The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-12-14

In your speech this morning you disowned
us both-disowned our long, sad. sweet
dream. Oh, / don't blame you, Richard.
1t isn't your conscience that torments you;
it's the conscience of the race. I'm only a
felt that you were SHINING. L felt that 1
had risen above myself, that / had at
tanned the harmony nature meant me to at
tain. Oh. Richard, did you ever
think I had given you up? / never gave
you up. 1 never ceased to long for you
passionately, feverishly. day and night,
when you were away and when you were
near me-always. always-and all the while
was playing the cool, quiet friend. biting
my lips to keep the words back, and crush
ing down my rebellious heart-yes. and
through it all was so happy-so unspeak-
ably, supremacy happy She does not
let him kiss her when she leaves him.
At the luncheon the Prince Usingen, a
careless and cynical fellow who belongs to
the Conservatives by birth, remarks: Its
much more gratifying to our vanity to think
ourselves the objects of divine solicitude
than the victims Of natural law" This is
in reply to a criticism that Richards great
speech laid more stress on marriage as an
economic institution than as divine one.
Beata laughs-"to think how often I'd
heard 1t before-the moral balance of pow
er and all the rest. I'm sure our ancestors
sang the same song when they threw their
victims to Moloch. And our souls are still
thrown by the millions to the Moloch of
social expediency. We are all expected to
sacrifice our personal happiness to the well
fare of the race" Toasts go round and
Beata secretly drops an overdose Of a
heart-stimulatng drug into her wine glass,
and when 1t comes her turn 70 speak she
says:
My dear friends, you all &c on wishing
each other a long life-but which of us is
really alive? Somewhere, far off in the
we hide our eyes and shrink away from it
like transgressors. And that's our nearest
approach to living. Do you really think
you're alive-any one of you? Or do you
think / am? But I at least-I-whose
whole life is one long struggle against
death-I who never sleep, Who hardly
breathe, who barely stand-I at least know
how to laugh, how to love life and be
thankful for it! She staggers to her feet,
raising her glass, her voice no more than
a hoarse whisper. And as the only living
soul among you / drink to the JOY of liv-
ing!
moment afterward she leaves the table
dHu SUE W oil duJOlliih6 ioom. ihCiS chC
falls dead. The house is in an uproar. A
doctor is brought too late. The guests
noiselessly go. Keilinghausen and Richard
are left and the former reads this note left
by Beata:
Dear Michael-Even II the poison Is found
in me they will think took it by mistake.
To avoid suspicion 1 shall do 1T while we
are all at luncheon. / see that some one
must pay the penalty-better / than he.
He has his work before him-I have lived
my life. And so 1 mean to steal a march
on him. Whatever you have agreed upon
between you, my death will cancel the bar
gain-he cannot die now without causing
the scandal you have been so anxious to
avert. have always loved happiness, and
! find happiness now in doing this for his
sake and the children's and yours.
Richards son enters and Kellinghuusen
sends him to Ellen. Richard sees this
ahead: al live because must; live-be-
cause / am dead"
None Of the parties to this wretched and
pitiable business knows what he is about.