Page:Poet Lore, volume 34, 1923.djvu/501

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K. M. CAPEK
481

look hideous. When you take them off you begin to look like an angel. (Insincere flattery.) Now you are a very kissable angel, Ishould say. You surely decked yourself out today. One might say that you were expecting, not your business administrator, but a veritable heir to your estate come to ask for your hand.

Lena.—You are cruel, Erna—cruel!

(The altercation is ended by the sound of a quick step on the walk, and a clang of metal.)

Bara (Outside, at first barely audible).—. . Expected a letter. Oh, sir, why did my grandchild—mine—why was mine the only one of allthe youngmen . .

Burris (Outside)—God’s will be done, my dear woman. Yours alone? Why, there are thousands that will never come back.

(Burris enters. Hes a well set up man in the uniform of a first lieutenant. His belt and hat identify him with the field division of infantry. On his breast he wears a gold medal for distinguished service before the enemy. He is pale and worn—evidently just out of a hospital—but just now he is rather particular to make a dignified appearance as befits his rank. His manner is somewhat overdrawn, but not at all offensive. He has a well developed moustache, neatly waxed and turned up according to the latest style. A beard to match. In general he has the effect of a martial, soldierly man. There is just a faint suspicion of the reserve regiment about him. He claps his heels together and salutes impressively. He speaks in a strong voice.)

Burris.—Gracious ladies, I come out of military service into the presence of my most esteemed commandants, to ask that they accept into their most worthy civil service a poor military invalid.

(His appearance seems to make a good impression on Erna. Her proud and scornful bearing gives way to studied affability.)

(Lena goes to meet him, but in her excitement she is less sure of her directions than ordinarily.)

Lena (Holding out hand).—My dear Mr. Burris, you are most welcome. The estate has been waiting for you as its only hope of salvation. Plowing season is at its height and is in urgent need of supervision. Your services are indispensable.

Burris (Lifting cap and kissing her hand).—I noticed that from the train, as far as I could make out by twilight. Most of the fields looked more as if plowing had just barely begun.

Lena (By way of rebuke to herself).—Just think of that,—talking business before the door is closed behind you! What