Lena.—When Mr. Burris left here in February for the Bosnian front you looked at him with a contemptuous sneer. Oh, Lord, how do you say it in your horrid military jargon?—Dampfnudel in Kommismontur—Only a half an hour ago you were saying something entirely different. It took a uniform to demonstrate to you what a man he really is. Does he look so much. . . better than he did . . . when he went away?
Erna.—Oh, so much! A uniform puts the figure into a man. Of your administrator it has made a gentleman whom it would be a pity to waste on menial service here. He must be a captain, as brother suggested a while ago.
Lena.—Never that! You heard him, how happy he seemed to return to the plow. He could hardly wait till tomorrow to begin his work of supervising the hands.
Erna.—The plow! Pshaw! I would never fear such a rival.
Lena.—Erna!
Erna.—That’s my name.
Lena.—You, the daughter of a baroness born.
Erna.—Lord! My grandfather was made a nobleman after Schleswig-Holstein in 1864, and with him died the noble race on the spear side of the family.
Lena.—You, a German!
Erna.—I am well on the way to forgetting German in the knightly nest of the Plichts of Plicht manor, the old outlaw castle in our Bohemian woods. Besides, the Army has made of many a Czech a good German, and a real man besides. As to the rest—. I’ll tell you something, Lena. What I have said so far is, of course, in jest. But seriously, I am going to marry Karl Burris, come what may. I’ll marry him even on the gamble that he is to remain in your employ. I shall not eat of your bread any longer on your gift. I am telling you this in advance so that you might be prepared to give your consent when he asks you for it. So a sweet good night, little one. Sleep well.
(Lena would speak, but Erna stops her mouth with a kiss, takes the lamp and goes out. The scene is dark. Lena is barely distinguishable in her cozy corner. The brilliant moon shines through the bay window whenever it comes out from behind the clouds, which a strong wind chases across the sky. Lena finally appears in the stream of light. She feels along the table, then stops and sobs pitifully. She succeeds in finding the kitchen door, opens it, and stands in the flood of light from Bara’s lamp. Through the open
