Magda Part 6

SCHWARTZE.

Severe? Ah, well, don't think ill of an old man for speaking a little too hotly.

VON KELLER.

Ah, sir, heat is the badge of youth. I believe I am a graybeard beside you.

SCHWARTZE.

No, no. [_Presses his hand_.]

VON KELLER.

Madam! Miss Marie! [_Exit_. Max _follows him_.]

SCHWARTZE.

Greet the battalion for me, my boy.

MAX.

I will, dear uncle. [_Exit_.

MRS. SCHWARTZE.

A very agreeable man.

MARIE.

Almost too agreeable.

SCHWARTZE.

You are speaking of our guest! [Mrs. Schwartze _makes_ Marie _a sign to be careful_.]

MARIE.

Will you have your pipe, papa?

SCHWARTZE.

Yes, dear.

MRS. SCHWARTZE.

The gentlemen of the card-club will be here soon. How lucky that we didn't eat the haunch of venison Sunday! I've ordered some red wine for the General, too. I paid three marks; that's not too dear, is it?

SCHWARTZE.

Not if it's good. Is your sister coming to-day?

MRS. SCHWARTZE.

I think so.

SCHWARTZE.

She was asked to the Governor's yesterday, wasn't she?

MRS. SCHWARTZE.

[_Sighing_.] Yes.

SCHWARTZE.

And we were not. Poor thing! She must look out for me to-day if she boasts. [_Aside_] Old cat!

MARIE.

[_Kneels before him, lighting his pipe_.] Be good, father dear. What harm does it do you?

SCHWARTZE.

Yes, yes, darling. I'll be good. But my heart is sore. [_Bell rings_.

Marie _hurries out_.]

MRS. SCHWARTZE.

Here they are.

_Enter_ Major-general Von Klebs, Professor Beckmann, _and_ Marie.

VON KLEBS.

My humblest respects to the ladies. Ah, my dear madam! [_Kisses her hand_.]

MRS. SCHWARTZE.

Make yourselves at home, gentlemen.

VON KLEBS.

Ha, my dear Colonel, hearty as ever? All ready for the fray, little one? Now we are all right. But we were almost too late. We were caught in the Music Festival crowd. Such a confusion! I was bringing the schoolmaster along, and just as we pa.s.sed by the German House, there was a great crush of people, gaping as if there were a princess at the least. And what do you suppose it was? A singer! These are really what one may call goings-on. All this fuss about a singer! What do they call the person?

BECKMANN.

Ah, General, we seem to be in a strange land to-day.