It is blackguardism!
_Enter_ CARL.
CARL.
Letters from the local mail.
[_Lays them on the table._]
[_Exit_.]
COLONEL.
There is something up, here, too. I dread to open them. [_Breaks open
the first one_.] What the devil! A poem?--and to me? "To our noble
opponent, the best man in town."--Signed? What is the signature?
"B--aus!" B--aus? I don't know it, it must be a pseudonym! [_Reads_.]
It seems to be exceedingly good poetry!--And what have we here?
[_Opens the second letter_.] "To the benefactor of the poor, the
father of orphans." An address!--[_Reads_.] "Veneration and
kindliness."--Signature: "Many women and girls." The seal a P.P.--Good
God, what does it all mean? Have I gone mad? If these are really
voices from the town, and if that is the way people look on this day,
then I must confess men think better of me than I do of myself!
_Enter_ CARL.
CARL.
A number of gentlemen wish to speak to you, Colonel.
COLONEL.
What sort of gentlemen!
CARL.
They say: A deputation from the voters.
COLONEL.
Show them in. This confounded newspaper was right, after all.
_Enter_ PIEPENBRINK, KLEINMICHEL _and three other gentlemen. They
bow, the_ COLONEL _likewise_.
PIEPENBRINK (_solemnly_).
My Colonel: A number of voters have sent us as a deputation to you to
inform you on this special day that the whole town considers you a
most respectable and worthy man.
COLONEL (_stiffly_).
I am obliged for the good opinion.
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