The Joy Of Living (Es Lebe Das Leben) - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Ellen.
Yes, yes--but why----?
Beata.
By and by, at Rossitsch, I'll tell you. When we sit together in the big hall, over the fire, with the wind singing in the chimney. You'll like that, won't you, dear? We'll be so jolly together, you and I. And now, darling, go. (_Pa.s.sionately_.) No, come back-- (_kissing her) and now-- (_smiling at her) go dear, go! (Ellen _goes out_.)
_Enter_ Conrad.
Beata.
Has every one come?
Conrad.
All but Baron Richard.
Beata.
You may announce luncheon, then. (Conrad _goes out. A moment later he throws open the doors, and_ Baron Ludwig, Prince Usingen, Baron Brachtmann, _and_ Kellinghausen _enter_.)
Beata.
Prince--Herr von Brachtmann--how do you do? (_To_ Baron Ludwig.) Your Excellency, you are to sit on my right.
Baron Ludwig.
You do me too much honour. (Conrad _closes the folding-doors_.)
Kellinghausen.
And now, gentlemen, shall we begin _a la Russe_, with a little caviare?
(_He leads the others to the table near the sofa, where cold dishes and liqueurs are set out_.)
Prince.
Your true German can't abide a Russian, but we all adore their caviare.
Baron Ludwig.
Where can my brother be? The feast is given for him and he is the last to appear.
Brachtmann.
He's probably doing what we all do the day after. Poring over the papers.
Prince.
And wondering how it is that yesterday's laurels have already turned into thorns.
Baron Ludwig.
Ah, that's part of the game.
Prince.
No, it's the end of the game.
Beata.
What do you mean, Prince?
Prince.
That our growth ceases when we gain our end. Attainment means being nailed fast--nailed to a cross, sometimes!
Kellinghausen.
(_While_ Conrad _hands about gla.s.ses of wine_.) Gentlemen, won't you drop your epigrams and try some of my port?
Prince.
It's his Excellency's doing. He always begins!
_Enter a footman_.
The Footman.
Baron Richard von Volkerlingk. (_There is an expectant murmur_.)
_Enter_ Richard.
Brachtmann (_aside to_ Prince).
I told you there was nothing wrong.
Prince.
Wait and see.
Richard (_kissing_ Beata's _hand_).
Forgive my being so late. A dozen things turned up at the last moment.
Excuse me, Michael. (_The_ Prince _makes a sign to_ Brachtmann.)
Kellinghausen.
(_Shaking hands composedly with_ Richard.) Don't mention it, my dear fellow. We are lucky to get you at all. The man of the hour you can't have a moment to yourself.
