Roses: Four One-Act Plays Part 21

I should have been embittered just the same--you're right--but I should not have let myself fall.

Ebeling.

Who knows?

Margot.

Never! And I'll tell you something to prove it. Severely as I have been watched--and--surely there's nothing coquettish about me?

Ebeling.

Certainly not.

Margot.

You can believe me when I say that, in the general moral tone prevailing over our society just now--and of which our mothers naturally know nothing--there lurks a temptation which has over and over again enticed even me. Such things are so personal, so secret--one cannot describe them. Oh, I could have done whatever I wished! But I said to myself: the first time, you were ignorant, you were sacrificed--or, at least, you can talk it into yourself that you were sacrificed--but if ever again--no, I can't say it after all!

Ebeling.

I understand, my child.

Margot.

If ever again--then you'll be lost--forever! Then there can be no more ideals, no more poetry--nothing lofty--nothing for which to work--and, worst of all, nothing of which to dream. For to dream--ah, one must dream, mustn't one? When one no longer has _that_!----

Ebeling (_moved_).

Yes, dear child.

Margot.

But you mustn't think that I'm trying to make myself interesting, or that I stand here before you beautifully whitened and purified! Oh, no!

What I'm going to say to you now has never been said to any one, to any man before. And you are going to despise me utterly. But I must say it--once, once in my life--and then the old hypocrisy can go on again.

Well, I don't know what it is, but it's like a fire in me. No, worse, much worse! When I think of that frightful man, my heart fairly shrivels up. And yet--I can never get away from it. There's always a terror, a horror in me; and yet there is always an eternal--an eternal hunger. Yes--a restlessness--a search--the whole day long. It's strongest toward twilight. Then I want to go out--out into the wide world--to fly to unknown lands. Then I think to myself--out there, no one knows you; out there, there is no sin. Ah, it's as if I were lashed! And I heap such reproaches upon myself because of it! Even now you have not heard the worst. I must tell you the worst, too. Well, you know how I hate that man--yet, sometimes it seems to me that I must go to him and say to him--Behold, here I am again!

Ebeling (_jumps up, muttering to himself_).

What has he done? The scoundrel! The blackguard!

Margot.

There! Now you know on whom you've wasted your sympathy! Now I can go.

(_Stands up, s.n.a.t.c.hes her m.u.f.f, and prepares to leave._)

Ebeling.

(_Who has been silently walking up and down more hotly._) It appears then that you still love that man.

Margot (_with a short, cutting laugh_).

Oh, Herr Ebeling, if you've gathered _that_ from all I've said, then I might just as well have addressed myself to the four walls. I've been hoping for three long years that you would secretly manage the thing in such a way that I'd never have to see him again in all my life--never, never--not even from a distance.

Ebeling.

Why did you never confide in me before? Why to-day for the first time?

Margot.

_Can_ one do such a thing? Is one ever allowed to? I'm a well-bred young girl, you know. I must observe the conventions. How I came to do it to-day, I don't know myself. But formerly when you were alone with me, did you ever, at any time, give me to understand, even by a glance, that you--you knew anything--about me? Do you think such an att.i.tude gives one courage? Ah, and in my need I've prayed so often, "Dear G.o.d, let him see into my soul! If _he_ doesn't free me, no one will."

Instead, you've only plunged me the deeper--pushed me before you--always deeper into misery--into the arms of that beast--into the filth. (_Sinks into a chair, sobbing._)

Ebeling.

(_Regards her confusedly, then approaches her._) Dear child! That wasn't my intention! (_Laying his hand on her shoulder caressingly._) My dear, dear child!

Margot.

(_Grasps his hand, and presses her cheek to it. As he tries to free it, she holds it the more closely._) Oh, don't leave me. I'm so lonely!

Ebeling.

My dear, dear child. (_He bends down to her and kisses her on the brow.

She throws her arms about his neck and draws herself close to him. He kisses her lips. She lets her head fall heavily upon his shoulder and remains motionless while he caresses her gently. With a sudden impulse she flings him from her, and sinks back in the chair._) Margot, my darling. Have I hurt you? Are you offended at what I did? If I've misunderstood, if I have abused your confidence, I earnestly beg you to forgive me.

Margot.

Oh, I've so hungered--so hungered--for this--kiss!

Ebeling (_turning eagerly toward her_).

Margot!

Margot (_warding him off_).

No! Go away! Go away!

Ebeling.

But you don't refuse me? And I'm not too old?

Margot (_pa.s.sionately bursting into laughter_).

Oh!

Ebeling.

I was never free from the fear that you might not see anything in me except an image of that wasted, old creature. (_Instead of answering_, Margot _stretches out her arms to him with a soft cry of longing_.

Ebeling _draws the low stool to the writing-chair on which she is sitting, sits down upon it, and embraces her._) Margot, my youth, my whole youth that I've squandered and frittered away comes back to me once more through you. And now all will be well with you, too. It was only a nightmare. Your true self had nothing to do with it. Only--you must take heart again--you must think of yourself now.