it wrong to
retire now when I am told that our cause needs me. But in confessing
to you, my friend, that my decision means a great personal sacrifice,
I am not compromising either our cause or ourselves as individuals.

BOLZ (_soothingly_).

Right you are! You are a loyal comrade. And so peace, friendship,
courage! Your old Colonel won't be inexorable.

OLDENDORF.

He has grown intimate with Senden, who flatters him in every way, and
has plans, I fear, which affect me also. I should feel still more
worried but for knowing that I have now a good advocate in the
Colonel's house. Adelaide Runeck has just arrived.

BOLZ.

Adelaide Runeck? She into the bargain! (_Quickly calling through the
door on the right._) Kaempe, the article against the knight of the
arrow is not to be written. Understand?

_Enter_ KAeMPE.

KAeMPE (_at the door, pen in hand_).

But what is to be written, then?

BOLZ.

The devil only knows! See here! Perhaps I can induce Oldendorf to
write the leading article for tomorrow himself. But at all events you
must have something on hand.

KAeMPE.

But what?

BOLZ (_excitedly_).

For all I care write about emigration to Australia; that, at any rate,
will give no offense.

KAeMPE.

Good! Am I to encourage it or advise against it?

BOLZ (_quickly_).

Advise against it, of course; we need every one who is willing to work
here at home. Depict Australia as a contemptible hole. Be perfectly
truthful but make it as black as possible--how the Kangaroo, balled
into a heap, springs with invincible malice at the settler's head,
while the duckbill nips at the back of his legs; how the gold-seeker
has, in winter, to stand up to his neck in salt water while for three
months in summer he has not a drop to drink; how he may live through
all that only to be eaten up at last by thievish natives. Make it very
vivid and end up with the latest market prices for Australian wool
from the _Times_. You'll find what books you need in the library.
[_Slams the door to._]

OLDENDORF (_at the table_).

Do you know Miss Runeck? She often inquires about you in her letters
to Ida.

BOLZ.

Indeed? Yes, to be sure, I know her. We are from the same village--she
from the manor-house, I from the parsonage. My father taught us
together. Oh, yes, I know her!

OLDENDORF.

How comes it that you have drifted so far apart? You never speak of
her.

BOLZ.

H'm! It is an old story--family quarrels, Montagues and Ca