IDA (_with her arms around his neck_).
And what will become of us now?
_Enter_ COLONEL _through centre door_.
COLONEL (_with forced calmness_).
You shall remain in no doubt about that, my daughter! I beg you, Professor, to forget that you were once treated as a friend in this household. I require you, Ida, to banish all thought of the hours when this gentleman entertained you with his sentiments. (_More violently_.) Be still! In my own house at least I submit to no attacks from a journalist. Forget him, or forget that you are my daughter. Go in there! [_Leads_ IDA, _not ungently, out to the left, and places himself in front of the door_.] On this ground, Mr. Editor and Member of Parliament, before the heart of my child, you shall not beat me.
[_Exit to the left_.]
ADELAIDE (_aside_).
Dear me! That is bad!
OLDENDORF (_as the_ COLONEL _turns to go, with determination_).
Colonel, it is ungenerous of you to refuse me this interview. [_Goes toward the door_.]
ADELAIDE (_intercepting him quickly_).
Stop! No further! He is in a state of excitement where a single word might do permanent harm. But do not leave us this way, Professor; give me just a few moments.
OLDENDORF.
I must, in my present condition of mind, ask your indulgence. I have long dreaded just such a scene, and yet I hardly feel able to control myself.
ADELAIDE.
You know our friend; you know that his quick temper drives him into acts for which later he would gladly atone.
OLDENDORF.
This was more than a fit of temper. It means a breach between us two--a breach that seems to me beyond healing.
ADELAIDE.
Beyond healing, Professor! If your sentiments toward Ida are what I think they are, healing is not so difficult. Would it not be fitting for you even now--especially now--to accede to the father"s wishes.
Does not the woman you love deserve that, for once at least, you sacrifice your ambition!
OLDENDORF.
My ambition, yes; my duty, no.
ADELAIDE.
Your own happiness, Professor, seems to me to be ruined for a long time, possibly forever, if you part from Ida in this way.
OLDENDORF (_gloomily_).
Not every one can be happy in his private life.
ADELAIDE.
This resignation does not please me at all, least of all in a man.