Burris (Almost exploding).—It was sheer folly for me to dream that the blessed state of motherhood would conquer in you your one obsession—your inordinate thirst for military honors which has been stimulated in your system by reminiscenses of early childhood and youth.
Erna.—To your shamelessness you add impertinence! You don’t know the first principles of gentlemanly behavior, your gracious managership!
Burris (Stung to the quick).—I see—you thought you wanted me simply because I happened on you suddenly in a coat of that texture your eyes had looked upon since girlhood.
Erna.—I could not foresee then that you would prove so basely unworthy of that coat. You never talked about it so slightingly before.
Burris (Trying to control his feelings) I . . . perhaps I should have waited until you began to feel beneath your heart . . . But what’s the use of talking! In place of the serious and noble resolutions a mother makes in preparation for her crowning state, you plan, you scramble after the hectic life of military banquets and receptions! Your longing after the society of these men is so . . . so unregardful that . . . even your looking glass has failed to suggest to you the impropriety. . . . You seem to forget that your natural state carries with it certain obligations of decorum which every considerate mother wishes to observe.
Erna.—I am going to Sopote. I am going without you!
Burris.—You will not leave this place today, I can manage to prevent you some way . . .
Erna.—I have no doubt that you are quite capable of more boorishness. As luck would have it, I am not entirely helpless in your hands. (Rings the bell.) Bara! (The bell falls to the floor.)
(Until Bara appears, no one speaks.) (Lena rises as if to go, but cannot see her way. She stumbles on the bell, and Burris who has seemed paralyzed by Erna’s vehement outburst, or hypnotized by her masterful gesture, picks up the bell and places it back on the table.)
Bara (Entering).—At your service, gracious baroness.
Burris (Without looking up, in matter of fact tone).—My wife is not a baroness, Bara; remember that once and for all.
Lena.—(Anxiously) Mr. Karl! (Thunder is coming nearer.)
Erna (Rendered incoherent by this last indignity).—Bara please
