Scene X. The Neighbor's House
THE NEIGHBOR'S HOUSE
MARTHAGod forgive my husband, yet he Hasn't done his duty by me! Off in the world he went straightway,— Left me lie in the straw where I lay. And, truly, I did naught to fret him: God knows I loved, and can't forget him!
She weeps.
Perhaps he's even dead! Ah, woe!— Had I a certificate to show!
MARGARETDame Martha!
MARGARETI scarce can stand, my knees are trembling! I find a box, the first resembling, Within my press! Of ebony,— And things, all splendid to behold, And richer far than were the old.
MARTHAYou mustn't tell it to your mother! 'Twould go to the priest, as did the other.
MARGARETAh, look and see—just look and see!
MARTHAO, what a blessed luck for thee!
MARGARETBut, ah! in the streets I dare not bear them, Nor in the church be seen to wear them.
MARTHAYet thou canst often this way wander, And secretly the jewels don, Walk up and down an hour, before the mirror yonder,— We'll have our private joy thereon. And then a chance will come, a holiday, When, piece by piece, can one the things abroad display, A chain at first, then other ornament: Thy mother will not see, and stories we'll invent.
MARGARETWhoever could have brought me things so precious? That something's wrong, I feel suspicious.
A knock
Good Heaven! My mother can that have been?
MARTHA'Tis some strange gentleman.—Come in!
MEPHISTOPHELES enters.
MEPHISTOPHELESThat I so boldly introduce me, I beg you, ladies, to excuse me.
Steps back reverently, on seeing MARGARET.
For Martha Schwerdtlein I'd inquire!
MARTHAI'm she: what does the gentleman desire?
MEPHISTOPHELESIt is enough that you are she: You've a visitor of high degree. Pardon the freedom I have ta'en,— Will after noon return again.
MARTHAOf all things in the world! Just hear— He takes thee for a lady, dear!
MARGARETI am a creature young and poor: The gentleman's too kind, I'm sure. The jewels don't belong to me.
MEPHISTOPHELESAh, not alone the jewelry! The look, the manner, both betray— Rejoiced am I that I may stay!
MARTHAWhat is your business? I would fain—
MEPHISTOPHELESI would I had a more cheerful strain! Take not unkindly its repeating: Your husband's dead, and sends a greeting.
MARTHAIs dead? Alas, that heart so true! My husband dead! Let me die, too!
MARGARETAh, dearest dame, let not your courage fail!
MEPHISTOPHELESHear me relate the mournful tale!
MARGARETTherefore I'd never love, believe me! A loss like this to death would grieve me.
MEPHISTOPHELESJoy follows woe, woe after joy comes flying.
MARTHARelate his life's sad close to me!
MEPHISTOPHELESIn Padua buried, he is lying Beside the good Saint Antony, Within a grave well consecrated, For cool, eternal rest created.
MARTHAHe gave you, further, no commission?
MEPHISTOPHELESYes, one of weight, with many sighs: Three hundred masses buy, to save him from perdition! My hands are empty, otherwise.
MARTHAWhat! Not a pocket-piece? no jewelry? What every journeyman within his wallet spares, And as a token with him bears, And rather starves or begs, than loses?
MEPHISTOPHELESMadam, it is a grief to me; Yet, on my word, his cash was put to proper uses. Besides, his penitence was very sore, And he lamented his ill fortune all the more.
MARGARETAlack, that men are so unfortunate! Surely for his soul's sake full many a prayer I'll proffer.
MEPHISTOPHELESYou well deserve a speedy marriage-offer: You are so kind, compassionate.
MARGARETO, no! As yet, it would not do.
MEPHISTOPHELESIf not a husband, then a beau for you! It is the greatest heavenly blessing, To have a dear thing for one's caressing.
MARGARETThe country's custom is not so.
MEPHISTOPHELESCustom, or not! It happens, though.
MARTHAContinue, pray!
MEPHISTOPHELESI stood beside his bed of dying. 'Twas something better than manure,— Half-rotten straw: and yet, he died a Christian, sure, And found that heavier scores to his account were lying. He cried: "I find my conduct wholly hateful! To leave my wife, my trade, in manner so ungrateful! Ah, the remembrance makes me die! Would of my wrong to her I might be shriven!"
MARTHAThe dear, good man! Long since was he forgiven.
MEPHISTOPHELES"Yet she, God knows! was more to blame than I."
MARTHAHe lied! What! On the brink of death he slandered?
MEPHISTOPHELESIn the last throes his senses wandered, If I such things but half can judge. He said: "I had no time for play, for gaping freedom: First children, and then work for bread to feed 'em,— For bread, in the widest sense, to drudge, And could not even eat my share in peace and quiet!"
MARTHAHad he all love, all faith forgotten in his riot? My work and worry, day and night?
MEPHISTOPHELESNot so: the memory of it touched him quite. Said he: "When I from Malta went away My prayers for wife and little ones were zealous, And such a luck from Heaven befell us, We made a Turkish merchantman our prey, That to the Soldan bore a mighty treasure. Then I received, as was most fit, Since bravery was paid in fullest measure, My well-apportioned share of it."
MARTHASay, how? Say, where? If buried, did he own it?
MEPHISTOPHELESWho knows, now, whither the four winds have blown it? A fair young damsel took him in her care, As he in Naples wandered round, unfriended; And she much love, much faith to him did bear, So that he felt it till his days were ended.
MARTHAThe villain! From his children thieving! Even all the misery on him cast Could not prevent his shameful way of living!
MEPHISTOPHELESBut see! He's dead therefrom, at last. Were I in your place, do not doubt me, I'd mourn him decently a year, And for another keep, meanwhile, my eyes about me.
MARTHAAh, God! another one so dear As was my first, this world will hardly give me. There never was a sweeter fool than mine, Only he loved to roam and leave me, And foreign wenches and foreign wine, And the damned throw of dice, indeed.
MEPHISTOPHELESWell, well! That might have done, however, If he had only been as clever, And treated your slips with as little heed. I swear, with this condition, too, I would, myself, change rings with you.
MARTHAThe gentleman is pleased to jest.
MEPHISTOPHELESI'll cut away, betimes, from here: She'd take the Devil at his word, I fear.
To MARGARET
How fares the heart within your breast?
MARGARETWhat means the gentleman?
Aloud.
Ladies, farewell!
MARTHAI'd like to have a legal witness, Where, how, and when he died, to certify his fitness. Irregular ways I've always hated; I want his death in the weekly paper stated.
MEPHISTOPHELESYes, my good dame, a pair of witnesses Always the truth establishes. I have a friend of high condition, Who'll also add his deposition. I'll bring him here.
MEPHISTOPHELESAnd this young lady will be present, too? A gallant youth! has travelled far: Ladies with him delighted are.
MARGARETBefore him I should blush, ashamed.
MEPHISTOPHELESBefore no king that could be named!
MARTHABehind the house, in my garden, then, This eve we'll expect the gentlemen.
