Gerardo, Helen Marowa, later the valet.

Helen (of striking beauty, twenty-seven years, street dress, muff; greatly excited). I am just likely, am I not, to let that creature block my way! I suppose you placed him down there to prevent me from reaching you!

Gerardo (has started from his chair). Helen!

Helen. Why, you knew that I was coming, didn't you?

Valet (in the open door which has been left so by Helen; holds hand to his cheek). I did my very best, Sir, but the lady ... she ... she ...

Helen. Boxed your ears!

Gerardo. Helen!

Helen. Would you expect me to put up with such an insult?

Gerardo (to the valet). You may go. [Exit Valet. ]

Helen (lays her muff on a chair). I can no longer live without you. Either you will take me along or I shall kill myself.

Gerardo. Helen!

Helen. I shall kill myself! You cut asunder my vital nerve if you insist on our separation. You leave me without either heart or brain. To live through another day like yesterday, a whole day without seeing you,—I simply cannot do it. I am not strong enough for it. I implore you, Oscar, take me along! I am pleading for my life!

Gerardo. It is impossible.

Helen. Nothing is impossible if you are but willing! How can you say it is impossible? It is impossible for you to leave me without killing me. These are no empty words, I do not mean it as a threat; it is the simple truth! I am as certain of it as I can feel my own heart in here: not to have you means death to me. Therefore take me along. If not for my sake, do it for human mercy's sake! Let it be for only a short time, I don't care.

Gerardo. I give you my word of honor, Helen, I cannot do it.—I give you my word of honor.

Helen. You must do it, Oscar! Whether you can or not, you must bear the consequences of your own acts. My life is dear to me, but you and my life are one. Take me with you, Oscar, unless you want to shed my blood!

Gerardo. Do you remember what I told you the very first day within these four walls?

Helen. I do. But of what good is that to me now?

Gerardo. That there could be no thought of any real sentiment in our relations?

Helen. Of what good is that to me now? Did I know you then? Why, I did not know what a man could be like until I knew you! You foresaw it would come to this or you would not have begun by exacting from me that promise not to make a scene at your departure. Besides do you think there is anything I should not have promised you if you had asked me to? That promise means my death. You will have cheated me out of my life if you go and leave me!

Gerardo. I cannot take you with me!

Helen. Good Heavens, didn't I know that you would say that! Didn't I know before coming here! It's such a matter of course! You tell every one of them so. And why am I better than they! I am one of a hundred. There are a million women as good as I. I needn't be told, I know.—But I am ill, Oscar! I am sick unto death! I am love-sick! I am nearer to death than to life! That is your work, and you can save me without sacrificing anything, without assuming a burden. Tell me, why can you not?

Gerardo (emphasizing every word). Because my contract does not allow me either to marry or to travel in the company of ladies.

Helen (perplexed). What is to prevent you?

Gerardo. My contract.

Helen. You are not allowed to ...?

Gerardo. I am not allowed to marry until my contract has expired.

Helen. And you are not allowed to ...?

Gerardo. I am not allowed to travel in the company of ladies.

Helen. That's incomprehensible to me. Whom in the world does it concern?

Gerardo. It concerns my manager.

Helen. Your manager?—What business is it of his?

Gerardo. It is his business.

Helen. Perhaps because it might affect your voice?

Gerardo. Yes.

Helen. Why, that's childish!—Does it affect your voice?

Gerardo. It does not.

Helen. Does your manager believe such nonsense?

Gerardo. No, he does not believe it.

Helen. That's incomprehensible to me. I don't understand how a—respectable man can sign such a contract!

Gerardo. My rights as a man are only a secondary consideration. I am an artist in the first place.

Helen. Yes, you are. A great artist! An eminent artist! Don't you comprehend how I must love you? Is that the only thing your great mind cannot comprehend? All that makes me appear contemptible now in my relation to you is due to just this, that I see in you the only man who has ever made me feel his superiority to me and whom it has been my sole thought to win. I have clenched my teeth to keep from betraying to you what you are to me for fear you might weary of me. But my experience of yesterday has left me in a state of mind which no woman can endure. If I did not love you so madly, Oscar, you would think more of me. That is so terrible in you that you must despise the woman whose whole world you are. Of what I formerly was to myself there is not a trace left. And now that your passion has left me a burned-out shell, would you leave me here? You are taking my life with you, Oscar! Then take with you as well this flesh and blood which has been yours, or it will perish!

Gerardo. Helen ...!

Helen. Contracts! What are contracts to you! Why, there's not a contract made that one cannot get around in some way! What do people make contracts for? Don't use your contract as a weapon with which to murder me. I am not afraid of your contracts! Let me go with you, Oscar! We'll see if he as much as mentions a breach of contract. He won't do it or I am a poor judge of human nature. And if he does object, it will still be time for me to die.

Gerardo. But we have no right to possess each other, Helen! You are as little free to follow me as I am to assume such a responsibility. I do not belong to myself; I belong to my art ...

Helen. Oh don't talk to me of your art! What do I care for your art. I've clung to your art merely to attract your attention. Did Heaven create a man like you to let you make a clown of yourself night after night? Are you not ashamed of boasting of it? You see that I am willing to overlook your being an artist. What wouldn't one overlook in a demigod like you? And if you were a convict, Oscar, I could not feel differently toward you. I have lost all control over myself! I should still lie in the dust before you as I am doing now! I should still implore your mercy as I am doing now! My own self would still be abandoned to you as it is now! I should still be facing death as I am now!

Gerardo (laughing). Why, Helen, you and facing death! Women so richly endowed for the enjoyment of life as you are do not kill themselves. You know the value of life better than I. You are too happily constituted to cast it away. That is left for others to do—for stunted and dwarfed creatures, the stepchildren of nature.

Helen. Oscar, I did not say that I was going to shoot myself. When did I say that? How could I summon the courage? I say that I shall die if you do not take me with you just as one might die of any ailment because I can live only if I am with you! I can live without anything else—without home, without children, but not without you, Oscar! I can not live without you!

Gerardo (uneasy). Helen—if you do not calm yourself now, you will force me to do something terrible! I have just ten minutes left. The scene you are making here won't be accepted as a legal excuse for my breaking my contract! No court would regard your excited state of mind as a sufficient justification. I have ten more minutes to give you. If by that time you have not calmed yourself, Helen—then I cannot leave you to yourself!

Helen. Oh let the whole world see me lie here!

Gerardo. Consider what you will risk!

Helen. As if I had anything left to risk!

Gerardo. You might lose your social position.

Helen. All I can lose is you!

Gerardo. What about those to whom you belong?

Helen. I can now belong to no one but you!

Gerardo. But I do not belong to you!

Helen. I've nothing left to lose but life itself.

Gerardo. How about your children?

Helen (flaring up). Who took me away from them, Oscar! Who robbed my children of their mother!

Gerardo. Did I make advances to you?

Helen (with intense passion). No, no! Don't think that for a moment! I just threw myself at you and should throw myself at you again today! No husband, no children could restrain me! If I die, I have at least tasted life! Through you, Oscar! I owe it to you that I have come to know myself! I have to thank you for it, Oscar!

Gerardo. Helen—now listen to me calmly ...

Helen. Yes, yes—there are ten minutes left ...

Gerardo. Listen to me calmly ... (Both sit down on the sofa.)

Helen (staring at him). I have to thank you for it ...

Gerardo. Helen—

Helen. I don't ask you to love me. If I may but breathe the same air with you ...!

Gerardo (struggling to preserve his composure). Helen—to a man like me the conventional rules of life cannot be applied. I have known society women in all the lands of Europe. They have made me scenes, too, when it was time for me to leave—but when it came to choosing, I always knew what I owed to my position. Never yet have I met with such an outburst of passion as yours. Helen—I am tempted every day to withdraw to some idyllic Arcadia with this or that woman. But one has his duty to perform; you as well as I; and duty is the highest law ...

Helen. I think I know better by this time, Oscar, what is the highest law.

Gerardo. Well, what is it? Not your love, I hope? That's what every woman says! Whatever a woman wants to carry through she calls good, and if anybody refuses to yield to her then he is bad. That's what our fool playwrights have done for us. In order to draw full houses they put the world upside down and call it great-souled if a woman sacrifices her children and her family to indulge her senses. I should like to live like a turtledove, too. But as long as I have been in this world I have first obeyed my duty. If after that the opportunity offered, then, to be sure, I've enjoyed life to the full. But if one does not follow one's duty, one has no right to make the least claims on others.

Helen (looking away; abstractedly). That will not bring the dead to life again ...

D._Mommsen

D. MOMMSEN

Gerardo (nervously). Why, Helen, don't you see, I want to give back your life to you! I want to give back to you what you have sacrificed to me. Take it, I implore you! Don't make more of it than it is! Helen, how can a woman so disgracefully humiliate herself! What has become of your pride? With what contempt would you have shown me my proper place if I had fallen in love with you, if it had occurred to me to be jealous! What am I in the eyes of the society in which you move! A man who makes a clown of himself! Would you fling away your life for a man whom a hundred women have loved before you, whom a hundred women will love after you without allowing it to cause them a moment of distress! Do you want your flowing blood to make you ridiculous in the sight of God and man?

Helen (looking away). I know very well that I am asking an unheard-of thing of you but—what else can I do ...

Gerardo (soothingly). I have given you all that's in my power to give. Even to a princess I could not be more than I have been to you. If there is one thing further our relations, if continued, might mean to you, it could only be the utter ruin of your life. Now release me, Helen! I understand how hard you find it, but—one often fears one is going to die. I myself often tremble for my life—art as a profession is so likely to unstring one's nerves. It's astonishing how soon one will get over that kind of thing. Resign yourself to the fortuitousness of life. We did not seek one another because we loved each other; we loved each other because we happened to find one another! (Shrugging his shoulders.) You say I must bear the consequences of my acts, Helen. Would you in all seriousness think ill of me now for not refusing you admittance when you came under the pretext of having me pass on your voice? I dare say you think too highly of your personal advantages for that; you know yourself too well; you are too proud of your beauty. Tell me, were you not absolutely certain of victory when you came?

Helen (looking away). Oh, what was I a week ago! And what—what am I now!

Gerardo (in a matter-of-fact way). Helen, ask yourself this question: what choice is left to a man in such a case? You are generally known as the most beautiful woman in this city. Now shall I, an artist, allow myself to acquire the reputation of an unsociable lout who shuts himself up in his four walls and denies himself to all visitors? The second possibility would be to receive you while at the same time pretending not to understand you. That would give me the wholly undeserved reputation of a simpleton. Third possibility—but this is extremely dangerous—I explain to you calmly and politely the very thing I am saying to you now. But that is very dangerous! For apart from your immediately giving me an insulting reply, calling me a vain conceited fool, it would, if it became known, make me appear in a most curious light. And what would at best be the result of my refusing the honor offered me? That you would make of me a contemptible helpless puppet, a target for your feminine wit, a booby whom you could tease and taunt as much as you liked, whom you could torment and put on the rack until you had driven him mad. (He has risen from the sofa.) Say yourself, Helen; what choice was left to me? (She stares at him, then turns her eyes about helplessly, shudders and struggles for an answer.) In such a case I face just this alternative:—to make an enemy who despises me or—to make an enemy who at least respects me. And (stroking her hair) Helen!—one does not care to be despised by a woman of such universally recognized beauty. Now does your pride still permit you to ask me to take you with me?

Helen (weeping profusely). Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God ...

Gerardo. Your social position gave you the opportunity to make advances to me. You availed yourself of it.—I am the last person to think ill of you for that. But no more should you think ill of me for wishing to maintain my rights. No man could be franker with a woman than I have been with you. I told you that there could be no thought of any sentimentalities between you and me. I told you that my profession prevented me from binding myself. I told you that my engagement in this city would end today ...

Helen (rising). Oh how my head rings! It's just words, words, words I hear! But I (putting her hands to her heart and throat) am choking here and choking here! Oscar—matters are worse than you realize! A woman such as I am more or less in the world—I have given life to two children. What would you say, Oscar ... what would you say if tomorrow I should go and make another man as happy as you have been with me? What would you say then, Oscar?—Speak!—Speak!

Gerardo. What I should say? Just nothing. (Looking at his watch.) Helen ...

Helen. Oscar!—(On her knees.) I am imploring you for my life! For my life! It's the last time I shall ask you for it! Demand anything of me! But not that! Don't ask my life! You don't know what you are doing! You are mad! You are beside yourself! It's the last time! You detest me because I love you! Let not these minutes pass!—Save me! Save me!

Gerardo (pulls her up in spite of her). Now listen to a kind word!—Listen to a—kind—word ...

Helen (in an undertone). So it must be!

Gerardo. Helen—how old are your children?

Helen. One is six and the other four.

Gerardo. Both girls?

Helen. No.

Gerardo. The one four years old is a boy?

Helen. Yes.

Gerardo. And the younger one a girl?

Helen. No.

Gerardo. Both boys?

Helen. Yes.

Gerardo. Have you no pity for them?

Helen. No.

Gerardo. How happy I should be if they were mine!—Helen—would you give them to me?

Helen. Yes.

Gerardo (half jokingly). Suppose I should be as unreasonable as you—taking it into my head that I am in love with some particular woman and can love no other! I cannot marry her. I cannot take her with me. Yet I must leave. Just what would that lead me to?

Helen (from now on growing constantly calmer). Yes, yes.—Certainly.—I understand.

Gerardo. Believe me, Helen, there are any number of men in this world like me. The very way you and I have met ought to teach you something. You say you cannot live without me. How many men do you know? The more you will come to know the lower you will rate them. Then you won't think again of taking your life for a man's sake. You will have no higher opinion of them than I have of women.

Helen. You think I am just like you. I am not.

Gerardo. I am quite serious, Helen. Nobody loves just one particular person unless he does not know any other. Everybody loves his own kind and can find it anywhere when he has once learned how to go about it.

Helen (smiling). And when one has met one's kind, one is always sure of having one's love returned!

Gerardo (drawing her down on the sofa). You have no right, Helen, to complain of your husband! Why did you not know yourself better! Every young girl is free to choose for herself. There is no power on earth that could compel a girl to belong to a man whom she doesn't like. No such violence can be done to woman's rights. That's a kind of nonsense those women would like to make the world believe who having sold themselves for some material advantage or other would prefer to escape their obligations.

Helen (smiling). Which would be a breach of contract, I suppose.

Gerardo. If I sell myself, they are at least dealing with an honest man!

Helen (smiling). Then one who loves is not honest!

Gerardo. No!—Love is a distinctly philistine virtue. Love is sought by those who do not venture out into the world, who fear a comparison with others, who haven't the courage to face a fair trial of strength. Love is sought by every miserable rhymester who cannot live without being idolized by some one. Love is sought by the peasant who yokes his wife together with his ox to his plow. Love is a refuge for molly-coddles and cowards!—In the great world in which I live everybody is recognized for what he is actually worth. If two join together, they know exactly what to think of one another and need no love for it.

Helen (once more in a pleading tone). Will you not introduce me into that great world of yours!

Gerardo. Helen—would you sacrifice your own happiness and that of your family for a fleeting pleasure!

Helen. No.

Gerardo. Do you promise me to return to your family without show of reluctance!

Helen. Yes.

Gerardo. And that you will not die, not even as one might die of some ailment!

Helen. Yes.

Gerardo. Do you really promise me!

Helen. Yes.

Gerardo. That you will be true to your duties as a mother—and as a wife!

Helen. Yes.

Gerardo. Helen!

Helen. Yes!—What more do you want!—I promise you.

Gerardo. That I may leave town without fear!

Helen (rising). Yes.

Gerardo. Now shall we kiss each other once more!

Helen. Yes—yes—yes—yes—yes—yes ...

Gerardo (after kissing her in a perfunctory manner). A year from now, Helen, I shall sing again in this town.

Helen. A year from now!—Yes, to be sure.

Gerardo (affectedly sentimental). Helen! (Helen presses his hand, takes her muff from the chair, pulls from it a revolver, shoots herself in the head and sinks to the floor.) Helen! (He totters forward, then backward and sinks into an armchair.) Helen! (Pause.)