The Joy Of Living (Es Lebe Das Leben) Part 38

Everything is right as long as you're alive!

Richard.

Why, Beata, what put such an idea into your head?

Beata.

Hasn't it been in _yours_ ever since yesterday?

Richard.

There will be no duel, I a.s.sure you.

Beata.

I have just read your speech. It was your goodbye to the world. Oh, don't laugh--don't deny it. I've felt death hanging over us ever since.

Richard.

And I swear to you that I've never loved life better, have never been more determined to live, than now that I've won back my place in the world.

Beata.

You swear that to me?

Richard.

I swear it.

Beata.

And yet you must die.

Richard.

So must we all. But I mean to put it off as long as possible, I promise you!

Beata (_standing up_).

Richard, for fifteen years we haven't kept a single thought from each other, yet now that the end has come you throw me over as if you were paying off a discarded mistress.

Richard (_agitated_).

Beata!

Beata.

Don't be afraid. I am not going to force your confidence. You would only repeat what Michael has already told me--that you are going to travel, to disappear for a while.--Is this the laugh with which we were to have greeted death? Often and often, at night, when I've lain in bed struggling for breath, I've said to myself that I should die before morning. What if it really happened to-night? You'd have to wait then--you'd have no right to follow me. Think how people would talk if you did! (_With a sudden start_.) The children, Richard--there must be no shadow on the children.

Richard.

Beata, don't talk so wildly. Do shake off such fancies.

Beata (_musing_).

Yes--yes.--You know you'll have a note from Michael in the morning.

Richard.

What do you mean?

Beata.

A note asking you to luncheon to-morrow to meet some friends. Nothing more.

Richard.

What is the object----

Beata.

It seems there has been some gossip at the clubs, and this is the shortest way of putting a stop to it. (_Entreatingly_.) You'll come, Richard, won't you?

Richard.

Beata! Why should we go through this new misery?

Beata (_in wild anxiety_).

Richard, you _will_ come? You must come.

Richard.

I can't, Beata.

Beata.

It is the last thing I shall ever ask of you. Now you're smiling again--well, I'll believe anything you tell me--about your travelling, about your disappearing--I'll believe anything, if you'll only come.

Richard, come for the children's sake. And if not for the children's sake, come for mine--or I shall die of it--I shall die of it, Richard, in the night----

Richard (_overcome_).

I will come.

Beata.

Give me your hand. (Richard _gives it_. Beata _takes his hand, and pa.s.ses it over her eyes and cheeks_.) There--I'm quite quiet again, you see. (_Sits down_.) I don't know if I told you that I'm going to Rossitsch to-morrow.