SCHWARTZE.

As for us here, all I can do is to give these weak and useless hands to help on the great work. It's only right that an old soldier should dedicate the little strength left him by the throne to the service of the altar. Those are the two causes to fight for.

VON KELLER.

That's a great thought!

SCHWARTZE.

Thanks, thanks, but no more of this. Ah, ten years ago, when they gave me my discharge, I was a devil of a fellow. Max, doesn't my old battalion still tremble at my name?

MAX.

That they do, uncle.

SCHWARTZE.

Ah, that is one thing you escape in the civil service,--being laid on the shelf without any fault of your own,--without the shadow of a fault. Then there came a slight stroke of apoplexy. See how my hand trembles now! And what had I to look forward to? It was then that my young friend, Heffterdingt, showed me the way, through work and prayer, to a new youth. Without him I never should have found it.

MRS. SCHWARTZE.

You mustn't believe all he says, Mr. von Keller. If he didn't always depreciate himself, he would be better thought of in the highest circles.

VON KELLER.

High and low, madam, everywhere your husband is known and honored.

SCHWARTZE.

[Lighting up.] Indeed? Ah, well, no vanity. No, no, that is the moth that corrupts.

MRS. SCHWARTZE.

Is it really so wrong to wish for a little honor?

VON KELLER.

Oh!

SCHWARTZE.

What is honor? You would call it being led up the room by the governor, or being asked to tea at the castle when the royal family is here.

MRS. SCHWARTZE.

You know very well that the latter honor has never fallen to my lot.

SCHWARTZE.

Oh, yes, pardon me. I knew your weak spot. I should have avoided it.

MRS. SCHWARTZE.

Yes, just think, Councillor, Mrs. Fanny Hirschfeld of the Children's Hospital was invited, and I was not.

VON KELLER.

[Deprecatingly.] Oh!

SCHWARTZE.

[Laughing, and stroking her head.] Ah, the moth that corrupts, the moth that corrupts! [Enter Marie with the coffee. She bows in a friendly way to Von Keller.] Herr von Keller, my daughter--my only daughter.

VON KELLER.

I've already had the pleasure.

MARIE.

I can't offer you a hand for welcome, Dr. Von Keller, but you may have a cup of coffee instead.

VON KELLER.

[Helping himself and looking at the others.] I am very fortunate in being treated like an old acquaintance of the family.

SCHWARTZE.

As far as we are concerned, you shall become not only an acquaintance but a friend. And that is no conventional politeness, Councillor; for I know you, and in these times, when all the ties of morality and authority seem strained to bursting, it is doubly necessary that those who stand for the good old patriarchal order should hold together.

VON KELLER.

Very true, very true indeed. One doesn't hear such sentiments as that in the world in general, where modern ideas pass current for small change.

SCHWARTZE.

Modern ideas! Oh, pshaw! I know them. But come into the quiet homes where are bred brave soldiers and virtuous wives. There you'll hear no talk about heredity, no arguments about individuality, no scandalous gossip. There modern ideas have no foothold, for it is there that the life and strength of the Fatherland abide. Look at this home! There is no luxury,--hardly even what you call good taste,--faded rugs, birchen chairs, old pictures; and yet when you see the beams of the western sun pour through the white curtains and lie with such a loving touch on the old room, does not something say to you, "Here dwells true happiness"? [Von Keller nods with conviction.]

SCHWARTZE.

[Broodingly.] And here it might have dwelt!

MARIE.

[Hurrying to him.] Papa!

SCHWARTZE.

Yes, yes, I know. Well, in this house rules old-fashioned paternal authority. And it shall rule as long as I live. And am I therefore a tyrant? Tell me. You ought to know.

MARIE.

You're the best, the dearest--

MRS. SCHWARTZE.

He is so excitable, you see, Councillor.

SCHWARTZE.

Have you not been well brought up? And shall we not hold together, we three? But the age goes on planting rebellion in children's hearts, putting mistrust between man and wife [rises], and it will never be satisfied till the last roof-tree smokes in ruins, and men wander about the streets, fearful and alone, like homeless curs. [Sinks back exhausted.]

MRS. SCHWARTZE.

You ought not to get so wrought up, papa. You know it is bad for you. [Max makes a sign to Von Keller.]

VON KELLER.

Shall I go? [Max nods.] This is an interesting subject to develop, Colonel. I must say I think perhaps you are a little severe. But my time--

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