Page:Poet Lore, volume 34, 1923.djvu/522

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502
THE PISTOL OF THE BEG

you out of a clear sky in the glory of an officer’s uniform, and because there was none better than you might get.

Erna.—Lena!

Lena.—I don’t care to pass for nobler than I am, but neither must you think that I am jealous, or in the least bitter.

Erna.—I thank you for your beautiful frankness.

Lena (Not to be interrupted).—And so the sooner you come into your own the better for you. And for me. The sooner by my aid you can leave Harshaw, the better. You can go. I shall remain the sole specter at the castle; I shall haunt it without your assistance.

Erna (After a pause).—In one thing you are entirely mistaken, my dear little Lena. And since we are in the business of settling accounts, we should see to it that they are accurate.

(Burris’s voice from without.)

Burris (Outside).—Don’t stand idle, dear people. The rain is ready to pour. That wheat must get in. Where is Andy? Come here, son, take this horse; walk him around, but don’t unsaddle him. I am going right back.

Erna.—You accuse me of marrying Burris without love. You may be right. Perhaps I did not love him. But, Lena, if you could see how things are now. (She stands in the door as Burris appears, falling into his arms passionately, but at once draws back with a sudden reproach.) It’s a wonder you ever got here.

(Burris is now overflowing with health and spirits. He is clad in the working habit of the country gentleman of the 70's. High boots, with plain spurs, Austrian gaiters, gray sailor pantaloons, a Manchester jacket without vest. A silver watch clamped into his pants pocket. On his head sits an impossible remnant of a hunting cap. The wealthy moustache which we saw in the first act so meticulously waxed and curled upward, now droops in scattered uncouthness. His face is sunburnt, but his forehead is glistening white. His hair is wet with perspiration. His behavior, too, is changed. His humility before Erna has given way to a certain air of mastery. Only for a moment now does he ever allow her to shout at him. Towards Lena he is still respectful and even confidential).

Burris.—For God’s sake what has happened here? I was scared to death lest you had met with some accident. I drove the poor horse until it was bathed in foam.

Erna.—Nothing has happened, but something should be