Brendel! What is it?
Brendel. Ah, you notice the transformation, then? Well, it is
evident enough. The last time I entered your doors I stood before
you a man of substance, slapping a well-filled pocket.
Rosmer. Really? I don't quite understand--
Brendel. And now, as you see me to-night, I am a deposed monarch
standing over the ashes of my burnt-out palace.
Rosmer. If there is any way I can help you
Brendel. You have preserved your childlike heart, John--can you
let me have a loan?
Rosmer. Yes, most willingly!
Brendel. Can you spare me an ideal or two?
Rosmer. What do you say?
Brendel. One or two cast-off ideals? You will be doing a good
deed. I am cleaned out, my dear boy, absolutely and entirely.
Rebecca. Did you not succeed in giving your lecture?
Brendel. No, fair lady. What do you think?--just as I was standing
ready to pour out the contents of my horn in plenty, I made the
painful discovery that I was bankrupt.
Rebecca. But what of all your unwritten works, then?
Brendel. For five and twenty years I have been like a miser
sitting on his locked money-chest. And then to-day, when I opened
it to take out my treasure--there was nothing there! The mills of
time had ground it into dust. There was not a blessed thing left
of the whole lot.
Rosmer. But are you certain of that?
Brendel. There is no room for doubt, my dear boy. The President
has convinced me of that.
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