(Takes her ring from her finger.) There, take my ring; keep it for me, and give me the Major's in the place of it.

FRAN.

Why so?

MIN. (whilst Franziska is fetching the ring).

I scarcely know, myself; but I fancy I see, beforehand, how I may make use of it. Some one is knocking. Give it to me, quickly.

(Puts the ring on.) It is he.

SCENE VI.

Major von Tellheim (in the same coat, but otherwise as Franziska advised), Minna, Franziska

MAJ. T.

Madam, you will excuse the delay.

MIN.

Oh! Major, we will not treat each other in quite such a military fashion. You are here now; and to await a pleasure, is itself a pleasure. Well (looking at him and smiling) dear Tellheim, have we not been like children?

MAJ. T.

Yes, Madam; like children, who resist when they ought to obey quietly.

MIN.

We will drive out, dear Major, to see a little of the town, and afterwards to meet my uncle.

MAJ. T.

What!

MIN.

You see, we have not yet had an opportunity of mentioning the most important matters even. He is coming here to-day. It was accident that brought me here without him, a day sooner.

MAJ. T.

Count von Bruchsal! Has he returned?

MIN.

The troubles of the war drove him into Italy: peace has brought him back again. Do not be uneasy, Tellheim; if we formerly feared on his part the greatest obstacle to our union!!!!!

MAJ. T.

To our union!

MIN.

He is now your friend. He has heard too much good of you from too many people, not to become so. He longs to become personally acquainted with the man whom his heiress has chosen. He comes as uncle, as guardian, as father, to give me to you.

MAJ. T.

Ah! dear lady, why did you not read my letter? Why would you not read it?

MIN.

Your letter! Oh! yes, I remember you sent me one. What did you do with that letter, Franziska? Did we, or did we not read it? What was it you wrote to me, dear Tellheim?

MAJ. T.

Nothing but what honour commands me.

MIN.

That is, not to desert an honourable woman who loves you. Certainly that is what honour commands. Indeed, I ought to have read your letter. But what I have not read, I shall hear, shall not I?

MAJ. T.

Yes, you shall hear it.

MIN.

No, I need not even hear it. It speaks for itself. As if you could be guilty of such an unworthy act, as not to take me! Do you know that I should be pointed at for the rest of my life? My countrywomen would talk about me, and say. "That is she, that is the Fraulein von Barnhelm, who fancied that because she was rich could marry the n.o.ble Tellheim; as if such men were to be caught with money." That is what they would say, for they are all envious of me. That I am rich, they cannot deny; but they do not wish to acknowledge that I am also a tolerably good girl, who would prove herself worthy of her husband. Is that not so, Tellheim?

MAJ. T.

Yes, yes, Madam, that is like your countrywomen. They will envy you exceedingly a discharged officer, with sullied honour, a cripple, and a beggar.

MIN.

And are you all that? If I mistake not, you told me something of the kind this forenoon. Therein is good and evil mixed. Let us examine each charge more closely. You are discharged? So you say. I thought your regiment was only drafted into another. How did it happen that a man of your merit was not retained?

MAJ. T.

It has happened, as it must happen. The great ones are convinced that a soldier does very little through regard for them, not much more from a sense of duty, but everything for his own advantage. What then can they think they owe him? Peace has made a great many, like myself superfluous to them; and at last we shall all be superfluous.

MIN.

You talk as a man must talk, to whom in return the great are quite superfluous. And never were they more so than now. I return my best thanks to the great ones that they have given up their claims to a man whom I would very unwillingly have shared with them. I am your sovereign, Tellheim; you want no other master. To find you discharged, is a piece of good fortune I dared scarcely dream of! But you are not only discharged; you are more. And what are you more? A cripple, you say! Well!

(looking at him from head to foot), the cripple is tolerably whole and upright--appears still to be pretty well, and strong. Dear Tellheim, if you expect to go begging on the strength of your limbs, I prophesy that you will be relieved at very few doors; except at the door of a good-natured girl like myself.

MAJ. T.

I only hear the joking girl now, dear Minna.

MIN.

And I only hear the "dear Minna" in your chiding. I will not joke any longer; for I recollect that after all you are something of a cripple.

You are wounded by a shot in the right arm; but all things considered, I do not find much fault with that. I am so much the more secure from your blows.

MAJ. T.

Madam!

MIN.

You would say, "You are so much the less secure from mine." Well, well, dear Tellheim, I hope you will not drive me to that.

MAJ. T.

You laugh, Madam. I only lament that I cannot laugh with you.

MIN.

Why not? What have you to say against laughing? Cannot one be very serious even whilst laughing? Dear Major, laughter keeps us more rational than vexation. The proof is before us. Your laughing friend judges of your circ.u.mstances more correctly than you do yourself.

Because you are discharged, you say your honour is sullied; because you are wounded in the arm, you call yourself a cripple. Is that right? Is that no exaggeration? And is it my doing that all exaggerations are so open to ridicule? I dare say, if I examine your beggary that it will also be as little able to stand the test. You may have lost your equipage once, twice, or thrice; your deposits in the hands of this or that banker may have disappeared together with those of other people; you may have no hope of seeing this or that money again which you may have advanced in the service; but are you a beggar on that account? If nothing else remained to you but what my uncle is bringing for you!!!!!

MAJ. T.

Your uncle, Madam, will bring nothing for me.