Yes, it _is_ beautiful. And even when it"s nothing but pain and fear and renunciation, even then it"s still beautiful, Ellen.
Ellen (_alarmed_).
Mother--what is the matter?
Beata.
Nothing, dear. I"m only a little tired. (_She goes to the door_.)
Conrad _enters_.
Conrad.
Baron Norbert. (_Goes out_.)
Norbert _enters_.
Norbert.
How d"ye do, Aunt Beata? How are you to-day?
Beata (_wearily_).
Very well, thanks.
Ellen (_anxiously_).
No, not very well. (Beata _signs her to be silent_.)
Norbert.
This is Thursday. Ellen and I were to read _I Promessi Sposi_ together; but if I might say a word to you first----
Beata.
Presently, Norbert. Wait for me here.
Ellen.
Don"t you want me, mother?
Beata.
No, dear. Stay with Norbert. I shall be back in a moment. (_She goes out_.)
Ellen (_looking after her_).
Oh, Norbert!
Norbert.
Is she really worse?
Ellen.
No, she is just the same as usual. But at night--oh, Norbert, she"s never in bed. All night she wanders, wanders. When I hear her coming, I lie quite still. If she knew I was awake she might not come any more.
She never touches me, but just bends over and strokes my pillow, oh, so softly! And she breathes so hard, as if it hurt her--and then gradually she grows quiet again. When you see her in the daytime, so gay and dear and busy, so full of other people"s pleasures, you"d never guess the misery she endures. Oh, Norbert, you _do_ love her, don"t you?
Norbert.
I believe I love her better than my own mother.
Ellen.
No, no, Norbert, that"s wicked. You mustn"t say that.
Norbert.
Perhaps not, but I can"t help feeling it. And why shouldn"t I, after all? When I was a boy my father was everything to me--after that he was always travelling, and I was left to my own devices. There are so many things that puzzle a chap when there"s no one to talk them over with.
It"s different with girls, I suppose. At first I used to go to my mother: _she"s_ always found life simple enough. Visits, and parties, and church--she looks upon church-going as another kind of visiting--well, do you know what _she_ said to me? "In the first place, my dear boy, your trousers are shocking. What you need is a good tailor. Then you ought to take up lawn tennis--and after that, we"ll see." Well, that didn"t help me much. And then your mother took pity on me. Again and again she"s let me sit up half the night, talking things over with her.
Ellen.
And now you and she have got something to say to each other again. What is it, Norbert? Do tell me! Why can"t _I_ help you as well as mother?
Norbert.
Perhaps you"d like to do my examination papers for me?
Ellen.
Nonsense; it"s not that.--But you don"t care for me any more.
Norbert.
You silly child!
Ellen.
You told me you did once--long ago--but since then--you"ve never once----
Norbert.
Listen, dear. I made an awful a.s.s of myself that day. Do you know what I did? I called on your father to ask his permission to marry you.
Ellen.
And you never told me?