W. Ich liebe Dich.
A. Ach! Noch einmal!
W. Ich habe Dich vom Herzen lieb.
A. Ach! Abermals!
W. Bist Du denn noch nicht satt?
A. Nein! (The other couple sit down, and MARGARET begins a retying of the cravat. Enter the WIRTHIN and STEPHENSON, he imposing silence with a sign.) Mich hungert sehr, ich verhungre!
W. Oh, Du armes Kind! (Lays her head on his shoulder. Dumb-show between STEPHENSON and WIRTHIN.) Und hungert es nicht mich? Du hast mir nicht einmal gesagt—
A. Dass ich Dich liebe? Mein Eigener! (Frau WIRTHIN threatens to faint—is supported by STEPHENSON.) Hore mich nur an: Ich liebe Dich, ich liebe Dich—
Enter GRETCHEN.
GR. (Tears her hair.) Oh, dass ich in der Holle ware!
M. Ich liebe Dich, ich liebe Dich! Ah, ich bin so glucklich dass ich nicht schlafen kann, nicht lesen kann, nicht reden kann, nicht—
A. Und ich! Ich bin auch so glucklich dass ich nicht speisen kann, nicht studieren, arbeiten, denken, schreiben—
S. (To Wirthin—aside.) Oh, there isn't any mistake about it—Gretchen's just a rattling teacher!
WIRTHIN. (To Stephenson—aside.) I'll skin her alive when I get my hands on her!
M. Komm, alle Verliebte! (They jump up, join hands, and sing in chorus—) Du, Du, wie ich Dich liebe, Du, Du, liebest auch mich! Die, die zartlichsten Triebe—
S. (Stepping forward.) Well! (The girls throw themselves upon his neck with enthusiasm.)
THE GIRLS. Why, father!
S. My darlings! (The young men hesitate a moment, they they add their embrace, flinging themselves on Stephenson's neck, along with the girls.)
THE YOUNG MEN. Why, father!
S. (Struggling.) Oh, come, this is too thin!—too quick, I mean. Let go, you rascals!
GEO. We'll never let go till you put us on the family list.
M. Right! hold to him!
A. Cling to him, Will! (GRETCHEN rushes in and joins the general embrace, but is snatched away by the WIRTHIN, crushed up against the wall, and threatened with destruction.)
S. (Suffocating.) All right, all right—have it your own way, you quartette of swindlers!
W. He's a darling! Three cheers for papa!
EVERYBODY. (Except Stephenson, who bows with hand on heart) Hip—hip—hip: hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!
GR. Der Tiger—ah-h-h!
WIRTHIN. Sei ruhig, you hussy!
S. Well, I've lost a couple of precious daughters, but I've gained a couple of precious scamps to fill up the gap with; so it's all right. I'm satisfied, and everybody's forgiven—(With mock threats at Gretchen.)
W. Oh, wir werden fur Dich sorgen—dur herrliches Gretchen!
GR. Danke schon!
M. (To Wirthin.) Und fur Sie auch; denn wenn Sie nicht so freundlich gewesen waren, krank zu werden, wie waren wir je so glucklich geworden wie jetzt?
WIRTHIN. Well, dear, I was kind, but I didn't mean it. But I ain't sorry—not one bit—that I ain't. (Tableau.)
S. Come, now, the situation is full of hope, and grace, and tender sentiment. If I had in the least poetic gift, I know I could improvise under such an inspiration (each girl nudges her sweetheart) something worthy to—to—Is there no poet among us? (Each youth turns solemnly his back upon the other, and raises his hands in benediction over his sweetheart's bowed head.)
BOTH YOUTHS AT ONCE. Mir ist als ob ich die HandeAufs Haupt Dir legen sollt'—(They turn and look reproachfully at each other—the girls contemplate them with injured surprise.)
S. (Reflectively.) I think I've heard that before somewhere.
WIRTHIN. (Aside.) Why, the very cats in Germany know it!
(Curtain.)
(1) (EXPLANATORY.) I regard the idea of this play as a valuable invention. I call it the Patent Universally- Applicable Automatically Adjustable Language Drama. This indicates that it is adjustable to any tongue, and performable in any tongue. The English portions of the play are to remain just as they are, permanently; but you change the foreign portions to any language you please, at will. Do you see? You at once have the same old play in a new tongue. And you can keep changing it from language to language, until your private theatrical pupils have become glib and at home in the speech of all nations. Zum Beispiel, suppose we wish to adjust the play to the French tongue. First, we give Mrs. Blumenthal and Gretchen French names. Next, we knock the German Meisterschaft sentences out of the first scene, and replace them with sentences from the French Meisterschaft— like this, for instance: 'Je voudrais faire des emplettes ce matin; voulez-vous avoir l'obligeance de venir avec moi chez le tailleur francais?' And so on. Wherever you find German, replace it with French, leaving the English parts undisturbed. When you come to the long conversation in the second act, turn to any pamphlet of your French Meisterschaft, and shovel in as much French talk on any subject as will fill up the gaps left by the expunged German. Example—page 423, French Meisterschaft: On dirait qu'il va faire chaud. J'ai chaud. J'ai extremement chaud. Ah! qu'il fait chaud! Il fait une chaleur etouffante! L'air est brulant. Je meurs de chaleur. Il est presque impossible de supporter la chaleur. Cela vous fait transpirer. Mettons-nous a l'ombre. Il fait du vent. Il fait un vent froid. Il fait un tres agreable pour se promener aujourd'hui. And so on, all the way through. It is very easy to adjust the play to any desired language. Anybody can do it.
MY BOYHOOD DREAMS
The dreams of my boyhood? No, they have not been realised. For all who are old, there is something infinitely pathetic about the subject which you have chosen, for in no greyhead's case can it suggest any but one thing— disappointment. Disappointment is its own reason for its pain: the quality or dignity of the hope that failed is a matter aside. The dreamer's valuation of the thing lost—not another man's—is the only standard to measure it by, and his grief for it makes it large and great and fine, and is worthy of our reverence in all cases. We should carefully remember that. There are sixteen hundred million people in the world. Of these there is but a trifling number—in fact, only thirty-eight millions—who can understand why a person should have an ambition to belong to the French army; and why, belonging to it, he should be proud of that; and why, having got down that far, he should want to go on down, down, down till he struck the bottom and got on the General Staff; and why, being stripped of this livery, or set free and reinvested with his self-respect by any other quick and thorough process, let it be what it might, he should wish to return to his strange serfage. But no matter: the estimate put upon these things by the fifteen hundred and sixty millions is no proper measure of their value: the proper measure, the just measure, is that which is put upon them by Dreyfus, and is cipherable merely upon the littleness or the vastness of the disappointment which their loss cost him. There you have it: the measure of the magnitude of a dream-failure is the measure of the disappointment the failure cost the dreamer; the value, in others' eyes, of the thing lost, has nothing to do with the matter. With this straightening out and classification of the dreamer's position to help us, perhaps we can put ourselves in his place and respect his dream—Dreyfus's, and the dreams our friends have cherished and reveal to us. Some that I call to mind, some that have been revealed to me, are curious enough; but we may not smile at them, for they were precious to the dreamers, and their failure has left scars which give them dignity and pathos. With this theme in my mind, dear heads that were brown when they and mine were young together rise old and white before me now, beseeching me to speak for them, and most lovingly will I do it. Howells, Hay, Aldrich,
