Minna Von Barnhelm. Gotthold Ephraim Lessing

trust to that too much. The heart echoes to us the words of our tongues. If the tongue was as much inclined to speak the thoughts of the heart, the fashion of keeping mouths under lock and key would have come in long ago.

      MIN.

      Ha! ha! mouths under lock and key. That fashion would just suit me.

      FRAN.

      Rather not show the most beautiful set of teeth, than let the heart be seen through them every moment.

      MIN.

      What, are you so reserved?

      FRAN.

      No, my lady; but I would willingly be more so. People seldom talk of the virtue they possess, and all the more often of that which they do not possess.

      MIN.

      Franziska, you made a very just remark there.

      FRAN.

      Made! Does one make it, if it occurs to one?

      MIN.

      And do you know why I consider it so good? It applies to my Tellheim.

      FRAN.

      What would not, in your opinion, apply to him?

      MIN.

      Friend and foe say he is the bravest man in the world. But who ever heard him talk of bravery? He has the most upright mind; but uprightness and nobleness of mind are words never on his tongue.

      FRAN.

      Of what virtues does he talk then?

      MIN.

      He talks of none, for he is wanting in none.

      FRAN.

      That is just what I wished to hear.

      MIN.

      Wait, Franziska; I am wrong. He often talks of economy. Between ourselves, I believe he is extravagant.

      FRAN.

      One thing more, my lady. I have often heard him mention truth and constancy toward you. What, if he be inconstant?

      MIN.

      Miserable girl! But do you mean that seriously?

      FRAN.

      How long is it since he wrote to you?

      MIN.

      Alas! he has only written to me once since the peace.

      FRAN.

      What!—A sigh on account of the peace? Surprising? Peace ought only to make good the ill which war causes; but it seems to disturb the good which the latter, its opposite, may have occasioned. Peace should not be so capricious!… How long have we had peace? The time seems wonderfully long, when there is so little news. It is no use the post going regularly again; nobody writes, for nobody has anything to write about.

      MIN.

      "Peace has been made," he wrote to me, "and I am approaching the fulfillment of my wishes." But since he only wrote that to me once, only once!!!!!

      FRAN.

      And since he compels us to run after this fulfillment of his wishes ourselves… If we can but find him, he shall pay for this! Suppose, in the meantime, he may have accomplished his wishes, and we should learn here that!!!!!

      MIN. (anxiously).

      That he is dead?

      FRAN.

      To you, my lady; and married to another.

      MIN.

      You tease, you! Wait, Franziska, I will pay you out for this! But talk to me, or I shall fall asleep. His regiment was disbanded after the peace. Who knows into what a confusion of bills and papers he may thereby have been brought? Who knows into what other regiment, or to what distant station, he may have been sent? Who knows what circumstances—There's a knock at the door.

      FRAN.

      Come in!

      SCENE II

      Landlord, Minna, Franziska

      LAND. (putting his head in at the door).

      Am I permitted, your ladyship?

      FRAN.

      Our landlord?—Come in!

      LAND. (A pen behind his ear, a sheet of paper and an inkstand in his hand).

      I am come, your ladyship, to wish you a most humble good-morning;

      (to Franziska) and the same to you, my pretty maid.

      FRAN.

      A polite man!

      MIN.

      We are obliged to you.

      FRAN.

      And wish you also a good-morning.

      LAND.

      May I venture to ask how your ladyship has passed the first night under my poor roof?

      FRAN.

      The roof is not so bad, sir; but the beds might have been better.

      LAND.

      What do I hear! Not slept well! Perhaps the over-fatigue of the journey!!!!!

      MIN.

      Perhaps.

      LAND.

      Certainly, certainly, for otherwise.... Yet, should there be anything not perfectly comfortable, my lady, I hope you will not fail to command me.

      FRAN.

      Very well, Mr. Landlord, very well! We are not bashful; and least of all should one be bashful at an inn. We shall not fail to say what we may wish.

      LAND.

      I next come to…

      (taking the pen from behind his ear).

      FRAN.

      Well?

      LAND.

      Without doubt, my lady, you are already acquainted with the wise regulations of our police.

      MIN.

      Not in the least, sir.

      LAND.

      We landlords are instructed not to take in any stranger, of whatever rank or sex he may be, for four-and-twenty hours, without delivering, in writing, his name, place of abode, occupation, object of his journey, probable stay, and so on, to the proper authorities.

      MIN.

      Very well.

      LAND.

      Will your ladyship then be so good…

      (going to the table, and making ready to write).

      MIN.

      Willingly. My name is!!!!!

      LAND.

      One minute!

      (He writes.)

      "Date, 22nd August, A. D., &C.; arrived at the King of Spain hotel."

      Now your name, my lady.

      MIN.

      Fraulein von Barnhelm.

      LAND. (writes).

      "Von Barnhelm." Coming from.... where, your ladyship?

      MIN.

      From my estate in Saxony.

      LAND. (writes).

      "Estate in Saxony." Saxony! Indeed, indeed! In Saxony, your ladyship?

      Saxony?

      FRAN.

      Well, why not? I hope it is no sin in this country to come from Saxony!

      LAND.

      A sin? Heaven forbid! That would be quite a new sin! From Saxony then?

      Yes, yes, from Saxony, a delightful country, Saxony! But if I am right, your ladyship, Saxony is not small, and has several—how shall I call them? districts, provinces. Our police are