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_ ACT II - SCENE III
SCENE--The housekeeper's room in Count HELMAAR'S Castle.
ULRICA and CHRISTIERN.
CHRISTIERN is drawing on his boots.--Mrs. ULRICA is sitting at a tea-table making coffee.
Mrs. Ulrica.
Well, well; I'll say no more: if you can't stay to-night, you can't--but I had laid it all out in my head so cleverly, that you should stay, and take a good night's rest here, in the castle; then, in the morning, you'll find yourself as fresh as a lark.
Christiern.
Oh! I am not at all tired.
Mrs. Ulrica.
Not tired! don't tell me that, now, for I know that you are tired, and can't help being tired, say what you will--Drink this dish of coffee, at any rate--(he drinks coffee).
Christiern.
But the thoughts of seeing my Catherine and my little ones--
Mrs. Ulrica.
Very true, very true; but in one word, I want to see the happy meeting, for such things are a treat to me, and don't come every day, you know; and now, in the morning, I could go along with you to the cottage, but you must be sensible I could not be spared out this night, on no account or possibility.
Enter Footman.
Footman.
Ma'am, the cook is hunting high and low for the brandy-cherries.
Mrs. Ulrica.
Lord bless me! are not they there before those eyes of yours?--But I can't blame nobody for being out of their wits a little with joy such a night as this.
[Exit Footman.]
Christiern.
Never man was better beloved in the regiment than Count Helmaar.
Mrs. Ulrica.
Ay! ay! so he is every where, and so he deserves to be. Is your coffee good? sweeten to your taste, and don't spare sugar, nor don't spare any thing that this house affords; for, to be sure, you deserve it all--nothing can be too good for him that saved my master's life. So now that we are comfortable and quiet over our dish of coffee, pray be so very good as to tell me the whole story of my master's escape, and of the horse being killed under him, and of your carrying him off on your shoulders; for I've only heard it by bits and scraps, as one may say; I've seen only the bill of fare, ha! ha! ha!--so now pray set out all the good things for me, in due order, garnished and all; and, before you begin, taste these cakes--they are my own making.
Christiern
(aside)
'Tis the one-and-twentieth time I've told the story to-day; but no matter. (Aloud)
Why, then, madam, the long and the short of the story is--
Mrs. Ulrica.
Oh, pray, let it be the long, not the short of the story, if you please: a story can never be too long for my taste, when it concerns my master--'tis, as one may say, fine spun sugar, the longer the finer, and the more I relish it--but I interrupt you, and you eat none of my cake--pray go on
--(A call behind the scenes of Mrs. Ulrica! Mrs. Ulrica!)
--Coming!--coming!--patience.
Christiern.
Why, then, madam, we were, as it might be, here--just please to look; I've drawn the field of battle for you here, with coffee, on the table--and you shall be the enemy.
Mrs. Ulrica.
I!--no--I'll not he the enemy--my master's enemy!
Christiern.
Well, I'll be the enemy.
Mrs. Ulrica.
You!--Oh no, you sha'n't be the enemy.
Christiern.
Well, then, let the cake be the enemy.
Mrs. Ulrica.
The cake--my cake!--no, indeed.
Christiern. Well, let the candle be the enemy.
Mrs. Ulrica.
Well, let the candle be the enemy; and where was my master,
and where are you--I don't understand--what is all this great slop?
Christiern.
Why, ma'am, the field of battle;
and let the coffee-pot be my master: here comes the enemy--
Enter Footman.
Footman.
Mrs. Ulrica, more refreshments wanting for the dancers above.
Mrs. Ulrica.
More refreshments!--more!--bless my heart,
'tis an unpossibility they can have
swallowed down all I laid out, not an hour ago, in the confectionary room.
Footman.
Confectionary room! Oh, I never thought of looking there.
Mrs. Ulrica.
Look ye there, now!
--why, where did you think of looking, then?
--in the stable, or the cockloft, hey?
--[Exit Footman.]
--But I can't scold on such a night as this: their poor heads are all turned with joy; and my own's scarce in a more properer condition--Well, I beg your pardon--pray go on--the coffee-pot is my master, and the candle's the enemy.
Christiern.
So, ma'am, here comes the enemy full drive, upon Count Helmaar.
[A call without of Mrs. Ulrica! Mrs. Ulrica! Mrs. Ulrica!]
Mrs. Ulrica.
Mrs. Ulrica! Mrs. Ulrica!
--can't you do without Mrs. Ulrica one instant but you must call, call
--(Mrs. Ulrica! Mrs. Ulrica!)
--Mercy on us, what do you want? I must go for one instant.
Christiern.
And I must bid ye a good night.
Mrs. Ulrica.
Nay, nay, nay,
--(eagerly)
--you won't go--I'll be back.
Enter Footman.
Footman
Ma'am! Mrs. Ulrica! the key of the blue press.
Mrs. Ulrica.
The key of the blue press--I had it in my hand just now--I gave it--I--
(looks amongst a bunch of keys, and then all round the room)
--I know nothing at all about it, I tell you--I must drink my tea, and I will
--[Exit Footman].
'Tis a sin to scold on such a night as this, if one could help it
--Well, Mr. Christiern, so the coffee-pot's my master.
Christiern.
And the sugar-basin--why here's a key in the sugar-basin.
Mrs. Ulrica.
Lord bless me! 'tis the very key, the key of the blue press--why dear me
--(feels in her pocket)
--and here are the sugar tongs in my pocket, I protest--where was my poor head? Hers, Thomas! Thomas! here's the key; take it, and don't say a word for your life, if you can help it; you need not come in, I say
--(she holds the door--the footman pushes in).
Footman.
But, ma'am, I have something particular to say.
Mrs. Ulrica.
Why, you've always something particular to say
--is it any thing about my master?
Footman.
No, but about your purse, ma'am.
Mrs. Ulrica.
What of my purse?
Footman.
Here's your little godson, ma'am, is here, who has found it.
Mrs. Ulrica
(aside).
Hold your foolish tongue, can't you?
--don't mention my little godson, for your life.
[The little boy creeps in under the footman's arm;
his sister Kate follows him. Mrs. Ulrica lifts up her
hands and eyes, with signs of impatience.]
Mrs. Ulrica
(aside).
Now I had settled in my head that their
father should not see them till to-morrow morning.
Little Girl.
Who is that strange man?
Little Boy.
He has made me forget all I had to say.
Christiern
(aside).
What charming children!
Mrs. Ulrica
(aside).
He does not know them to be his--they don't know him to be their father.
(Aloud)
Well, children, what brings you here at this time of night?
Little Boy.
What I was going to say was
--(the little boy looks at the stranger
between every two or three words, and Christiern looks at him)
--what I was going to say was--
Little Girl.
Ha! ha! ha!
--he forgets that we found this purse in the forest as we were going home.
Little Boy.
And we thought that it might be yours.
Mrs. Ulrica.
Why should you think it was mine?
Little Boy.
Because nobody else could have so much money in one purse;
so we brought it to you--here it is.
Mrs. Ulrica.
'Tis none of my purse.
(Aside)
Oh! he'll certainly find out that they are his children
--(she stands between the children and Christiern).
'Tis none of my purse; but you are good, honest little dears, and I'll be hanged if I won't carry you both up to my master himself, this very minute, and tell the story of your honesty before all the company.
[She pushes the children towards the door. Ulric looks back.]
Little Boy.
He has a soldier's coat on--let me ask him if he is a soldier.
Mrs. Ulrica.
No--what's that to you?
Little Girl.
Let me ask him if he knows any thing about father.
Mrs. Ulrica
(puts her hand before the little girl's mouth).
Hold your little foolish tongue, I say--what's that to you?
[Exeunt, Mrs. Ulrica pushing forward the children.]
Enter, at the opposite door, THOMAS, the footman.
Footman.
Sir, would you please to come into our servants'-hall,
only for one instant: there's one wants to speak a word to you.
Christiern.
Oh, I cannot stay another moment: I must go home: who is it?
Footman.
'Tis a poor man who has brought in two carts full of my master's baggage; and my master begs you'll be so very good as to see that the things are all right, as you know 'em, and no one else here does.
Christiern
(with impatience).
How provoking!--a full hour's work:
--I sha'n't get home this night, I see that:
--I wish the man and the baggage were in the Gulf of Finland.
[Exeunt.] _
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