Minna Von Barnhelm - Лессинг Готхольд Эфраим 2 стр.

LADY.

Oh! Sir… but what can I say? Thus to purpose future good deeds is, in the eyes of heaven, to have performed them already. May you receive its reward, as well as my tears.

(Exit.)

SCENE VII

MAJ. T.

Poor, good woman! I must not forget to destroy the bill.

(Takes some papers from his pocketbook and destroys them.)

Who would guarantee that my own wants might not some day tempt me to make use of it?

SCENE VIII

MAJ. T.

Is that you, Just?

JUST. (wiping his eyes).

Yes.

MAJ. T.

You have been crying?

JUST.

I have been writing out my account in the kitchen, and the place is full of smoke. Here it is, sir.

MAJ. T.

Give it to me.

JUST.

Be merciful with me, sir. I know well that they have not been so with you; still!!!!!

MAJ. T.

What do you want?

JUST.

I should sooner have expected my death, than my discharge.

MAJ. T.

I cannot keep you any longer: I must learn to manage without servants.

(Opens the paper, and reads.)

"What my master, the Major, owes me:—Three months and a half wages, six thalers per month, is 21 thalers. During the first part of this month, laid out in sundries—1 thaler 7 groschen 9 pfennigs. Total, 22 thalers 7gr. 9pf." Right; and it is just that I also pay your wages, for the whole of the current month.

JUST.

Turn over, sir.

MAJ. T.

Oh! more?

(Reads.)

"What I owe my master, the Major:—Paid for me to the army-surgeon twenty-five thalers. Attendance and nurse during my cure, paid for me, thirty-nine thalers. Advanced, at my request, to my father—who was burnt out of his house and robbed—without reckoning the two horses of which he made him a present, fifty thalers. Total 114 thalers. Deduct the above 22 thalers, 7gr. 9pf.; I remain in debt to my master, the Major, 91 thalers, 16gr. 3pf." You are mad, my good fellow!

JUST.

I willingly grant that I owe you much more; but it would be wasting ink to write it down. I cannot pay you that: and if you take my livery from me too, which, by the way, I have not yet earned,—I would rather you had let me die in the workhouse.

MAJ. T.

For what do you take me? You owe me nothing; and I will recommend you to one of my friends, with whom you will fare better than with me.

JUST.

I do not owe you anything, and yet you turn me away!

MAJ. T.

Because I do not wish to owe you anything.

JUST.

On that account? Only on that account? As certain as I am in your debt, as certain as you can never be in mine, so certainly shall you not turn me away now. Do what you will, Major, I remain in your service; I must remain.

MAJ. T.

With your obstinacy, your insolence, your savage boisterous temper towards all who you think have no business to speak to you, your malicious pranks, your love of revenge,!!!!!

JUST.

Make me as bad as you will, I shall not think worse of myself than of my dog. Last winter I was walking one evening at dusk along the river, when I heard something whine. I stooped down, and reached in the direction whence the sound came, and when I thought I was saving a child, I pulled a dog out of the water. That is well, thought I. The dog followed me; but I am not fond of dogs, so I drove him away—in vain. I whipped him away—in vain. I shut him out of my room at night;

he lay down before the door. If he came too near me, I kicked him; he yelped, looked up at me, and wagged his tail. I have never yet given him a bit of bread with my own hand; and yet I am the only person whom he will obey, or who dare touch him. He jumps about me, and shows off his tricks to me, without my asking for them. He is an ugly dog, but he is a good animal. If he carries it on much longer, I shall at last give over hating him.

MAJ. T. (aside).

As I do him. No, there is no one perfectly inhuman. Just, we will not part.

JUST.

Certainly not! And you wanted to manage without servants! You forget your wounds, and that you only have the use of one arm. Why, you are not able to dress alone. I am indispensable to you; and I am—without boasting, Major,—I am a servant who, if the worst comes to the worst, can beg and steal for his master.

MAJ. T.

Just, we will part.

JUST.

All right, Sir!

SCENE IX

SER.

I say, comrade!

JUST.

What is the matter?

SER.

Can you direct me to the officer who lodged yesterday in that room?

(Pointing to the one out of which he is coming).

JUST.

That I could easily do. What have you got for him?

SER.

What we always have, when we have nothing—compliments. My mistress hears that he has been turned out on her account. My mistress knows good manners, and I am therefore to beg his pardon.

JUST.

Well then, beg his pardon; there he stands.

SER.

What is he? What is his name?

MAJ. T.

I have already heard your message, my friend. It is unnecessary politeness on the part of your mistress, which I beg to acknowledge duly. Present my compliments to her. What is the name of your mistress?

SER.

Her name! We call her my Lady.

MAJ. T.

The name of her family?

SER.

I have not heard that yet, and it is not my business to ask. I manage so that I generally get a new master every six weeks. Hang all their names!

JUST.

Bravo, comrade!

SER.

I was engaged by my present mistress a few days ago, in Dresden. I believe she has come here to look for her lover.

MAJ. T.

Enough, friend. I wished to know the name of your mistress, not her secrets. Go!

SER.

Comrade, he would not do for my master.

SCENE X

MAJ. T.

Just! see that we get out of this house directly! The politeness of this strange lady affects me more than the churlishness of the host.

Here, take this ring—the only thing of value which I have left—of which I never thought such a use. Pawn it! get eighty louis d'ors for it: our host's bill can scarcely amount to thirty. Pay him, and remove my things.... Ah, where? Where you will. The cheaper the inn, the better. You will find me in the neighbouring coffee-house. I am going;

you will see to it all properly?

JUST.

Have no fear, Major!

MAJ. T. (comes back).

Above all things, do not let my pistols be forgotten, which hang beside the bed.

JUST.

I will forget nothing.

MAJ. T. (comes back again).

Another thing: bring your dog with you too. Do you hear, Just?

SCENE XI

JUST.

The dog will not stay behind, he will take care of that. Hem! My master still had this valuable ring and carried it in his pocket instead of on his finger! My good landlord, we are not yet so poor as we look. To him himself, I will pawn you, you beautiful little ring! I know he will be annoyed that you will not all be consumed in his house. Ah!

SCENE XII

JUST.

Hullo, Werner! good-day to you, Werner. Welcome to the town.

WER.

The accursed village! I can't manage to get at home in it again.

Merry, my boys, merry; I have got some more money! Where is the Major?

JUST.

He must have met you; he just went down stairs.

WER.

I came up the back stairs. How is he? I should have been with you last week, but!!!!!

JUST.

Well, what prevented you?

WER.

Just, did you ever hear of Prince Heraclius?

JUST.

Heraclius? Not that I know of.

WER.

Don't you know the great hero of the East?

JUST.

I know the wise men of the East well enough, who go about with the stars on New Year's Eve.

WER.

Brother, I believe you read the newspapers as little as the Bible. You do not know Prince Heraclius. Not know the brave man who seized Persia, and will break into the Ottoman Porte in a few days? Thank God, there is still war somewhere in the world! I have long enough hoped it would break out here again. But there they sit and take care of their skins. No, a soldier I was, and a soldier I must be again! In short, (looking round carefully, to see if anyone is listening) between ourselves, Just, I am going to Persia, to have a few campaigns against the Turks, under his Royal Highness Prince Heraclius.

JUST.

You?

WER.

I myself. Our ancestors fought bravely against the Turks; and so ought we too, if we would be honest men and good Christians. I allow that a campaign against the Turks cannot be half so pleasant as one against the French; but then it must be so much the more beneficial in this world and the next. The swords of the Turks are all set with diamonds.

JUST.

I would not walk a mile to have my head split with one of their sabres. You will not be so mad as to leave your comfortable little farm!

WER.

Oh! I take that with me. Do you see? The property is sold.

JUST.

Sold?

WER.

Hist! Here are a hundred ducats, which I received yesterday towards the payment: I am bringing them for the Major.

JUST.

What is he to do with them?

WER.

What is he to do with them? Spend them; play them, or drink them away, or whatever he pleases. He must have money, and it is bad enough that they have made his own so troublesome to him. But I know what I would do, were I in his place. I would say—"The deuce take you all here; I will go with Paul Werner to Persia!" Hang it! Prince Heraclius must have heard of Major von Tellheim, if he has not heard of Paul Werner, his late sergeant. Our affair at Katzenhauser!!!!!

JUST.

Shall I give you an account of that?

WER.

You give me! I know well that a fine battle array is beyond your comprehension. I am not going to throw my pearls before swine. Here, take the hundred ducats; give them to the Major: tell him, he may keep these for me too. I am going to the market now. I have sent in a couple of loads of rye; what I get for them he can also have.

JUST.

Werner, you mean it well; but we don't want your money. Keep your ducats; and your hundred pistoles you can also have back safe, as soon as you please.

WER.

What, has the Major money still?

JUST.

No.

WER.

Has he borrowed any?

JUST.

No.

WER.

On what does he live, then?

JUST.

We have everything put down in the bill; and when they won't put anything more down, and turn us out of the house, we pledge anything we may happen to have, and go somewhere else. I say, Paul, we must play this landlord here a trick.

WER.

If he has annoyed the Major, I am ready.

JUST.

What if we watch for him in the evening, when he comes from his club, and give him a good thrashing?

WER.

In the dark! Watch for him! Two to one! No, that won't do.

JUST.

Or if we burn his house over his head?

WER.

Fire and burn! Why, Just, one hears that you have been baggage-boy and not soldier. Shame!

JUST.

Or if we ruin his daughter? But she is cursedly ugly.

WER.

She has probably been ruined long ago. At any rate you don't want any help there. But what is the matter with you? What has happened?

JUST.

Just come with me, and you shall hear something to make you stare.

WER.

The devil must be loose here, then?

JUST.

Just so; come along.

WER.

So much the better! To Persia, then; to Persia.

ACT II

SCENE I

MIN. (in morning dress, looking at her watch).

Franziska, we have risen very early. The time will hang heavy on our hands.

FRAN.

Who can sleep in these abominable large towns? The carriages, the watchmen, the drums, the cats, the soldiers, never cease to rattle, to call, to roll, to mew, and to swear; just as if the last thing the night is intended for was for sleep. Have a cup of tea, my lady!

MIN.

I don't care for tea.

FRAN.

I will have some chocolate made.

MIN.

For yourself, if you like.

FRAN.

For myself! I would as soon talk to myself as drink by myself. Then the time will indeed hang heavy. For very weariness we shall have to make our toilets, and try on the dress in which we intend to make the first attack!

MIN.

Why do you talk of attacks, when I have only come to require that the capitulation be ratified?

FRAN.

But the officer whom we have dislodged, and to whom we have apologized, cannot be the best bred man in the world, or he might at least have begged the honour of being allowed to wait upon you.

MIN.

All officers are not Tellheims. To tell you the truth, I only sent him the message in order to have an opportunity of inquiring from him about Tellheim. Franziska, my heart tells me my journey will be a successful one and that I shall find him.

FRAN.

The heart, my lady! One must not trust to that too much. The heart echoes to us the words of our tongues. If the tongue was as much inclined to speak the thoughts of the heart, the fashion of keeping mouths under lock and key would have come in long ago.

MIN.

Ha! ha! mouths under lock and key. That fashion would just suit me.

FRAN.

Rather not show the most beautiful set of teeth, than let the heart be seen through them every moment.

MIN.

What, are you so reserved?

FRAN.

No, my lady; but I would willingly be more so. People seldom talk of the virtue they possess, and all the more often of that which they do not possess.

MIN.

Franziska, you made a very just remark there.

FRAN.

Made! Does one make it, if it occurs to one?

MIN.

And do you know why I consider it so good? It applies to my Tellheim.

FRAN.

What would not, in your opinion, apply to him?

MIN.

Friend and foe say he is the bravest man in the world. But who ever heard him talk of bravery? He has the most upright mind; but uprightness and nobleness of mind are words never on his tongue.

FRAN.

Of what virtues does he talk then?

MIN.

He talks of none, for he is wanting in none.

FRAN.

That is just what I wished to hear.

MIN.

Wait, Franziska; I am wrong. He often talks of economy. Between ourselves, I believe he is extravagant.

FRAN.

One thing more, my lady. I have often heard him mention truth and constancy toward you. What, if he be inconstant?

MIN.

Miserable girl! But do you mean that seriously?

FRAN.

How long is it since he wrote to you?

MIN.

Alas! he has only written to me once since the peace.

FRAN.

What!—A sigh on account of the peace? Surprising? Peace ought only to make good the ill which war causes; but it seems to disturb the good which the latter, its opposite, may have occasioned. Peace should not be so capricious!… How long have we had peace? The time seems wonderfully long, when there is so little news. It is no use the post going regularly again; nobody writes, for nobody has anything to write about.

MIN.

"Peace has been made," he wrote to me, "and I am approaching the fulfillment of my wishes." But since he only wrote that to me once, only once!!!!!

FRAN.

And since he compels us to run after this fulfillment of his wishes ourselves… If we can but find him, he shall pay for this! Suppose, in the meantime, he may have accomplished his wishes, and we should learn here that!!!!!

MIN. (anxiously).

That he is dead?

FRAN.

To you, my lady; and married to another.

MIN.

You tease, you! Wait, Franziska, I will pay you out for this! But talk to me, or I shall fall asleep. His regiment was disbanded after the peace. Who knows into what a confusion of bills and papers he may thereby have been brought? Who knows into what other regiment, or to what distant station, he may have been sent? Who knows what circumstances—There's a knock at the door.

FRAN.

Come in!

SCENE II

LAND. (putting his head in at the door).

Am I permitted, your ladyship?

FRAN.

Our landlord?—Come in!

LAND. (A pen behind his ear, a sheet of paper and an inkstand in his hand).

I am come, your ladyship, to wish you a most humble good-morning;

(to Franziska) and the same to you, my pretty maid.

FRAN.

A polite man!

MIN.

We are obliged to you.

FRAN.

And wish you also a good-morning.

LAND.

May I venture to ask how your ladyship has passed the first night under my poor roof?

FRAN.

The roof is not so bad, sir; but the beds might have been better.

LAND.

What do I hear! Not slept well! Perhaps the over-fatigue of the journey!!!!!

MIN.

Perhaps.

LAND.

Certainly, certainly, for otherwise.... Yet, should there be anything not perfectly comfortable, my lady, I hope you will not fail to command me.

FRAN.

Very well, Mr. Landlord, very well! We are not bashful; and least of all should one be bashful at an inn. We shall not fail to say what we may wish.

LAND.

I next come to…

(taking the pen from behind his ear).

FRAN.

Well?

LAND.

Without doubt, my lady, you are already acquainted with the wise regulations of our police.

MIN.

Not in the least, sir.

LAND.

We landlords are instructed not to take in any stranger, of whatever rank or sex he may be, for four-and-twenty hours, without delivering, in writing, his name, place of abode, occupation, object of his journey, probable stay, and so on, to the proper authorities.