Part 9 (1/2)

Richard.

He thought I ought not to make myself too cheap. I quite agreed with him, and took myself off. Hang the democracy!

Beata.

If only the n.o.blemen who want to rule could get on without it!

Richard.

They could, if the spirit of the age hadn't turned them into demagogues.

Beata.

Did Holtzmann do as well as you expected?

Richard.

Admirably. But he's been going about with such a long face lately that he's rather got on my nerves.--I heard you had told him to come back when the returns are in--may I wait for him here?--When one thinks that something will come in at that door presently--something dressed like Holtzmann, looking like Holtzmann--and that that something will be Fate--nothing more or less than Fate!

Beata.

And if he comes in and says--or rather, if he doesn't say anything?

Remember, Richard, even if _that_ happens, you've got to go on living!

Richard.

Of course. Why not? It's all in the day's work. An Indian penitent was once asked: ”Why do you go on living?” And his answer was: ”Because I am dead.”--Oh, I don't mean to be ungrateful. As long as I have you, dear--as long as you are here to live my life with me, to give it colour and meaning and purpose--let come what may, nothing else matters.

Beata.

Don't say that--don't----

Richard.

Am I exaggerating? Why, ever since we-- How long ago is it that we met for the first time, in the wood at Tarasp? Fifteen years?

Beata.

It seems like yesterday.

Richard.

You pa.s.sed between the dark pine-trunks like an apparition. You wore a pink dress and had Ellen by the hand.

Beata.

She was tired and had begun to cry.

Richard.