box 14/7
efaehr
Di
g.e
207
A REVIEW OF TWO WORLDS
HIS HELPMEET
By Arthur Schnitzler
too late. It’s not unusual, I assure yon. Many more of these
(44 Play in Oue Act Englished from the Original German
melancholy tokens will pour in; you'li see. Ahl I’ve gone
by Pierre Loving.)
through it all
Prasons:
FRANZ:—Where shall I put the wreath, sir?
Professor Robert Pilgram.
RCB (To Franz) .—On the balcony.
Doctor Alfred Hausmann.
(Frans puts them as biaden, then goes out.)
Professor Werkmann.
WERK:—Your assistant, I understand, i. away on his
Professor Brand.
vacation?
Olga Merholm.
ROB:—Yes; but 1 expect him back ere long. I shouldn't
Franz, manservant at Pilgram’s summer residence.
be a bit surprised if he returns tomorrow.
The action takes place in a summer resort not far removed
WERK:—I suppose you'll arrange for his taking your
from Vienna, on an autumn evening in the year 1897.
place during the early part of the semester.
Scene: An elegantly furnished room. The wall paper
ROB:—Not at all. I don't propose to give up my work.
and furniture are light tinted; blue is the prevailing shade.
WERK (Grashing his hand) :—By Jove, that’s fine! I'm
On the left, down stage, a lady’s escritoire stands; on the
fully convinced it’s the only balm there is.
right, a piano. Left and right entrances facing each other.
ROB:—So it is. Even if work did not act in the way of a
In the rear, a wide-open door giving on to a balcony.
Lalm, to my mind, it is an open question still whether we
Through the door the audience is afforded an uninterrupted
are justilied in shelving a slice of our brief existence. After
view of the landscape. A street, rising gradually, winds far
we have been cowardly enough to survive the first staggering
in the distance until it is cut off by a cemetery wall. The
blow. (He precedes them in geing out.)
wall is not very high, so that gravestones and crosses are
WERK (To Brand) :— Proof positive, my dear Brand, he
visible above its crest. Far beyond loom haze-enshrouded
never entertained the least bit of affection for his wife.
mcuntain peaks, quite steep. The time is late evening—
BRAND (Wüh a shrug) :—H'm! (All go out, right. For
almost night.
a fero minutes ihe stage remains empty. Olga enters from¬
The landscape is bathed in a soft gloom, and the moon has
the left. She is clad in a dark evening costume without a
illumined the single street with its silver glow.
hat. She casts off her ligkt fur-lined mantle. Enter Franz
Robert enters from the right, escorting Professors Werk¬
fromthe balcony.)
mann and Brand to the door.
TRANZ:—Good evening, Frat Merholm.
ROB:—Excise me a moment, gentlemen, while I fetch a
OLGA:—The professor—is in the garden, I suppose.
light. How Jark it is here!
FRANZ:—Ves, m'm, escorting two gentlemen—(Olga
WERK:—Much obliged, dear fellow. I guess we can find
males a sign to him as Robert enters without noticig ker.)
our way out.
ROB (Going toward the escritotre) :—Franz, can you tell
ROB:—It’ll only take a minute. (Coes out; Werkmann
me when the last train from the city’s due here?
and Brand remain motionless in the gloom.)
FRANZ:—Ten o'clock, sir.
WERK:—How lightly he scems to bear the blow.
ROB:—H'm. (Passe). Then we can still count on Dr.
BRAND:—Merely a mask, my dear Werkmann; the comic
Hausmann’s arrival this evening. If he should come, with¬
out further delag show him in to me.
WERK:—I dare say; but when one’s burying one’s wife,
FRANZ:—Here?
the—er—comic—
ROB:—If I should happen to be here at the time, yes.
BRAND:—It is evident, my dear Werkmann, yon knew
(Franz goes out. Robert sits doron to the escritoire, about
mighty little about Pilgram. Don't you perceive, it has a very
to unlock it.)
dazzling effect on #eople. I mean this interment of one’s
OLGA (Advancing behind him) :—Good evening.
wife in the afternoon, and atop of that a two-hour long dis¬
ROB (Surprised) :—Olga! (Rises.)
cussion on spientific subjects in the evening. Why, vou your¬
OLGA (Mastering her embarrassment with difficulty) ——
self were taken in 5y it.
How I ached to grasp your hand this whole dreary Cay!
WERK:—A man is got to be a man, Brand.
ROB:—And I yours. I am grateful to you all the same,
(Enter Robert with a branched candlestick. Two candles
Olga. (Ertends his hand.)
are lit.)
OLGA:—Robert, yon are indeed blessed with a great many
ROB:—Here I am again, gentlemen. (The voom is
friends; this day hore witness to the fact.
illuminated but faintly.)
ROB:—Yes. The last of them have just taken their leave.
WERK:—Exactly where are we now?
OLGA:—Pray, who can have stayed as late as this?
ROB:—Oh, this was my poor wife's room. That small
ROB:—Brand and Werkmann—a pair of sniveling old
flight of stairs over there will take us to the garden gate and
wives! Just fancy, the fellow is inconceivably proud he had
in five minutes you will be at the station.
the misfortune to lose his wife last year! He certainly
BRAND:—Is there any chance of our still making the nine
speaks with the authority of a connoisseur in these things,
o’clock train?
the vain idiot! (Pause.) But fancy your leaving the villa
ROB:—I think so. (The door on the right is pushed oben
unaccompanied!
from without. Enter Franz with a zreath.)
OLGA:—-Do you think I’m afraid to cut across the fields
ROB:—What is it?
alone?
FRANZ:—This wreath has just come from the city, sir.
RO•3:—No; but won't your husband be uncasy?
ROB:—So late!
OL.GA:—On the contrary. He’s under the impression I’m
WERK:—Probably one of your friends who got the news