Honor: A Play in Four Acts - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Michalski. We have to be contented with servants!
Frau Heinecke. Yes, you must be nice to Wilhelm, Robert, for our sakes; he can do a lot for us! How many pieces of roasts and how many bottles of wine has he slipped us!
Robert. And you accepted them, Mother?
Frau Heinecke. Why not, my boy! We're poor folks--we ought to be glad to get things like that for nothing!
Robert. Mother, I'll double my efforts; I'll give you what I can spare for my bare living expenses. But promise me you won't take anything more from that servant, will you?
Frau Heinecke. Oh, that would be foolish pride and waste! You should not look a gift-horse in the mouth! And he only wanted to do you a favor, when he told you that about the Gnadiges Fraulein! That's something special! Whenever I met her in the court, there wasn't a single time when she didn't stop me and ask if there was any news from you, and how you got on with the hot weather and all! And at the same time she smiled so friendly--if you were a smart boy, Robert----
Robert. For heaven's sake. Mother, stop!
Heinecke. That wouldn't be so bad--two millions!
Michalski. Would you lend me a little then, eh, Brother-in-law?
Robert. (_To himself_) How much longer must I be tortured?
(Alma _appears at the half-open door. She wears a yellow jacket and a coquettish little hat. She wears suede gloves and many bracelets. She carries a fancy parasol._)
Alma. Good morning, everybody.
Robert. (_Runs to her and embraces her_) Alma! Thank G.o.d!
Michalski. (_To_ Auguste) The two swells of the family!
Auguste. (_Lovingly_) Listen: little sister, if you were as ugly as you are pretty, you wouldn't take long to find out that your brother hated you.
Alma. Auguste, that's mean.
Robert. Oh, she didn't mean anything. Now be good again!
Alma. (_Affected_) My own dear brother!
Auguste. (_Aside_) Lord, ain't it touching!
(Frau Heinecke _helps_ Alma _off with her jacket._)
Heinecke. Now what do you say? (_Stroking her cheek_) Are you my little treasure or not, eh?
Alma. (_Trilling_) "Oui, cher papa! c'est Girofla!"
Heinecke. Do you hear how she sings? Real Italian!
Robert. Now what's this I hear: you want to be a great singer?
Alma. Well, I'd not object to that!
Frau Heinecke. Won't you cat a little piece of pound-cake, Alma?
Alma. Merci beaucoup! (_Goes about in front of the mirror, eating_)
Robert. And you are studying hard?
Alma. (_Her mouth full of cake_) I have lessons every afternoon--Do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si--si, la, sol,--fa--Oh, those scales! Terrible bore! And practice--Eternal practice!--My nerves are ruined already!
Frau Heinecke. Poor child!
Alma. "Oh, yes. Ma!"[5] I've been studying English, too! I'm awfully cultured.--Oh, what I've learned!
Heinecke. Yes sir! D'ye see!
Alma. And above all--we only live once--have a good time, that's the main thing! Are you happy, too, brother?
Robert. Certainly, when I have reason to be.
Alma. The great art is to be happy without any reason. Why are we young? Oh, it's good to live! Every day something new!--And Berlin is so lovely! You know--the Linden!--and the electric light! Have you seen it yet? That's what I like the best of all. Everybody is so pretty and pale, so interesting!--And the restaurants have all got electric lights now, too. Grand!--I saw a chandelier in a cafe in the Donhoffplatz--it was a great big wreath of flowers and every flower had a light in it!
Robert. Were you in the cafe?
Alma. I? How could I be? Through the window it was! You don't have things like that in India? Do you?
Robert. No, we certainty don't.
Alma. We're pretty far advanced in culture here. Somebody told me that Berlin was almost as beautiful as Paris. Is that so?
Robert. I don't know Paris, dear.
Alma. Ugh! That's a shame! Every young man ought to know Paris.
Robert. (_Charmed, yet shocked by her vulgarity_) You little silly!
Alma. Ha I ha! ha! I'm a funny one! don't you think? Ha! ha! Yes, that's the way! (_She goes about laughing, and rocks back and forth.
She takes a little handkerchief, which she carries folded in triangular form in her belt; and holds it under_ Auguste's _nose_) Smell it?
Auguste. (_Aside_) Fine! What's that?
Alma. (_Aside_) Ixora, the very latest from Paris--got it to-day!
Auguste. Coming out to-night?
Alma. Don't know! He'll send me word--But to-morrow evening we're going to the masked ball! Ha! ha!
Robert. Now let's be sensible again, little one. Come here--Sit down--Here! Here!
