BOLZ.  Rather than give up one iota of my claim to your regard, I would write and print and try to sell malicious articles against myself.

ADELAIDE.  And yet you have been too proud all this time even to come and see your friend in town.  Why have you broken with the Colonel?

BOLZ.  I have not broken with him.  On the contrary, I have a very estimable position in his house—­one that I can best keep by going there as seldom as possible.  The Colonel, and occasionally Miss Ida, too, like to assuage their anger against Oldendorf and the newspaper by regarding me as the evil one with horns and hoofs.  A relationship so tender must be handled with care—­a devil must not cheapen himself by appearing every day.

ADELAIDE.  Well, I hope you will now abandon this lofty viewpoint.  I am spending the winter in town, and I hope that for love of your boyhood’s friend you will call on my friends as a denizen of this world.

BOLZ.  In any role you apportion me.

ADELAIDE.  Even in that of a peace-envoy between the Colonel and
Oldendorf?

BOLZ.  If peace be at the cost of Oldendorf’s withdrawal, then no. 
Otherwise I am ready to serve you in all good works.

ADELAIDE.  But I fear that this is the only price at which peace can be purchased.  You see, Mr. Conrad, we too have become opponents.

BOLZ.  To do anything against your wishes is horrible to me, son of perdition though I be.  So my saint wills and commands that Oldendorf do not become member of Parliament?

ADELAIDE.  I will it and command it, Mr. Devil!

BOLZ.  It is hard.  Up in your heaven you have so many gentlemen to bestow on Miss Ida; why must you carry off a poor devil’s one and only soul, the professor?

ADELAIDE.  It is just the professor I want, and you must let me have him.

BOLZ.  I am in despair.  I would tear my hair were the place not so unsuitable.  I dread your anger.  The thought makes me tremble that you might not like this election.

ADELAIDE.  Well, try to stop the election, then.

BOLZ.  That I cannot do.  But so soon as it is over I am fated to mourn and grow melancholy over your anger.  I shall withdraw from the world—­far, far to the North Pole.  There I shall end my days sadly, playing dominoes with polar bears, or spreading the elements of journalistic training among the seals.  That will be easier to endure than the scathing glance of your eyes.

ADELAIDE (laughing).  Yes, that’s the way you always were.  You made every possible promise and acted exactly as you pleased.  But before starting for the North Pole, perhaps you will make one more effort to reconcile me here.

[KAeMPE is seen at the door.]

Hush!—­I shall look forward to your visit.  Farewell, my re-found friend!

[EXIT.]

BOLZ.  And thus my good angel turns her back to me in anger!  And now, politics, thou witch, I am irretrievably in thy power!