awful cross to you, and I can appreciate what a tragic existence you drag out with me here at our solitary castle. And on top of it all the trouble with Rudolph.
Erna (Warmly).—Trouble! The lad will soon be himself again. Perhaps even before Christmas he will be sent back to his regiment, Or at any rate transferred to another. You call that a misfortune, I suppose. I’d call it luck. But we, we must stay here the year around. If we could only go to Pilsen for the winter, or even to Sopote! It would be to your advantage, too. You’d have your oculist at hand all the time, while here . . .
Lena.—My eyes, Erna? The longer I live the surer I am that my eyes are gone. . forever. (In a wave of despair.) My heart—something I inherited of my mother’s heart has ruined my eyes.
Erna.—That’s sentimental nonsense! In fact, Harshaw is steeped in sentiment. I have tried my best to stand it, but the cursed old country seat will get me yet. I’ll soon be walking around here like a specter.
Lena (To herself).—Specter indeed! (To Erna.) It’s easy to say Pilsen or Sopote, but you know that the present income from the estate is not equal to such extravagance. We have a hard enough time to make both ends meet right here where our living costs us nothing.
Erna (Stopping her ears).—Please, please, Lena! I know that refrain by heart. (Sarcastically.) The estate is yours because it belonged to your mother, a home-loving widow of the country gentleman, lord Plichtow,—until she fell in love with the handsome cavalier of Pleisse.
Lena (Unwontedly violent) —Erna, you leave my mother alone; I am not saying anything about yours!
Erna.—Mein Gott! How can you! Tu dir keine Gewalt an! My mother was a daughter of the regiment, a real baroness. Through the influence of my grandfather it was that daddy became a staff officer. My mother had nothing to do with all the debts.
Lena.—My God, Erna! It never occurred to me to judge our father in thought even, nor your mother, either. Even when she became my step-mother—just a moment, Erna—I respected her and loved her as if I had been her own child; although, like many another child to whom mother is very dear, I seldom saw her (Suddenly the sun comes out from behind a cloud for the last time before setting.) Oh, my eyes! Erna!
