Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Page 193
Fernando.
Then your father is dead?
Lucy.
I can scarcely remember that I ever had one. I was young when he left us to undertake a journey to America and the news came that his ship was wrecked.
Fernando.
And you seem to care so little about him.
Lucy.
Why should I care? He never did much to win my love; and even if I forgave him for deserting us, what does a man care for except his freedom? Yet I would not be in my mother’s place, who is dying with grief.
Fernando.
And you are without resources, without protectors?
Lucy.
What is the difference? Our property has grown smaller day after day, and all the time I have been growing larger; and I am not sorry to support my mother.
Fernando.
Your courage astonishes me!
Lucy.
Ah, sir, it comes with trial. When you have several times been threatened with ruin and every time been saved, it inspires confidence.
Fernando.
And can’t you communicate some of it to your dear mother?
Lucy.
Alas! it is she who has met the loss and not I. I thank my father that I was born into the world, for I am happy and contented; but she! — who hoped for nothing in life except from him, and who offered up to him the flower of her youth and was deserted — suddenly deserted! — Oh, it must be something dreadful to feel yourself deserted! — I have never lost anything; I cannot speak about it. — You seem to be pondering.
Fernando.
Yes, my dear, he who lives may lose (standing up); but he may also win. And so may God preserve to you your courage! (He takes her hand.) You have astonished me! Oh, my child, how fortunate you are! — In my experience with the world oftentimes my hopes, my joys have — yet there is — and —
Lucy.
What do you mean?
Fernando.
Everything that is good! the best, the warmest wishes for your happiness!
[Exit .
Lucy.
That is a most extraordinary man! Still he seems to be good!
ACT II.
Stella and Servant.
Stella.
Go right over, go just as quick as you can! Tell her I am waiting for her.
Servant.
She promised to come immediately.
Stella.
But you see she has not come yet. I have taken a great fancy to the young girl. Go! — and have her mother come with her.
[Exit Servant.
Stella.
I can hardly wait till she comes! How one wishes and hopes for a new face such as hers to make its appearance! Stella! thou art a child! And yet why should I not love? I need much, very much to satisfy this heart of mine! Much? Poor Stella! Much? — When in other days, he still loved thee, when his head lay on thy bosom, his glances filled thy whole soul; and — O God in heaven! thy decrees are past finding out! When in the midst of his kisses I turned my eyes to Thee, when my heart glowed as it was pressed against his, and with trembling lips I drank in his great spirit, and then looked up with tears of joy to Thee and from a full heart spoke to Thee, prayed to Thee, saying: “Father, let us be happy still; Thou hast made us so happy!” But it was not Thy will. (For a moment she is lost in thought, then quickly starts up, and presses her hands to her heart.) No! Fernando, no! I did not mean to reproach thee!
Enter Madame Sommer and Lucy.
Stella.
Now I have you! Thou, dear maiden, thou art henceforth mine! Madame, I thank you for the confidence which you have shown in placing in my hands such a treasure! The little witch, the frank, open heart! I have already begun to learn of thee, Lucy!
Madame Sommer.
You appreciate what I bring you and leave with you.
Stella.
(After a pause in which she gazes at Madame Sommer.) Forgive me! I already know your story; I know that I am talking with people of good family; but your presence surprises me. At the first moment I feel confidence and respect toward you.
Madame Sommer.
Gracious lady! —
Stella.
Don’t speak of it! What my heart recognizes, my lips willingly confess. I hear that you are not well; tell me how you are. Do sit down!
Madame Sommer.
But, your ladyship, this journey in the springtime, the changing scenery, and this pure, invigorating air, which has so often before filled me with new and blessed energy — all have worked wonders for me, so that even the memory of departed joys became a pleasure to me, so that I saw a reflection of the golden days of youth and of love kindle in my soul!
Stella.
Yes, the days of love! the first days of love! — No, thou golden age, thou hast not yet gone back to heaven! thou still fillest every heart in those moments when the flower of love unfolds!
Madame Sommer.
(Seizing her hands.) How grand! How charming!
Stella.
Your face glows like the face of an angel, the color mantles in your cheeks!
Madame Sommer.
Ah, and my heart! how it swells! how it yearns toward you!
Stella.
You have loved! Oh, thank God! a creature that understands me! that can have pity upon me, and that looks with sympathy upon my sorrows! It is no fault of ours that we are as we are! Have I not done everything, tried every means? Yes! but what good did it do? It must be this — nothing but this — and no world — and nothing else in the world. — Ah, the loved one is everywhere and all things are for the loved one.
Madame Sommer.
You have a heaven in your soul!
Stella.
Before I am aware, here is his image again! — Thus he stood up in this or that company and looked around for me. — Thus he came galloping across yonder field, and when he reached the garden gate threw himself into my arms. — Out of this door I saw him depart, depart! ah! and he returned again, he returned to his watching love! — If I turn my thoughts to the bustle of the world — he is there! If I sat in the box I was sure, wherever he might be hidden, whether I saw him or not, that he was watching all my motions and loved me! my downsitting and my uprising! I felt that the waving of my feather plumes attracted him more than all the shining eyes around him, and that all the music was only the melody of the everlasting song of his heart: “Stella! Stella! how dear to me thou art!”
Lucy.
Is it possible that people can love each other so?
Stella.
Dost thou ask, little one? Then I cannot answer thee! — But how am I entertaining you? — Trivialities — important trivialities! — Truly I am nothing but a grown up child, and yet it is so enjoyable. Just as children hide their faces behind their aprons and cry “Peek-a-boo,” so that their friends will hunt for them! — How it fills our hearts, if we have had a quarrel and jealously resolve to leave the object of our love, and with what distortions of the strong soul do we come into his presence again! How our bosoms are torn this way and that! and how at last at one glance, at one pressure of the hand everything is all made up again!
Madame Sommer.
How happy you are! You still live in the feeling of the freshest, purest humanity.
Stella.
A millennium of tears and sorrows could not counterbalance the bliss of the first glance, the thrills, the broken words, the presence, the abandonment, the very self forgetfulness, the first timid, fiery kiss, and the first peacefully breathing embrace. — Madame! you are lost in reverie! Why so deeply absorbed?
Madame Sommer.
O men! men!
Stella.
They make us happy and wretched! With what foretaste of bliss do they not fill our hearts! What new, unknown feelings and hopes swell our souls when their stormy passion communicates itself to each of our tingling nerves! How often have I trembled and thrilled all over when with unrestrained tears he filled my heart with a world of sorrows! I besought him for God
’s sake to spare himself — to spare me — in vain! Through the inmost marrow he kindled such flames as swept through his being! And thus the maiden from the crown of her head to the sole of her feet became all heart, all feeling! And where is now the zone under heaven suitable for this creature to breathe the vital air and to find nourishment?
Madame Sommer.
We believe in men! In the moment of passion they deceive their own hearts, why then should we not be deceived?
Stella.
Madame! a thought occurs to me! We will be to one another what they ought to have been to us! We will remain together! — Your hand! From this moment I will not let you go!
Lucy.
That will not do at all.
Stella.
Why not, dear Lucy?
Madame Sommer.
My daughter feels that —
Stella.
That this proposition is not a wise one? Oh, just consider what a benefit you would do me if you stayed! Oh, I cannot be alone! My darling, I have done everything, I have kept hens and cattle and dogs; I teach the little girls to sew and to make embroidery, just for the sake of not being alone, just for the sake of seeing something beside my own self, that is alive and growing. And then again, when I am lucky enough, when the gods seem to have relieved my soul of pain, some bright spring morning when I wake up full of peace, and the dear sun shines through my gleaming trees, and amid the duties of the day I feel industrious and joyous, then I spend quite a time ordering and directing things and teaching my servants, and in the freedom of my heart I speak my thanks aloud to Heaven for such happy hours.
Madame Sommer.
Ah, yes, your ladyship, I sympathize with you! Occupation and charity are gifts from heaven, a compensation for loving hearts that are unhappy.
Stella.
Not compensation — makeshift, something instead of what has been lost, but not the lost itself. Lost love! where can a compensation for it be found? Oh, when time and again I sink from thought to thought, bringing up the blissful dreams of the past before my soul, yearning for a future full of hope, and thus in the flooding moonlight wander up and down my garden, then all of a sudden I am seized, seized with the feeling that I am all alone, and I stretch out my arms vainly to the four winds, expressing the magic of love with a force, a fervor so great that it seems to me as if I could drag the moon from the sky — and I am alone, no voice replies to me from the copse, and the stars look down upon my torments with cold, changeless glances! And then with the grave of my baby at my feet! —
Madame Sommer.
You had a baby?
Stella.
Yes, dearest! O God, thou didst allow me only to taste of this felicity in order to prepare for me a bitter cup all my days. When even a peasant child comes running along barefooted on the walk and throws me a kiss and looks at me with her great innocent eyes, it goes to my very soul! I think my Mina was just her age. I lift her with love and anguish and kiss her a hundred times; my heart is torn, the tears gush from my eyes and I hasten away.
Lucy.
But you have so much the less annoyance.
Stella.
(Smiling and patting her shoulder.) How deeply I still feel the pain! Strange that the terrible moments did not kill me! She lay before me! the flower was gathered! and I stood with my heart turned to stone — without pain, without consciousness, I stood! Then the nurse took up the child, pressed it to her heart and suddenly cried: “It lives!” I fell upon her, threw my arms around her neck, and wept a thousand tears upon her face, at her feet. Alas, she was deceived! Dead she lay there, and I close by in maddening, horrible despair!
[She throws herself into a chair.
Madame Sommer.
Turn your thoughts from those melancholy scenes!
Stella.
No, it is good indeed for me to unburden my heart once more, to prattle away the weight of sorrow that has oppressed me so long! Yes, if I am going to speak again of him who used to be all in all to me! — who — you must see his portrait! — his portrait! — Oh, it always seems to me that the form of man is the best text for all that can be felt and said about him!
Lucy.
I am full of curiosity!
Stella.
(Opening her cabinet and leading them in.) Here, my friends! here!
Madame Sommer.
God!
Stella.
Yes, yes! and yet it does not give a thousandth part of an idea of him as he really was. That brow, those black eyes, these brown curls, that earnest face! But alas! the painter could not express the love and the friendliness that he showed when his soul overflowed! Oh, my heart, thou alone canst feel that!
Lucy.
Madame, I am astonished!
Stella.
He was indeed a man!
Lucy.
I must tell you that this very day I ate dinner with an officer over at the inn who was the image of this gentleman. Oh! it must be the same person! I would wager my life that it was!
Stella.
To-day? Thou art deceived! thou art deceiving me!
Lucy.
Yes, to-day! It was the same, only older and more sunburned. Oh, it was! it was!
Stella.
(Pulling the bell-cord.) Lucy! my heart is bursting! I will go right over!
Lucy.
It would not be suitable!
Stella.
Suitable! Oh, my heart!
Enter Servant.
Stella.
Henry, go right over to the inn! Go right away! There is an officer there, who must be — who is — Lucy, tell him — have him come right over!
Lucy.
Did you know the baron?
Servant.
As well as my own self.
Lucy.
Then go over to the inn; there is an officer there who bears an extraordinary resemblance to him. Find out if I have been deceived. I’d take my oath it is he!
Stella.
Tell him that he must come here! come quick! quick! Could I endure this? If in this I have — oh, no, thou hast deceived thyself! It is impossible! — Leave me, my friends! leave me alone.
[She closes the door of the cabinet behind her
Lucy.
What is the matter, mother? how pale you are!
Madame Sommer.
This is the last day of my life! My heart cannot bear this! All, all at once.
Lucy.
Great God!
Madame Sommer.
My husband — the portrait — the long-expected — the long-loved! That is my husband! That is your father!
Lucy.
Mother! dearest mother!
Madame Sommer.
And he is here! — will take her into his arms in a moment or two! — And we? — Lucy, we must hurry away!
Lucy.
Anywhere you wish.
Madame Sommer.
Right away!
Lucy.
Come into the garden! I am going back to the inn. If only the stage has not gone yet, we can get away without the formality of leavetaking. Meantime she is intoxicated with her good fortune.
Madame Sommer.
Embracing him in all the bliss of seeing him again — him! And I in the very moment of finding him again — forever, forever!
Fernando enters with Servant.
Servant.
This way, sir! Do you not recognize your library again? She is beside herself! Ah! to think that you are back!
[Fernando passes without seeing the ladies.
Madame Sommer.
’Tis he! ’tis he! — I am lost!
ACT III.
Stella joyously entering with Fernando.
Stella.
(To the walls.) He is here again! Do ye see him? He is here again! (Coming before the picture of Venus.) Dost thou see him, goddess? He is here again! How many times have I not run up and down before thee like one mad and wept and mourned before thee! He is here again! I do not trust my senses. Goddess! I have
looked upon thee so often when he was not here! Now thou art here and he too is here! Dearest! dearest! Thou wert long away, but thou art here now. (Falling into his arms.) Thou art here! I wish to feel nothing, hear nothing, know nothing else except that thou art here again!
Fernando.
Stella! my Stella! (Holding her close.) God in heaven, thou givest me back the power to weep once more!
Stella.
Oh, thou only one!
Fernando.
Stella, let me drink in thy sweet breath again, thy breath — in comparison with which the air of heaven is dull and unrefreshing.
Stella.
Dearest!
Fernando.
Breathe new love into this parched, storm-tossed, ruined heart — new love, new life-enjoyment from the abundance of thy heart!
[He presses a kiss upon her mouth.
Stella.
Best!
Fernando.
How invigorating! how invigorating! Here where thou breathest, everything is imbued with most satisfying young life. Love and abiding troth would here enchain the wasted wanderer.
Stella.
Thou enthusiast!
Fernando.
Thou dost not know what heavenly dew it is to the thirsty one who comes back to thy bosom from the barren, desert world!
Stella.
And the bliss of poor me, Fernando, to press to her heart again her long-lost, wandering, only lamb!
Fernando.
(At her feet.) My Stella!
Stella.
Up, my dearest! arise! I cannot bear to see thee kneel.
Fernando.
Oh, let me! As I bend before thee on my knees, so my heart lies before thee, thou infinite love and goodness!
Stella.
I hold thee again — I do not recognize myself, I do not understand my own heart! What has really happened?
Fernando.
It is to me as it was in the first moments of our bliss. I have thee in my arms, from thy lips I imbibe the reality of thy love! I reel and am drunken with passion, and in amaze I ask myself whether I wake or dream.
Stella.
Now, Fernando, as I can well perceive, thou hast not been wise!
Fernando.
God forefend! — But these moments of bliss in thy arms restore me again to goodness, to virtue. I can pray, Stella, for I am happy!
Stella.
God forgive you that you are such an unsettled and yet such a good man! May the God who made thee forgive thee — that thou art so inconstant and so true! — When I hear the accents of thy voice, then it seems to me that it must be the same Fernando who cared for nothing in all the world but me!