Scene III
Teenage Laura is walking through the forest along the front of the schloss with her father. It’s evening, and the schloss can be seen in the background.
Father: General Spielsdorf shan’t be able to see us as soon as he had hoped.
Laura: So, I still must wait to meet the wondrous Mademoiselle Rheinfeldt? It’s a pity. I’ve heard such good of her, and was hoping to befriend her. I should have imagined myself quite happy getting to know her. How long will they delay?
Father: He won’t come until Autumn, which is a few months from now, and I must admit I’m pleased that you never met Mademoiselle Rheinfeldt.
Laura: Papa, that’s a terrible thing to say! I must ask why you think that, you must have a good reason.
Father: I didn’t mean it like that. She has a wonderful character, and a matching reputation, but I fear the girl is dead! I regret not being able to tell you earlier this evening, when I received the letter from General Spielsdorf, but time would not allow it.
Laura: Oh dear! I’m very sorry to hear that. I suppose he already hinted in his older letters that she wasn’t as healthy as she should be.
Father: I’m afraid that’s what happened. Here’s the letter. I think it will help settle you to read it.
Laura: “I have lost my so dearly beloved daughter. I’m saddened that I couldn’t have written to you sooner, but in her last days of life, I couldn’t bring myself to. Before she died, I had no knowledge of the danger, but now I know all too well. It was all done at the hands of a fiend who betrayed our hospitality. I thought I was receiving a charming, innocent, and joyous companion for Bertha. Oh, how wrong could I be! I’m happy she died without knowledge of whom had caused it, but such was the character of Bertha. She never liked to blame another for her troubles. It may be quite some time until I see you, because I swear on my soul I will hunt down this fiend and murder it as it has murdered my darling daughter. I curse my blindness, my obstinacy, for what it has failed to prevent. Pardon my letter and its tardiness, I can’t bring myself to write or talk much, due to what has happened. I fear this desperate mission may take me as far as Vienna, but I hope to be back before Fall, given that I survive. Adieu, my friend. Pray for me.”
Father: I still don’t know what to make of it.
Laura: And I don’t even know what to say. I feel only a heavy weight lodged in my heart.
Father: I think it’s best that you ruminate over this during dinner.
(The two walk to the drawbridge and encounter LaFontaine and Perrodon chatting)
Perrodon: (Sighs) Oh, hasn’t it been a lovely evening. So picturesque. The way the golden light shimmered on the tree’s leaves, like the way stars twinkle. This stunning night, the moon, the way the light dances and flashes of the windows of the schloss as if many unseen hands light up the room to greet guests from another place, from another time. The way it showers the world in silver. It’s more flawless than any human may hope to ever be.
LaFontaine: You’re at it again. Our local hopeless romantic.
Perrodon: Oh, shush, you know you appreciate it. At least I’m not rambling about how the brightness of the moon causes certain “spiritual activity,” or its affect on lunacy.
LaFontaine: Well, the root of the word is Lune, so I’m obviously not the first to think that, dear Madame Perrodon. (Perrodon grumbles) Look, here comes Laura and her father!
Laura: (Hugging each) Good evening Madame Perrodon, Mademoiselle De LaFontaine.
Perrodon: My dear Laura, your eyes are so red and your cheeks are glistening. I take it that you’ve received the news. It really is a pity, she was such a beautiful young girl, too.
Father: You two must forgive Laura and I for our mopey moods this evening. “In truth I know not why I am so sad. It wearies me: you say it wearies you; But how I got it-came by it.” I forget the rest of the quote. Never the matter, I feel a sense of sadness upon us all. I suppose it was the General’s odd letter.
(The sound of a carriage and horses is made)
LaFontaine: Do you see that carriage? It’s traveling faster than a gale of wind! I fear its driver cannot control it much longer!
(The sound of crashing can be heard, and all but Laura shout out in the confusion)
Teenage Laura is walking through the forest along the front of the schloss with her father. It’s evening, and the schloss can be seen in the background.
Father: General Spielsdorf shan’t be able to see us as soon as he had hoped.
Laura: So, I still must wait to meet the wondrous Mademoiselle Rheinfeldt? It’s a pity. I’ve heard such good of her, and was hoping to befriend her. I should have imagined myself quite happy getting to know her. How long will they delay?
Father: He won’t come until Autumn, which is a few months from now, and I must admit I’m pleased that you never met Mademoiselle Rheinfeldt.
Laura: Papa, that’s a terrible thing to say! I must ask why you think that, you must have a good reason.
Father: I didn’t mean it like that. She has a wonderful character, and a matching reputation, but I fear the girl is dead! I regret not being able to tell you earlier this evening, when I received the letter from General Spielsdorf, but time would not allow it.
Laura: Oh dear! I’m very sorry to hear that. I suppose he already hinted in his older letters that she wasn’t as healthy as she should be.
Father: I’m afraid that’s what happened. Here’s the letter. I think it will help settle you to read it.
Laura: “I have lost my so dearly beloved daughter. I’m saddened that I couldn’t have written to you sooner, but in her last days of life, I couldn’t bring myself to. Before she died, I had no knowledge of the danger, but now I know all too well. It was all done at the hands of a fiend who betrayed our hospitality. I thought I was receiving a charming, innocent, and joyous companion for Bertha. Oh, how wrong could I be! I’m happy she died without knowledge of whom had caused it, but such was the character of Bertha. She never liked to blame another for her troubles. It may be quite some time until I see you, because I swear on my soul I will hunt down this fiend and murder it as it has murdered my darling daughter. I curse my blindness, my obstinacy, for what it has failed to prevent. Pardon my letter and its tardiness, I can’t bring myself to write or talk much, due to what has happened. I fear this desperate mission may take me as far as Vienna, but I hope to be back before Fall, given that I survive. Adieu, my friend. Pray for me.”
Father: I still don’t know what to make of it.
Laura: And I don’t even know what to say. I feel only a heavy weight lodged in my heart.
Father: I think it’s best that you ruminate over this during dinner.
(The two walk to the drawbridge and encounter LaFontaine and Perrodon chatting)
Perrodon: (Sighs) Oh, hasn’t it been a lovely evening. So picturesque. The way the golden light shimmered on the tree’s leaves, like the way stars twinkle. This stunning night, the moon, the way the light dances and flashes of the windows of the schloss as if many unseen hands light up the room to greet guests from another place, from another time. The way it showers the world in silver. It’s more flawless than any human may hope to ever be.
LaFontaine: You’re at it again. Our local hopeless romantic.
Perrodon: Oh, shush, you know you appreciate it. At least I’m not rambling about how the brightness of the moon causes certain “spiritual activity,” or its affect on lunacy.
LaFontaine: Well, the root of the word is Lune, so I’m obviously not the first to think that, dear Madame Perrodon. (Perrodon grumbles) Look, here comes Laura and her father!
Laura: (Hugging each) Good evening Madame Perrodon, Mademoiselle De LaFontaine.
Perrodon: My dear Laura, your eyes are so red and your cheeks are glistening. I take it that you’ve received the news. It really is a pity, she was such a beautiful young girl, too.
Father: You two must forgive Laura and I for our mopey moods this evening. “In truth I know not why I am so sad. It wearies me: you say it wearies you; But how I got it-came by it.” I forget the rest of the quote. Never the matter, I feel a sense of sadness upon us all. I suppose it was the General’s odd letter.
(The sound of a carriage and horses is made)
LaFontaine: Do you see that carriage? It’s traveling faster than a gale of wind! I fear its driver cannot control it much longer!
(The sound of crashing can be heard, and all but Laura shout out in the confusion)