Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Page 162
SOPHIA.
Unkind one, let me go!
SOLLER.
The deuce! What affectation!
“Unkind one, let me go!” that means capitulation.
“You ought to be ashamed!” the stale cry is of many,
As down the hill they fall. I wouldn’t give a penny
Now for her virtue.
SOPHIA (extricating herself).
Friend, one final parting kiss,
And then farewell!
ALCESTES.
You go?
SOPHIA.
I go, for needful ’tis.
ALCESTES.
You love me, and you go?
SOPHIA.
I go, because I love.
I soon should lose a friend, did I not quickly move.
The course of one’s laments to run at night prefers,
In some sure spot, where nought to startle us occurs.
We more confiding grow, when calmly we complain;
But for our weaker sex, the risks increase amain.
In over-confidence too many dangers he:
A sorrow-softened heart the mouth will not deny
At such a happy time to friends for friendship’s kisses.
A friend is still a man —
SOLLER.
She knows full well what this is.
SOPHIA.
Farewell, and be assured that I am still your lover.
SOLLER.
Quite close above my head the storm is passing over.
(Exit SOPHIA. ALCESTES accompanies her through the middle door, which remains open. They are seen to stand together in the distance.
For this once be content. I’ve small time for reflection:
The moment ’tis to fly; I’m off in this direction.
(He quits the alcove, and hastens through the side door.)
SCENE V.
ALCESTES (returning).
What wouldest thou, my heart? Indeed, ’tis passing strange,
How that dear creature has for thee endured no change!
Thy early gratitude for those past hours so bright
Of love’s first happiness, has not departed quite.
What have I purposed not! What feelings have been mine!
Still uneffaced remains that image all divine,
Where love, in glorious wise, its presence first avowed, —
The image at whose shrine my heart with reverence bowed.
How all is altered now! What change comes o’er our lives!
Yet of that sacred glow a something still survives.
If truly thou’lt confess what made thee hither come,
The page will be turned o’er, thy love afresh will bloom.
And thy free-thinking ways, thy distant schemes, the shame
By thee for her devised, the plan which thou didst frame, —
How vile they now appear! Thou art distressed at last?
Before thou snaredst her, she long had held thee fast!
This is the lot of man! We hurry on apace,
And he who thinks the most is in the saddest case.
But now to urgent things: a plan must I invent
Whereby to-morrow she may have some money lent.
It is a cursed mischance: her fate my pity wakes.
Her husband, that vile wretch, her life a burden makes.
I’ve got here just enough. Let’s think! — yes, it will do.
Were I a stranger e’en, her hard lot I must rue.
But, ah! this mournful thought my heart and mind oppresses —
My conduct far too much the cause of her distress is.
I could not hinder it; to happen thus ’twas fated.
What cannot now be changed, may be alleviated.
(He opens the strong box)
The Devil! What is this? My strong box empty nearly?
Of all the silver there, three-fourths have vanished clearly.
I have the gold with me. The keys are in my pocket! —
All since the afternoon! My room — who could unlock it?
Sophia? Pshaw! But yes, — Sophia! Base suspicion!
My servant? No! that’s, too, a foolish supposition.
He’s fast asleep. Good man, his innocence I know.
Who then? By heaven, the thought impatient makes me grow.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
The Inn Parlour.
HOST.
(In a dressing-gown, sitting near the table, on which are a half-burnt candle, coffee-things, pipes and newspapers. After the first few verses he rises, and dresses himself during this scene and the beginning of the next.
That letter, hang the thing! of sleep and rest it robs me.
This comes from doing what I oughtn’t, well I see.
It seems impossible to make this matter out:
When one is doing wrong, the Devil’s there, no doubt.
’Twas my vocation ne’er, and therefore I’m afraid;
And yet of any host it never should be said
He fears, when in the house strange noises he perceives.
For ghosts, as is well known, are close allied with thieves.
No man was in the house, not Soller nor Alcestes;
The waiter it was not; each maiden gone to rest is.
But stop! At early dawn, perchance ‘tween three and four,
I heard a gentle noise: it was Sophia’s door.
She, maybe, was the ghost at whose approach I fled:
It was a woman’s foot, just like Sophia’s tread.
But then, what did she there? One knows that women-kind
To pulling things about and meddling are inclined:
Guests’ clothes and linen they inspect. I wish I first
Had finely frightened her, then into laughter burst.
She would have searched with me — the letter had been found:
My efforts, now in vain, had with success been crowned.
Curse it! One ne’er can think when one is in a strait,
And any plan that’s good is thought of just too late!
SCENE II.
The HOST, SOFIA.
SOPHIA.
My father, only think! —
HOST.
You do not say good-morrow?
SOPHIA.
Oh, pardon me, papa! my head is full of sorrow.
HOST.
And why?
SOPHIA.
Alcestes’ cash, which he received so lately,
Has altogether gone.
HOST.
That comes from gambling greatly.
They can’t restrain themselves.
SOPHIA.
Not so: ’tis stolen!
HOST.
What!
SOPHIA.
Yes, stolen from his room!
HOST.
I wish the thief were shot!
Who is it? Quick!
SOPHIA.
Who knows?
HOST.
What! In this house, you say?
SOPHIA.
Out of the box which on his table stands all day.
HOST.
And when?
SOPHIA.
This night!
(HOST aside).
Since I so curious was, the scandal
Will surely fall on me, for they will find my candle.
SOPHIA (aside).
He mutters, looks confused. Can he the culprit be?
That he was in the room, his candle proves to me.
HOST (aside).
Can she have taken it? The notion makes me swear:
Cash yesterday ran short, and she to-night was there.
(Aloud.) This is a dreadful mess. Who injures us take heed!
Respectable and cheap our watchwords are indeed.
SOPHIA.
Though he may bear the loss,’ tis we who’ll suffer most
The public will be sure to lay it to the host.
HOST.
I know that but too well. A dreadful mess, no doubt.
> If ’tis a house-thief, who will find the rascal out?
Much trouble it will give.
SOPHIA.
What shall we do? Good lack!
HOST (aside).
Aha, she’s much disturbed!
(Aloud, in a more peevish tone.) I wish he had it back!
Right glad were I.
SOPHIA (aside).
He now repents, ’tis my belief.
(Aloud) And if it were restored, whoever was the thief,
He need not know, and soon’ twill from his memory pass.
HOST (aside).
If she is not the thief then write me down an ass.
(Aloud) A good child you have been. My confidence in you —
Just wait! — (Re goes to the door to see.)
SOPHIA (aside).
By heaven! he means to make confession true!
HOST.
My child, I know you well. A lie you never told —
SOPHIA.
Sooner from all the world than you I’d aught withhold;
And so I hope that now you’ll also be assured —
HOST.
You are my child: what can’t be cured must be endured.
SOPHIA.
The best of hearts sometimes is subject to temptation.
HOST.
Oh, let the past no more occasion us vexation!
That you were in the room, no mortal knows but I.
SOPHIA (startled).
You know? —
HOST.
Yes, I was there. I heard you passing by.
I knew not who it was, and started off full speed.
SOPHIA (aside).
Yes, he the money has. There’s now no doubt indeed.
HOST.
This morning heard I you, I lately recollected.
SOPHIA.
And, what is best of all, you will not be suspected:
I found the candle —
HOST.
You?
SOPHIA.
Yes, I!
HOST.
’Tis passing strange!
To give it back again, how can we best arrange?
SOPHIA.
You’ll say, “Alcestes, sir, do spare my house, I pray!
Behold your money, I have found the thief to-day.
You know yourself how great we find temptation’s force:
He scarcely had the cash, when vast was his remorse.
He came and gave it me. Here ’tis! Let him be pardoned
For his offence!” — I’m sure Alcestes’ heart’s not hardened.
HOST.
You certainly can use persuasion soft as honey.
SOPHIA.
Yes, that’s the proper way.
HOST.
I first must have the money.
SOPHIA.
You have it not?
HOST.
How I should have it, I can’t see.
SOPHIA.
How have it?
HOST.
Yes! Well, how? Unless you give it me.
SOPHIA.
Who has it?
HOST.
Who?
SOPHIA.
Of course, if ’tis not you?
HOST.
Absurd.
SOPHIA.
Where have you put it?
HOST.
I can’t understand a word.
You haven’t got it?
SOPHIA.
I?
HOST.
Yes!
SOPHIA.
How could that be so?
HOST (making signs as if he were stealing).
Eh!
SOPHIA.
I can’t understand!
HOST.
Quite shameless, child, you grow.
You slip away when comes the time for restitution.
You have confess’d. For shame on such irresolution!
SOPHIA.
This is too much! You now make this vile accusation.
Just now you said that you gave way to the temptation.
HOST.
You toad! I said so? When? Is this the way you love me,
And show me due respect? A thief you try to prove me,
When you’re the thief yourself!
SOPHIA.
Yet you were
My father!
HOST.
This morning in the room?
SOPHIA.
Yes!
HOST.
Yet you still can dare
To say you’ve not the cash?
SOPHIA.
That does not follow.
HOST.
Yes!
SOPHIA.
You, too, were there to-day —
HOST.
I’ll pull your hair, unless
You hold your tongue and go! (Exit SOPHIA crying.)
You take the joke too far,
Unworthy one! — She’s gone! Too impudent you are.
Perchance she thinks that lies will make him overlook it.
Enough, the money’s gone, and she’s the one who took it.
SCENE III.
ALCESTES (in deep thought, in a frock-coat). The HOST.
HOST (in an embarrassed and entreating tone).
Eight sorrowful am I at what I’ve lately heard.
Well understand I, sir, how you by wrath are stirr’d;
And yet I beg that you will nothing say about it,
And I will do what’s right. I pray you do not doubt it.
If in the town ’tis known,’ twill fill my foes with glee,
And their maliciousness will throw the guilt on me.
It was no stranger, sir. The culprit is indoors.
Be calm, and soon again the money shall be yours.
Pray, what was the amount?
ALCESTES.
A hundred dollars!
HOST.
What!
ALCESTES.
A hundred dollars, though —
HOST.
Contemptible are not!
ALCESTES.
Yet I am quite disposed my pardon to bestow,
Could I the culprit’s name, and how he did it, know.
HOST.
Had I the money back, I ne’er would ask, I vow,
If Michael or if Jack had taken it, or how.
ALCESTES (aside).
My old attendant? No, he cannot be the thief.
And from my chamber too — It passes all belief.
HOST.
Why rack your brains like this? The trouble is in vain.
Enough, I’ll find the cash!
ALCESTES.
My cash?
HOST.
I ask again
That none may know of it! We long have known each other:
Enough, I’ll find your cash, so give yourself no bother!
ALCESTES.
You know then? —
HOST.
H’m! The cash you soon shall have, however.
ALCESTES.
But only tell me this —
HOST.
Not for the world, no, never!
ALCESTES.
Just tell me who it was.
HOST.
I say, I dare not say.
ALCESTES.
’Twas some one in the house?
HOST.
Don’t ask me that, I pray!
ALCESTES.
Was it the servant girl?
HOST.
Good Hannah? No, not she.
ALCESTES.
The waiter ’twas, perchance?
HOST.
No, neither was it he.
ALCESTES.
The cook’s a skilful hand —
HOST.
At dishing up a dinner.
ALCESTES.
The scullion Jack?
HOST.
He ne’er would he so great a sinner.
ALCESTES.
The gard’ner it might be?
HOST.
No, wrong ag
ain, I guess.
ALCESTES.
The gard’ner’s son?
HOST.
No, no!
ALCESTES.
Perchance —
HOST.
The house-dog? — Yes!
ALCESTES (aside).
Just wait a bit, old fool! I’ll catch you by and by.
(Aloud.) Whoever was the thief, it doesn’t signify,
If I my money get. — (He pretends to be leaving.)
HOST.
True!
ALCESTES (as if a sudden thought struck him).
Host, I see by chance, sir,
My inkstand’s empty. I this letter straight must answer.
HOST.
What! Yesterday it came: to answer it to-day,
Shows that it weighty is.
ALCESTES.
I ought not to delay.
HOST.
It is a charming thing to have to correspond.
ALCESTES.
It is not always so. The time one loses on’t
Is worth more than the game.
HOST.
’Tis like a game of cards:
A single trump turns up, and past ill-luck rewards.
The letter yesterday important news, however,
Contains. Might I inquire —
ALCESTES.
Not for the world, no, never!.
HOST.
Nought from America?
ALCESTES.
I say, I dare not say.
HOST.
Is Frederick ill again?
ALCESTES.
Don’t ask me that, I pray!
HOST.
Are matters changed in Hesse? are people going?
ALCESTES.
No!
HOST.
Perchance the Emperor —
ALCESTES.
Yes, that may well he so.
HOST.
Things in the North go wrong?
ALCESTES.
I cannot swear to that.
HOST.
They secretly conspire?
ALCESTES.
Oh! people love to chat.
HOST.
There’s no disaster, though?
ALCESTES.
Bravo! You soon will guess.
HOST.
Perchance in the late frost —
ALCESTES.
The hares were frozen? — Yes!
HOST.
You don’t appear to place much confidence in me.
ALCESTES.
When folks mistrustful are, we trust them not, you see.
HOST.
What mark of confidence will suit your purpose better?
ALCESTES.
Well, tell me who’s the thief: you then shall read my letter.
Right good the bargain is, which I to you now offer.
Will you the letter have?
HOST (confused and eagerly).
I must accept your proffer!
(Aside) Would it were something else, which he from me would learn!
ALCESTES.
You see that one good turn deserves another turn.
That I’ll the secret keep, I by my honour swear.
HOST (aside).
Would that this letter now less appetising were!