PAUL (sadly). Stay here, Toinette! Why begin the farce anew! Let it end upon this soil, that nurtured our childhood! ANTOINETTE (imploring). Come, dearest, to our horses! Let us ride to my home. PAUL. To your home? ANTOINETTE. To Rukkoschin, the house of my fathers. PAUL. Do you wish to go there? ANTOINETTE. I wish to see it once more! PAUL. And then we shall be ready? ANTOINETTE. The house lies secluded and empty and dead. PAUL. Only the spirits of your fathers are stirring. ANTOINETTE. But I know of one room where I played as a child, that has suffered no change. PAUL (overcome). To our horses! To our horses! ANTOINETTE. The night is clear. Many thousands of stars will light the way. We shall ride through the forest. Right across the lake. The ice is firm. [She draws him out.] PAUL (with a gesture toward the outside). Farewell, Hella! Your reign is over!... We are returning to Mother Earth! (They depart through the door in the background.) HUGO VON HOFMANNSTHAL * * * * * * THE MARRIAGE OF SOBEIDE A DRAMATIC POEM DRAMATIS PERSONAE A WEALTHY MERCHANT SOBEIDE, his young wife BACHTJAR, the Jeweler, SOBEIDE'S father SOBEIDE'S MOTHER SHALNASSAR, the Carpet-dealer GANEM, his son GUeLISTANE, a ship-captain's widow An Armenian Slave An old Camel-driver A Gardener His wife BAHRAM, Servant of the MERCHANT A Debtor of SHALNASSAR An old city in the Kingdom of Persia The time is the evening and the night after the wedding-feast of the wealthy merchant. THE MARRIAGE OF SOBEIDE (1899) TRANSLATED BY BAYARD QUINCY MORGAN, PH.D. Assistant Professor of German, University of Wisconsin Scene I Sleeping chamber in the house of the wealthy MERCHANT. To the rear an alcove with dark curtains. To the left a door, to the right a small door leading into the garden, and a window. Candles. Enter the MERCHANT and his old Servant, BAHRAM. MERCHANT. Speak, Bahram, gav'st thou heed unto my bride? SERVANT. Heed, in what sense! MERCHANT. She is not cheerful, Bahram. SERVANT. She is a serious girl. And 'tis a moment That sobers e'en the flightiest, remember. MERCHANT. Not she alone: the more I bade them kindle Lights upon lights, the heavier hung a cloud About this wedding-feast. They smiled like masks, And I could catch the dark or pitying glances They flung to one another; and her father Would oft subside into a dark reflection, From which he roused himself with laughter forced, Unnatural.