Honor: A Play in Four Acts Part 14

Lothar. Why not? The other fellow has some scheme. (_He approaches_ Trast) The Count seems to like solitude.

Trast. (_Turning_) Decidedly!

Lothar. That is rather impolite.

Trast. (_Looking at him squarely_) Ah! you seem to be carrying your sense of honor on your shoulder, Herr--er--pardon!

Lothar. My name is Lothar Brandt and I feel that it is necessary to add that I am Lieutenant of the Reserves in the Cuira.s.sier Regiment "Crown Prince."

Trast. (_Politely_) Is that all?

Lothar. (_Threateningly_) Is that all, Count?

Trast. Pardon me! One serves in the Reserves during war time only. When I came back I hoped that I could live in peace.

Lothar. You are mistaken, Count, one serves in the Reserves during the rifle practice, as well.

Trast. Do you need me for rifle practice?

Lothar. Permit me, Count, to ask you a question.

Trast. With pleasure.

Lothar. In the regiment to which it is my great honor to belong there was formerly a young fellow who bore the same name as yours.

Trast. Ah? Then it was probably I.

Lothar. (_Sharply_) The man left the army under a cloud.

Trast. Exactly! Exactly! (_Very polite_) And if you wish to say in other words, that when we meet on the street you don't care to recognize me--I release you from the necessity of greeting--I can do without it. (_Bows and picks up a portfolio which he examines_)

Hugo. (_Enthusiastically_) Well, _I_ was never despatched as elegantly as that, (_He approaches_ Trast _and bows deeply_)--Permit me--my name is Stengel!

Trast. (_Turning_) Charmed!

Hugo. Stengel! (Trast _bows--they talk_)

Kurt. (_Comes forward and joins_ Lothar) Man, what are you trying to do. That's the almighty firm of Trast and Company.--Do you want to ruin your father's business?

Lothar. (_Dismayed_) Why didn't you tell me before?

Kurt. Whatever happens we must straighten the matter out

Lothar. If you can do it in perfectly good form.

Kurt. Pardon me. Count--my friend regrets----

Lothar. Regrets is hardly the word, Kurt.

Kurt. (_Stuttering_) Well--er--er----

Trast. Perhaps our friend would like to consider our little conversation as not having taken place?

Lothar. We can go as far as that at least, Kurt.

Trast. I must keep pace with his generosity, and--express the same desire.

Kurt. Then the matter is settled.

Lothar. And I take the liberty to express my pleasure at meeting personally, the man whose work I have respected for so many years.

Trast. (_Very politely_) You see, Lieutenant, that it was not entirely superfluous when I asked "Is that all?" As business men, we can understand each other perfectly. Gentlemen, Herr Brandt Junior, heir to the worthy firm of importers, Brandt and Stengel, with which I am pleased to have business relations, has just given me a little statement in private on the theme of "Honor." Permit me to make the answer public. (_They sit down_) In confidence, there is no such thing as honor, (_All are astonished_) Don't be frightened. It won't hurt you.

Lothar. And what we call honor?

Trast. What we commonly call honor is nothing more than the shadow we throw in the sunlight of publicity. But the worst part of it is that we have as many kinds of honor as we have business circles and strata. How can one find his way among them?

Lothar. (_Sharply_) You are mistaken. Count. There is only one honor, just as there is only one sun and one G.o.d. One must feel that--or he is no gentleman.

Trast. Hm!--Permit me to tell you a little tale. In a journey through Central Asia I stopped at the house of a Thibetan Chief. I was dusty and footsore. He received me, sitting on his throne. Beside him was his charming little wife. "Rest yourself, traveler," he said to me, "my wife will prepare you a bath and then we men shall dine together." And he gave me over to his young wife.--Gentlemen, if ever in my life my self-control was put to test it was in that hour--And when I returned to the hall, what did I find? The attendants under arms, threatening voices and half-drawn swords. "You must die!" cried my host, "you have given a deadly insult to the honor of my house. You have scorned to accept the most sacred thing I could offer you."--You see, gentlemen, I am still living, for eventually the deficient sense of honor of the barbaric European was forgiven. (_They laugh_) If you happen to know any of our modern writers on the theme of adultery you might tell them this story.

(_All laugh, and move gradually towards the left._)

Trast. (_Continuing_) Gentlemen, I don't want to be considered immoral.

The study of the puzzles of civilization is a thing apart.--You see it lies in the nature of your so-called honor, that it may only be possessed by the certain few, the demi-G.o.ds; for it is an emotional luxury that loses value in direct proportion as it is appropriated by the rabble.

Kurt. But that is a paradox. Count. Is it not permitted to everyone to be a man of honor?

Trast. On the contrary. Then the poorest devil in the alley might dispute the honor of a gentleman. (Kurt _is perplexed_)

Lothar. If he acts according to honor, then he must be a gentleman.

Trast. Hm! Really? May I tell you another, a shorter story?--But I am afraid I'm boring you.

Lothar _and_ Hugo. (_Laughing_) No!--No!

Trast. It took place somewhere in South America--the Spaniards are the aristocrats there,--the population is a mixture of negroes, Indians, and a sort of white trash. A product of this mixed race,--his name was--hm--Pepe--had the opportunity of being transported to the Spanish mother country where he (_Breathes on his left elbow_) absorbed a little of the pure Castillan sense of honor. (Robert _enters without being heard and listens_) When he came back, after several years, he found his little sister on all too intimate terms with a young aristocrat--Gentleman, we mustn't get angry, Considering her origin it was the girl's destiny. But the young fellow dared to attempt to avenge his sister's honor, not as a mestizo but as a Hidalgo!

Kurt. (_In a hurt voice_) Listen, that means me!

Trast. You see, gentlemen, that was madness and he was treated as a madman. Then the fellow showed his real nature. Like a thug he waited for the young n.o.bleman and he shot him down. He was sentenced, and even under the very gallows the fool declared,--his name was Pepe--that he was dying for his honor. Gentlemen, isn't that absurd?

Robert. (_Who has made his appearance un.o.bserved_) You are mistaken, my friend! This fool was right. I should have acted exactly the same way.

Trast. Oh, oh, it's you! (_Going quickly to him_) You don't know these people! Don't look around. Come with me. (_Draws him toward the door_)

Robert. Isn't that Kurt?