17.
RADEMACHER
(Feverishly talking himself into excitement) Yes I sent for you.
Not to bid you fairewell in memory of our old friendship--but
to tell you something--before it is too late.
FLORIAN
(Acting) "Don't keep me in suspense, old man. What is it you want
to tell me”. Well—go on--go on.
RADEMACHER
You think yourself better than I? My dear friend you and I are
not of the Great, and in the depths where we belong there is small
difference-- especially in hours like these. All your greatness
is sham and pretense. Your fame? Only a heap of newspaper notices
which will be scattered to the windes the day after you're dead.
Your friends? Flatterers who bow to success; envious congressites
who olenoh their fits at you when your back is turned;fools who
find you just small enough for their admiration. But you are
clever enough to realize all & a yourself occasionally. I didn’t
trouble you to come here just to tell you this. What I am going
to tell you—it may be despicable of me--but it's astonishing
how little we care whether we are despicable or not when we know
we have no more time to be ashamed of it in. (Rises) I have been
nearüthrowing it in your face many times during the past years,
many times when we chance to meet on the street and you were
gratious enough to stop for a few words with me. My dear friend,
not only do I know you—and hundreds of others too—but your
beloved wife also knows you better than you dream.—She realized
what you were twenty years ago—in the prime of your youth and
your triumph. Yes she realized it--and I knew it--for she
was my mistress two whole years. Mary a time she came to me in
disgust at your hollowness, your utter nothingness-came to me