No More Learning

LOUISA (with a look towards heaven). This, too! This, too! In prison,
said you? And why in prison?

WORM. It is the duke's order.

LOUISA. The duke's?

WORM. Who thinking his own dignity offended by the insults offered to
the person of his representative----

LOUISA. How? How? Oh ye Almighty Powers!

WORM. ----Has resolved to inflict the most exemplary punishment.

LOUISA. This was still wanting! This! Yes, in truth. I now feel that
my heart does love another besides Ferdinand! That could not be allowed
to escape! The prince's dignity offended? Heavenly Providence! Save,
oh! save my sinking faith! (After a moment's pause, she turns to WORM. )
And Ferdinand?

WORM. Must choose between Lady Milford's hand and his father's curse and
disinheritance.

LOUISA. Terrible choice! --and yet--yet is he the happier of the two. He
has no father to lose--and yet to have none is misery enough! My father
imprisoned for treason--my Ferdinand compelled to choose between Lady
Milford's hand or a parent's curse and disinheritance! Truly admirable!
for even villany so perfect is perfection! Perfection? No! something is
still wanting to complete that. Where is my mother?

WORM. In the house of correction.

LOUISA (with a smile of despair). Now the measure is full! It is full,
and I am free--released from all duties--all sorrows--all joys! Released
even from Providence! I have nothing more to do with it! (A dreadful
pause. ) Have you aught else to communicate? Speak freely--now I can
hear anything with indifference.

WORM. All that has happened you already know.

LOUISA. But not that which is yet to happen! (Another pause, during
which she surveys WORM from head to foot. ) Unfortunate man! you
have entered on a melancholy employment, which can never lead you to
happiness. To cause misery to others is sad enough--but to be the
messenger of evil is horrible indeed--to be the first to shriek the
screech-owl's song, to stand by when the bleeding heart trembles upon
the iron shaft of necessity, and the Christian doubts the existence of a
God--Heaven protect me! Wert thou paid a ton of gold for every tear of
anguish which thou must witness, I would not be a wretch like thee! What
is there yet to happen?

WORM. I know not.

LOUISA. You pretend not to know? This light-shunning embassy trembles
at the sound of words, but the spectre betrays itself in your ghastly
visage. What is there yet to happen? You said the duke will inflict
upon him a most exemplary punishment. What call you exemplary?

WORM. Ask me no more.

LOUISA. Terrible man! Some hangman must have schooled thee! Else thou
hast not so well learned to prolong the torture of thy victim before
giving the finishing stroke to the agonized heart! Speak! What fate
awaits my father? Death thou canst announce with a laughing sneer--what
then must that be which thou dost hesitate to disclose? Speak out! Let
me at once receive the overwhelming weight of thy tidings! What fate
awaits my father?

WORM. A criminal process.

LOUISA. But what is that? I am an ignorant, innocent girl, and
understand but little of your fearful terms of law. What mean you by a
criminal process?

WORM. Judgment upon life or death.

LOUISA (firmly). Ah! I thank you.

[Exit hastily by a side door.

WORM (alarmed). What means this? Should the simpleton perchance--
confusion! Surely she will not--I must follow her. I am answerable for
her life. (As he is going towards the door, LOUISA returns, wrapped in a
cloak. )

LOUISA. Your pardon, Mr. Secretary, I must lock the door.

WORM. Whither in such haste?

LOUISA (passing him). To the duke.

WORM (alarmed, detains her). How? Whither?

LOUISA. To the duke. Do you not hear? Even to that very duke whose
will is to decide upon my father's life or death. Yet no? --'tis not his
will that decides, but the will of wicked men who surround his throne.
He lends naught to this process, save the shadow of his majesty, and his
royal signature.

WORM (with a burst of laughter). To the duke!

LOUISA. I know the meaning of that sneering laugh--you would tell me
that I shall find no compassion there. But though I may meet (God
preserve me! ) with nothing but scorn--scorn at my sorrows--yet will I to
the duke. I have been told that the great never know what misery is;
that they fly from the knowledge of it. But I will teach the duke what
misery is; I will paint to him, in all the writhing agonies of death,
what misery is; I will cry aloud in wailings that shall creep through the
very marrow of his bones, what misery is; and, while at my picture his
hairs shall stand on end like quills upon the porcupine, will I shriek
into his affrighted ear, that in the hour of death the sinews of these
mighty gods of earth shall shrivel and shrink, and that at the day of
judgment beggars and kings shall be weighed together in the same balance
(Going. )

WORM (ironically). By all means go to the duke! You can really do
nothing more prudent; I advise you heartily to the step. Only go, and I
give you my word that the duke will grant your suit.

LOUISA (stopping suddenly). What said you? Do you yourself advise the
step? (Returns hastily). What am I about to do? Something wicked
surely, since this man approves it--how know you that the prince will
grant my suit?

WORM. Because he will not have to grant it unrewarded.

LOUISA. Not unrewarded? And what price does he set on his humanity?

WORM. The person of the fair suppliant will be payment enough!

LOUISA (stopping for a moment in mute dismay--in a feeble voice).
Almighty God!

WORM. And I trust that you will not think your father's life over-valued
when 'tis purchased at so gracious a price.

LOUISA (with great indignation). True, oh! true! The great are
entrenched from truth behind their own vices, safely as behind the swords
of cherubim. The Almighty protect thee, father! Your child can die--
but not sin for thee.

WORM. This will be agreeable news for the poor disconsolate old man.
"My Louisa," says he, "has bowed me down to the earth; but my Louisa will
raise me up again. " I hasten to him with your answer. (Affects to be
about to depart. )

LOUISA (flies after him and holds him back). Stay! stay! one moment's
patience! How nimble this Satan is, when his business is to drive
humanity distracted! I have bowed him to the earth! I must raise him up
again! Speak to me! Counsel me! What can I, what must I do?

WORM. There is but one means of saving him!

LOUISA. What is that means?

WORM. And your father approves of it----

LOUISA. My father? Oh! name that means.

WORM. It is easy for you to execute.

LOUISA. I know of nothing harder than infamy!

WORM. Suppose you were to release the major from his engagement?

LOUISA. Release him! Do you mock me? Do you call that a choice to
which force compelled me?

WORM. You mistake me, dear girl! The major must resign you willingly,
and be the first to retract his engagement.

LOUISA. That he will never do.

WORM. So it appears. Should we, do you think, have had recourse to you
were it not that you alone are able to help us?

LOUISA. I cannot compel him to hate me.

WORM. We will try! Be seated.

LOUISA (drawing back). Man!
What is brooding in thy artful brain?

WORM. Be seated. Here are paper, pens, and ink. Write what I dictate.

LOUISA (sitting down in the greatest uneasiness). What must I write? To
whom must I write?

WORM. To your father's executioner.

LOUISA. Ah! How well thou knowest to torture souls to thy purpose.
(Takes a pen. )

WORM (dictating to her). "My dear Sir (LOUISA writes with a trembling
hand,) three days, three insupportable days, have already passed--already
passed--since last we met. "

LOUISA (starts, and lays down her pen). To whom is the letter?

WORM. To your father's executioner.

LOUISA. Oh! my God!

WORM. "But for this you must blame the major--the major--who watches me
all day with the vigilance of an Argus. "

LOUISA (starting up). Villany! Villany beyond all precedent! To whom
is the letter?

WORM. To your father's executioner.

LOUISA (paces to and fro, wringing her hands). No, no, no! This is
tyrannical! Oh Heaven! If mortals provoke thee, punish them like
mortals; but wherefore must I be placed between two precipices?
Wherefore am I hurled by turns from death to infamy, from infamy to
death? Wherefore is my neck made the footstool of this blood-sucking
fiend? No; do what thou wilt, I will never write that!

WORM (seizing his hat). As you please, miss! It rests entirely on your
own pleasure!

LOUISA. Pleasure, say'st thou? On my own pleasure? Go, barbarian!
Suspend some unfortunate over the pit of hell; then make your demands,
and ask your victim if it be his pleasure to grant your request! Oh!
Thou knowest but too well that the bonds of nature bind our hearts as
firmly as chains! But all is now alike indifferent. Dictate! I cease
to think! Artifices of hell, I yield to ye! (She resumes her seat at
the table. )

WORM. "With the vigilance of an Argus. " Have you written it?

LOUISA. Proceed, proceed!

WORM. "The president was here yesterday. It was amusing to see how warm
the poor major was in defence of my honor. "

LOUISA. Excellent! Excellent! Oh! Admirable! Quick! quick, go on!

WORM. "I had recourse to a swoon--a swoon--that I might not laugh
aloud"----

LOUISA. Oh, Heavens!

WORM. "But the mask which I have worn so long is becoming insupportable
--insupportable. Oh! if I could but rid myself of him. "

LOUISA (rises, and walks a few turns with her head bent down, as if she
sought something upon the floor: then returns to her place, and continues
to write). "Rid myself of him. "

WORM. "He will be on duty to-morrow--observe when he leaves me, and
hasten to the usual place. " Have you written "the usual place? "

LOUISA. Everything, everything!

WORM. "To the usual place, to meet your devotedly attached Louisa. "

LOUISA. Now then, the address?

WORM. "To Marshal von Kalb. "

LOUISA. Eternal Providence! A name as foreign to my ear as these
scandalous lines are to my heart! (She rises, and for some moments
surveys the writing with a vacant gaze. At length she hands it to WORM,
speaking in a voice trembling and exhausted. ) Take it, Sir! What I now
put into your hands is my good name. It is Ferdinand--it is the whole
joy of my life! You have it, and now I am a beggar----

WORM. Oh! Not so! Despair not, dear girl! You inspire me with the
most heartfelt pity! Perhaps--who knows? I might even now overlook
certain parts of your conduct--yes! Heaven is my witness, how deeply I
compassionate your sorrows!

LOUISA (giving him a piercing look). Do not explain yourself! You are
on the point of asking something more terrible than all.

WORM (attempting to kiss her hand). What if I asked this little hand?
Would that be terrible, Louisa?

LOUISA (with great indignation). Yes! for I should strangle you on the
bridal night: and for such a deed I would joyfully yield my body to be
torn on the rack! (She is going, but comes hurriedly back. ) Is all
settled between us, sir? May the dove be released?

WORM. A trifle yet remains, maiden! You must swear, by the holy
sacrament, to acknowledge this letter for your free and voluntary act.

LOUISA. Oh God! Oh God! And wilt thou grant thine own seal to confirm
the works of hell? (WORM leads her away. )




ACT IV.

SCENE I. Saloon in the PRESIDENT'S House.

FERDINAND VON WALTER enters in great excitement with an open letter
in his hand, and is met by a SERVANT.

FERDINAND. Is the marshal here?

SERVANT. My lord, his highness the president is inquiring for you.

FERDINAND. Fire and fury! I ask is the marshal here?

SERVANT. His honor is engaged at the faro-table, above stairs.

FERDINAND. Tell his honor, in the name of all the devils in hell, to
make his appearance this instant!

[Exit SERVANT.



SCENE II.

FERDINAND (hastily reading the letter, at one moment seeming petrified
with astonishment, at the next pacing the room with fury). Impossible!
quite impossible! A form so heavenly cannot hide so devilish a heart.
And yet! --and yet! Though all the angels of heaven should descend on
earth and proclaim her innocence--though heaven and earth, the Creator
and the created, should, with one accord, vouch for her innocence--it is
her hand, her own hand! Treachery, monstrous, infernal treachery, such
as humanity never before witnessed! This, then, was the reason she so
resolutely opposed our flight! This it was--Oh, God! Now I awake from
my dream! Now the veil is lifted! This, then, is why she surrendered
with so much seeming heroism her claims on my affection, and all but
cheated me with her saint-like demeanor! (He traverses the chamber
rapidly, and then remains for some moments in deep thought. ) To fathom
my heart to its very core! To reciprocate every lofty sentiment, every
gentle emotion, every fiery ebullition! To sympathize with every secret
breathing of my soul! To study me even in her tears! To mount with me
to the sublimest heights of passion--to brave with me, undaunted, each
fearful precipice! God of heaven! And was all this deceit? mere
grimace? Oh, if falsehood can assume so lovely an appearance of truth
why has no devil yet lied himself back into heaven?

When I unfolded to her the dangers which threatened our affection, with
what convincing artifice did the false one turn pale! With what
overpowering dignity did she repulse my father's licentious scoffs! yet
at that very moment the deceiver was conscious of her guilt! Nay, did
she not even undergo the fiery ordeal of truth? Forsooth, the hypocrite
fainted! What must now be thy language, sensibility, since coquettes
faint? How wilt thou vindicate thyself, innocence? --for even strumpets
faint?

She knows her power over me--she has seen through my very heart! My soul
shone conspicuous in my eyes at the blush of her first kiss. And that
she should have felt nothing! or perhaps felt only the triumph of her
art; whilst my happy delirium fancied that in her I embraced a whole
heaven, my wildest wishes were hushed! No thought but of her and
eternity was present to my mind. Oh, God! and yet she felt nothing?
Nothing? but that her artifice had triumphed! That her charms were
flattered! Death and vengeance! Nothing, but that I was betrayed!



SCENE III.

FERDINAND, the MARSHAL.

MARSHAL (tripping into the room). I am told, my dear baron, that you
have expressed a wish----

FERDINAND (muttering to himself). To break your rascally neck. (Aloud. )
Marshal, this letter must have dropped out of your pocket on parade.
(With a malicious smile. ) And I have been the fortunate finder.

MARSHAL. You?

FERDINAND. By a singular coincidence! Now, balance thy account with
heaven!

MARSHAL. You quite alarm me, baron!