Roses: Four One-Act Plays: Streaks of Light—The Last Visit—Margot—The Far-away Princess — John Shaqi
Roses: Four One-Act Plays: Streaks of Light—The Last Visit—Margot—The Far-away PrincessSudermann, Hermann
General
Roses: Four One-Act Plays: Streaks of Light—The Last Visit—Margot—The Far-away Princess
Sudermann, Hermann
German drama -- Translations into English
And then, you must try to bring a little more--more beauty into our
life.--I surely have the right to demand that. Just look about you
here. You know how passionately fond of roses I am. My soul demands
something besides--potatoes! Well, I insist upon having roses around
me. That's not unreasonable, is it?
Wittich.
You shall have roses enough to smother you.
Pierre (_nervously_).
Well, then, Julia, dear, I see no reason why we should not accept this
proposition.
Wittich.
What have you got to say about it?
Pierre.
I beg your pardon, Herr Wittich. I certainly don't want to offend you.
But--as Julia and I have found so much in each other--haven't we,
Julia, dear?
Julia.
Yes--so very, very much, Pierre, dear.--And to know that we were so
near--and yet could never see each other or talk together, or-- I, for
my part, couldn't endure it, could you, Pierre?
Pierre.
Oh--as for that--well, it would be hard, Julia, dear.
Julia.
And what would the world say, dear George, if we should suddenly--and
apparently without any cause--break off all communication with our
neighbors? How would Pierre explain it to his mother? Why, he simply
couldn't! No; if we are to carry out your plan, then everything must
remain outwardly the same as before. Don't you agree with me, Pierre,
dear?
Pierre.
(_Hesitating, with an apprehensive glance toward_ Wittich.)
Outwardly--yes, Julia, dear.
Wittich (_losing control of himself_).
So that's your condition, is it?
Julia (_with a sort of nervous impudence_).
Yes, that's our condition--isn't it, Pierre, dear? (Pierre _does not
reply, but looks at_ Wittich.)
Wittich.
Really?--Really!--Very well! (_He draws himself to his full height, his
face flushes, and he looks around the room wildly, as if searching for
something._)
Julia.
What are you looking for, George?
Wittich.
If you-- (_Gasps as if suffocating._)
Julia.
George! George! What's the matter?
Wittich.
There--there--there! (_With a loud cry, he falls upon the weapons and
snatches one of the daggers._)
Julia.
Help! Help! Pierre! Save me!
Pierre (_at the same time_).
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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