I hope to see you tomorrow again,
dear Senden.
SENDEN.
Meanwhile I will start the fund for the purchase of the newspaper. I
bid you good day. [_Exit_.]
COLONEL.
Pardon me, Adelaide, if I leave you alone. I have some letters to
write, and [_with a forced laugh_] my newspapers to read.
ADELAIDE (_sympathetically_).
May I not stay with you now, of all times?
COLONEL (_with an effort_).
I shall be better off alone, now.
[_Exit through centre door_.]
ADELAIDE (_alone_).
My poor Colonel! Injured vanity is hard at work in his faithful soul.
And Ida. [_Gently opens the door on the left, remains standing_.] She
is writing. It is not difficult to guess to whom. [_Closes the door_.]
And for all of this mischief that evil spirit Journalism is to blame.
Everybody complains of it, and every one tries to use it for his own
ends. My Colonel scorned newspaper men until he became one himself,
and Senden misses no opportunity of railing at my good friends of
the pen, merely because he wishes to put himself in their place. I see
Piepenbrink and myself becoming journalists, too, and combining to
edit a little sheet under the title of _Naughty Bolz_. So the _Union_
is in danger of being secretly sold. It might be quite a good thing
for Conrad: he would then have to think of something else besides the
newspaper. Ah! the rogue would start a new one at once!
_Enter_ OLDENDORF _and_ CARL.
OLDENDORF (_while still outside of the room_).
And the Colonel will receive no one?
CARL.
Pages:
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99