es you had showed him.
JULIAN
I'll go with you, if you care to have me.
WEGRAT
Thanks. But it would be still nicer of you to stay right here and take
dinner with us.
JULIAN
Well ...
WEGRAT
I'll be through very quickly. To-day I have nothing but a few business
matters to dispose of--nothing but signing a few documents. I'll be
back in three-quarters of an hour. In the meantime the children will
keep you company as they used to in the old days. ... Won't you,
children?--So you're staying, are you not? Good-by for a little while
then. (_He goes out_)
[_Long pause._
FELIX
Why didn't you go with him?
JULIAN
Your mother was without blame. If any there be, it falls on me alone.
I'll tell you all about it.
FELIX (_nods_)
JULIAN
It had been arranged that we were to go away together. Everything was
ready. We meant to leave the place secretly because, quite naturally,
your mother shrank from any kind of statement or explanation. Our
intention was to write and explain after we had been gone a few days.
The hour of our start had already been settled. He ... who later became
her husband, had just gone to Vienna for a couple of days in order to
get certain documents. The wedding was to take place in a week.
(_Pause_) Our plans were all made. We had agreed on everything. The
carriage that was to pick us up a little ways off had already been
hired. In the evening we bade each other good-night, fully convinced
that we should meet next morning, never to part again.--It turned out
differently.--You mustn't keep in mind that it was your mother. You
must listen to me as if my story dealt with perfect strangers. ... Then
you can understand everything.
FELIX
I am listening.
JULIAN
I had come to Kirchau in June, one beautiful Summer morning--with
him.... You know about that, don't you? I meant to stay only a few
days. But I stayed on and on. More than once I tried to get away while
it was still time. But I stayed. (_Smiling_) And with fated
inevitability we slipped into sin, happiness, doom, betrayal--and
dreams. Yes, indeed, there was more of those than of anything else.
And after that last farewell, meant to be for a night only--as I got
back to the little inn and started to make things ready for our
journey--only then did I for the first time become really conscious of
what had happened and was about to happen. Actually, it was almost as
if I had just waked up. Only then, in the stillness
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