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THE PISTOL OF THE BEG

Lena (In a bitter monotone).—How much longer can you stand to be my retainer? Your affairs, yours and your husband’s, are surely speeding to a most propitious end. Your husband is being sought by the postman with letters of the utmost importance. No doubt they are the final papers in the hypothecary loan on Harshaw which will advance your pet scheme, and fulfill your ancient dream of being an officer’s wife. With this loan there remains no further obstacle to Karl’s entering active service. Then Mrs. Burris, my retainer, will become Mrs. Captain Burris. There you have the whole thing in a nutshell.

Erna (Joyfully)—Lena! (She sits on the couch beside Lena and throws her arms around her. Lena struggles mildly.)

Lena.—And at Harshaw there will stay the old daughter of the house with the still older housekeeper, lady’s maid, chamber maid, milk maid, all under one skin.

Erna.—Don’t cry, little one, don’t cry! You know how it ruins you.

Lena.—I have forgotten how to cry long ago, dear Erna. But you have not yet learned that I cannot bear to have you call me little one. You can’t seem to get used to my misfortune, either. Not a day passes but you must refer to it in some feeling way.

Erna.—No, no, dear! I realize that I am good for nothing, but I hope I am not mean enough to hurt your feelings intentionally.—No matter what happened you wouldn’t go back on your promise, would you, Lena? It’s a sure thing, isn’t it?

Lena.—You know well enough that I could not back out now if I wanted to. It is not easy to change one’s mind before anotary. No, Erna, you need not be afraid of that. This is the irrevocable, good will tribute—or, if you prefer, penalty—or still better, ransom—of your future happiness. The sooner the better.

Erna (Starts from Lena with a glint of suspicion).—Ah, go on! (She changes her manner at once.) Anyway, you are the best, the noblest,—even though but a step-sister, you have a most generous heart toward me.

Lena (Slowly).—It is very probable that you are mistaken in my sisterly goodness and nobility. Perhaps, Erna . . . I am going to tell you something that no one on earth was to hear me say, and you least of all. . . Well, here I am, completely blind, and yet I can see as by daylight, the ugly, hypocritical expression on your face. Erna! I wanted to carry my secret with