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diff --git a/7844-h/7844-h.htm b/7844-h/7844-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb7fad4 --- /dev/null +++ b/7844-h/7844-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16749 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Three Dramas, by Björnstjerne Björnson + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Dramas, by Björnstjerne M. Björnson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Three Dramas + The Editor--The Bankrupt--The King + +Author: Björnstjerne M. Björnson + +Commentator: R. Farquharson Sharp + +Release Date: August 11, 2009 [EBook #7844] +Last Updated: February 1, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE DRAMAS *** + + + + +Produced by Nicole Apostola, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THREE DRAMAS + </h1> + <h2> + THE EDITOR—THE BANKRUPT—THE KING + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Björnstjerne M. Björnson + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>THE EDITOR</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> ACT I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> ACT II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> ACT III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> ACT IV </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> <b>THE BANKRUPT</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> ACT I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> ACT II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> ACT III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> ACT IV </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> <b>THE KING</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PROL"> PROLOGUE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> ACT I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> ACT II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> ACT III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> ACT IV </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + The three plays here presented were the outcome of a period when + Björnson's views on many topics were undergoing a drastic revision and he + was abandoning much of his previous orthodoxy in many directions. Two of + them were written during, and one immediately after, a three years' + absence from Norway—years spent almost entirely in southern Europe. + [Note: Further details respecting Björnson's life will be found in the + Introduction to Three Comedies by Björnson, published in Everyman's + Library in 1912.] For nearly ten years previous to this voluntary exile, + Björnson had been immersed in theatrical management and political + propagandism. His political activities (guided by a more or less + pronounced republican tendency) centred in an agitation for a truer + equality between the kingdoms of Sweden and Norway, his point of view + being that Norway had come to be regarded too much as a mere appanage of + Sweden. Between that and his manifold and distracting cares as theatrical + director, he had let imaginative work slide for the time being; but his + years abroad had a recuperative effect, and, in addition, broadened his + mental outlook in a remarkable manner. Foreign travel, a wider + acquaintance with differing types of humanity, and, above all, a newly-won + acquaintance with the contemporary literature of other countries, made a + deep impression upon Björnson's vigorously receptive mind. He browsed + voraciously upon the works of foreign writers. Herbert Spencer, Darwin, + John Stuart Mill, Taine, Max-Müller, formed a portion of his mental + pabulum at this time—and the result was a significant alteration of + mental attitude on a number of questions, and a determination to make the + attempt to embody his theories in dramatic form. He had gained all at + once, as he wrote to Georg Brandes, the eminent Danish critic, "eyes that + saw and ears that heard." Up to this time the poet in him had been + predominant; now it was to be the social philosopher that held the reins. + Just as Ibsen did, so Björnson abandoned historical drama and artificial + comedy for an attempt at prose drama which should have at all events a + serious thesis. In this he anticipated Ibsen; for (unless we include the + satirical political comedy, <i>The League of Youth</i>, which was + published in 1869, among Ibsen's "social dramas") Ibsen did not enter the + field with <i>Pillars of Society</i> [Note: Published in <i>The Pretenders + and Two Other Plays</i>, in Everyman's Library, 1913.] until 1877, whereas + Björnson's <i>The Editor</i>, <i>The Bankrupt</i>, and <i>The King</i> + were all published between 1874 and 1877. Intellectual and literary life + in Denmark had been a good deal stirred and quickened in the early + seventies, and the influence of that awakening was inevitably felt by the + more eager spirits in the other Scandinavian countries. It is amusing to + note, as one Norwegian writer has pointed out, that this intellectual + upheaval (which, in its turn, was a reflection of that taking place in + outer Europe) came at a time when the bulk of the Scandinavian folk "were + congratulating themselves that the doubt and ferment of unrest which were + undermining the foundations of the great communities abroad had not had + the power to ruffle the placid surface of our good, old-fashioned, + Scandinavian orthodoxy." Björnson makes several sly hits in these plays + (as does Ibsen in <i>Pillars of Society</i>) at this distrust of the + opinions and manners of the larger communities outside of Scandinavia, + notably America, with which the Scandinavian countries were more + particularly in touch through emigration. + </p> + <p> + Brandes characterises the impelling motive of these three plays as a + passionate appeal for a higher standard of truth—in journalism, in + finance, in monarchy: an appeal for less casuistry and more honesty. Such + a motive was characteristic of the vehement honesty of Björnson's own + character; he must always, as he says in one of his letters, go over to + the side of any one whom he believed to "hold the truth in his hands." + </p> + <p> + <i>The Editor</i> (<i>Redaktören</i>) was written while Björnson was in + Florence, and was published at Copenhagen in 1874. It was at first not + accepted for performance at Christiania or Copenhagen, though an + unauthorised performance of it was given at one of the lesser Christiania + theatres in 1875, Meanwhile a Swedish version of it had been produced, + authoritatively, at Stockholm in February of that year. The play + eventually made its way on the Norwegian and Danish stage; but, before + that, it had been seen in German dress at Munich and Hamburg. As an + inevitable result of his recent activities as a political speaker and + pamphleteer, Björnson had come in for a good deal of vituperation in the + press, a fact which no doubt added some gall to the ink with which he drew + the portrait of the journalist in this play. The Stockholm critics, + indeed, had condemned <i>The Editor</i> as merely a pamphleteering attack + on the editor of a well-known journal. In answer to this criticism + Björnson wrote from Rome in March, 1875: "It is said that my play is a + pamphleteering attack on a certain individual. That is a deliberate lie. I + have studied the journalist type, which is here represented, in many other + countries besides my own. The chief characteristic of this type is to be + actuated by an inordinate egotism that is perpetually being inflamed by + passion; that makes use of bogeys to frighten people, and does this in + such a way that, while it makes all its honest contemporaries afraid of + any freedom of thought, it also produces the same result on every single + individual by means of reckless persecution. As I wished to portray that + type, I naturally took a good deal of the portrait from the representative + of the type that I knew best; but, like every artist who wishes to produce + a complete creation, I had to build it up from separate revelations of + itself. There can, therefore, be no question of any individual being + represented in my play except in so far as he may partially agree with the + type." + </p> + <p> + However much Björnson may have written <i>The Editor</i> with a "purpose," + his vivid dramatic sense kept him from becoming merely didactic. The + little tragedy that takes place amongst this homely group of people makes + quite a moving play, thanks to the skill with which the types are depicted—the + bourgeois father and mother, with their mixture of timidity and + self-interest; the manly, straightforward young politician, resolute to + carry on the work that has sapped his brother's life; the warped, + de-humanised nature of the journalist; the sturdy common-sense of the + yeoman farmer; and the doctor, the "family friend," as a sort of mocking + chorus. Besides its plea for a higher regard for truth, the play also + attacks the precept, preached by worldly wisdom, that we ought to harden + our natures to make ourselves invulnerable; a proposition which was + hateful to one of Björnson's persistently impressionable and ingenuous + nature. The fact remains, as Brandes grimly admits, that "nowadays we have + only a very qualified sympathy with public characters who succumb to the + persecution of the press." Brandes sees in the play, besides its obvious + motive, an allegory. Halvdan Rejn, the weary and dying politician, is (he + says) meant for Henrik Wergeland, a Norwegian poet-politician who had + similar struggles, sank under the weight of similar at tacks, died after a + long illness, and was far higher reputed after his death than during his + life. In Harald Rejn, with his honest enthusiasm and misjudged political + endeavours Brandes sees Björnson himself; while the yeoman brother, + Haakon, seems to him to typify the Norwegian people. + </p> + <p> + <i>The Bankrupt</i> (<i>En Fallit</i>: literally <i>A Bankruptcy</i>) was + partly written in Rome, partly in Tyrol, and published at Copenhagen in + 1875. It was a thing entirely new to the Scandinavian stage for a + dramatist to deal seriously with the tragi-comedy of money, and, while + making a forcible plea for honesty, to contrive to produce a stirring and + entertaining play on what might seem so prosaic a foundation as business + finance. Some of the play's earliest critics dismissed it as "dry," + "prosaic," "trivial," because of the nature of its subject; but it made a + speedy success on the boards, and very soon became a popular item in the + repertories of the Christiania, Bergen and Copenhagen theatres. It was + actually first performed, in a Swedish translation, at Stockholm, a few + days before it was produced at Christiania. Very soon, too, the play + reached Berlin, Munich, Vienna, and other German and Austrian theatres. It + was played in Paris, at the Théâtre Libre in 1894. The character of + Berent, the lawyer, which became a favourite one with the famous Swedish + actor Ernst Possart, was admittedly more or less of a portrait of a + well-known Norwegian lawyer, by name Dunker. When Björnson was writing the + play, he went to stay for some days with Dunker, who was to instruct him + as to the legal aspect of bankruptcy. Björnson took the opportunity of + studying the lawyer as well as the law. + </p> + <p> + <i>The King</i> (<i>Kongen</i>) was written at Aulestad, the Norwegian + home in which Björnson settled after his return from abroad, and was + published at Copenhagen in 1877. It is perhaps not surprising that the + play, with its curious blend of poetry and social philosophy, and its + somewhat exuberant (though always interesting) wordiness, was not at first + a conspicuous success on the stage; but the interest aroused by the + published book was enormous. It was widely read and vigorously discussed, + both in Scandinavia and abroad; and while, on the one hand, it brought + upon Björnson the most scurrilous abuse and the harshest criticism from + his political opponents, on the other hand a prominent compatriot of his + (whose opinion was worth having) gave it as his verdict, at a political + meeting held soon after the play's publication, that "the most notable + thing that has happened in Norway of late—or at any rate, one of the + most notable—in my opinion is this last book of Björnson's—<i>The + King</i>." + </p> + <p> + The idea of a "democratic monarchy"—a kind of reformed + constitutional monarchy, that should be a half-way house on the road to + republicanism—was not entirely new; Björnson's success was in + presenting the problem as seen from the <i>inside</i>—that is to + say, from the king's point of view. His opponents, of course, branded him + as a red-hot republican, which he was not. In a preface he wrote for a + later edition of the play, he says that he did not intend the play mainly + as an argument in favour of republicanism, but "to extend the boundaries + of free discussion"; but that, at the same time, he believed the republic + to be the ultimate form of government, and all European states to be + proceeding at varying rates of speed towards it. + </p> + <p> + <i>The King</i> is composed of curiously incongruous elements. The railway + meeting in the first act is pure comedy of a kind to compare with the + meeting in Ibsen's <i>An Enemy of Society</i>; the last act is melodrama + with a large admixture of remarkably interesting social philosophy; the + intervening acts betray the poet that always underlay the dramatist in + Björnson. The crudity, again, of the melodramatic appearance of the wraith + of Clara's father in the third act, contrasts strangely with the mature + thoughtfulness of much of the last act and with the tender charm of what + has gone before: And—strangest incongruity of all in a play so + essentially "actual"—there is in the original, between each act, a + mysterious "mellemspil," or "interlude," in verse, consisting of somewhat + cryptic dialogues between Genii and Unseen Choirs in the clouds, between + an "Old Grey Man" and a "Chorus of Tyrants" in a desolate scene of snow + and ice, between Choruses of Men, Women, and Children in a sylvan + landscape, and so forth—their utterances being of the nature of the + obscurest choruses in the Greek dramatists, but for the most part with a + less obvious relevance to the play itself. Such a device leads the + present-day reader's thoughts inevitably to the use made of the "unseen + chorus," in a similar way, by Thomas Hardy in <i>The Dynasts</i>; but + Hardy's interludes are closely relevant to his drama and help it on its + way, which Björnson's do not. They have been entirely omitted in the + present translation, on the ground of their complete superfluity as well + as from the extreme difficulty of retaining their "atmosphere" in + translation. + </p> + <p> + None of the three plays in the present volume have previously been + translated into English. German, French, and Swedish versions of <i>The + Editor</i> are extant; German, Swedish, Finnish, French, and Hungarian of + <i>The Bankrupt</i>; French and Spanish of <i>The King</i>. + </p> + <p> + R. FARQUHARSON SHARP. <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + The following is a list of the works of Björnstjerne Björnson:— + </p> + <p> + DRAMATIC AND POETIC WORKS.—Mellem Slagene (Between the Battles), + 1857. Halte-Hulda (Lame Hulda), 1858. Kong Sverre (King Sverre), 1861. + Sigurd Slembe (Sigurd the Bastard), 1862; translated by W. M. Payne, 1888. + Maria Stuart i Skotland, 1864. De Nygifte (The Newly-Married Couple), + 1865; translated by T. Soelfeldt, 1868; by S. and E. Hjerleid, 1870; as A + Lesson in Marriage, by G. I. Colbron, 1911. Sigurd Jorsalfar (Sigurd the + Crusader), 1872. Redaktören (The Editor), 1874. En Fallit (A Bankruptcy), + 1874. Kongen (The King), 1877. Leonarda, 1879. Det ny System (The New + System), 1879. En Hanske, 1883; translated as A Gauntlet, by H. L. + Braekstad 1890; by Osman Edwards 1894. Over AEvne (Beyond our Strength), + Part I., 1883; translated as Pastor Sang, by W. Wilson, 1893; Part II., + 1895. Geografi og Kaerlighed (Geography and Love), 1885; Paul Lange og + Tora Parsberg, 1898; translated by H. L. Braekstad, 1899. Laboremus, 1901; + translation published by Chapman and Hall, 1901. Paa Storhove (At + Storhove), 1904; Daglannet, 1904; Naar den ny Vin blomstrer (When the + Vineyards are in Blossom), 1909; The Newly-Married Couple, Leonarda, and A + Gauntlet, translated by R. Farquharson Sharp (Everyman's Library), 1912. + </p> + <p> + Digte og Sange (Poems and Songs), 1870; Arnljot Gelline, 1870. + </p> + <p> + FICTION.—Synnöve Solbakken 1857; translated as Trust and Trial, by + Mary Howitt, 1858; as Love and Life in Norway, by Hon. Augusta Bethell and + A. Plesner, 1870; as The Betrothal, in H. and A. Zimmern's Half-hours with + Foreign Novelists, 1880; also translated by Julie Sutter, 1881; by R. B. + Anderson, 1881. Arne, 1858; translated by T. Krag, 1861; by A. Plesner and + S. Rugeley-Powers, 1866; by R. B. Anderson, 1881; by W. Low (Bohn's + Library), 1890. Smaastykker (Sketches), 1860. En glad Gut, 1860; + translated as Ovind, by S. and E. Hjerleid 1869; as The Happy Boy, by R. + B. Anderson, 1881; as The Happy Lad (published by Blackie), 1882. + Fiskerjenten, 1868 translated as The Fisher Maiden, by M. E. Niles, 1869; + as The Fishing Girl, by A. Plesner and F. Richardson, 1870; as The Fishing + Girl, by S. and E. Hjerleid, 1871; as The Fisher Maiden, by R. B. + Anderson, 1882. Brude-Slaatten, 1873; translated as The Bridal March, by + R. B. Anderson, 1882; by J. E. Williams, 1893. Fortaellinger (Tales), + 1872. Magnhild, 1877; translated by R. B. Anderson, 1883. Kaptejn Mansana, + 1879; translated as Captain Mansana by R. B. Anderson, 1882. Det flager i + Byen og paa Havnen (Flags are Flying in Town and Port), 1884; translated + as The Heritage of the Kurts, by C Fairfax 1892. Paa Guds Veje, 1889; + translated as In God's Way, by E. Carmichael, 1890. Nye Fortaellinger (New + Tales), 1894; To Fortaelinger (Two Tales), 1901; Mary, 1906. Collected + edition of the Novels, translated into English, edited by E. Gosse, 13 + vols., 1895-1909. + </p> + <p> + [See Life of Björnson by W. M. Payne, 1910; E. Gosse's Study of the + Writings of Björnson, in edition of Novels, 1895; H. H. Boyesen's Essays + on Scandinavian Literature, 1895; G. Brandes' Critical Studies of Ibsen + and Björnson, 1899.] + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="play"> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <h2> + THE EDITOR + </h2> + <h3> + A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS + </h3> + DRAMATIS PERSONAE +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + EVJE, a prosperous distiller. + MRS. EVJE. GERTRUD, their daughter, engaged to + HARALD REJN. + The DOCTOR. + The EDITOR. + HAAKON REJN, a yeoman farmer. + HALVDAN REJN and HARALD REJN, his brothers. + The DOCTOR'S ASSISTANT. + INGEBORG, maid to the Evjes. + JOHN, coachman to the Evjes. + HALVDAN REJN's HOUSEKEEPER. + HALVDAN REJN's MAID. + A Lamplighter. +</pre> + <p> + The action takes place in a town in Norway. + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT I + </h2> + <p> + (SCENE.—The breakfast-room at the EVJES' house. A glass-cupboard, + in two partitions, stands against the left-hand wall, well forward. On + the top of it stand a variety of objects. Beyond it, a stove. At the + back of the room, a sideboard. In the middle of the room a small round + folding table, laid for four persons. There is an armchair by the stove; + a sofa on the right; chairs, etc. A door at the back of the room, and + another in the left-hand wall. There are paintings on the walls, and the + general impression of the room is one of snug comfort. EVJE, MRS. EVJE, + and GERTRUD are seated at the table. INGEBORG is standing by the + sideboard. Breakfast is proceeding in silence as the curtain rises. + INGEBORG takes away EVJE'S cup and re-fills it. As she brings it back to + him, a ring is heard at the bell. GERTRUD gets up.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. Sit still; John will go to the door. (GERTRUD sits down again. + Directly afterwards, another ring is heard.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. What can John be doing? + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. I will go. (Goes out. She comes back, showing in HARALD REJN, + who hangs up his hat and coat in the hall before coming in.) + </p> + <p> + Harald. Good morning! + </p> + <p> + Evje and Mrs. Evje. Good morning! (HARALD shakes hands with them.) + </p> + <p> + Harald (to GERTRUD, who is sitting on the right). Good morning, Gertrud! + Am I a bit late to-day? (GERTRUD, who has taken his hand, looks lovingly + at him but says nothing.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Yes, I suppose you have been for a long constitutional, + although the weather is none of the best. + </p> + <p> + Harald. It is not; I expect we shall have a thick fog by the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Did you have breakfast before you went out? + </p> + <p> + Harald. I did, thanks. (To INGEBORG, who has come forward with a cup of + coffee.) No, thank you. I will sit down here while you are finishing. + (Sits down on the sofa behind GERTRUD.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. How is your brother Halvdan? + </p> + <p> + Harald. A little better to-day, thanks—but of course we cannot + build on that. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Is your eldest brother coming to see him? + </p> + <p> + Harald. Yes, we expect him every day. Probably his wife has come with + him, and that has been the reason of the delay; she finds it difficult + to get away. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Halvdan so often talks of her. + </p> + <p> + Harald. Yes, I believe she is the best friend he has. + </p> + <p> + Evje. No wonder, then, that she wants to come and say good-bye to him. + By the way, have you seen how the paper bids him good-bye to-day? + </p> + <p> + Harald. Yes, I have seen it. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (hurriedly). I hope Halvdan has not seen it? + </p> + <p> + Harald (smiling). No, it is a long time now since Halvdan read a + newspaper. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. Then I suppose you have read what they say about you too? + </p> + <p> + Harald. Naturally. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. It is worse than anything they have said about you before. + </p> + <p> + Harald. Well—of course, you know, my election meeting comes on + this evening. + </p> + <p> + Evje. I can tell you it has upset <i>us</i>. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Day after day we wake up to find our house invaded by these + abominations. That is a nice thought to begin your day's work with! + </p> + <p> + Harald. Is it so indispensable, then, to educated people to begin their + day by reading such things? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Well—one must have a paper. + </p> + <p> + Evje. And most people read it. Besides, one can't deny that a lot of + what is in it is true, although its general tendency is to run everyone + down. + </p> + <p> + Harald (getting up). Quite so, yes. (Leans over GERTRUD'S shoulder.) + Gertrud, have you read it? + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (does not look at him, and hesitates for a moment; then says + gently): Yes. + </p> + <p> + Harald (under his breath). So that is it! (Walks away from her.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. We have had a little bit of a scene here, I must tell you. + </p> + <p> + Harald (walking up and down). Yes, I can understand that. + </p> + <p> + Evje. I will repeat what I have said already: they write about <i>you</i>, + and <i>we</i> have to suffer for it. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Yes, and Gertrud especially. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. No—I don't want anyone to consider me in the matter at + all. Besides, it is not what they say of you in the paper that hurts me—. + (Stops abruptly.) + </p> + <p> + Harald (who has come up to her). But what your parents are feeling about + it? Is that it? (GERTRUD does not answer.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (pushing back his plate). There, I have finished! (They rise from + the table. MRS. EVJE helps INGEBORG to clear away the things, which + INGEBORG carries out of the room.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Couldn't you wash your hands of politics, Harald? (GERTRUD + goes out to the left.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (who has followed GERTRUD with his eyes). We cannot deny that it + pains us considerably that in our old age our peaceful home should be + invaded by all this squabbling and abomination. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (who rung for INGEBORG to move the table). You have no need to + do it, either, Harald! You are a grown man, and your own master. + (INGEBORG comes in. HARALD helps her to move the table.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (to his wife). Don't let Ingeborg hear. Come along, we will go into + my room. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. You forget, all the windows are open there. I have had the + fire lit here, so that we could stay here. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Very well—then we will sit here. (Sits down by the fire.) + Will you have a cigar? + </p> + <p> + Harald. No, thanks. (INGEBORG goes out.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (taking a cigar and lighting it). As my wife said just now—couldn't + you wash your hands of politics, Harald? You, who have both talent and + means, need not be at a loss for a vocation in life. + </p> + <p> + Harald (sitting down on the sofa). If I have any talent, it is for + politics—and so I intend to devote my means to that. + </p> + <p> + Evje. What do you propose to gain by it? + </p> + <p> + Harald. What any one who believes in a cause hopes to gain—that is + to say, to help it on. + </p> + <p> + Evje. And to become a cabinet minister? + </p> + <p> + Harald. I certainly can't do that any other way; well, I admit—that + <i>is</i> my idea. + </p> + <p> + Evje. You will not be elected now. + </p> + <p> + Harald. That we shall see. + </p> + <p> + Evje. But suppose you are not re-elected to-morrow? + </p> + <p> + Harald. Then I must find some other way. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Always with the same object? + </p> + <p> + Harald. Always with the same object. (EVJE sighs.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (who has taken her sewing and sat down by the fire). Oh, these + politics! + </p> + <p> + Harald. At any rate, they are the most prominent factors in life just + now. + </p> + <p> + Evje. We do not suppose we can exercise any influence over you. But at + any rate it is possible that you yourself have not considered the + position into which you have put the whole of us. (Both he and his wife + avoid looking at HARALD during this discussion.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Say what you really mean, dear—that he is making us all + thoroughly unhappy, and that is the truth! + </p> + <p> + Harald (getting up, and walking up and down). Well, look here—I + have a proposal to make. It is, that you should abandon all opposition + to Gertrud's marrying me at once. To-day again my brother has expressed + the wish that we should be married by his bedside; so that he should be + able to take part in it. I scarcely need add how happy it would make me. + </p> + <p> + Evje. But whether she is here at home or married to you, you know, her + parents' distress would be just as great every time their child was + persecuted. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Surely you can appreciate that! + </p> + <p> + Harald. But what answer am I to give to my brother's request?—most + likely the last he will ever—. (Stops.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (after a pause). He is very kind to wish it, as he always is. + Nothing would make us happier; but we who are her parents do not + consider that you could make our daughter happy as long as you remain in + politics and on the lines on which you are now travelling. + </p> + <p> + Harald (after a pause, during which he has stood still). That is to say, + you contemplate breaking off our engagement? + </p> + <p> + Evje (looking at him quickly). Far from it! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (at the same time). How can you say such a thing? + </p> + <p> + Evje (turning towards the fire again). We have spoken about it to + Gertrud to-day—as to whether it would not be possible to induce + you to choose some other career. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. You understand now, why you found Gertrud upset. You must + listen to us now, as she did, in all friendliness. + </p> + <p> + Evje (getting up and standing with his back to the fire). The first + thing I do in the morning is to read my paper. You know what was in it + to-day—the same as is in it now every day. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. No; I am sure it has never been as bad as to-day. + </p> + <p> + Harald (walking up and down again). The election is just at hand! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Well—it is just as painful to us, her father and mother, + whether it is before or after the election. We are not accustomed to + associate with any one who has not first-class credentials—and now + we have to endure seeing doubt cast upon our own son-in-law's. Do not + misunderstand me; to my mind, for credentials to be first-class they + must not only actually be so, but must also be considered to be so by + people in general. (HARALD begins to walk up and down again.) The second + thing I do in the morning is to open my letters. Amongst to-day's were + several from friends we had invited to a party we thought of giving—if, + that is to say, your brother's illness took no sudden turn for the + worse. No fewer than ten of them refuse our invitation—most of + them making some excuse, and a few with a little more show of a real + reason; but one of them speaks straight out, and I have his letter here. + (Takes it from his pocket.) I have kept it for you. It is from my + father's old friend, the bishop. I haven't my spectacles—and for + me to have mislaid my spectacles will show you what a state of mind I am + in. I don't think I have done such a thing for—. Here, read it + yourself! Read it aloud! + </p> + <p> + Harald (taking the letter). "My dear Mr. Evje. As you are my poor dear + friend's son, you must listen to the truth from me. I cannot willingly + come to your house while I might meet there a certain person who, + certainly, is one of you, but nevertheless is a person whom I cannot + hold in entire respect." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Well, Harald, what do you think our feelings must be when we + read things like that? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Do not imagine that, in spite of that, <i>we</i> do not hold you + in entire respect. We only ask you to ensure our daughter's happiness. + You can do that with a word. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. We know what you are, whatever people say—even if they + are bishops. But, in return, you ought to have confidence in our + judgment; and our advice to you is, have done with it! Marry Gertrud at + once, and go away for your honeymoon; by the time you come back, people + will have got something else to talk about—and you will have found + something else to occupy you as well. + </p> + <p> + Evje. You must not misunderstand us. We mean no coercion. We are not + insisting on this alternative. If you wish to be married, you shall—without + feeling yourself obliged to change your vocation for <i>our</i> sakes. + We only want to make it clear that it would pain us—pain us very + deeply. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. If you want to take time to think it over, or want to talk it + over with Gertrud or with your brother, do! (GERTRUD comes in and goes + about the room looking for something.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. What are you looking for, dear? + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Oh, for the—. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. I expect it is the newspaper; your grandfather has been + asking for it. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Surely there is no need for <i>him</i> to read it? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. He asked me for it, too. He knows quite well what has made us + all unhappy. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Can't you tell him? No, that wouldn't do. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (to GERTRUD). I suppose you have had to confess to him what is + the matter? + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (trying to conceal an emotion that is almost too much for her). + Yes. (Finds the paper, and goes out.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (when GERTRUD has gone). Poor child! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Does not what she is carrying to him, with all that it says about + you and about your brother, seem to you like an omen? I will tell you + how it strikes me. Your brother is a very much more gifted man than I + am; and although it is true, as that paper says, that nothing of all + that he has worked for has ever come to anything, still perhaps he may + nevertheless have accomplished more than either you or me, although we + have done a good deal between us to increase the prosperity of our town. + I feel that to be so, although I cannot express what I mean precisely. + But consider the reputation he will leave behind him. All educated + people will say just what that paper says to-day—and to-morrow he + will be forgotten. He will scarcely find a place in history, for history + only concerns itself with the great leaders of men. What does it all + come to, then? Neither present nor posthumous fame; but death—death + all the time. He is dying by inches now, dying of the most horrible + persecution; and the emotion that his end will cause among a few + individuals cannot be called posthumous fame. (HARALD begins to speak, + but checks himself.) Can <i>you</i> hope to make a better fight of it? + You think you are stronger? Very well; perhaps you may have the strength + to endure it until other times come and other opinions with them. But + there will be one by your side who will not have the strength to endure + it. Gertrud is not strong—she could never stand it; indeed now—already—. + (Is stopped by his emotion.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. She hides it from you, but she cannot hide it from us. + Besides, a friend of ours—our dear doctor—said only + yesterday—. (Breaks off in tears.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. We never told you, but he warned us some time ago; we had no idea + it was so serious, or that it had anything to do with this. But + yesterday he frightened us; he said she—. Well, you can ask him + yourself. He will be here directly. (HARALD fills a glass of water and + raises it to his lips, but sets it down again untasted.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (going to him). I am so sorry for you, Harald! To have this + come on you just now—when your splendid brother is at the point of + death, and you yourself are being persecuted! (A ring is heard at the + bell.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. But it should be a warning to you! Sometimes a single movement + will change the course of a whole life. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. And do have a little confidence in us! (A ring is heard + again.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. What on earth has become of John to-day? That is the second time + the bell has rung. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. One of the maids is opening the door, I can hear. + </p> + <p> + Evje. I expect it is the doctor. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Yes, it is he—I know his ring. (A knock is heard at the + door.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. Come in! (The DOCTOR comes in.) + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Good morning! (Lays down his hat and stick.) Well, so I hear + John has been up to his pranks again? The rascal is in bed. + </p> + <p> + Evje and Mrs. Evje. In bed? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Came home at four o'clock in the morning, drunk. Ill to-day, + naturally. Ingeborg asked me to go in and see him. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Well!—I am determined to put an end to it! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Yes, I have never been able to understand why you were so + lenient with John. + </p> + <p> + Evje. He has been with us five years; and, besides, it makes people talk + so, if you have to send your servants away. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. But surely this sort of thing makes them talk much worse! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Well—he shall leave this very day. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (to HARALD). How are you, Rejn?—Oho! I understand. I + have come at an inopportune moment with my complaints of John? You have + all got something more serious on your minds? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Yes, we have had it out, as we agreed yesterday. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. You must forgive me, my dear Rejn, for having told my old + friends the whole truth yesterday. She (pointing to MRS. EVJE) was an + old playfellow of mine, and her husband and I have been friends from + boyhood; so we have no secrets from each other. And Gertrud's condition + makes me very uneasy. + </p> + <p> + Harald. Why have you never told me that before? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Goodness knows I have often enough given her parents hints + that she was not well; but they have only made up their minds that her + happiness in her engagement would quite cure her. They are a considerate + couple, these two dear people, you know; they didn't want to seem + interfering. + </p> + <p> + Harald. Their consideration—which I appreciate and have lately had + constant reason to be grateful for—has all at once become a more + powerful weapon than open opposition. It makes a duty of what I should + otherwise have felt to be unfair coercion. But now the situation is such + that I can neither go forward nor back. After what I have gone through, + you must see that I cannot withdraw on the very eve of the election—and + after the election it will be too late. On the other hand—(with + emotion)—I cannot, I dare not, go on with it if it is to cost me—. + (Breaks off.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (standing in front of the fire). There, there! Take time to think + it over, my dear boy; talk it over with her and with your brother. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (who has sat down on a chair to the left, a little away from + the others). I have just been to see your brother. A remarkable man! But + do you know what occurred to me as I sat there? He is dying because he + <i>is</i> a man. The only people that are fit for political life + nowadays are those whose hearts have been turned to stone. (Picks up + something from the table and gets up.) Ah, just look here! Here is a + fine specimen of petrifaction. It is a fragment of palm leaf of some + kind, found impressed in a bit of rock from Spitzbergen. I sent it you + myself, so I know it. That is what you have to be like to withstand + arctic storms!—it will take to harm. But your brother—well, + his life had been like that of the original palm tree, with the air + sighing through its branches; the change of climate was too sudden for + him. (Goes up to HARALD.) You have still to try it. Shall you be able to + kill all the humanity that is in you? If you can make yourself as + insensate a thing as this stone, I daresay you will be able to stand the + life. But are you willing to venture upon political life at such a + price? If you are—so be it; but remember that in that case you + must also kill all humanity in Gertrud—in these two—in every + one that is dear to you. Otherwise no one will understand you or follow + you. If you cannot do that, you will never be more than a dabbler in + politics—a quarter, an eighth part, of a politician—and all + your efforts, in what you consider your vocation, will be pitiable! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (who has been occupied at the back of the room, but now sits + down by the fare). That is quite true! I know cases of petrifaction like + that—and God preserve anyone that I love from it! + </p> + <p> + Evje (coming forward towards HARALD). I don't want to say anything to + hurt your feelings—least of all just now. But I just want to add + my warning, because I believe I have discovered that there is a danger + that persecution may make you hard. + </p> + <p> + Harald. Yes!—but do you suppose it is only politics that offer + that dangerous prospect? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. You are quite right! It is all the cry nowadays, "Harden + yourself!" It isn't only military men and doctors that have to be + hardened; commercial men have to be hardened, civil servants have to be + hardened, or dried up; and everybody else has to be hardened for life, + apparently. But what does it all mean? It means that we are to drive out + all warmth from our hearts, all desire from our imaginations. There is a + child's heart at the bottom of every one of our hearts-ever young, full + of laughter and tears; and that is what we shall have killed before we + are "fitted for the battle of life," as they put it. No, no—that + is what we ought to preserve; we were given it for that! (HARALD hides + his face in his hands, and sits so for some time.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Any mother or any wife knows that. + </p> + <p> + Evje (standing with his back to the fire). You want to bring back the + age of romance, doctor! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (with a laugh). Not its errors—because in those days + unclean minds brought to birth a great deal that was unclean. + (Seriously.) But what is it, when all is said and done, but a violent + protest on the part of the Teutonic people against the Romanesque spirit + and school—a remarkable school, but not <i>ours</i>. To us it + seems a barren, merely intellectual school—a mere mass of formulas + which led to a precocious development of the mind. And that was the + spirit it bred—critical and barren. But these schools of thought + are now all we have, and both of them are bad for us! They have no use + for the heart or the imagination; they do not breed faith or a longing + for high achievement. Look at <i>our</i> life! Is our life really our + own? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. No. You have only to think of our language, our tastes, our + society, our— + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (interrupting her). Those are the externals of our life, + merely the externals! No, look within—look at such a view of life + as we were talking about, clamouring for "hardening"—is that ours? + Can we, for all our diligence, make as much way in it as, for instance, + a born Parisian journalist?—become like a bar of steel with a + point at each end, a pen-point and a sword-point? <i>We</i> can't do + that; the Teutonic temperament is not fitted for it. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Oh, we are well on the way towards it. Look at the heartless + intolerance in our politics; it will soon match what you were + describing. + </p> + <p> + Harald. Everyone that disagrees with you is either an ambitious + scoundrel, or half mad, or a blockhead. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (laughing). Yes, and here in the north, in our small + communities, where a man meets all his enemies in the same barber's + shop, we feel it as keenly as if we were digging our knives into each + other! (Seriously.) We may laugh at it, but if we could add up the sum + of suffering that has been caused to families and to individuals—if + we could see the concrete total before us—we should be tempted to + believe that our liberty had been given to us as a curse! For it <i>is</i> + a cursed thing to destroy the humanity that is in us, and make us cruel + and hard to one another. + </p> + <p> + Harald (getting up, but standing still). But, my good friends, if you + are of the same mind about that, and I with you—what is the next + thing to do? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. The next thing to do? + </p> + <p> + Harald. Naturally, to unite in making an end of it. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (as she works). What can <i>we</i> do? + </p> + <p> + Evje. I am no politician and do not wish to become one. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (laughing, and sitting down). No, a politician is a + principle, swathed round with a printed set of directions for use. I + prefer to be allowed to be a human being. + </p> + <p> + Harald. No one can fairly insist on your taking up any vocation to which + you do not feel you have a calling. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Of course not. + </p> + <p> + Harald. But one certainly might insist on your not helping to maintain a + condition of affairs that you detest. + </p> + <p> + All. We? + </p> + <p> + Harald. This newspaper, which is the ultimate reason of all this + conversation we have had—you take it in. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Why, you take it in yourself! + </p> + <p> + Harald. No. Every time there is anything nasty in it about me or mine, + it is sent to me anonymously. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (with a laugh). I don't take it in; I read my hall-porter's + copy. + </p> + <p> + Harald. I have heard you say that before. I took an opportunity to ask + your hall-porter. He said <i>he</i> did not read it, and did not take it + in either. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (as before). Then I should like to know who does pay for it! + </p> + <p> + Evje. A newspaper is indispensable to a business man. + </p> + <p> + Harald. An influential business man could by himself, or at any rate + with one or two others, start a paper that would be as useful again to + him as this one is. + </p> + <p> + Evje. That is true enough; but, after all, if we agree with its + politics? + </p> + <p> + Harald. I will accept help from any one whose opinions on public affairs + agree with my own. Who am I that I should pretend to judge him? But I + will not give him my help in anything that is malicious or wicked. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Pshaw! + </p> + <p> + Harald. Everyone who subscribes to, or contributes to, or gives any + information to a paper that is scurrilous, is giving his help to what is + wicked. And, moreover, every one who is on terms of friendship with a + man who is destroying public morality, is helping him to do it. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (getting up). Does he still come here? (A silence.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. He and I are old schoolfellows—and I don't like breaking + with old acquaintances. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. He is a most amusing man, too—though I can't deny that + he is malicious. (The DOCTOR sits down again, humming to himself.) + </p> + <p> + Harald. But that is not all. Both you and the Doctor have—with + some eloquence— + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (with a laugh). Thank you! + </p> + <p> + Harald.—expressed your abhorrence of certain political tendencies + with which neither you nor I have any sympathy—which affront our + ideas of humane conduct. You do not feel called upon to enter actively + into the lists against them; but why do you try to prevent those who do + feel so called upon? You lament the existing state of things—and + yet you help to maintain it, and make a friend of the man who is its + champion! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (turning his head). Apparently we are on our defence, Evje! + </p> + <p> + Harald. No—I am. I was told a little while ago that I was in a + fair way to become hardened and callous, and that I must abandon my + career—and that I must do so for Gertrud's sake, too, because she + would never be able to share the fight with me. I was told this at one + of the bitterest moments in my life. And that made me hesitate for a + moment. But now I have turned my face forward again, because you have + enlightened me! (A short, sharp cough is heard in the hall.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (getting up). That is he! (A knock is heard at the door; the + DOCTOR gets up and pushes his chair back. The EDITOR comes in.) + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Good morning, my children! How are you? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (sitting down). I did not hear the bell. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. I don't suppose you did—I came in by the back door. I + took you by surprise, eh? Discussing me, too—what? (Laughs.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. You have given us enough reason to, to-day, any way. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Yes, haven't I? Such a thing for a man to do to his best + friends—eh? + </p> + <p> + Evje. That is true. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. To his old schoolfellows—his neighbours—eh? I + expect it has disturbed your natural moderation—eh? + </p> + <p> + Evje. I pride myself on my moderation. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. As much as on your brandy! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Are you going to begin your nonsense again? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Good-morning, Doctor! Have you been making them a fine + speech this morning?—about my paper? or about humanity?—romanticism? + or catholicism?—eh? (Laughs.) + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (laughing). Certainly one of us two has made a fine speech + this morning! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Not me; mine was made yesterday!—How is your + hall-porter? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (laughing). Quite well, I am ashamed to say. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. There's a faithful subscriber to my paper, if you like! (The + DOCTOR laughs.) Well, Mrs. Evje, I can give you news of your man, Master + John! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Can you? It is more than I can. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Yes—he is in bed still. That is why I came in the back + way—to enquire after his health. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. But how—? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. How is he after last night? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Really, I believe you know everything. We had no idea he was + out last night. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Oh, that is the very latest intelligence! He has been + figuring as a speaker—he was drunk, of course—before the + Association founded by his master's future son-in-law. And he made a + most effective speech—indeed, the speakers at that Association + always make most effective speeches! It was all about a Sliding Scale of + Taxation, Profit-Sharing for Workers, the necessity for a Labour + majority in Parliament, etc., etc., all the usual Socialist + rhodomontade. You see how infectious intellectual ideas are! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Well!—I shall turn him out of the house to-day! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. But that is not in accordance with your love of moderation, + Evje! + </p> + <p> + Evje. It is a scandal. + </p> + <p> + The Editor (to EVJE). But not the worst. Because, if you want to avoid + that sort of thing, there are others you must turn out of the house. + (Glances towards HARALD.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. You seem determined to quarrel to-day? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Yes, with your "moderation." + </p> + <p> + Evje. You would be none the worse of a little of it. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. "Brandy and Moderation" is your watchword—eh? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Do stop talking such nonsense!—I know one thing, and that is + that you seem to find the brandy from my distillery remarkably to your + taste! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (interrupting them). When you are in these provoking moods + there is always some grievance lurking at the back of your mind. Out + with it! I am a doctor, you know; I want to get at the cause of your + complaint! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. You were not very successful in that, you know, when you + said my maid had cholera, and she really only was—. (Laughs.) + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (laughing). Are you going to bring that story up again? Every + one is liable to make mistakes, you know—even you, my boy! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Certainly. But before making a mistake this time—ahem!—I + wanted first of all to enquire whether— + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Ah! now it is coming! + </p> + <p> + The Editor—whether you have any objection to my mentioning John in + my paper? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. What has John to do with us? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Just as much as the Association, where he delivered his + speech, has; it—ahem!—is one of the family institutions! + </p> + <p> + Evje. I have had no more to do with making John what he is than I have + had with making that Association what it is. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Your future son-in-law made the Association what it is, and + the Association has made John what he is. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Or, to put it the other way round: John is Mr. Evje's + servant; John has become an active member of the Association; therefore + Mr. Evje is a patron of the Association. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Or this way: John, being the well-known Mr. Evje's servant, + has for that reason become an active member of the Association which—as + he expressed it—his employer's future son-in-law "has had the + honour to found!" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Surely you never mean to put that in the paper? + </p> + <p> + The Editor (laughing). They are John's own words. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evje. Of course, he would never put a tipsy man's maunderings into + the paper. (To his wife.) Don't you understand that he is joking? + </p> + <p> + The Editor (clearing his throat). It is already in type. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Oh, nonsense! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. The scene afforded an opportunity for an extremely amusing + sketch, without mentioning any names. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evje. I sincerely hope that + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (to EVJE). Oh, he is only teasing you! You know him. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. What do you think of this? "Those who indirectly support so + dangerous an institution will have to face exposure."—I quite + agree with it. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (getting up). What do you mean? Do you mean that my husband—? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. A little fright will be a good discipline for him! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Is what you quoted meant as an accusation against us—whether + you are serious or whether you are joking? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. He is only trying to frighten you with a bogey; it is not + the first time, you know! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Yes, but what have <i>I</i> to be frightened of? I don't belong to + the Association. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. But persons who do belong to it frequent your house. A man + is known by the company he keeps. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. I really begin to think he <i>does</i> mean it seriously. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. It is too ugly a thing to jest about, you mean? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Is it possible that you seriously mean to allude to John as my + servant? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Isn't he your servant? + </p> + <p> + Evje. And to put that in the paper for every one to read? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. No—only for those who read the paper. + </p> + <p> + Evje. And you have come here to tell us that? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Do you suppose I would do it without telling you? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. It is perfectly shameless! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. It certainly is. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Is it your intention to quarrel with me? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Of course! + </p> + <p> + Evje. With your own schoolfellow?—one who has been it true friend + to you in all your ups and downs? It is abominable! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Perhaps it was to ensure my holding my tongue that you have + been my friend! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. You <i>couldn't</i> behave in such a fashion to a friend! + </p> + <p> + The Editor (drily). To my own brother, if he stood in my way! + </p> + <p> + Harald (to himself). This is too much! (Comes forward.) Is your hatred + for me so bitter that on my account you must persecute even my future + parents-in-law, your own old friends? + </p> + <p> + The Editor (who, as soon as HARALD came forward, has turned away to the + DOCTOR). Have you heard how people are being beaten up to go to the + meeting of electors to-night? The last political speeches of the + campaign must be made with red fire burning at the wings! (Laughs.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (coming up to him). No, you are not going to get out of it by + changing the subject. Is it really your intention to put my husband in + your paper? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. He is putting himself there. + </p> + <p> + Evje. I, who all my life have avoided being drawn into any political + party? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. What has Evje to do with Harald Rein's politics? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. He endorses them! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. No!—a thousand times no! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Why, only to-day + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. I can bear witness to that! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. It is no use protesting! + </p> + <p> + Evje. But you must believe our protestations! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Bah! You will see something more to-morrow— + </p> + <p> + Evje. Something more? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Against my husband? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. That scandal about the Stock Exchange Committee. No less + than three Letters to the Editor about it have been lying in my + pigeon-holes for some time. + </p> + <p> + Evje (in bewilderment). Are you going to put nonsense of that sort in + your paper? The most respected men on the Exchange—? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Members of the Committee—? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. They are only respected men so long as they respect + themselves. When their chairman enters into connections which offend + public opinion, the whole crew of them must be made to feel what sort of + a man it is they are associating with. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. So on Mr. Rejn's account you are going to expose Evje, and + on Evje's account the Stock Exchange Committee? I suppose my turn will + come soon! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. It will come. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Indeed! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. The letters that have been sent to me are all from highly + respected men. That shows that public opinion has turned round; and + public opinion must be obeyed! (Throws out his hands.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (in a troubled voice). It is quite true that I have noticed in + several little ways that their temper—. (Looks round him, and + checks himself. Then speaks more confidently.) But it was just at such a + time that I looked for help from you, my friend. That is why I did not + bother myself much about it. + </p> + <p> + The Editor (to EVJE). But you know it is you that are attacking me now! + </p> + <p> + Evje. I? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. He? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. And, besides, I have no choice in the matter. You have made + your bed, and must lie on it. + </p> + <p> + Evje (growing angry again). But do you really mean that you don't feel + yourself how shocking such behaviour in an old friend is? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. "Old friend," "old schoolfellow," "neighbour,"—out + with the whole catalogue! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. I am sure you don't deserve to be either one or the other! + (The EDITOR laughs.) Think what you wrote to-day about Halvdan Rejn, who + is dying. A man could only write that who—who— + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Well?—who? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Who has not an atom of heart. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Ha, ha! "The natural affections!"—"family + considerations!" Truth, my dear lady, has no family ties; it has no + respect even for a "dying man." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Yes, indeed—every decent man has some respect for + suffering, and even wicked men are silent in the presence of death! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. "Sufferer"—"dying man"—"martyr," I suppose! Oh, + we know all that old story! + </p> + <p> + Harald (coming forward). Let me tell you that you are a—person + with whom I will not condescend to argue. (Walks away from him.) + </p> + <p> + The Editor (who has at once crossed the room). This theatrical flaunting + of the "dying man" before people's eyes, that a calculating brother has + permitted himself, is of course what is really shocking in the whole + affair. But I will tear the mask off him. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (following him). Listen to me, now; listen! We are + gentlefolk, you know! And even if Mr. Rejn has let himself be so carried + away as to mention his dying brother on a public occasion—well, I + am not going to say that I approve of it, but surely it is excusable and— + </p> + <p> + Harald (coming forward). I want none of your defence, thank you! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. The one of you is just as mad as the other! (To the EDITOR.) + But what has all this to do with Evje, seeing that, after all, the whole + of this affair of the Rejns'— + </p> + <p> + Evje (to the EDITOR, eagerly). I give you my word of honour that I have + never approved of Harald's utterances about his brother, either. I am a + man of moderation, as you know; I do not approve of his politics. Only + to-day— + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. And what on earth have politics to do with the Stock Exchange + Committee? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Or with Evje's coachman! + </p> + <p> + Evje. You might just as well take it into your head to write about my + clerks, or my workmen, or— + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. His carpenters, or his brewers—or his horses! + </p> + <p> + The Editor (stands suddenly still and says, drily): You may assure + yourselves that things are quite sufficient as they are! (Begins to + button up his coat.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. Is it so bad as all that! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Good gracious!—what is it then? + </p> + <p> + The Editor (taking up his hat). You will be able to read it to-morrow, + together with some more about the "dying man." Good-bye! + </p> + <p> + Evje and Mrs. Evje (together.) But before you go— + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Hush, hush! Let us remember we are gentlefolk! What will you + bet that the whole thing is not just a bogey to frighten you? + </p> + <p> + The Editor (holding out his hand towards the DOCTOR). I hold Mr. Evje's + position in the town in the hollow of my hand! + </p> + <p> + Evje (fuming). Is your object to ruin <i>that</i>, then? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. You will never succeed in that! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Hush, hush! let us remember we are gentlefolk! + </p> + <p> + Evje. In my own house—my old schoolfellow—that he should + have the audacity—! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. I have told you the truth openly. And, as far as that goes, + you have stood more than that from me in your own house, my boy. Because + the misfortune is that you are a coward. + </p> + <p> + Evje. <i>I</i> a coward? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (laughing). Hush, hush! Let us remember we are gentlefolk! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Yes, I have been weak enough to be afraid of scandal, especially + in the newspapers, it is true; that is why I have put up with you too + long! But now you shall see that I am not a coward. Leave my house! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. That's right! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. But you must part like gentlefolk, you know. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Pooh! You will be sending me a message directly, to call me + back! + </p> + <p> + Evje. You have the face to say that? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (to EVJE). Come, dear, don't provoke him any more! + </p> + <p> + The Editor (turning to go). You daren't do otherwise. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. But part like gentlefolk—! + </p> + <p> + Evje (following the EDITOR). No, as sure as I live— + </p> + <p> + The Editor. You will be sending a message to call me back! Ha, ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Never, never! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. My dear—! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Yes, you will—directly—this very day! Ha, ha, + ha! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Don't part like that! Part like gentle— + </p> + <p> + Evje. No, I tell you! + </p> + <p> + The Editor (laughing all the time). Yes! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. My dear-remember you may bring on one of your attacks! + </p> + <p> + The Editor (at the door). You are too much of a coward! Ha! ha! (Goes + out.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (in a rage). No! + </p> + <p> + The Editor (sticking his head in at the door). Yes! (Goes away.) + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. What a visit! I cannot help laughing, all the same! Ha, ha, + ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Do you dare to laugh at that? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. "Old schoolfellows"—ha, ha! "Moderation"—ha, ha! + "The same party"—ha, ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Oh, my husband is ill! + </p> + <p> + Evje (faintly). Yes—a little water! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Water, water, Harald! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. One of his attacks—that is another affair altogether. + Here (takes a bottle from his pocket)—smell this! That's it! Now, + a little water! (Gives him some.) No danger this time. Cheer up, old + boy! + </p> + <p> + Evje. What a scandal! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Yes, you will never be able to bear it, dear; I told you so. + </p> + <p> + Evje. To think of <i>my</i> name appearing in the papers, when all my + life I have— + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje.—done everything you could to keep clear of such things! + And you such a dear, good, upright man!—Oh, these politics are the + curse of the world! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (laughing). As I told you, you must go through a special + process of hardening before you can stand them. + </p> + <p> + Evje. And think of public opinion—my position—my + connections! It is more than I can bear! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (to the Doctor). I am sure the first time he reads something + about himself in the paper, it will make him really ill! He won't be + able to stand it, I know. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Oh, he will get over it. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. No, he won't. I am frightened at the mere thought of it. He + will never be able to bear it, never! + </p> + <p> + Evje. When all my life I have tried to keep clear of such things—! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. And now in your old age, though you deserve it no more than a + child does, to be dragged into it! If I could prevent that, I would + willingly take on my own shoulders whatever— + </p> + <p> + Evje. No, no—not you! Not you! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. But the thing is not necessarily done because he threatened + he would do it. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Do you think—? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. He is so dreadfully hot-headed, but I am sure he will think + twice— + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje.—before he attacks a lifelong friend! Yes, that is so, + isn't it! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Do you really think that there is any possibility then—? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. I really can't say! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Nothing in the world is impossible! + </p> + <p> + Evje. We were both so hot-headed. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Yes, it will have to be a more peaceable conversation than + that of a few minutes ago! + </p> + <p> + Evje. I don't know how it is—there is something so provoking about + him. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Yes, and you have not been very well lately, either. I have + often said so to you. + </p> + <p> + Evje. No, I haven't. It has been just one thing after another! And all + my life I have tried to keep clear of such things! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. I will tell you what, old friend; I am sure the best thing + to do would be— + </p> + <p> + Evje. What? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. I am sure you will not be easy in your mind until someone + has talked to him. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Yes, couldn't that be done? Good gracious, that is not + sending a message to him! + </p> + <p> + Evje. But who would—? (A short silence.) + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. I don't know who would be best. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. All our old friends have deserted us; we shall soon have + none. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Well, at all events, you have me. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Would you really be willing to—? Do you mean it? (Grasps his + hand.) + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Of course I will! He can't eat me! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. How good you are! Of course you only need tell him—what + is quite true—that my husband would never be able to bear it! He, + who all these years— + </p> + <p> + Evje.—have put up with an incredible amount for his sake, both + from himself and from others! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Yes, that is true! And now you will go, dear friend—our + only friend!—and talk to him quite amicably and sensibly, won't + you? + </p> + <p> + Evje. But don't delay! He is so hot-headed that we must find him before— + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Oh, I will find him; he is always about the town. + </p> + <p> + Evje. And tell him—ask him— + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Oh, I know what to say to him. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. That is right! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Thank you! I shall never forget how, at a moment when everything + threatened to overwhelm me, you were the only one to stand by me! Ah, I + feel as if a load had fallen off my shoulders! I feel all at once quite + happy again! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. That's right. You pull yourself together! I will see to + everything else. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Thanks, thanks! But make haste! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. I am off! My hat? (Turns, and sees HARALD, and says to + himself.) A-ha! He looks as if he had had about enough of this. It would + have been a joke to— + </p> + <p> + Evje. Oh, do make haste, my friend! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Yes, yes—if only I could find my hat. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. It is on the table. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. So it is! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Good luck to you! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. And do it very tactfully! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (meaningly). And I hope you three will enjoy yourselves! + (Goes out.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. What a morning! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. We, who have always endeavoured to take everything quietly + and indulgently— + </p> + <p> + Evje. Yes, and to conduct our family affairs peaceably and + affectionately! (Jumps up and turns to HARALD.) The whole thing is <i>your</i> + fault! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Yes, it is Harald's fault! From the day this unfortunate + engagement came about, we have scarcely had a moment's peace here. + </p> + <p> + Evje. No, no, that is not the case! We must be reasonable. At first, + when Mr. Rejn had a fine future before him, when people vied with one + another to catch him, then the engagement was an honour to us as well as + to our daughter. But from the moment he took up these wretched politics—that + is to say, from the time his brother fell ill—well, he can see for + himself what the result has been to us! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. And he certainly must admit that it is not what we have + deserved; indeed it is more than a respected and well-bred family can + put up with. + </p> + <p> + Harald. I quite agree that it is more than a respected and well-bred + family <i>ought</i> to put up with. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Oh, so <i>you</i> feel that too? + </p> + <p> + Harald. Certainly. And the only excuse I can see is that there are many + more in the same case. It is only in that way that such things become + possible. + </p> + <p> + Evje. I do not understand. Many more like—?—like whom? + </p> + <p> + Harald. Like you! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. In what respect? + </p> + <p> + Harald. I will explain. Most of the successful politicians nowadays have + not gained their position by means of any greatness of their own, but by + the pitiable weakness of others. Another age will form a different + estimate of them—see them in their proper perspective, and find + them to be much smaller men! + </p> + <p> + Evje. But what has that to do with us? + </p> + <p> + Harald. Well, just try to size up that man whom a little while ago you + turned out of your house and afterwards sent a message to— + </p> + <p> + Evje. We sent <i>no</i> message to him! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. A friend of ours has gone to talk to him. That is quite a + different thing! + </p> + <p> + Harald. Well, take his measure by yours and yours by his! He went away, + and he will come back like a conquering hero. Will that be thanks to his + greatness, or his talent—to the loftiness of his opinions or his + feelings? No,—it will be thanks to your pitiable weakness. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Upon my word! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Well, I—! + </p> + <p> + Harald. Do you think any one who has any pluck in his disposition would + consent to be a party to such a contemptible state of things? Think of + your own daughter, educated by that good old man who lies in there, but + an obedient child to you; think how she must be perpetually torn between + what she loves and respects and what she sees going on here! No wonder + she is ill! But remember this—she is not ill because she sticks to + me; she is ill because of your pitiable weakness! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. How can you dare to say such things! So you too—! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Such an absolute want of respect! + </p> + <p> + Harald. Listen to me, once for all. I intend, God helping me, to take up + the fight that has killed my brother, the noblest man I know! And + Gertrud is going to take up <i>her</i> share in the fight, as I do mine. + But to come to this house as long as <i>he</i> comes here—to go + through what I have gone through to-day—sullies my self-respect to + such an extent, and offends my better feelings so deeply, that either he + never sets foot here again, or I do not! + </p> + <p> + Evje and Mrs. Evje. But—! + </p> + <p> + Harald (quietly). When I came here to-day, I thought we should be able + to arrange matters without my speaking out; but there is nothing else + for it, so good-bye! (Goes out. A moment's silence follows.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Is <i>he</i> giving <i>us</i> our dismissal? Or does he not + really mean to break with us?—My dear, what is the matter? (Goes + to her husband's side.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (without moving). Tell me, my dear—am I a bad man? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. You, a bad man? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Because, if I were not a bad, wicked man, they could not behave in + such a way to me, one after the other. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. But, my dear, you are the best and dearest and most + considerate of men! And they are shameless traitors to you, my dear + husband! + </p> + <p> + Evje. But how on earth, then, could it come about that I, who all my + life have tried to keep clear of such things—for I have, haven't + I? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Every one knows that, that knows anything about you. + </p> + <p> + Evje. How could it come about that in my old age I should be despised + and forsaken by everybody? Surely it is no crime to want to live in + peace, apart from all that sort of thing? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. No, indeed; that is what all decent people want to do. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Yes, I thought so too. But now you see! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. But <i>you</i> have been dreadfully unfortunate. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Why should I have been just the one to be dreadfully unfortunate? + Most people escape such things altogether. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (starting). Here is Gertrud. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Poor child! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. What on earth are we to say to her? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Be careful, my dear! be careful! (GERTRUD comes in quietly and + comes forward to them.) + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Did I see Harald go away? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Yes, my child, he—he went away. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Without saying good-bye to me? + </p> + <p> + Evje. That's true, he didn't say good-bye to you. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Were you expecting him to come into grandfather's room to say + good-bye to you? + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Yes. Tell me how things went here? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Why were you not here, dear? + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (in astonishment). I here? You said you did not want me to be + present— + </p> + <p> + Evje. I remember, yes; we thought it would not be advisable. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (still speaking quietly, but in growing alarm). But how did + things go, then? + </p> + <p> + Evje. How did they go? Badly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (hurriedly). That is to say, he did not behave at all well. + You must prepare yourself for the worst, my child! + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Is it something very bad, then? + </p> + <p> + Evje. You know he is a little hasty just now, when he has so much on his + hands. He lacks a proper sense of moderation—but he will learn it, + sure enough. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (almost inaudibly). But what does it mean? Is he never coming + back? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Never coming back? What an extraordinary question! Of course he + will come back. He was only a little over-hasty, you know— + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. And said he would never come back? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Come, come, my dear—you mustn't be alarmed. + </p> + <p> + Evje. He talked such a lot, you know, that we must not attach any + particular importance to anything he said. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. So that is how it is! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. We must make allowances for all that he is going through just + now— + </p> + <p> + Evje (suddenly). My child, you look so pale— + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (going to her). Gertrud! + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (with a quiet movement of protest). I must give grandfather his + drink; that was really what I came for. And that was how I happened to + see Harald through the window. I will take grandfather his drink. (The + curtain falls as she goes out of the room.) + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT II + </h2> + <p> + (SCENE.—A street in the "villa quarter" of the town. Between it + and another street running parallel with it in the background, are two + houses standing in gardens, half of the facade of one of them projecting + into the stage on the right. On the left a third street runs at right + angles to the others, to the back of the stage. The left side of this + third street opens onto a well-wooded park. The house in the foreground + on the right is in two stories. There is a narrow strip of garden in + front of it, enclosed by an iron railing with a gate in it. The gate is + standing open. The entrance door to the house is immediately behind this + gate. There is light in a small window by the door; the ground floor + windows are in darkness; in those of the upper floor, light is visible + through heavy curtains. It is a wintry evening, and everything is + swathed in an unusually thick fog, in which the gas lamps in the streets + show dimmer and dimmer as they recede in the distance. As the curtain + goes up, a lamplighter is seen descending his ladder from a lamp-post, + where he has just lit the lamp at the corner of the house.) + </p> + <p> + The Lamplighter (as he reaches the ground). It's all one whether the + lamps are lit or not, in such a fog as this. (MRS. EVJE is seen drawing + back the curtain at a window on the first floor. She opens the window + and looks out.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. The fog is so thick, my dear, that I can't see across the + street. + </p> + <p> + Evje (coming to the window, with fur coat and cap on). So it is!—Well, + so much the better, my dear! (They withdraw into the room; the window is + shut and the curtains drawn. Two passers-by come along the street from + the right, talking.) + </p> + <p> + First Passer-by. The Land of Fogs—the old idea of the land of Fogs + was that of a vision of confused and faint sensation, with the light of + the intelligence dimmed and blurred like these gas lamps in the fog. + </p> + <p> + Second Passer-by. It would be that, if our hearts did not often act as + guiding lights to our befogged intelligences. Look at this house behind + us—the brandy distiller's. The devilish workings of his + intelligence have befogged the whole country—befogged it with + brandy—and some such guiding light is much needed there. + </p> + <p> + First Passer-by. Ah, well,—the old idea of the Land of Fogs was + that fogs were—. (The sound of their conversation dies away as + they pass into the park on the left. GERTRUD, closely veiled and wrapped + in furs, comes slowly out of the park. She stops at the corner and looks + down the street, then passed slowly along to the right, looking up at + the house as she goes. She is scarcely out of sight when the house-door + opens and EVJE comes out.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. This is about the time he comes home—I daren't go to his + house and ask for him; I don't know if he would admit me. I daren't + trust to the Doctor alone.—This uncertainty is dreadful! (He + starts at seeing GERTRUD, whom he does not recognise in the fog, walking + towards him. She turns suddenly and walks back the way she came.) Who + was that? She gave me quite a fright in this fog! Her furs seemed rather + like—no, no, it couldn't be. I must not let any one recognise me. + (Puts up the high collar of his coat, so that only his nose is visible.) + Both of them called me a coward, but they are very much mistaken. It is + not cowardice for a man who is respected and honoured to try and avoid + scandal. Hm! Naturally those who trade in scandals think otherwise!—To + act without attaching weight to the opinion of others, to disregard + one's own predilections, to put up with being laughed at—all for + the sake of preventing a scandal—that is to be strong and + courageous. And it <i>is</i> admirable, too; for it is admirable to act + fearlessly in the interest of one's family, and of one's business, and + of propriety. (Starts as he hears his door opened. JOHN has come along + the street and gone into the house.) Is that some one coming out of my + house? No, it is a man going in. And then to think of Harald Rejn + beginning that nonsense about my being a coward, because I refused to + become a party man! Every one ought to take sides in politics—that + is their cry. Hm! I should say it required rather more courage nowadays + to <i>refrain</i> from taking sides. (Starts again.) Who is that? Oh, + only that woman again. She is waiting for some one too. I expect we + shall both catch bad colds. (Walks up and down.) It is an odd sensation + to be walking up and down on the watch outside one's own house. + Cowardice? Pshaw! To let one's self be abused in a public street without + stirring a finger to prevent it, <i>that</i> would be cowardice. I only + hope he has not gone round the other way? There is much more traffic in + that street, and some one might easily—. I think I will take a + turn towards the town, and turn back when I am a little way from here; + it will look less suspicious. I must catch him, because his paper will + be going to press. (Looks up at his house.) My poor wife, sitting up + there dreadfully alarmed on my account! (Goes out to the right. As soon + as he has gone, the house-door opens and JOHN comes warily out.) + </p> + <p> + JOHN. So he has gone out, has he! Oh, well, he is bound to come in + again! I will wait and catch him, that I will! Tra, la, la, la, la! I + can play about here in the fog till he comes back; I have nothing to + lose! And it will be best to catch him in the street; he will make less + fuss, and can't run away from me! Tra, la, la, la, la! (Lounges out to + the right. A moment later, HARALD comes out of the park. He is dressed + much as EVJE is, but has not his coat-collar turned up.) + </p> + <p> + Harald. There is a light in her window! Then she is alone in her room. + What am I going to do now? Twice already I have come to look at that + light; now I have seen it—and must go away! Good-bye, my darling! + Be patient, and wait! I know your thoughts are with me now; and I know + you feel that mine are with you! (As he turns away from the house he + sees the veiled figure of GERTRUD, who, as soon as she has come nearer, + rushes to him, throws up her veil, and falls into his arms in a glad + embrace.) + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. I was certain that, if you could not go into the house again, + you would be out here! I knew you would not go away from me, dear! + </p> + <p> + Harald. No—neither now nor ever. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. And, while I was walking up and down here in the fog, I felt + that though there might be all this gloom tend cold around us outside, + there was the brightness and warmth of certainty in our hearts. + </p> + <p> + Harald. Yes, our love is the one certainty for me! Fog may obscure the + goal I aim at, the road I have to I read, the very ground I stand on; + doubts may even for a while attack my faith; but my love for you shines + clear through it all! + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Thank you, my darling! If that is so, there is nothing that we + cannot overcome! + </p> + <p> + Harald. Of course, you know what took place to-day? + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. I can guess. + </p> + <p> + Harald. Is it true that you are ill? Why did you never tell me? + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. No, the doctor is not telling the truth; I am not ill! Even if + I were, what matter? I should go on living as long as I could—and + should have done my duty before I gave in! + </p> + <p> + Harald. That is the way to look at it! + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. But I am not ill! I suffer, it is true—and am likely to—every + time you are persecuted, or my parents on my account. Because <i>I</i> + have drawn them into all this that, they are so unfitted for, and that + is why it pains me so to see how unprepared it finds them—most of + all when, out of tenderness for me, they try to conceal it. But I can't + alter things. We are fighting for a cause that you believe to be right, + and so do I; surely that is better than never to suffer at all in any + good cause. Try me! Let me share the fight with you! I am not weak; it + is only that my heart is sore for those I love. + </p> + <p> + Harald. You splendid, loyal creature!—and you are mine! (Embraces + her.) + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. You should hear what grandfather says! + </p> + <p> + Harald. Yes, how is the dear old gentleman? + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Pretty well, thanks, though he never gets out now. But he is + following your work, and he says that what you are aiming at is right, + if you ask for God's guidance on your way. Harald—you will always + be the same as you are now—good and genuine—won't you, dear? + Not like the rest of them—nothing but bitterness and malice, + always talking of principles and consequences and all the rest of it, + and always attacking others? If one were obliged to be like that, it + would be a curse to be a politician. + </p> + <p> + Harald. I will be what you make me! I think that behind every man's + public life you can see his private life—whether he has a real + home, and what it is like, or whether he only has a place he lives in—that + is to say, no real home. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. With God's help I shall try to make a bright, snug and cosy + home for you! And this fog is delightful, because it only makes the + thought of such a home all the cosier and snugger! It makes us seem so + alone, too; no one is out driving or walking; and we can talk as loud as + we please, because the fog deadens the sound of our voices. Oh, I feel + so happy again now! Do you know, I think it is rather nice to be + persecuted a little; it makes our meetings so much more precious! + </p> + <p> + Harald. But, you know dear, to meet you like this—and just now— + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (as they walk up and down together). Yes, of course! I had + altogether forgotten how much you have to bear just now; I have been + chattering away—. Oh, I don't know how I could feel so happy, + because I am really dreadfully distressed. But, you know, I sit the + whole play beside grandfather, thinking, without even being able to + talk. I generally read aloud to him; now and then he makes a remark, but + he really lives more in the next world than in this one now. (They hear + a cough in the distance, and give a start, because they recognise it. + The EDITOR and EVJE, walking along together, EVJE apparently talking + very earnestly, are seen, indistinctly through the fog, in the street + running parallel with the one HARALD and GERTRUD are in. JOHN is seen + following them cautiously. They disappear into the park.) + </p> + <p> + Harald. I hear the enemy! I am sure I caught a glimpse of him over there + through the fog, talking to another man. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Is he always about the streets even in weather like this? + </p> + <p> + Harald. Well, we won't let him disturb us. (They begin walking up and + down again in front of the house.) + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Do you know whom I met out here? Father! + </p> + <p> + Harald. Really? Then it is as I thought; the other man over there was + your father! + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Do you think it was? Poor father! + </p> + <p> + Harald. Yes, he is weak. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. But you must be good to him. He is so good himself. Think how + mother loves him; she is absolutely wrapped up in him, because he is so + good! + </p> + <p> + Harald. He is a good man, and an able man. But, but, but— + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. They have lived a very tranquil life. We of the younger + generation try to undertake heavier duties and greater responsibilities + than the older generation did. But we must not be angry with them. + </p> + <p> + Harald. I am afraid it is only too easy to feel angry with them. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. No, do as grandfather does! If he thinks any one is going to be + amenable to it, he talks to them quietly; if not, he only behaves + affectionately to them. Do you understand, dear?—just + affectionately. + </p> + <p> + Harald. Well, to-day—ought I to have put up with their allowing + themselves to be treated in such an unseemly way, and their treating me + in such an unseemly way? + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Was it really as bad as that? + </p> + <p> + Harald. You would not believe what it was like, I assure you! + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (standing still). Poor father! Poor father! (Throws her arms + round HARALD'S neck.) Be good to them, Harald!—just because of + their faults, dear! We are their children, you know, and it is God's + commandment, even if we were not their children. + </p> + <p> + Harald. If only I could take you up in my arms and carry you off home + with me now! Your love takes possession of my heart and my will, and + purifies both of them. I am at a crisis in my life now—and now you + should be on my side! + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Listen!—to begin with, I will go with you to your meeting + to-night! + </p> + <p> + Harald. Yes, yes,—I will come and fetch you! + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Down at the door here! + </p> + <p> + Harald. Yes! + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. And, in the next place, I am going to walls into the town with + you now. + </p> + <p> + Harald. But then I shall have to see you home again. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Do you object? + </p> + <p> + Harald. No, no! And you shall teach me a lot of things on the way! + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Yes, you will be so wise before we get back! (They go out to + the right.) + </p> + <p> + (The EDITOR and EVJE come out of the park. JOHN follows them, unseen by + them, and slips past them to the right when they stop for a moment. The + following conversation is carried on in hurried tones, and every time + the EDITOR raises his voice EVJE hushes him, and speaks himself in a + persistently lowered voice.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. But what concern of yours—or of the public's—are my + private affairs? I don't want to have anything to do with politics. + </p> + <p> + The Editor, Well, then, you ought not to have had anything to do with <i>him</i>. + </p> + <p> + Evje. When I first made his acquaintance he was not a politician. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Then you ought to have dropped him when he became one. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Ought I to have dropped you too, when you became one? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Let me repeat, for the last time, that we are not talking + about me! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Hush, hush! What a fellow you are! You get into a rage if any one + chaffs you. But you want to hit out at everybody all round! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Do you suppose I am myself? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Who the devil are you, if you are not yourself? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. I am merely the servant of the public. + </p> + <p> + Evje. The public executioner, that is to say? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Well, yes, if you prefer it. But you shall pay for that word + some day. + </p> + <p> + Evje. There—you see! Always talking of paying for things!—of + revenge! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. You shall pay for it, I tell you! + </p> + <p> + Evje. You are absolutely mad!—Poof! I am sweating as if it were + the dog days! (Changes his tone.) Think of the time when we used to go + to school together—when you never could go to bed without first + coming to thank me for the jolly times we were having together! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. None of that nonsense! I am accustomed to be hated, + despised, spit upon, scourged; if any one speaks kindly to me, I do not + trust them! + </p> + <p> + Evje. You must trust me! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. No—and, besides, I observed very clearly to-day that + you had counted on having me in reserve if ever you got into a scrape. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Well, who doesn't count on his friends? Doesn't every one take + them into his reckoning? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. I don't; I have no friends. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Haven't you me? Do you think I would leave you in the lurch? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. That is hypocrisy! At times when I have needed it, the very + last thing you have thought of has been to give me any help! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Have I not helped you? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. That is hypocrisy, too-to pretend you think I am speaking of + money. No; when I have been accused of being dishonourable—of + lying—you, the "old schoolfellow," the "old friend," the + "neighbour," have never once had the courage to come forward on my + behalf. + </p> + <p> + Evje. I never meddle with politics. + </p> + <p> + The Editor (with rising temper). More hypocrisy! Another of your damned + evasions! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Hush, hush, hush! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. You try to excuse yourself with a lie! You are doubly a + traitor!—And then you expect me to have compassion on you! + </p> + <p> + Evje. As sure as I stand here, I have never thought of deserting you, + however bad things were. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. And you have the face to take credit to yourself for that? + It is all calculation from beginning to end! You thought it would be the + best way of making me remember your loyalty, and reward you for it. + </p> + <p> + Evje. This is abominable! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Oh, you are cunning enough! You represent wealth of another + kind, which at first was not entirely irreproachably come by— + </p> + <p> + Evje. There you go again! + </p> + <p> + The Editor.—and want to give it the cachet of good society; so you + take care to keep friends with a newspaper that may be able to give you + a helping hand in gaining what you want. Can you deny it? + </p> + <p> + Evje. There may be a slight tinge of calculation even in our highest + purposes. But the misfortune about you is that you can see nothing but + the calculation, though it may be only an infinitesimal part of the + whole thing. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Oho—I have had experience of you! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Then you must have had experience of your party's loyalty, too. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. My party's loyalty! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Well, after all, it keeps you where you are to-day. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. <i>It</i> keeps me there? + </p> + <p> + Evje. And you have friends in that party-myself amongst others—who + certainly would rather stand outside altogether, but nevertheless give + you their advice and support when you are in difficulties. You cannot + deny that. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. I have friends in the party? Oh yes; and if we lose a fight + these fine counsellors are the first to run away! They are always egging + me on and egging me on; but only let public opinion once get tired of + me, and they will throw me overboard without more ado! By that sort of + treachery they manage to fill the sails of the party craft with a new + breeze—and leave me to shift the best way I can!—they, for + whom I have fought with all my might and main! I despise my opponents—they + are either scoundrels and thieves, or they are blockheads and braggarts. + But my supporters are lick-spittles, fools, cravens. I despise the whole + pack of them, from first to last! If any one would give me the assurance + that if, as a pledge that I would never use a pen again, I were to chop + off my right hand I should thereby gain the prospect of a peaceful life + a thousand miles away from here, I believe I would do it!—I + despise the whole pack of them—oh, how I despise them! + </p> + <p> + Evje. But this is horrible! Do you find no comfort in religion? Or, at + all events, you have your paper! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. My paper, yes—but what good do you suppose that is to + me? And do you think I give the impression of being a religious man? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Then what do you work for? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Perhaps you think I work for your sake?—or for the + sake of prosperity, or order, or whatever it is you cowards or + self-seekers like to imagine it is that you personify? No, the whole + human race is not worth the powder and shot that they are holding at + each other's heads. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Then why do you come and almost threaten my life, if the whole + thing seems so worthless to you? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Do you seriously suppose that I would give in, so as to + spare you or some other shopkeeper?—so that you should be able to + say triumphantly, "You see he didn't dare! He didn't dare quarrel with + Capital!"—or, "You see he has given in—he has turned tail!" + No; what I should like to do would be to lay a mine underground, and + blow myself and the whole lot of you sky high! + </p> + <p> + Evje. And I and all the happiness of my family life are to be sacrificed + in order that you shall not have to give in on a side issue of no + importance!—Oh, I am chilled to the bone! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Ha, ha! It is good to hear you speaking like yourself again, + because it reminds me that it is time to put an end to this solemn + nonsense! (Looks at his watch.) A quarter past! You must be quick! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Are you really in earnest? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. I often play off jokes on you, it is true. But I don't know + how you will like this one to-morrow morning. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Then let me tell you that I solemnly refuse! I will not break off + the engagement! Put me in your paper, if you like; I am a free man. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Bah! nobody is that. Then you refuse? Good-bye! (Walks away + from EVJE.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (going after him). No, no—where are you going? + </p> + <p> + The Editor (stopping). Nowhere—or rather, I am going home. + </p> + <p> + Evje. But you won't really do what you said? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Ha! ha! ha! (Moves away.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (following him). No, listen! Listen to me for a minute. + </p> + <p> + The Editor (turning back). Do you think I have time to stop at all the + stations your vanity or your fright will invent on the way? (Moves + away.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. You mad creature—listen to me! (The EDITOR stops.) Tell me + exactly what you mean to do? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Fiddlesticks! (Moves on.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (following him). Do you mean to put in the paper that I have broken + off this match? + </p> + <p> + The Editor (stopping). Better than that—I shall spread the news in + the town; then it will get about, and all the journalists will get a + hold of it. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Give me a day or two to think it over! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Oh, no—you are not going to catch me like that! It is + election time, and the other side must be made to feel that all decent + people have deserted them. + </p> + <p> + Evje. But it is a lie, you know! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. What is lying, and what is truth? But your resignation from + the Stock Exchange Committee and your subsequent failure to be elected + to any public position will be no lies, I can assure you! Public opinion + is not to be trifled with, you know! + </p> + <p> + Evje. And this from you! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Bah! Public opinion is a very faithless friend. + </p> + <p> + Evje. But who, after all, constitute public opinion? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Oh, no—you are not going to lead me into a trap again! + Besides—it would be very difficult to say exactly who does + constitute it. + </p> + <p> + Evje. This is really—! Then you won't put that in the paper? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. The news of a broken engagement travels quickest by + foot-post—ha, ha, ha! (Coughs; then adds seriously:) But won't + you, of your own accord, break off what are really absolutely + inadmissible relations with a man who scandalises all your + acquaintances? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Lay the blame on me, of course! I know his credentials are no + longer first class; but my daughter—ah, you would not be able to + understand that. The circumstances are quite exceptional, and—. + Look here, shall we go up and talk it over with my wife? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Ha, ha!—you turned me out of the house this morning! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Oh, forget all about that! + </p> + <p> + The Editor (looking at his watch). Half past! Now, without any more + evasions—will you, or will you not? + </p> + <p> + Evje (with a struggle). No! I repeat, no! (The EDITOR moves away.) Yes, + yes!—It nearly kills me to do it! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. "The Capitalist, secure in his position, who needs pay no + regard to," etc., etc.—that is the "common form," isn't it, you + man of first-class credentials? Ha, ha! Good-bye. I am going home to + send the boy to the printers; he has waited long enough. (Moves away.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (following him). You are the cruellest, hardest, most reckless— + </p> + <p> + The Editor (who has been laughing, suddenly becomes serious). Hush! Do + you see? + </p> + <p> + Evje (turning round). What? Where? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Over there! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Those two? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Yes—your daughter and Mr. Harald Rejn. + </p> + <p> + Evje. But he swore this morning that he would never set foot in my house + again! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. But he will stay <i>outside</i> your house, as you see! + These gentlemen of the Opposition, when they give any assurance, always + do it with a mental reservation! You can't trust the beggars! Come round + the corner. (They do so.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. An assignation in the street in the fog! To think my daughter + would let herself be induced to do such a thing! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Evil communications corrupt good manners! You are a mere + bungler in delicate matters, Evje. You made a bad choice in that + quarter! + </p> + <p> + Evje. But he seemed to be— + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Yes, yes, I know! A real gentleman would have guessed what + he would develop into. He has a brother, you know! (HARALD and GERTRUD + come in slowly, arm-in-arm.) + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. While your brother has been ill you have received many + gratifying proofs of the good feeling and goodwill that there is in this + town-haven't you? + </p> + <p> + Harald. Yes, I have. I have found no ill-will against him, nothing but + kindness on all sides—with the exception of one person, of course. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. But even he has a heart! It has often seemed to me as if I + heard a cry of yearning and disappointment from it—and that just + when he spoke most bitterly. + </p> + <p> + Harald. Yes, it needs no very sharp sight to see that he, who makes so + many unhappy, is himself the unhappiest of all. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. What the deuce are they talking about? + </p> + <p> + Evje. We cannot hear from here. And the fog deadens their voices. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Go a bit nearer, then! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Not before they separate. You only understand <i>him</i>! + </p> + <p> + Harald (to GERTRUD). What are you holding there? + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (who has taken off her glove and then a ring from her finger). + The ring they gave me when I was confirmed. Give me your hand! No, take + your glove off! + </p> + <p> + Harald. Do you want me to try your ring on? I shall not be able to get + it on. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. On the little finger of your left hand? Yes! + </p> + <p> + Harald (putting it on). So I can. Well? + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. You mustn't laugh at me. I have been beating up my courage to + do this all this time. It was really why I wanted to walk a little + farther with you first! I wanted to bring the conversation round to it, + you see! I am so convinced that your happiness, and consequently mine, + depends on your being able to be kind. You have got this meeting before + you to-night. It will be a decisive moment for you. If you, when you are + facing all this horrible persecution, can be a kind boy, you will win + all along the line! (Pulls at his buttons in an embarrassed way.) So I + wanted you to wear this ring to remind you. The diamonds in it sparkle; + they are like my tears when you are hard and forget us two. I know it is + stupid of me (wipes her eyes hastily), but now, when it comes to the + point, I can't say what I—. But do wear it! + </p> + <p> + Harald (kissing her). I will wear it! (Gently.) Its pure rays shall shed + a light on my life. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Thank you! (Throws her arms round him and kisses him.) + </p> + <p> + The Editor. What they are doing now is all right! Ha, ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Evje. I won't stand it! (The EDITOR coughs loudly.) What are you doing? + (The EDITOR goes to the neighbouring house and rings the bell. The door + is opened and he goes in, laughing as he goes.) + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (who has started from HARALD'S arms at the sound of the cough). + That is—! + </p> + <p> + Harald. It sounds like him! (Turns, and sees Evje.) + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Father! (Turns to run away, but stops.) No, it is cowardly to + run away. (Comes back, and stands at HARALD'S side. EVJE comes forward.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. I should not have expected my daughter, a well-brought-up girl, to + make an assignation in the street with—with— + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. With her fiancé. + </p> + <p> + Evje.—with a man who has made a mock of her father and mother, and + of his own doing has banished himself from our house. + </p> + <p> + Harald. From your house, certainly; but not from my future wife. + </p> + <p> + Evje. A nice explanation! Do you suppose we will consent to have as our + son-in-law a man who spurns her parents? + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Father! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Be quiet, my child! You ought to have felt that yourself. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. But, father, you surely do not expect him to submit to your + being abused and himself ill-treated in our house? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Are you going to teach your parents—? + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (putting her arm round his neck). I don't want to teach you + anything; because you know yourself, dear, that Harald is worth far more—and + far more to us—than the man who went away just now! (At this + moment the printer's boy, who has come out of the EDITOR'S house, runs + past them towards the town.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (seeing the boy, tries to get away). Go in now, Gertrud! I have + something I wish to talk to Mr. Rejn about. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. You have nothing to talk to Harald about that I cannot hear. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Yes, I have. + </p> + <p> + Harald. But why may she not hear it? What you want is to break off our + engagement. + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Father—! (Moves away from him.) Is that true? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Well-since it cannot be otherwise-it is true; that is to say, for + the moment. (Aside.) Good Lord, they can make it up right enough when + this is all over! + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (who is standing as if thunderstruck). I saw you with him!—Ah! + that is how it is! (Looks at her father, bursts into tears and rushes to + the door of their house, pulls the bell and disappears into the house.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. What is it? What is the matter with her? + </p> + <p> + Harald. I think I know. She realises that her life's happiness has been + bought and sold. (Bows to EVJE.) Good-bye! (Goes out to the right.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (after standing dumb for some moments). Bought and sold? Some + people take everything so dreadfully solemnly. It is only a manoeuvre—to + get out of this difficulty. Why is it that I cannot get free of it! They + both of them exaggerate matters so absurdly; first of all this crazy + fellow, and then Harald with his "Good-bye," spoken as if the ground + were giving way beneath his feet! I—I—feel as if every one + had deserted me. I will go in to my wife—my dear, good wife; she + will understand me. She is sitting up there, full of anxiety about me. + (He turns towards his house; but, on reaching the garden gate, sees JOHN + standing there.) + </p> + <p> + John (touching his hat respectfully). Excuse me, Mr. Evje— + </p> + <p> + Evje. You, John! Go away! I told you never to set foot in my house + again. + </p> + <p> + John (very respectfully). But won't you allow me to stand outside your + house either, sir? + </p> + <p> + Evje. No! + </p> + <p> + John (standing in EVJE'S way, but still with a show of great respect). + Not at the door here? + </p> + <p> + Evje. What are you standing in my way for, you scoundrel? + </p> + <p> + John. Shall I assist you to call for help, sir? (Calls out.) Help! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Be quiet, you drunken fool! Don't make a disturbance! What do you + want? Be quick! + </p> + <p> + John. I want, with all respect, to ask you, sir, why you have sent me + away. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Because you are a swine that gets drunk and then talks nonsense. + You don't know what a dilemma you have put me in.—Now go away from + here, quietly! + </p> + <p> + John. I know all about it! I was following you and the Editor all the + time, you know! + </p> + <p> + Evje. What? + </p> + <p> + John. These articles, that were to go in the paper—the printing + was at a standstill, waiting for them. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Hush, hush, John! So you overheard that, did you? You are too + clever; you ought never to have been a servant.—Now, be off with + you! Here is a shilling or two for you. Good-bye. + </p> + <p> + John. Thank you very much, sir.—This was how it was, sir. You see, + I thought of the number of times I had run over to the printer's with + messages when that nice Editor gentleman was spending an evening with + you—and so I thought I might just as well run over with this one. + </p> + <p> + Evje (starting back in alarm). What? What have you done? + </p> + <p> + John. Just to do you a good turn, sir, I ran along and told them they + might print those articles. + </p> + <p> + Evje. What articles? + </p> + <p> + John. The ones about you, sir. "Print away," I said—and they + printed away. By Jove, how they worked, and then off to the post with + the papers! + </p> + <p> + Evje. You had the impudence, you—! Ah, it's not true! I saw the + printer's boy myself, running to the office to countermand the + instructions. + </p> + <p> + John. I caught him up outside here and told him that a message had been + sent from Mr. Evje's house. And I gave him sixpence to go to the theatre + with; but he must have had to run for it, to be in time, because I am + sure it was after seven. Excuse me, sir, but it <i>is</i> after seven + now, isn't it? + </p> + <p> + Evje. You scoundrel! You vindictive brute! + </p> + <p> + John. You can have a look at the paper, sir, if you like. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Have <i>you</i> got a copy? + </p> + <p> + John. Yes, sir, the first copy struck off is always sent to the Editor, + so I volunteered to bring it to him. But you must be anxious to see it, + sir! (Holds it out to EVJE.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (snatching it from him). Give it to me! Let me see—. (Moves + towards his door, but stops.) No, my wife mustn't—. Here, under + the gas-lamp! This filthy fog! I can't—. (Feels in his pocket for + his glasses, and pasts them on.) Ah, that's better! (Holds the paper + under the light.) What a mischance! The blackguard—! Where is the + article, then? Oh, here—I can't see properly, my heart is beating + so! + </p> + <p> + John. Shall I run for the doctor, sir? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Will you go away, you—! (Holds the paper first up, and then + down, in his attempts to see better.) Ah, here it is! "The Stock + Exchange Committee"—oh! (Lowers the paper.) + </p> + <p> + John (mimicking him). Oh! + </p> + <p> + Evje (trying to read). What a vile thing to do! + </p> + <p> + John. Oh, go on! go on! + </p> + <p> + Evje (as he reads). This beats everything I ever—Oh! + </p> + <p> + John. Oh! We <i>are</i> in a bad way! + </p> + <p> + Evje (wiping his forehead). What a different thing it is to read + libellous attacks on others—and on one's self! (Goes on reading.) + Oh! Oh! What horrible, revolting rascality! What is it he says here? I + must read through it again! Oh, oh! + </p> + <p> + John. And often of a morning, when you have been reading the paper, I + have heard you laughing till the bed shook under you! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Yes, I who have so often laughed at others! (Reads.) No, this is + beyond belief! I can't read any more! This will ruin my position in the + town; I can hear every one laughing at me—he knows all my + weaknesses, and has managed to make it all so hideously ludicrous! + (Tries to go on reading.) Why, here is some more! (Reads.) It begins + even worse than the other! (Lowers the paper, panting, then tries to go + on reading.) No, I can't—I can't! I must wait! Everything seems + going round and round—and my heart is beating so violently that I + know I shall have one of my attacks! What a devil it is that I have been + making a friend of! What a creature to have broken bread with!—an + unprincipled scoundrel! And the disgrace of it!—the disgrace! What + will they say at the Exchange? What will—? I shall not dare to go + out of my house, at least for some weeks! And then people will only say + I have taken to my bed! Oh, oh! I feel as if it were the end of + everything! + </p> + <p> + John (solicitously). Can I help you, sir? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Will you leave me alone—! No, I will have my revenge on him + immediately! I will go and ring his bell, and go into his house and call + him a scoundrel and spit in his face—! Did I bring my stick out + with me? Where is my stick? I will send my man for it, and then I will + thrash him round and round his own room! + </p> + <p> + John (eagerly). I will fetch it for you, sir! + </p> + <p> + Evje (without hearing him). No, it would only make more scandal!—How + can I take my revenge? I must do him some injury—some real injury + that will seem to poison his food for him and rob him of his rest. + Scoundrels like that don't deserve sleep! It must be something, too, + that will make his family every bit as unhappy as mine will be when they + have read this—something that will make them hide their heads for + shame—something that will make them terrified every time their + door-bell rings, out of shame for what their servants may hear! No, no, + I am getting as evil-minded as he is, now!—What a horrible trade—for + ever sowing the seeds of sin and reaping a crop of curses! Now I + understand what Harald Rejn meant by saying that no one ought to give + his help to such things!—Heavens, hear my vow: never again will I + give my help to such things!—What am I to say to my wife—my + dear, good wife, who has no suspicion how disgraced I am! And Gertrud, + our good Gertrud—ah, at all events I can give her some pleasure at + once. I cannot conceal it from them; but I will tell them myself, so + that they shall not read it. + </p> + <p> + John. Is there anything else I can do for you, sir? + </p> + <p> + Evje (almost screaming at him). Once for all, can't you let me alone! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (leaning out of a window she has opened). The sound must have + come from the street, all the same. Are you there, my dear? + </p> + <p> + Evje (drawing back in alarm). There she is! Shall I answer? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Are you there, my dear? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Yes, dear, here I am! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. So you are! I heard your voice, and looked all over the + house. What is the matter, dear? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Oh, I am so unhappy! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Good heavens, are you, dear? Come along in—or shall I + come down to you? + </p> + <p> + Evje. No, I will come in. Shut the window, or you will catch cold. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Do you know, Gertrud is sitting up here, crying? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Good gracious, is she? I will come up—I will come up! + </p> + <p> + John. I will help him up, ma'am! (Pretends to be doing so.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Is that you, John? + </p> + <p> + Evje (in a low voice). Will you be off! + </p> + <p> + John. Yes, it is me, ma'am. He is so unwell. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Is he! Heavens, it is one of his attacks! Help him, John! + </p> + <p> + Evje (as before). Don't you dare! + </p> + <p> + John (who has rung the bell loudly). I do hope you will moon be better, + sir! (Calls up to the window.) I can leave him now, ma'am! (To EVJE, as + he goes.) This has been a bit of luck, for me; but you shall have some + more of it! (Disappears into the fog as EVJE goes into his house. The + two Passers-by, that were seen at the beginning of the scene, are now + indistinctly seen returning along the street at the back.) + </p> + <p> + First Passer-by. Well, the land of Fogs used to be thought by the + ancients to lie in the north, where all confused ideas come from— + </p> + <p> + Second Passer-by (who does not seem to be able to get a word in). But, + listen to me for a moment-do you think it means—? + </p> + <p> + [Curtain] + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT III + </h2> + <p> + (SCENE.—A room in HALVDAN REJN's house. He is lying, supported on + pillows, on a sofa on the left-hand side of the room. There is a table + in the background, and another near the sofa. A lamp is hanging from the + ceiling, and another standing on the table at the back. HAAKON REJN, his + dress proclaiming him to be a well-to-do yeoman farmer, is sitting on a + chair by the sofa.) + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. So she couldn't come? + </p> + <p> + Haakon. No; there are the youngsters, you know—she finds it + difficult to get away. + </p> + <p> + Halvdan (after a moment's silence). Remember to thank her for all her + kindness to me. The happiest moments of my life have been those Sundays + and evenings that she and you and I spent together at your house. (A + pause.) + </p> + <p> + Haakon. She wanted very much to know how you were feeling—whether + you, who have suffered so much, are at peace now. + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. At peace? A man who has to die with all his work unfinished, + cannot easily root out all thoughts of that from his heart. + </p> + <p> + Haakon. You should try to lay in God's hands all that you have striven + for. + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. That is what I struggle daily to do. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Haakon. A sister of my wife's, who was a widow and badly off, died + leaving three young children. But she was glad to die. "Their Heavenly + Father will help them better when I am out of the way," she said. "I + took up too much room," she said; "I know I have often stood in their + way." (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. You tell that just as your wife would; she told me that story + once. + </p> + <p> + Haakon. I was to tell you from her that she believes you are to die in + order that what you have worked for may come to its fullest fruit. She + thinks that when you are gone, people will appreciate better what your + aims were. + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. There is some comfort in the thought that I may be dying in + order that what I have loved may live. I have already given up + happiness-even honour-for it; I gladly give my life for it now. (A + pause.) + </p> + <p> + Haakon. Do you bear ill-will to any of those who have opposed you so + cruelly? + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. To no one. + </p> + <p> + Haakon. Not even to those whose doing it is that you are lying here? + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. No, to no one. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Haakon. Could you bear to read something hateful about yourself to-day? + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. I don't know. + </p> + <p> + Haakon. Then you have not done with it all yet. + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. No, I know I have not. It is only sometimes that the busy world + outside seems to me like a ship sailing idly before the wind. More + often, I am back in the midst of it again—planning, hoping, + praying! I am young, you know, and have had to suffer so much—there + was so much I wanted to do. (Lifts a handkerchief to his forehead. + HAAKON helps him to wipe his face with it. A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Haakon. But it must be a comfort to you, too, that Harald is taking up + what you are laying down. There is good stuff in him. + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Haakon. And he never says more than is necessary. The country folk will + understand him all the better for it. + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. I hope so. As soon as he comes into my room I feel as if the + atmosphere were charged with electricity—I feel as if I <i>must</i> + have a part in what he is doing—and so I work, and tire myself + out. Ah, it often seems very hard to have to die, and leave undone a + great work that one has failed to accomplish! + </p> + <p> + Haakon. But you have made him what he is, you know—and many + others. + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. I have started the fight, that is all. It is hard to have to + desert at the beginning of it!—But God is good, and will + understand; He will not be surprised at what my thoughts are full of, + when I go to Him. (A ring is heard at the bell.) + </p> + <p> + Haakon. I expect that is Harald. + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. No, he never rings. Besides, I expect he is taking a walk, to + think over what he is going to say to-night. + </p> + <p> + Haakon. Yes, I suppose it will be a big meeting. (The HOUSEKEEPER comes + in.) + </p> + <p> + The Housekeeper. Mr. Evje is here, sir, asking for Mr. Harald. I told + him we were expecting him every moment. Shall I ask him to come in? + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. Yes, show him in. (HAAKON gets up, as EVJE is shown in.) + </p> + <p> + Evje (to HALVDAN). Good evening! (Sees HAAKON.) Ah, good evening! So you + have come? That is splendid. Is your wife with you? + </p> + <p> + Haakon. No, she couldn't leave the children. + </p> + <p> + Evje. I see. (To HALVDAN.) And how are you? About the same? Of course, + yes.—Where is your brother? + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. He has his meeting to-night, you know. + </p> + <p> + Evje. His momentous meeting—I know! I am going to it myself! + </p> + <p> + Halvdan (turns his face towards him). You? + </p> + <p> + Evje. My object in coming here was to take him home with me, so that we + could all go together to the meeting. We mean to go on to the platform + with him; I mean people to see that we are with him! + </p> + <p> + Halvdan (turning his face away). Really! + </p> + <p> + Evje (to HAAKON). You never answered my letter, Mr. Rejn. + </p> + <p> + Haakon. No, I knew I was coming in to town. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Well—will you sell? + </p> + <p> + Haakon. No. + </p> + <p> + Evje. But, my dear Mr. Rejn, you have not sold a single potato to my + distillery for five years! And with a farm like yours! This year you had + the best crop in the whole valley. + </p> + <p> + Haakon. Oh, yes—it wasn't so bad. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Not so bad! It was an extraordinary crop; and, everywhere else + round about, the crops were very middling. + </p> + <p> + Haakon. Oh, yes—it might have been worse. + </p> + <p> + Evje (laughing). I should think so! But then why won't you sell? (Turns + to HALVDAN.) I hope you will excuse our talking business in a sick-room; + a business man has to seize every opportunity, you know! (To HAAKON.) + You have never got higher prices elsewhere than you have from me. + </p> + <p> + Haakon. No, so I believe; but I have my own reasons. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Your own reasons? What are they? + </p> + <p> + Haakon. I had a servant once—it is about five years ago now—a + good, capable fellow. He used to take potatoes for me to the distillery + every day, and every evening came back drunk. So I spoke to him + seriously about it; and his answer was: "How do you suppose our + brandy-merchants are to grow rich, if chaps like me don't drink pretty + hard?" You know the man; he went into your service afterwards. But from + that day I have never sold a potato to a distillery. + </p> + <p> + Evje. But, my dear Mr. Rejn, we cannot be held responsible for the use + to which such rascals put God's gifts! + </p> + <p> + Haakon. No—no—I suppose not; still, I am not going to have + anything more to do with it. + </p> + <p> + Evje (to HALVDAN). Do you think your brother will not be home before the + meeting? + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. I should think he would; there is plenty of time yet. + </p> + <p> + Evje. There is; but I should have liked to take him home with me first. + The fact is (laughs) I have promised my wife and daughter not to go home + without him. You know what women are! Shall I just go into his room and + wait for him? There is something I want to talk to him about, you know. + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. I don't think there is a fire in there. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Oh, well, never mind—I will sit here. I have got a newspaper + to read, and you two must go on with your talk just as if I were not + here! I shall hear nothing, because I have something to read that + interests me. (He pulls a chair up to the table on the right with its + back to HALVDAN. HAAKON brings the lamp from the table at the back.) Ah, + thank you very much! Now, just talk away as if I were not here! (Takes + the paper from his pocket and sits down.) + </p> + <p> + Haakon (sitting down again beside his brother). I should have liked to + go to the meeting, too. + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. Of course you must go! You will hear Harald tell them how each + nation has its own appointed task in the world; that is why it <i>is</i> + a nation. But, as long as it does not realise the fact, its politics + will be nothing but wrangling between the various class-interests—a + haphazard struggle for power. Our nation has never got beyond that + point! I have shouted myself to death over what is a mere market. + </p> + <p> + Evje (to himself, striking the table with his fist). The whole + commercial community is insulted in this insult to me! I will stir them + up at the meeting, and insist on our taking our revenge in common! + </p> + <p> + Haakon. I don't think things will be any better until we are better + Christians. Men think of nothing nowadays but themselves and their + position. + </p> + <p> + Evje (to himself). No, no-that wouldn't do. What would people say? They + would only say I was badly hit by this. + </p> + <p> + Halvdan (half to himself). A Christian nation, thinking of nothing but + its own interests—that is to say, power! Equality and Liberty have + no meaning for it. Haakon, it surely will be bliss for a wounded soul to + be taken into the Everlasting Love, high above all this so-called + Christianity of the world! For my soul is sorely wounded! + </p> + <p> + Evje (to himself ). If only I could strike him dead! + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. But may they all be forgiven!—You asked just now whether + I could bear to read something hateful about myself to-day. I think I + could. + </p> + <p> + Haakon. Then I can tell you the other message she gave me for you. I + have been a little shy of telling you that. It was that you should + remember that you must do more than forgive; you must pray for them. (A + pause.) + </p> + <p> + Halvdan (with his hand over his eyes). I do. + </p> + <p> + Evje (crumpling up the paper and throwing it on the floor). No, I won't + stand it! If the blackguard—. (Gets up in alarm, as he realises + what he has done, and is just going to pick up the paper; but at that + moment turns round facing the others, and lets it lie.) No, I won't + touch it again—never, as long as I live! (To the others.) You must + forgive me, but I was reading something that upset me very much. Your + brother will tell you all about it in the morning, no doubt. Poof—it + is very warm in here! But, of course, that is natural in a sick-room. I + don't think he can be coming now. I think, too, that I will go on, so as + not to be late for the meeting; there is sure to be a difficulty in + getting seats. I will get him to go home with me after the meeting, + instead. That will be better, after all. + </p> + <p> + Haakon. I was thinking of going to the meeting. Would you mind if I went + with you?—for I do not know the way myself. + </p> + <p> + Evje. You will come with me, Mr. Rejn? (To himself.) That will be + splendid—to make my entrance in the company of one of our yeomen + farmers! (Aloud.) By all means let us go together! I feel flattered by + the opportunity, because I have always maintained that our yeomen are + the pick of the nation. Well, then—(to Halvdan) I hope you will + soon be feeling better, Mr. Rejn. God bless you! + </p> + <p> + Halvdan (raising himself on his elbow, and looking at him with a smile). + Something must have gone amiss with you to-day. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Why do you say that? + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. Because as a rule you appear so composed so aloof from all this + squabbling. + </p> + <p> + Evje (impetuously). But, do what I like, I am not allowed to keep aloof + from it! I have no greater wish in the world than to do so, I can assure + you. Oh, well, your excellent brother—my future son-in-law, as I + am proud to call him—he will tell you all about it. Good-bye!—and—and—God + bless you! + </p> + <p> + Haakon. Shall I tell your housekeeper to come to you? + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. Oh, no; but you might tell her to come in a little while. + </p> + <p> + Haakon. Good-bye for the present, then! + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. Thank you for coming! Good-bye. (Sinks back on to the sofa. The + others go out, HAAKON turning round once at the door.) + </p> + <p> + Halvdan. It is something in the paper that has disturbed his equanimity. + What can it be? The same thing that made Harald so gloomy to-day, I + wonder? (Gets half up.) It is lying there.—No! What interest have + I in all their petty spite now? (Sinks back again.) "Could you bear to + read something hateful about yourself to-day?" Haakon asked. Then I + suppose there is something about me in it to-day. (Puts his hand over + his heart.) My heart doesn't seem to be beating any the faster for my + knowing that. (Gets half up.) There it lies! (Sinks back again.) No, I + am only trying to tempt myself. All the same, I should like to know how + many stations I have passed on my journey to the great City of Peace! + Can their malice affect me still? Surely I have passed <i>that</i> + station?—It would be worth trying, to see. There it lies! (Takes + up a stick that is standing by the sofa.) Surely I can get over there by + myself? (Gets up from the sofa with the help of the stick, and smiles.) + I have not much strength left. (Takes a few steps.) Scarcely enough to + get across the floor. (A few more steps.) To think that I should have—so + much vanity—my weak point—. (His breath fails him, but he + gets as far as the chair on which EVJE was sitting, and sits down.) One + ought to have done with all that before the soul can get quite away from + the dust that—. (Begins to rake the paper towards him with his + stick.) And here am I, sitting here raking more of it towards me!—No, + let the thing lie! I won't soil my wings any more.—Poor Harald! He + has to take up the burden now! What a horrible bungle it is, that we + should be brought into the world to give each other as much pain as + possible! (Decidedly.) Well, I am going to see what legacy of + unhappiness I am leaving him! I want to have a vivid impression of the + misery I am escaping from. There is a certain comfort even in that. + (Bends down and picks up the paper, rests for a moment, and then unfolds + the paper.) But this is not to-day's paper; it is dated for to-morrow! + How can Evje have got hold of it? Yes, here is the date—Sunday. + "Remember that thou keep holy the Sabbath Day!" On that day men's souls + should turn to God—and they offer Him <i>this</i>! It is after + reading <i>this</i> that these fine ladies and gentlemen go to church! + (Pushes the paper away from him.) Suppose these "Christians" were to be + brought to judgment one day without warning?—Let us think of + ourselves and not of others! (Lets his eye rest on the paper.) Does that + mean me? (Reads.) "Not yet actually dead, but already canonised by a + calculating brother—." (Checks himself.) God forgive them! (Reads + on.) "His teachings will no doubt obtain him a paean of praise, but this + will be—or, at least, so it is to be hoped—from within the + closely locked doors of the state's prisons and houses of correction"—(checks + himself a little)—"for that is whither he leads his followers."—Good + God, to think that they can say such things!—And yet, they said + worse things of <i>Him</i>! Peace! (Reads.) "No doubt he talks against + Socialism; no doubt he coquets with Christianity; but it is by these + very means that he has become so expert a seducer of men's + opinions-which was his aim all along." (Puts his hands before his face.) + I should not have read it; forgive me! I am too weak still!—Ah! I + feel—what is it? (Puts his hands suddenly to his heart, still + unconsciously grasping the newspaper in them.) I must get into my room—get + to bed! (Gets up with the help of his stick.) If only I can get there! + Oh, I feel it coming on!—I must—. (Tries to hurry, but when + he is halfway across the floor he stumbles, throws out his hands but + finds no support, staggers on for a few steps, and falls full length on + the threshold of his bedroom, so that half his length lies within the + door and half without. A moment later, the HOUSEKEEPER comes in.) + </p> + <p> + The Housekeeper (not observing that he is not still on the sofa). Won't + you go to bed now, sir? You can't stand so much in one day. (Goes to the + sofa.) Where is he? Surely he has not tried to walk in alone? (Hurries + across to the bedroom door and almost falls over his body. She starts + back with a scream.) Where is—? (Catches up the lamp, hurries + back, and bends over him; then calls out, screaming:) Help! Help! (Rings + the bell wildly. A MAID appears.) Mr. Halvdan is lying here! Heaven + knows whether he is dead or alive! Run for the Doctor! Leave the door + open behind you, and beg the first man you meet in the street to come up + here at once and help me. Tell them it is a matter of life and death! + </p> + <p> + Maid. Yes! + </p> + <p> + The Housekeeper. Hurry! + </p> + <p> + Maid (going out). Yes, yes! + </p> + <p> + The Housekeeper (coming back into the room). Is he alive or dead? I + haven't the courage to find out. And both his brothers away! (Cries.) + God grant some one comes soon!—Poor man, alone in his death as he + was in his life! But what was he doing <i>there</i>? Why did he get up + from the sofa? (Sees the paper.) Surely that can't be—? (Puts the + lamp on the floor and unfolds the paper.) Yes, it is the paper, right + enough! Who can have given it him? I can't look at it now; but if it is + like the number I read the other day (lets the paper fall, and gets up + with the lamp) then I understand everything—and may God requite + those that do such things! (The EDITOR rushes in.) + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Is it here? + </p> + <p> + The Housekeeper (holds the lamp to him, then starts back). What do <i>you</i> + want here? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Where am I? A girl came running down the street and told me + I must come up here and help some one that was dying. What do you want + me to do?—or is it not here? + </p> + <p> + The Housekeeper. And it was <i>you</i> she met? It is the hand of God! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. What are you babbling about? If it is not here, say so at + once. + </p> + <p> + The Housekeeper. Yes, it is here. There he lies! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Then oughtn't we to get him into bed? + </p> + <p> + The Housekeeper. Yes. But do you know who it is you are helping? + </p> + <p> + The Editor (to himself). She is not very polite. (Aloud.) No; but what + does that matter? + </p> + <p> + The Housekeeper. This much—that it is you that have killed him. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. I—? She is mad. + </p> + <p> + The Housekeeper. The man lying there is Halvdan Rejn. And he had been + reading about himself in your paper.—Come, now, and carry him in. + (She goes into the bedroom with the lamp. Her voice is heard from inside + the room.) Now, take hold of him and lift him. You can think afterwards. + </p> + <p> + The Editor (stoops to lift the body, but gets up again). I don't think + he is dead yet. + </p> + <p> + The Housekeeper. All the more reason to make haste. + </p> + <p> + The Editor (stoops down again, but gets up once more.) Let me take his + head. + </p> + <p> + The Housekeeper. Why? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. So that—if he should open his eyes + </p> + <p> + The Housekeeper.—he won't see you. (Comes out of the bedroom). Go + in there, then, and take his head. (He goes in.) What was that? + </p> + <p> + The Editor (from inside the room). I slipped. There is something wet + here. + </p> + <p> + The Housekeeper. Yes, he has had a hemorrhage. Carefully, now. (They + carry him in. The stage remains empty for a moment. Then the EDITOR + comes back, wiping his forehead. He walks backwards and forwards, + treading on the paper as he goes, but without noticing it.) + </p> + <p> + The Editor. What a horrible thing to happen!—Newspapers are not + meant for dying people.—It is not my fault.—Is this blood on + my hand? It is! (Wipes it with his handkerchief.) And now it is on my + handkerchief! (Throws it away.) No, it has my name on it. (Picks it up + again.) No one can say it is my fault. (Sits down, then gets up, wiping + his forehead with his handkerchief without noticing what he is doing.) + Ah, I hope I haven't put blood on my forehead? I seem to feel it there! + (Feels with his hand to see if his brow is wet.) No. (Sits down, then + gets up again.) Let me get away from here. (Stops.) To think that I + should be the one to come up! that it should just happen to-night that I + did not receive my paper, and so went out! It almost seems more than + accident. Indeed, I often had a foreboding that it would happen. (Stands + opposite the bedroom door.) But is he dead? I think I will go and fetch + the Doctor. Oh no, of course the maid has gone for him. He hasn't long + to live, anyway; I could see that. (Walks forward, pointing with his + finger.) "There goes the man that killed Halvdan Rejn! And his + punishment was that he had to lift up his bloodstained body himself." + That is what they will say; and they will look at me as if—. (Sits + down.) No, let me get away! (Takes a few steps, then stops suddenly.) + That article in to-morrow's paper! It is worse than the others! (Pulls + out his watch.) Too late—the post has gone! I would have given—. + (Checks himself.) I have nothing worth giving. In the morning It will be + known all over the town just as everyone is reading my fresh article. + There will be a riot; I shall be hunted like a wild beast. What shall I + do? I might sneak out of the town? Then they will gloat over me! I won't + allow them that pleasure! No, I cannot stay my hand utter a failure; + only after a victory. That is the cursed part of it-never, never to be + able to end it. Oh, for some one that could end it—end it, end it! + Oh, for one day of real peace! Shall <i>I</i> ever get that? (Sits + down.) No, no, I must get away! (Gets up.) To-morrow must take care of + itself. (Starts.) There is the paper he was reading! (Steps over it.) I + will take it away—and burn it. (Takes it up.) I cannot burn it + here; some one might come. (Is just going to put it into his pocket, as + it is, but takes it out again to fold it better.) A Sunday's paper, + apparently! Then it is <i>not</i> to-day's? An old number, I suppose. + Then the whole thing is a mistake! (Sighs with relief.) Let me look + again! (Opens the paper, tremblingly.) I don't deserve it, but—. + (Reads.) Sunday, the—. <i>To-morrow's</i> paper? <i>Here</i>? How + in all the world did it get here? (Appears horrified.) Here are the + articles about Evje! How on earth did they get in? Didn't I send a + message? Didn't I write? This on the top of everything else! Are even my + printers conspiring against me? Well, even if it ruins me, I shall go + on! They shall find out what I can do. How on earth can I be expected to + help it if a weak-minded fellow dies, or if my printers are drunk or my + manager has delirium tremens! I shall pursue my end through all chances + and in spite of all their tricks, and I shall crush them, crush them—I + shall—. (Gives way to a paroxysm of rage. At this moment the MAID + comes in with the DOCTOR'S ASSISTANT. The MAID rushes into the bedroom. + The EDITOR starts up.) Who is that? What do you want? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor's Assistant (coldly). What do <i>you</i> want here? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. I? Oh, I was called up to help the sick man into his bed. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor's Assistant (as before). Ah!—so it was <i>you</i>! (A + pause.) + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Have you ever seen me before? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor's Assistant. Yes. I have heard you grind your teeth before + this. (Goes into the bedroom.) + </p> + <p> + The Editor (after standing for a moment looking after him). They will + all look at me to-morrow like that-with those cold eyes. "Every man's + hand against him, and his hand against every man;" there can only be one + end to that. To-night, the meeting—and Harald Rejn will take them + by storm. To-morrow, his brother's death—and my new article in the + paper—and, in addition to that, those about Evje, who at present + is only angry. And the election in two days! Oh, yes, he will be elected + now. So I may as well give it all up at once. I would change places with + any wolf that has a lair to hide in. Those cold eyes of his! (Shudders.) + That is how every one will look at me to-morrow! They have pierced + through my armour! (The DOCTOR'S ASSISTANT comes back, and the EDITOR + makes an effort to resume his former confident manner.) + </p> + <p> + The Doctor's Assistant. I don't know whether you will be glad to hear + that it is all over. + </p> + <p> + The Editor (under his breath). You brute! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor's Assistant. His old housekeeper does not feel equal to + coming here to tell you what his last words were. They were: "Forgive + him!" (Goes out.) + </p> + <p> + The Editor (sitting down, then getting up again). No, I mustn't be found + here. (Walks about the room on tiptoe, as if he were afraid of waking + some one. When he comes opposite to the bedroom door, he turns towards + it, stretches out his arms and says:) Give me your forgiveness too! + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT IV + </h2> + <p> + (SCENE.—A large and handsomely furnished sitting-room at the + EVJE'S. The room is brightly lit and the fire burning. The entrance door + is on the right, and beyond it a door leading to the dining-room. + INGEBORG is busy taking the covers off the chairs, folding them + carefully as she does so. After a little, the bell rings. She goes to + open the door, and returns, showing in the DOCTOR.) + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Oho! Is it to be in here to-night? + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg (who has resumed her work of making the room ready). Yes, sir. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Where are they all? + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. At the meeting, sir. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. All of them? + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. Yes, all of them. Miss Gertrud went first— + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Yes, I saw her well enough! + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. And then the master, and a farmer gentleman with him, came in + to fetch the mistress. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (to himself). Something has happened here, then. (Aloud.) + Tell me, Ingeborg—has <i>he</i> been here again? You know who I + mean. (Coughs in imitation of the EDITOR'S cough.) + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. Oh, the Editor; no, sir. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (to himself). I wonder what has happened. (Aloud.) Well, + evidently there is to be a festivity here to-night; and, as I see the + chairs are getting their covers taken off, I may as well take mine off + too. (Takes off his coat and gives it to INGEBORG, who carries it out.) + I don't blame Evje for wanting to celebrate Harald's success after a + meeting like that! He is not exactly eloquent in the ordinary sense of + the word—doesn't bother about his antitheses and climaxes and + paradoxes, and all that sort of nonsense; but he is a <i>man</i>! He + goes bail for what he says, and he says what he likes—ha, ha! And + that dear Gertrud, too! Follows him into the hall, and, as there isn't a + single seat left there, goes up on to the platform among the committee, + and sits there looking at him with those trustful blue eyes of hers, as + if there was no one else in the room! And <i>we</i> were all looking at + <i>her</i>! She helped him more than ten good speakers would have done, + I am sure. Her faith in him bred it in others, whether they liked it or + no. She is one who would die for her faith! Yes, yes! The man that gets + her—. (INGEBORG comes back.) Well! (Rubs his hands together.) Look + here, Ingeborg. (Very politely.) Do you know what is meant by the Rights + of Man? + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg (going on with her work). No, sir. Something we have earned, I + suppose. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Yes, you earn them every day. + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. Our meals, perhaps? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (laughing). No, it isn't something to eat, unfortunately. + (Politely.) Do you ever read papers, Ingeborg? + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. Papers? Oh, you mean the price-lists they leave at the kitchen + door. Yes, sir; every day, before we go to market, I— + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. No, I don't mean papers of that sort. I mean— + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. Oh, you mean the newspaper I take in to master's room every + morning. No, Sir, I don't read that. I am told there are such horrors in + it. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Quite so. Don't you care to read about horrors, then? + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. Oh, we poor folk see enough of them in our everyday lives, + without reading about them!—But perhaps the gentry enjoy it. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. You are a very wise woman. Let me tell you, though, that + there is a fight going on, about—oh, well, never mind what it is + about. And the Editor and Mr. Rejn, who both come to this house, are the + two chief fighters. Don't you want to know what they are fighting about? + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg (going on unconcernedly with her work). Oh, so they are + fighting, are they? No, I don't care the least bit, sir! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (to himself). Ha, ha—the difference between Ingeborg + and me is that I am interested in the fight merely as a student of human + nature, and she is not interested in it at all. I wonder which is + farthest from any genuine belief in politics?—from our "duty as a + citizen," as they call it? (To INGEBORG.) Ingeborg, do you know what + your "duty as a citizen" means? + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. My "duty as a citizen"? That mean; paying fines, doesn't it, + sir? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Yes; and a very heavy fine, into the bargain! + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. The master was fined because the pavement was not swept. John + was ill. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Quite right, that was one of his duties as a citizen.—Tell + me, Ingeborg, are they expecting a lot of people here to-night? + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. No, sir, I have only laid table for quite a few. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. And what are they going to have? + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. Oh, one or two dishes and one or two sorts of wine—. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Aha! (A ring is heard at the bell. INGEBORG goes to the + door.) There they are! Now we shall have a fine time! + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg (coming back with a letter). It is a note for you, sir. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Oh, bother I + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. The man who brought it was not sure whether you would be at + the meeting or here. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. How could he know—? (Putting on his glasses.) Oh, from + my assistant—that is quite another thing. Of course he wants my + help or my advice. Well, he shan't have it! I have run about quite + enough to-day. Tell the messenger that I haven't time! I have my Duties + as a Citizen to attend to! (Calls after her.) And my Manhood's Rights + too! (Opens the envelope.) No, I won't read it; if I do, the matter will + worry me all the evening. I know what I am. (Puts the note in his + pocket.) I mean to enjoy this evening! (Suddenly.) I wonder how our + friend the Editor is enjoying this evening! Was he at the meeting, I + wonder? A remarkable personality—but malignity itself! + Lion-hearted, though! He would fight till the last drop of his blood! + But what is it, really, that he is fighting for? That question has + always interested me, for I can't make it out. (To INGEBORG, who has + comeback.) Well? + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. The messenger has gone.—Yes, sir, I told him everything + you told me to. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Of course. You would! Why the deuce does any one pay any + attention to what I say! (The bell rings.) Here they are at last! Now we + shall have a delightful evening! (EVJE and MRS. EVJE come in.) I am + first, you see! + </p> + <p> + Evje and Mrs. Evje. Were you at the meeting, too? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Where else should I be? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Did you see me? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. There were so many people there, dear. + </p> + <p> + Evje. But I was standing on a seat. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Yes, he was standing on a seat! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. There were plenty of people doing that. + </p> + <p> + Evje. I wanted to be seen!—There <i>have</i> been goings on here + to-day, my friend! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. You will never guess what has happened! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Anyway I can see that something has happened. + </p> + <p> + Evje and Mrs. Evje. Oh—! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. What is it, then? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Those articles will be in to-morrow's paper. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. In the paper?—Yes, I didn't find him. + </p> + <p> + Evje. But I found him! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (impatiently). Well? + </p> + <p> + Evje. I will tell you all about it another time. But I have read them— + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. And he has told me all about them! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Are they very bad? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Oh—oh! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Oh—oh—oh! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (with a look of pleased curiosity.) As bad as all that? + </p> + <p> + Evje and Mrs. Evje. Oh—oh—oh—oh! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. And <i>that</i> was why you went to the meeting! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Of course—tit for tat! It was my wife's idea. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. It was the obvious thing to do, dear. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Our whole family at the meeting!—So that all the town should + know that it was nothing but the meanest political persecution because I + had joined my son-in-law's party. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. We are party people now, you know! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Do you know, there is something exciting about being mixed up with + such things—something invigorating, something— + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (stepping back). Are <i>you</i> bitten with it, too? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Yes, if I can't be left in peace, I shall become a party man. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (enthusiastically). Did you see Gertrud? + </p> + <p> + Evje and Mrs. Evje (with emotion). Our Gertrud! Yes, indeed we did! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Did you see her coming in with him! + </p> + <p> + Evje and Mrs. Evje (as before). Yes, we saw her coming in with him! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. I suppose you did not know she was going? + </p> + <p> + Evje and Mrs. Evje. Oh, yes! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. She had said she would go with us— + </p> + <p> + Evje. But when we went to fetch her, the bird had flown! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. How pretty she looked, too! All the men were looking at her. + And how she looked at him! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. It made me want to cry. I had quite a job to prevent myself. + </p> + <p> + Evje. You need not have minded, dear! God has given us great happiness. + Her faith in him and her love shone to from her eyes that it went to my + heart. I felt quite upset! (Wipes his eyes.) + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. And what about <i>him</i>—eh? I don't fancy any one + will think about stopping his career. We have been a pack of fools. + </p> + <p> + Evje. That we have! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. He is not exactly eloquent, but— + </p> + <p> + Evje. That is precisely what I was saying to my wife! He is not exactly + eloquent, but he is— + </p> + <p> + The Doctor.—a man! + </p> + <p> + Evje. A man! My very words, weren't they, my dear? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Yes.—And I say he is so strong a man that he can afford + to be tender-hearted. For he certainly has been that. + </p> + <p> + Evje. Yes, he has been that! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (laughing). In spite of his strength! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Oh, you may make the most of your—. Aha! (Loud ringing at + the bell is heard.) Here they are! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Let us go and meet them! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. No; look here—let us wait for them at the other side + of the room, so that they may make a triumphal progress up to us! + </p> + <p> + Evje and Mrs. Evje, Yes! (They go to the opposite end of the room, while + HARALD comes in rather quickly, with GERTRUD on his arm. As they cross + the room, the others cry out: "Bravo! Bravo!" and clap their hands.) + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (still holding to HARALD's arm). And he is my man! My man! + (Throws her arms round his neck, crying with happiness, and kisses him; + then does the same to her mother, and then to her father, to whom she + whispers: Thank you!) + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Oh—me too! + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (after a moment's hesitation). Yes—you too! + </p> + <p> + (The DOCTOR helps her to take off her cloak, and talks to her, + whispering and laughing.) + </p> + <p> + Harald (shaking EVJE's hand). Good evening! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Forgive me! + </p> + <p> + Harald. With all my heart! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. And now everything is all right! + </p> + <p> + Harald. For good! + </p> + <p> + Evje and Mrs. Evje. For good! + </p> + <p> + Harald. And, thank you for coming to the meeting. + </p> + <p> + Evje. It was no more than our duty! Look here—did you see me? + </p> + <p> + Harald. The whole time! But, tell me, was it a delusion, or was it my + brother Haakon that was standing on the floor beside you, rather in the + shadow? + </p> + <p> + Evje and Mrs. Evje. It <i>was</i> he! + </p> + <p> + Evje. I fetched him from your brother Halvdan's. + </p> + <p> + Harald. I am so glad! It must have pleased Haakon. Gertrud and I at + first thought of going in to see Halvdan before we came on here; but we + saw all his lights were out. He must be asleep. + </p> + <p> + Evje. I can give you news of him. He is all right. + </p> + <p> + Harald. And Haakon? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Very well, too. A fine fellow! I wanted him to come home with us + now; but he said he was tired after his journey. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (to INGEBORG, who has come in from the dining room). Is it + ready? + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. Yes, ma'am. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Then come along. (INGEBORG opens the dining-room door.) + </p> + <p> + The Doctor and Evje. Yes, come along! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. But we must go ceremoniously! Let us make a little festivity + of it to-night! You must head the procession, Evje—and then the + two young people Gertrud (taking HARALD's arm). Yes! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. And Mrs. Evje and I will bring up the rear! (Offers her his + arm.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. Forward!(The bell rings. He stops.) Who can it be—as late as + this? + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Probably some friends on their way back from the meeting. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. We must wait a moment!(To INGEBORG, who is going to open the + door.)Put a leaf in the table, and lay places for as many as come. + </p> + <p> + Ingeborg. Yes, ma'am. (The bell rings again, as she goes to open the + door.) + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. They are impatient! So much the better—it shows they + are in a good humour after the meeting! (A knock is heard at the door.) + </p> + <p> + All. Come in!(The EDITOR comes in, with no overcoat on, but wearing his + hat, which he forgets to take of till he is well into the room. He goes + straight up to EVJE, who has crossed over to the left-hand side of the + room.) + </p> + <p> + All (when they see him in the doorway). You! (GERTRUD clings closer to + HARALD.) + </p> + <p> + The Editor. I wanted once more, as in the old days, not to go to bed + without—this time it is not a question of thanking you for the + happy time we have had together but without begging your pardon!(He + speaks quietly, but with suppressed emotion.)There has been some + unfortunate misunderstanding. Those articles have been printed, in spite + of my express instructions to the contrary—I do not know how. + </p> + <p> + Evje. I have read them. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. You have read them? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Yes, the copy of the paper that was meant for you came into my + hands. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. So that was it!—Forgive me, old friend! Won't you give + me your hand? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (coming forward). That he shall never do! + </p> + <p> + The Editor (glancing over his shoulder at her). Let no one come between + us at a moment like this! You don't know—. A hundred times in my + life I would have done what I am doing now, had I not been afraid that + people would call it affectation on my part and repulse me. Don't <i>you</i> + do that!—least of all now! Give me your hand, Evje! I beg you, in + the sight and hearing of you all—. (EVJE seems to vacillate.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. No, you shan't!—not while he has anything to do with a + newspaper. Otherwise it will all begin over again to-morrow. He is not + his own master, you know. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. I have done with it all. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Oh, you have said that so often! Nobody believes it. No; when + a man can push political hatred so far as to write about an old friend, + in whose house he has been a daily guest, as if he were a criminal—and + all because he doesn't like his son-in-law, or his servant—one + doesn't shake hands with him the very day his attacks appear in the + paper. + </p> + <p> + The Editor (who, all the tinge, has kept his back turned to MRS. EVJE, + and has not looked at her). Evje, you are a good-hearted fellow, I know. + Don't listen to what others say, now. This is a very bitter hour for me. + You would be doing a good deed! Give me your hand—or a word! I am + in such a state now that I must have visible signs of <i>some one's</i> + forgiveness, or I shall—! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (emphatically). Yes, a little repentance will do you good! But + it will do you no good if you obtain forgiveness easily! You want to + learn, just for once, what it is to be wounded at heart. You are only + accustomed to deal with people whom you can flog one day and have at + your feet—either from fear or from vanity—the next. And have + we—God forgive us!—ever thought seriously the worse of you + for it? No; because we never understood what it was till we were hit by + it ourselves. But that is all the more reason why we should do our duty + now! Hatred shall be met with hatred! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (at the back of the room, to GERTRUD and HARALD). She is her + father's daughter, after all, when it comes to the point! + </p> + <p> + The Editor (turns upon MRS. EVJE, with his fist clenched, but restrains + himself from answering her). Then you won't shake hands, Evje? Not a + word of forgiveness? + </p> + <p> + Evje. I think my wife is right. + </p> + <p> + The Editor (controlling himself with difficulty). You are a weak man, I + know— + </p> + <p> + Evje. What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + The Editor.—but do not be weak this time! If you knew everything, + you would know you <i>must</i> not refuse me what I ask. There are + others concerned—and for that reason— + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Let us go! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. No, stay! He shall not have his way again. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. Well, of all—! It is certainly true that those who are + hardest on sinners are those who have never been tempted themselves—and + the most merciless creature in the world is an injured woman. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Now he is coming out in his true colours! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (not without glee). Yes, that he is! + </p> + <p> + The Editor (controlling himself once more). Evje—you, who know me, + know what it must cost me to do this—and you can form some idea of + the need I am in. I have never— + </p> + <p> + Evje. I believe you; but I never can feel sure what your next move will + be. You have so many. + </p> + <p> + The Editor. My next move is to have done with it all, as sure as— + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Don't believe him! A man who can ask for your sympathy one + moment and abuse you the next is not fit to promise anything—and + certainly not fit to be forgiven, either. + </p> + <p> + The Editor (with an outburst of passion). Then may everything evil + overtake me if I ever ask you or any one else for sympathy again! You + have succeeded in teaching me that I can do without it! I can rise above + your cowardly cruelty. (To EVJE.) You are a miserable, weak creature—and + have always been, for all your apparent good-natured shrewdness! (To + MRS. EVJE.) And as for you, who have often laughed so heartily at my + so-called malice, and now all at once have become so severely virtuous—why, + you are both like part-proprietors of my paper! You have taken all the + profit you could from me, as long as it served your purpose—I have + seen that for a long time! And all my pretended friends are like you—secret + holders of shares in me, so as to secure their own safety and the + persecution of others!—every bit as guilty as I am, only more + prudent, more timid, more cowardly—! + </p> + <p> + Evje. Once more—leave this house, which you have outraged! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. And how dare you set foot in here again? + </p> + <p> + The Editor. No, I am not going until all the anger that is in my heart + has turned into fear in yours! Because now I will <i>not</i> have done + with it all! No—it is just through <i>his</i> death that respect + for me will revive—it will be like a rampart of bayonets round me! + "There goes one who can kill a man with a word, if he likes!" <i>That</i> + will make them treat me respectfully! + </p> + <p> + Harald and the Doctor. What does he mean? + </p> + <p> + The Editor (as he hears HARALD'S voice). And you—you mountebank, + who can stand up in public and seek applause before your brother's + corpse is cold—don't come talking rant to me! You are more + contemptible than I am! I couldn't have done that; I couldn't stand + there, as you are doing now, impatient to get to your champagne and + pretty speeches!—Oh, how I despise all such lying and + heartlessness! (They all look at him and at each other with a + questioning expression.) + </p> + <p> + Harald. Is my brother dead? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Is his brother dead? + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Good God, is Halvdan dead? + </p> + <p> + Evje. Is he dead? Impossible! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Is Rejn dead—and I—? + </p> + <p> + Evje. I saw him only a couple of hours ago, looking quite well. + </p> + <p> + The Editor (in a broken voice). Didn't you know? + </p> + <p> + All (except the DOCTOR). No! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. Ah, that letter, that letter! (Looks in his pocket for it + and his glasses.) + </p> + <p> + The Editor. I am the wretchedest man alive! (Sinks into a chair.) + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. I had a letter from my assistant, but I have not read it! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Read it, read it! + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (reading). "I am writing in great haste. As I expect you will + be going to your old friends' after the meeting, and will meet Harald + Rejn there, the task will probably fall to you of telling him—(the + EDITOR gets up to go, but stands still)—that Halvdan Rejn died + about eight o'clock of a fresh attack of hemorrhage! (HARALD leaves + GERTRUD'S side and comes forward, with a cry. The EDITOR steadies + himself by holding on to the table.) No one was with him; he was found + lying across the threshold of his bedroom. A copy of the newspaper was + lying on the floor behind him." (HARALD, with a groan, advance + threateningly towards the EDITOR.) + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Harald, my ring!—my ring! (HARALD Stops, collects + himself, buries his face in his hands and bursts into uncontrollable + tears. GERTRUD puts her arms round him and holds him folded in them.) + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (laying a hand on HARALD's arm). "The housekeeper told me he + had only spoken two words, and they were 'Forgive him!'" (HARALD bursts + into tears.) + </p> + <p> + The Doctor (after waiting for a little). "Apparently chance—or + perhaps something else—decreed that the maid who ran for help, + should meet the very man, who hats caused the tragedy, and that it + should be <i>he</i> who helped the housekeeper to lay him on his + deathbed." (All look at the EDITOR.) + </p> + <p> + Evje. That was why he came! (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Gertrud. Harald! (HARALD, who has turned away from her to struggle with + his emotion, does not turn round.) If <i>he</i> could forgive— + </p> + <p> + The Editor (with a gesture of refusal). No! + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (quietly, to the EDITOR). If you want to deserve it, make an end + of all this! + </p> + <p> + The Editor. It is all at an end! (To MRS. EVJE.) You were right. I knew + it myself, too. My armour is pierces pierced through. A child might + conquer me now—and this child has done so; for she has begged for + mercy for me, and no one has ever done that before. (Puts his hand over + his eyes, turns away, and goes out. As he is going out the bell rings. A + moment later, INGEBORG Shows in HAAKON REJN.) + </p> + <p> + Gertrud (who has put her arms round HARALD, whispers). Who is it? + </p> + <p> + Harald. My brother. (Goes to meet HAAKON and throws himself into his + arms.) You had a talk with him this afternoon, then? + </p> + <p> + Haakon. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Let us all go to him. + </p> + <p> + Evje and Gertrud. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje (to INGEBORG). Bring in our cloaks and hats again, and + afterwards clear the table. (INGEBORG does so.) + </p> + <p> + Harald (unable to control his emotion). Haakon, this is my future wife. + (Goes away from them.) + </p> + <p> + Haakon. Well, my dear, your engagement has begun seriously; take all the + future seriously, too. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor. You need not say that to <i>her</i>. What she needs is to + take life more lightly. + </p> + <p> + Haakon. Oh, yes—if she lays everything in God's hands she can + always take life lightly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. It is our own fault, I expect, when we take it too lightly. + </p> + <p> + Evje. But sometimes we learn a lesson by that. + </p> + <p> + Haakon. Oh, yes. Well, we must stand by one another, we who take life in + the same way. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Evje. Shall we go, children? + </p> + <p> + Harald (to HAAKON). Will you bring Gertrud, Haakon? I would rather go + alone. (They go out. The curtain falls.) + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BANKRUPT + </h2> + <h3> + A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS + </h3> + DRAMATIS PERSONAE +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HENNING TJAELDE, merchant and brewer. + MRS. TJAELDE, his wife. + VALBORG and SIGNE, their daughters. + LIEUTENANT HAMAR, engaged to Signe. + SANNAES, Tjaelde's confidential clerk. + JAKOSSEN, manager of Tjaelde's brewery. + BERENT, a lawyer. + PRAM, a custom-house official. + An Agent. + The VICAR. + LIND, a guest. + FINNE, a guest. + RING, a guest. + HOLM, a guest. + KNUTZON, a guest. + KNUDSEN, a guest. + FALBE, a guest. +</pre> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT I + </h2> + <p> + (SCENE.—A sitting-room in the TJAELDES' house, opening on a + verandah that is decorated with flowers. It is a hot summer's day. There + is a view of the sea beyond the verandah, and boats are visible among + the islands that fringe the coast. A good-sized yacht, with sails + spread, is lying close up under the verandah on the right. The room is + luxuriously furnished and full of flowers. There are two French windows + in the left-hand wall; two doors in the right-hand. A table in the + middle of the room; arm-chairs and rocking-chairs scattered about. A + sofa in the foreground on the right. LIEUTENANT HAMAR is lying on the + sofa, and SIGNE sitting in a rocking-chair.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. What shall we do with ourselves to-day? + </p> + <p> + Signe (rocking herself). Hm! (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. That was a delicious sail we had last night. (Yawns.) But I am + sleepy to-day. Shall we go for a ride? + </p> + <p> + Signe. Hm! (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. I am too hot on this sofa. I think I will move. (Gets up. SIGNE + begins to hum an air as she rocks herself.) Play me something, Signe! + </p> + <p> + Signe (singing her words to the air she has been humming). The piano is + out of tune. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Read to me, then! + </p> + <p> + Signe (as before, looking out of the window). They are swimming the + horses. They are swimming the horses. They are swimming the horses. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. I think I will go and have a swim too. Or perhaps I will wait + till nearer lunch-time. + </p> + <p> + Signe (as before). So as to have a better appetite—appetite—appetite. + </p> + <p> + (MRS. TJAELDE comes in from the right, walking slowly.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. You look very thoughtful! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, I don't know what to order. + </p> + <p> + Signe (as before). For dinner, I suppose you mean? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Do you expect any one? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, your father writes to me that Mr. Finne is coming. + </p> + <p> + Signe (speaking). The most tiresome person possible, of course. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. How would boiled salmon and roast chicken do? + </p> + <p> + Signe. We had that the other day. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. (With a sigh). There is nothing that we didn't. There is + so little choice in the market just now. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Then we ought to send to town. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Oh, these meals, these meals! + </p> + <p> + Hamar (yawning). They are the best thing in life, anyway. + </p> + <p> + Signe. To eat, yes—but not to cook; I never will cook a dinner. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (sitting down at the table). One could put up with the + cooking. It's the having always to think of something fresh! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Why don't you get a chef from one of the hotels, as I have so + often advised you? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Oh, we have tried that, but he was more trouble than it + was worth. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Yes, because he had no invention. Get a French chef! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, and have to be always beside him to interpret!—But + I am no nearer this dinner. And lately I have been finding such + difficulty in getting about. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. I have never in my life heard so much talk about meals as I have + in this house. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. You see, you have never been in a prosperous + business-man's house before. Our friends are mostly business-men, of + course—and most of them have no greater pleasures than those of + the table. + </p> + <p> + Signe. That's true. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Are you wearing <i>that</i> dress to-day? + </p> + <p> + Signe. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. You have worn a different one every day. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Well, if Hamar is tired of both the blue one and the grey one, + what can I do? + </p> + <p> + Hamar. And I don't like this one any better than the others. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Indeed!—Then I really think you had better order me one + yourself. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Come to town with me, and I will! + </p> + <p> + Signe. Yes, mother—Hamar and I have made up our minds that we must + go back to town. [Note: There would be nothing contrary to Norwegian + ideas of propriety in Signe's proposal. In Norway an engaged couple + could travel alone; and the fiancée would go to stay in the house of her + future husband's relations.] + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. But you were there only a fortnight ago! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. And it is exactly a fortnight too long since we were there! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. (thoughtfully). Now, what <i>can</i> I order for dinner? + </p> + <p> + (VALBORG comes into sight on the verandah.) + </p> + <p> + Signe (turning round and seeing VALBORG). Enter Her Highness! + </p> + <p> + Hamar (turning round). Carrying a bouquet! Oho! I have seen it before! + </p> + <p> + Signe. Have you? Did <i>you</i> give it her? + </p> + <p> + Hamar. No; I was coming through the garden—and saw it on the table + in Valborg's summerhouse. Is it your birthday, Valborg? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. No. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. I thought not. Perhaps there is some other festivity to-day? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. No. (SIGNE suddenly bursts out laughing.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Why do you laugh? + </p> + <p> + Signe. Because I understand! Ha, ha, ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. What do you understand? + </p> + <p> + Signe. Whose hands it is that have decked the altar! Ha, ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. I suppose you think they were mine? + </p> + <p> + Signe. No, they were redder hands than yours! Ha, ha, ha, ha! (VALBORG + throws the bouquet down.) Oh, dear me, it doesn't do to laugh so much in + this heat. But it is delightful! To think he should have hit upon that + idea! Ha, ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Hamar (laughing). Do you mean—? + </p> + <p> + Signe (laughing). Yes! You must know that Valborg— + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Signe! + </p> + <p> + Signe.—who has sent so many distinguished suitors about their + business, cannot escape from the attentions of a certain red pair of + hands—ha, ha, ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Do you mean Sannaes? + </p> + <p> + Signe. Yes! (Points out of the window.) There is the culprit! He is + waiting, Valborg, for you to come, in maiden meditation, with the + bouquet in your hands—as you came just now— + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. (getting up). No, it is your father he is waiting for. Ah, + he sees him now. (Goes out by the verandah.) + </p> + <p> + Signe. Yes, it really is father—riding a bay horse! + </p> + <p> + Hamar (getting up). On a bay horse! Let us go and say "how do you do" to + the bay horse! + </p> + <p> + Signe. N—o, no! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. You won't come and say "how do you do" to the bay horse? A + cavalry officer's wife must love horses next best to her husband. + </p> + <p> + Signe. And he his wife next best to his horses. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. What? Are you jealous of a horse? + </p> + <p> + Signe. Oh, I know very well you have never been so fond of me as you are + of horses. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Come along! (Pulls her up out of her chair.) + </p> + <p> + Signe. But I don't feel the least interested in the bay horse. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Very well, then, I will go alone! + </p> + <p> + Signe. No, I will come. + </p> + <p> + Hamar (to VALBORG). Won't you come and welcome the bay horse too? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. No, but I will go and welcome my father! + </p> + <p> + Signe (looking back, as she goes). Yes, of course—father as well. + (She and HAMAR go out.) + </p> + <p> + (VALBORG goes to the farthest window and stands looking out of it. Her + dress is the same colour as the long curtain, and a piece of statuary + and some flowers conceal her from any one entering the room. SANNAES + comes in, carrying a small saddle-bag and a cloak, which he puts down on + a chair behind the door. As he turns round he sees the bouquet on the + door.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. There it is! Has she dropped it by accident, or did she throw + it down? Never mind—she has had it in her hands. (Picks it up, + kisses it, and is going to take it away.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg (coming forward). Leave it alone! + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (dropping the bouquet). You here, Miss Valborg—? I didn't + see you— + </p> + <p> + Valborg. But I can see what you are after. How dare you presume to think + of persecuting me with your flowers and your—your red hands? (He + puts his hands behind his back.) How dare you make me a laughing-stock + to every one in the house, and I suppose to every one in the town? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. I—I—I— + </p> + <p> + Valborg. And what about me? Don't you think I deserve a little + consideration? You will be turned out of the house before long, if you + do not take care—! Now be quick and get away before the others + come in. (SANNAES turns away, holding his hands in front of him, and + goes out by the verandah to the right. At the same moment TJAELDE is + seen coming at the other end of the verandah, followed by HAMAR and + SIGNE.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, it is a fine horse. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Fine? I don't believe there is its equal in the country. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I dare say. Did you notice that he hadn't turned a hair? + </p> + <p> + Hamar. What glorious lungs! And such a beauty, too—his head, his + legs, his neck—! I never saw such a beauty! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, he is a handsome beast. (Looks out of the verandah at the + yacht.) Have you been out for a sail? + </p> + <p> + Hamar. I was sailing among the islands last night, and came back this + morning with the fishing-boats—a delightful sail! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I wish I had time to do that. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. But surely it is only imagination on your part, to think that you + never have time? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Oh, well, perhaps I have time but not inclination. + </p> + <p> + Signe. And how do things stand where you have been? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Badly. + </p> + <p> + Valborg (coming forward). Welcome home, father! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Thank you, dear! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Is it not possible to save anything? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Not at present; that is why I took the horse. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Then the bay horse is the only thing you get out of the smash? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Do you know that I might say that horse has cost me three or + four thousand pounds? + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Well, that is its only defect, anyway! Still, if the worst comes + to the worst, and you can afford it—the horse is priceless! + (TJAELDE turns away, puts down his hat and coat and takes off his + gloves.) + </p> + <p> + Signe. It is beautiful to see your enthusiasm when you talk about + horses. I rather think it is the only enthusiasm you have. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Yes, if I were not a cavalry officer I should like to be a horse! + </p> + <p> + Signe. Thank you! And what should I be? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. "Oh, were I but the saddle on thy back! Oh, were I but the whip + about thy loins!" + </p> + <p> + Hamar. "Oh, were I but the flowers in thy—." No, "hand" doesn't + rhyme! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. (coming forward, meets MRS. TJAELDE, who has come in from the + right.) Well, my dear, how are you? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Oh, I find it more and more difficult to get about. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. There is always something the matter with you, my dear! Can I + have something to eat? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, it has been standing waiting for you. Here it comes. + (A maid brings in a tray which she lays on the table.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Good! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Will you have a cup of tea? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No, thank you. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. (sitting down beside him and pouring him out a glass of + wine). And how have things gone with the Möllers? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Badly. I told you so already. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. I didn't hear you. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I had a letter to-day from Nanna Möller. She tells me all about + it—how none of the family knew anything about it till the officers + of the courts came. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, there must have been a dreadful scene. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Did he tell you anything about it? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (as he eats). I didn't speak to him. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. My dear! Why, you are old friends! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Bah! Old friends! He sat looking as if he had taken leave of + his senses. Besides, I have had enough of that family. I didn't go there + to hear them talk about their troubles. + </p> + <p> + Signe. I suppose it was all very sad? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (still eating). Shocking! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. What will they have to live on? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. What is allowed them by their creditors, of course. + </p> + <p> + Signe. But all the things they had? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Sold. + </p> + <p> + Signe. All those pretty things—their furniture, their carriages, + their—? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. All sold. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. And his watch? It is the most beautiful watch I have ever seen—next + to yours. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. It had to go, of course, being jewellery. Give me some wine; I + am hot and thirsty. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Poor things! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Where are they going to live now? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. In the house of one of the skippers of what was their fleet. + Two small rooms and a kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Two small rooms and a kitchen! (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. What do they intend to do? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. There was a subscription started to enable Mrs. Möller to get + the job of catering for the Club. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Is the poor woman going to have more cooking to do! + </p> + <p> + Signe. Did they send no messages to us? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Of course they did; but I didn't pay any attention to them. + </p> + <p> + Hamar (who has been standing on the verandah). But Möller—what did + he say? What did he do? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I don't know, I tell you. + </p> + <p> + Valborg (who has been walking up and down the room during the preceding + conversation). He has said and done quite enough already. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (who has at last finished eating and drinking, is struck by her + words). What do you mean by that, Valborg? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. That if I were his daughter I would never forgive him. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. My dear Valborg, don't say such things! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I mean it! A man who would bring such shame and misery upon his + family does not deserve any mercy from them. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. We are all in need of mercy. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. In one sense, yes. But what I mean is that I could never give + him my respect or my affection again. He would have wronged me too + cruelly. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (getting up). Wronged you? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Have you finished already, dear? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. No more wine? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I said I had finished. Wronged you? How? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Well, I cannot imagine how one could be more cruelly wronged + than to be allowed to assume a position that was nothing but a lie, to + live up to means that had no real existence but were merely a sham—one's + clothes a lie, one's very existence a lie! Suppose I were the sort of + girl that found a certain delight in making use of her position as a + rich man's daughter—in using it to the fullest possible extent; + well, when I discovered that all that my father had given me was + stolen-that all he had made me believe in was a lie—I am sure that + then my anger and my shame would be beyond all bounds! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. My child, you have never been tried. You don't know how + such things may happen. You don't really know what you are saying! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Well it might do Möller good if he heard what she says! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. He has heard it. His daughter said that to him. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. His own daughter! Child, child, is that what you write to + each other about? God forgive you both! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Oh, He will forgive us, because we speak the truth. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tialde. Child, child! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. You evidently don't understand what business is—success + one day and failure the next. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. No one will ever persuade me that business is a lottery. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No, a sound business is not. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Exactly. It is the unsound sort that I condemn. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Still, even the soundest have their anxious moments. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. If the anxious moments really foreshadow a crisis, no man of + honour would keep his family o: his creditors in ignorance of the fact. + My God, how Mr. Möller has deceived his! + </p> + <p> + Signe. Valborg is always talking about business! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Yes, it has had an attraction for me ever since I was a child. + I am not ashamed of that. + </p> + <p> + Signe. You think you know all about it, anyway. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Oh, no; but you can easily get to know a little about anything + you are fond of. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. And one would need no great knowledge of business to condemn the + way Möller went on. It was obvious to every one. And the way his family + went on, too! Who went the pace as much as the Möllers? Think of his + daughter's toilettes! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. His daughter is my best friend. I don't want to hear her + abused. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Your Highness will admit that it is possible to be the daughter + of a <i>very</i> rich man without being as proud and as vain as—as + the lady I am not allowed to mention! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Nanna is neither proud nor vain. She is absolutely genuine. She + had the aptitude for being exactly what she thought she was—a rich + man's daughter. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Has she the "aptitude" for being a bankrupt's daughter now? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Certainly. She has sold all her trinkets, her dresses—every + single thing she had. What she wears, she has either paid for herself or + obtained by promising future payment. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. May I ask if she kept her stockings? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. She sent everything to a sale. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. If I had known that I would certainly have attended it! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Yes, I daresay there was plenty to make fun of, and plenty of + idle loafers, too, who were not ashamed to do so. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Children, children! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. May I ask if Miss Nanna sent her own idleness to the sale with + her other effects?—because I have never known any one with a finer + supply of it! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. She never thought she would need to work. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (coming forward to VALBORG). To take up the thread of what we + were saying: you don't understand what a business-man's hope is from one + day to the other—always a renewed hope. That fact does not make + him a swindler. He may be unduly sanguine, perhaps—a poet, if you + like, who lives in a world of dreams—or he may be a real genius, + who sees land ahead when no one else suspects it. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I don't think I misunderstand the real state of affairs. But + perhaps you do, father. Because is not what you call hope, poetry, + genius, merely speculating with what belongs to others, when a man knows + that he owes more than he has got? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. It may be very difficult to be certain even whether he does + that or not. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Really? I should have thought his books would tell him— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. About his assets and his liabilities, certainly. But values are + fluctuating things; and he may always have in hand some venture which, + though it cannot be specified, may alter the whole situation. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. If he undeniably owes more than he possesses, any venture he + undertakes must be a speculation with other people's money. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Well—perhaps that is so; but that does not mean that he + steals the money—he only uses it in trust for them. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Entrusted to him on the false supposition that he is solvent. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. But possibly that money may save the whole situation. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. That does not alter the fact that he has got the use of it by a + lie. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. You use very harsh terms. (MRS. TJAELDE has once or twice been + making signs to VALBORG, which the latter sees but pays no attention + to.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg. In that case the lie consists in the concealment. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. But what do you want him to do? To lay all his cards on the + table, and so ruin both himself and the others? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Yes, he ought to take every one concerned into his confidence. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Bah! In that case we should see a thousand failures every year, + and fortunes lost one after the other everywhere! No, you have a level + head, Valborg, but your ideas are narrow. Look here, where are the + newspapers? (SIGNE, who has been talking confidentially to HAMAR on the + verandah, comes forward.) + </p> + <p> + Signe. I took them down to your office. I did not know you meant to stay + in here. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Oh, bother the office! Please fetch them for me. (SIGNE goes + out, followed by Hamar.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (in an undertone to VALBORG). Why will you never listen to + your mother, Valborg? (VALBORG goes out to the verandah; leans on the + edge of it, with her head on her hands, and looks out.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I think I will change my coat. Oh no, I will wait till + dinner-time. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Dinner! And here I am still sitting here! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Are we expecting any one? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, have you forgotten? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Of course, yes. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (going out). What on earth am I to order? + </p> + <p> + (TJAELDE comes forward as soon as he is alone, sits down on a chair with + a weary, harassed expression, and buries his face in his hands with a + sigh. SIGNE and HAMAR come back, she carrying some newspapers. HAMAR is + going out to the verandah again, but SIGNE pulls him back.) + </p> + <p> + Signe. Here you are, father. Here are— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. What? Who? + </p> + <p> + Signe (astonished). The newspapers. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Ah, yes. Give them to me.(Opens them hurriedly. They are mostly + foreign papers, in which he scans the money articles one after another.) + </p> + <p> + Signe (after a whispered conversation with HAMAR). Father! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (without looking up from the papers).Well? (To himself, + gloomily.) Down again, always down! + </p> + <p> + Signe. Hamar and I want so much to go into town again to Aunt Ulla's. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. But you know you were there only a fortnight ago. I received + your bills yesterday. Have you seen them? + </p> + <p> + Signe. No need for that, father, if <i>you</i> have seen them! Why do + you sigh? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Oh—because I see that stocks keep falling. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Pooh! Why should you bother about that? Now you are sighing + again. I am sure you know how horrid it is for those you love not to + have what they want. You won't be so unkind to us, father? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No, my child, it can't be done. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Why? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Because—because—well, because now that it is summer + time so many people will be coming here whom we shall have to entertain. + </p> + <p> + Signe. But entertaining people is the most tiresome thing I know, and + Hamar agrees with me. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Don't you think I have to do tiresome things sometimes, my + girl? + </p> + <p> + Signe. Father dear, why are you talking so solemnly and ceremoniously? + It sounds quite funny from you! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Seriously, my child, it is by no means an unimportant matter + for a big business house like ours, with such a wide-spread connection, + that people coming here from all quarters should find themselves + hospitably received. You might do that much for me. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Hamar and I will never have a moment alone at that rate. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I think you mostly squabble when you are alone. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Squabble? That is a very ugly word, father. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Besides, you would be no more alone if you were in town. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Oh, but it is quite different there! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. So I should think—from the way you throw your money + about! + </p> + <p> + Signe (laughing). Throw our money about! What else have we to do? Isn't + that what we are for? Daddy, listen—dear old dad— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No, dear—no. + </p> + <p> + Signe. You have never been so horrid to me before. + </p> + <p> + Hamar (who has been making signs to her to stop, whispers). Can't you be + quiet! Don't you see he is put out about something? + </p> + <p> + Signe (whispering). Well, you might have backed me up a little. + </p> + <p> + Hamar (as before). No, I am a bit wiser than you. + </p> + <p> + Signe (as before). You have been so odd lately. I am sure I don't know + what you want? + </p> + <p> + Hamar (as before). Oh, well, it doesn't matter now—because I am + going to town alone. + </p> + <p> + Signe (as before). What are you going to do? + </p> + <p> + Hamar (going). I am going to town alone. I am sick of this! + </p> + <p> + Signe (following him). Just you try! (Both go out by the verandah, to + the right. TJAELDE lets the newspapers fall out of his hands with a + heavy sigh.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg (looking in from the verandah). Father! (TJAELDE starts.) There + goes Mr. Berent, the lawyer from Christiania. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (getting up). Berent? Where? On the wharf? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Yes. (Comes back into the room. TJAELDE looks out of the + window.) The reason I told you was because I saw him yesterday at the + timber-yard, and a little while before that, at the brewery and at the + works. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (to himself). What can that mean? (Aloud.) Oh, I know he is very + fond of making little trips to all sorts of places in the summer. This + year he has come here—and no doubt he likes to see the chief + industries of the place. There is not much else here to see! But are you + sure it is he? I think— + </p> + <p> + Valborg (looking out). Yes, it is he. Look now, you know his walk— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde.—and his trick of crossing his feet—yes, it is he. + It looks as if he were coming here. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. No, he has turned away. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. All the better! (To himself, thoughtfully.) Could it possibly + mean—? (SANNAES comes in from the right.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Am I disturbing you, sir? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Is that you, Sannaes? (SANNAES, as he comes forward, sees + VALBORG standing by the farther window. He appears frightened and hides + his hands quickly behind his back.) What do you want? (VALBORG looks at + SANNAES, then goes on to the verandah and out to the right.) What is it, + man? What the deuce are you standing there for? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (bringing his hands from behind his back as soon as VALBORG has + passed him, and looking after her.) I didn't like to ask you, before + Miss Valborg, whether you are coming down to your office to-day or not. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Have you gone mad? Why on earth shouldn't you ask me that + before Miss Valborg? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. I mean that—if not—I should like to speak to you + here, if it is convenient. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Look here, Sannaes, you ought to try and get rid of your + shyness; it doesn't suit a business man. A business man should be smart + and active, and not let his wits go wool-gathering because he finds + himself in the same room with a woman. I have often noticed it in you.—Now, + what is it? Out with it! + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. You are not coming to the office this morning, sir? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No, there is no post goes out before this evening. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. No. But there are some bills of exchange— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Bills? No. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Yes, sir—that fourth one of Möller's that was protested, + and the big English one. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (angrily). Have they not been met yet? What does this mean? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. The manager of the bank wanted to see you first, sir! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Have you gone crazy—? (Collects himself.) There must be + some misunderstanding, Sannaes. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. That is what I thought; so I spoke about it to the chief clerk, + and to Mr. Holst as well. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. And Mr. Holst said—? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. The same thing. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (walking up and down). I will go and see him—or rather, I + <i>won't</i> go and see him; because this is evidently something that—. + We have some days' grace yet, haven't we? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Yes, sir. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. And still no telegram from Mr. Lind? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. No, sir. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (to himself). I can't understand it. (Aloud.) We will negotiate + this matter direct with Christiania, Sannaes. That is what we will do—and + leave these little local banks alone in future. That will do, Sannaes! + (Makes a gesture of dismissal. Then says to himself:) That damned + Möller! It has made them all suspicious! (Turns round and sees SANNAES + still there.) What are you waiting for? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. It is settling day—and I have no money in the safe. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No money in the safe! A big business like this, and nothing in + the safe on settling day! What kind of management is that, I should like + to know? Must I teach you the A B C of business over and over again? One + can never take a half day off, or hand over the control! of the tiniest + part of the business—! I have no one, absolutely no one, that I + can rely on! How have you let things get into such a state? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Well, there was a third bill, which expired to-day—Holm + and Co., for £400. I had relied upon the bank, unfortunately—so + there was nothing for it but to empty the safe—here and at the + brewery as well. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (walking about restlessly). Hm—hm—hm!—Now, who + can have put that into Holst's head?—Very well, that will do. + (Dismisses SANNAES, who goes out but comes back immediately.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (whispering). Here is Mr. Berent! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (surprised). Coming here? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. He is just coming up the steps! (Goes out by the further door + on the right.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. (calls after him in a whisper). Send up some wine and cakes!—It + is just as I suspected! (Catches sight of himself in a mirror.) Good + Lord, how bad I look! (Turns away painfully from the mirror; looks in it + again, forces a smile to his face, and so, smiling, goes towards the + verandah, where BERENT is seen coming in slowly from the left.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (greeting BERENT politely but with reserve). I feel honoured at + receiving a visit from so distinguished a man. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Mr. Tjaelde, I believe? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. At your service! My eldest daughter has just been telling me + that she had seen you walking about my property. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Yes; an extensive property—and an extensive business. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Too extensive, Mr. Berent. Too many-sided. But one thing has + led to another. Pray sit down. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Thank you; it is very warm to-day. (A maid brings in cakes and + wine, and puts them on the table.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Let me give you a glass of wine? + </p> + <p> + Berent. No, thank you. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Or something to eat? + </p> + <p> + Berent. Nothing, thank you. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (taking out his cigar-case). May I offer you a cigar? I can + answer for their quality. + </p> + <p> + Berent. I am very fond of a good cigar. But for the moment I will not + take anything, thank you! (A pause. TJAELDE takes a seat.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (in a quiet, confidential voice). Have you been long here, Mr. + Berent? + </p> + <p> + Berent. Only a day or two. You have been away, have you not? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes—that unhappy affair of Mr. Möller's. A meeting of + creditors after the sale. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Times are hard just now. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Extraordinarily so! + </p> + <p> + Berent. Do you think that Möller's failure will bring down any more + firms with it-besides those we know of already, I mean? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I don't think so. His—his misfortune was an exceptional + case in every respect. + </p> + <p> + Berent. It has made the banks a little nervous, I hear. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I dare say. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Of course you know the state of affairs here better than any + one. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. (with a smile). I am very much indebted to you for your + flattering confidence in me. + </p> + <p> + Berent. I suppose all this might have a bad effect upon the export trade + of this part of the country? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes—it is really hard to tell; but the important thing + certainly is to keep every one on their legs. + </p> + <p> + Berent. That is your opinion? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Undoubtedly. + </p> + <p> + Berent. As a general rule a crisis of this sort shows up the unsound + elements in a commercial community. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (with a smile). And for that reason this crisis should be + allowed to take its natural course, you mean? + </p> + <p> + Berent. That is my meaning. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Hm!—In some places it is possible that the dividing line + between the sound firms and the unsound may not be very distinct. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Can there really be any danger of such a thing here? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Well—you are expecting too much of my knowledge of + affairs; but I should be inclined to think that there may. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Berent. I have been instructed by the banks to prepare an opinion upon + the situation—a fact which I have, so far, only confided to you. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I am much obliged. + </p> + <p> + Berent. The smaller local banks here have combined, and are acting in + concert. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Indeed? (A pause.) I suppose you have seen Mr. Holst, then? + </p> + <p> + Berent. Of course. (A pause.) If we are to assist the sound firms and + leave the others to their fate, the best way will certainly be for all + alike to disclose their actual position. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Is that Mr. Holst's opinion too? + </p> + <p> + Berent. It is. (A pause.) I have advised him for the present—at + all events till we have all the balance-sheets—to say "no" to + every request for an advance, without exception. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. (with a look of relief). I understand! + </p> + <p> + Berent. Only a temporary measure, of course— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Quite so! + </p> + <p> + Berent.—but one that must apply to every one impartially. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Admirable! + </p> + <p> + Berent. Not to treat every one alike would be to run the danger of + throwing premature suspicion on individuals. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I quite agree. + </p> + <p> + Berent. I am delighted to hear it. Then you will not misunderstand me if + I ask you also to prepare a balance-sheet which shall show the actual + position of your firm. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. With the greatest pleasure, if by doing so I can assist the + general welfare. + </p> + <p> + Berent. I assure you, you can. It is by such means that public + confidence is strengthened. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. When do you want the balance-sheet? Of course, it can only be a + summary one. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Naturally. I will give myself the pleasure of calling for it. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. By no means. I can let you have it at once, if you like. I am + in the habit of frequently drawing up summary balance-sheets of that + kind—as prices rise and fall, you know. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Indeed? (Smiles.) You know, of course, what they say of + swindlers—that they draw up three balance-sheets everyday, and all + different! But you are teaching me, apparently— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (laughing).—that others too, may have that bad habit!—though + I haven't actually got as far as three a day! + </p> + <p> + Berent. Of course I was only joking. (Gets up.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (getting up). Of course. I will send it to the hotel in an + hour's time; for I suppose you are staying in our only so-called hotel! + Would you not care, for the rest of your stay, to move your things over + here and make yourself at home in a couple of empty spare rooms that I + have? + </p> + <p> + Bercnt. Thank you, but the length of my stay is so uncertain; and the + state of my health imposes habits upon me which are embarrassing to + every one, and to myself most of all, when I am among strangers. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. But at all events I hope you will dine with us to-day? I expect + one or two friends. And perhaps a short sail afterwards; it is very + pretty among the islands here. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Thank you, but my health won't allow me such dissipations. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Ha, ha!—Well, if I can be of any further service to you—? + </p> + <p> + Berent. I should be glad to have a talk with you before I leave, + preferably as soon as possible. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (somewhat surprised). You mean, after you have received all the + balance-sheets? + </p> + <p> + Berent. I have already managed to get most of them quietly, through Mr. + Holst. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (more surprised). Oh—so you mean to-day—? + </p> + <p> + Berent. Would five o'clock suit you? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I am quite at your disposal! I will give myself the pleasure of + calling upon you at five. + </p> + <p> + Berent. No, I will come here at five o'clock. (Bows, and turns to go.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (following him). But you are the invalid—the older man—and + a distinguished man— + </p> + <p> + Berent. But you are at home here. Good-bye! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Let me thank you for the honour you have done me by calling + upon me! + </p> + <p> + Berent. Please don't bother to see me out. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Allow me to escort you? + </p> + <p> + Berent. I can find the way quite well, thank you. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No doubt, no doubt-but I should feel it an honour! + </p> + <p> + Berent. As you please! (As they are about to go down the verandah steps + they are met by SIGNE and HAMAR, who are coming up arm in arm. Each + couple draws aside to make room for the other.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Let me introduce—no, I am sure Mr. Berent needs no + introduction. This is my youngest daughter—and her fiancé, + Lieutenant Hamar. + </p> + <p> + Berent. I thought your regiment was at the manoeuvres, Lieutenant? + </p> + <p> + Hamar. I have got furlough— + </p> + <p> + Berent. On account of urgent business, no doubt! Good day! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Ha, ha, ha! (He and BERENT go down the steps.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Insolent fellow! But he is like that to every one. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Not to my father, as far as I could see. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Your father is insolent too. + </p> + <p> + Signe. You shan't say such things of father! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. What else do you call it, to laugh at such impertinence as + Berent's. + </p> + <p> + Signe. I call it good spirits! (Sits down in a rocking-chair and begins + rocking herself.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Oh, then, so you—. You are not very agreeable to-day. + </p> + <p> + Signe (still rocking herself). No; do you know, sometimes I get so bored + with you. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Yet you won't let me go away? + </p> + <p> + Signe. Because I should be still worse bored without you. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Let me tell you this, I am not going to put up much longer with + the way I am treated here! + </p> + <p> + Signe. Very well. (Takes off her engagement ring and holds it between + her finger and her thumb, as she rocks herself and hums a tune.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Oh, I don't say anything about <i>you</i>; but look at Valborg! + Look at your father! He hasn't even as much as offered me a mount on his + new horse! + </p> + <p> + Signe. He has had something else to think about—possibly something + even more important than that. (Goes on humming.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Oh, do be nice, Signe! You must admit that my feelings are very + natural. Indeed, to speak quite candidly—because I know I can say + anything to you—it seems to me that, as I am to be his son-in-law + and am in a cavalry regiment, and as he has no sons of his own, I might + almost expect that—that he would make me a present of the horse. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Ha, ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Does it seem so unreasonable to you? + </p> + <p> + Signe. Ha, ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Why do you laugh at what I say, Signe? It seems to me that it + would reflect very well on your family if, when my friends admired my + horse, I could say: "My father-in-law made me a present of it." Because, + you know, there isn't a finer horse in the whole of Norway. + </p> + <p> + Signe. And that is the reason why you should have it? Ha, ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. I won't stand it! + </p> + <p> + Signe. The peerless lieutenant on the peerless horse! Ha, ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Signe, be quiet! + </p> + <p> + Signe. You are so funny! (Begins to hum again.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Listen, Signe! No one has so much influence with your father as + you.—Oh, do listen! Can't you talk seriously for a moment? + </p> + <p> + Signe. I should like to! (Goes on humming.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. My idea was that, if that horse were mine, I would stay here for + the summer and break it in thoroughly. (SIGNE stops rocking herself and + humming. HAMAR comes up to her chair and leans over her.) In that case I + would not go back till the autumn, and then you could come with the + horse and me into town. Wouldn't that be delightful? + </p> + <p> + Signe (after looking at him for a moment). Oh, yes, my dear, you always + have such delightful ideas! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Don't I! But the whole thing depends, of course, on whether you + can get the horse from your father. Will you try, darling? + </p> + <p> + Signe. And then you would stay here all the summer? + </p> + <p> + Hamar. All the summer! + </p> + <p> + Signe. So as to break in the horse. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Just to break in the horse! + </p> + <p> + Signe. And I would go with you into town in the autumn—that was + what you said, wasn't it? + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Yes; wouldn't it be jolly? + </p> + <p> + Signe. Shall you take the bay horse to stay with your Aunt Ulla too? + </p> + <p> + Hamar (laughing). What? + </p> + <p> + Signe. Well, you have spent your furlough here simply for the sake of + that horse—I know that well enough—and you propose to stay + here, just to break it in-and then you propose that the horse and I + should go to your aunt's— + </p> + <p> + Hamar. But, Signe, what do you—? + </p> + <p> + Signe (beginning to rock herself furiously). Ugh! Go away! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Jealous of a horse! Ha, ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Signe. Go away to the stables. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Is that meant for a punishment? Because it would be more amusing + there than it is here. + </p> + <p> + Signe (throwing down her ring). There! Let your horse wear that! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Every time you throw down that ring— + </p> + <p> + Signe. Oh, you have said that so often! I am tired of that too! (Turns + her chair round so as to turn her back on him.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. You are such a spoilt child that it would be absurd to take + everything you say seriously— + </p> + <p> + Signe. I am sick of that too, I tell you—for the hundred and + twentieth time! Go away! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. But can't you see how ridiculous it is of you to be jealous of a + horse? Have you ever heard of anyone else behaving like that? + </p> + <p> + Signe (jumping up). Oh, you make me want to shout and scream! I feel so + ashamed of you! (Stamps her foot.) I despise you! + </p> + <p> + Hamar (laughing). And all on account of the horse? + </p> + <p> + Signe. No, on your own account—yours, yours! I feel so miserable + sometimes, I should like to throw myself down on the floor and cry—or + run away and never come back! Can't you let me alone! Can't you go away! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Yes—and I have not picked up the ring this time, either! + </p> + <p> + Signe. Oh, do go!—go, go, go! (Bursts out crying and sits down.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. All right!—I see the steamer in the distance; I shall go + home at once. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Oh, you know as well as I do that that steamer goes the other + way! Oh! (Cries. The masts and funnel of a steamer come into sight, and + a trail of smoke passes over the sky. TJAELDE'S voice is heard outside, + calling: "Hurry up! Take the lieutenant's boat; it is ready!" SIGNE + jumps up.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. They are going to fetch some one from the steamer! (TJAELDE'S + voice is heard again: "You get the boat out! He is coming here!" HAMAR + runs to pick up the ring and comes back hurriedly to SIGNE.) Signe! + </p> + <p> + Signe. No, I won't! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Signe, dear! What does this mean? What is it that I have done? + </p> + <p> + Signe. I don't know, but I am wretchedly unhappy! (Bursts into tears.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. But you know that in the end I always do what you want? What more + can you wish than that? + </p> + <p> + Signe. I can't help it, I wish I were dead! It is always the same thing! + (In tears again.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. But, Signe—you who have told me hundreds of times that you + loved me! + </p> + <p> + Signe. And so I do. But sometimes our engagement seems horrible!—No, + don't come near me! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Signe! (TJAELDE'S voice is heard outside: "Of course, put your + best coat on!" He calls louder: "Sannaes!" An answering voice is heard + in the distance. TJAELDE continues: "Don't forget your gloves!") Dry + your eyes, Signe! Don't let him see you have been crying. (He tries to + give her the ring, but she turns away, wiping her eyes. TJAELDE comes up + the steps on to the verandah.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Oh, there you are! That's right. Mr. Lind is arriving by this + steamer—I had a telegram from him just now. (Calls out over the + verandah.) Come along with those flags! And get this boat out of the way + and unstep her mast! She is moored up tight! (HAMAR runs to help him.) + Yes, you cast her off! (HAMAR does so, and the boat is hauled away to + the right. TJAELDE comes forward into the room.) Signe! (Looks at her.) + What? Squabbling again? + </p> + <p> + Signe. Father! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Well, this is no time for tomfoolery of that sort! You must all + do the honours of the house to-day. Tell Valborg— + </p> + <p> + Signe. Tell her yourself, please! You know Valborg only does just what + she likes. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Don't talk such rubbish! This is an important moment—and + you will all do as <i>I</i> say! Tell Valborg that she is to make + herself look nice and come to me here. And you do the same. (She goes.) + Signe! + </p> + <p> + Signe (stopping). Yes? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. We must ask five or six more people to dinner. You must send + word to Mr. Finne that we shall dine punctually at three o'clock, + instead of four. Mr. Lind has to go away again by the next boat, at five + o'clock. Do you understand? + </p> + <p> + Signe. But has mother enough in the house for so many? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. It is not a mere question of there being enough—it must + be a very good dinner. I expect my larder to be kept thoroughly well + stocked all through the summer. How often am I to repeat that? + </p> + <p> + Signe (trying to repress her fears). But mother is feeling so ill to-day— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Oh! don't begin about that everlasting "feeling ill." There is + no time to-day to feel ill. Now, be quick! (SIGNE goes out by the + farther door. TJAELDE turns to HAMAR.) Get a pen and ink and some paper! + We must draw up a list of guests, at once! + </p> + <p> + Hamar (looking about). There is none here. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (impatiently). Fetch some, then! (HAMAR goes into the next room. + TJAELDE, after a long sigh of relief, reads a telegram he has in his + hand. His hand trembles as he reads it slowly, repeating some passages + twice.) "Letter received just as starting. Before taking charge of + affairs, must have interview. Coming to-day earliest boat, return five + o'clock. Have clear statement ready. Lind." I can hardly read it—but + it is true! Yes, if I can only work this properly all doors will be open + to me! (To HAMAR, who has come back.) Ah, there you are! It would take + too long to write invitations. We will just draw up a list of names and + one of my clerks shall run round to them all. Now then! (Dictates.) The + Vicar—Oh, by the way, what is the champagne like? + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Do you mean the new lot? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. The Vicar praised it highly. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Good. Well, then— + </p> + <p> + Hamar (writing). The Vicar. + </p> + <p> + Tjzlde. Mr. Ring. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Mr. Ring. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. And—and— + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Mr. Holst? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No, not Holst. (HAMAR appears greatly astonished. TJAELDE says + to himself:) I can show him now that I have no need of him! (Suddenly, + to HAMAR.) Mr. Holm. (To himself.) Holst's enemy! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Mr. Holm. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (to himself). Although Holm is a boor. Still, it will annoy + Holst. (Aloud.) The Chief Constable. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. The Chief— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No, strike out the Chief Constable. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Chief Constable struck out. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Have we got the Vicar down? + </p> + <p> + Hamar. He is number one on the list. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Of course, yes. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. What about the Magistrate? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No, he lives too far off. Besides, unless he is the guest of + honour and can talk shop all the time—. No! But, let me see. Mr. + Knutzon—Knutzon with a "z." + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Knutzon with a "z." + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Oh!—and—Knudsen, too! Knudsen with an "s." + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Knudsen with an "s." + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. How many have we got? + </p> + <p> + Hamar. The Vicar, Ring, Holm, the Chief—oh, no, the Chief + Constable was struck out; Knutzon with a "z," Knudsen with an "s "—that + is one, two, three, four, five, six. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. And Finne, you, and I make nine. We must have twelve. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. What about some ladies? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No; ladies are out of place at a business dinner. They may do + the honours afterwards, when we have got to the cigarette stage. But + whom shall we—? + </p> + <p> + Hamar. That new lawyer fellow? He's a smart chap—I can't remember + his name? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No, he always wants to be speechifying wherever he goes.—Ah, + Mr. Pram, the custom-house officer! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. That man? He always gets drunk! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, but he doesn't get noisy with it. He does no harm—quite + the contrary! Yes, put down Pram. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Mr. Pram. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. It is a very difficult task, in such a small town, when you + want to get a good set of people together. Ah!—Falbe! I forgot + him. He is very neat, and no opinions. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Neat in his dress, do you mean? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, in his dress too-but I meant it more generally. Now, for + the twelfth—Morten Schultz? + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Morten Schultz! (Gets up.) No, really, I must take the liberty of + protesting against him! Do you really know what he did the last time he + was here, when you had a lot of guests? In the middle of dinner he took + out his false teeth and began showing them to his neighbours. He wanted + to have them passed round the table! If that is your idea of a good set + of people—well! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, he is rather a rough diamond. But he is the richest man + about here. + </p> + <p> + Hamar (who has sat down again). Well in that case he really ought to + afford himself a new wig! It is far from pleasant to sit beside him, I + can assure you! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, I know he is a pig; but he is wide awake, and this would + flatter him! You see, my young friend, when a man is very rich you must + make certain allowances for him. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. I can't understand what <i>you</i> can hope to get out of him. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Hm, hm!—No, well, perhaps we had better leave him out? + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Certainly! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (to himself). Although Lind would understand the significance of + Morten Schultz's being here— + </p> + <p> + Hamar. And the things he says! Ladies have to leave the room! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, you are right. (Mutters to himself.) And, after all, I + don't need him any longer. (Aloud.) But what about our twelfth, then? + Let me see—. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Christopher Hansen? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Oh, Lord! no. We should have to talk politics. No, let me see—. + Yes, I think I might risk it! Hm, hm—yes, just the man! Jakobsen, + the brewery manager. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Jakobsen? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Hm, hm! Jakobsen will do very well. I know Jakobsen. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Oh, he is a very good fellow—we all know that, but in + polite society—! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Hm, hm, hm!—Put him down! + </p> + <p> + Hamar (writing). Jakobsen. There, then! (Gets up.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Now let Skogstad go with the list! Remember, three o'clock + punctually! And be quick! (Calls after HAMAR, who is going out.) And + come back when you have given him the list! There may be something more + to do! (HAMAR goes out by the nearer door. TJAELDE takes a letter out of + his pocket.) Ah, of course! Shall I send the balance-sheet to Berent? I + am independent of the banks now. Still, I am not out of the wood yet. + And, anyway, it is a very pretty balance-sheet! Holst would be sure to + see it, and that might be useful—and it might annoy him, too. + Besides, if I don't send it, they will think that my promising to send + it had put me into a hole, and that Lind had helped me out of it. I risk + least by sending it. (HAMAR comes back.) Look here, let him take this + letter, too. It is for Mr. Berent, at the Hotel Victoria. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Is this an invitation? Because, if it is, we shall be thirteen at + table. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. It is not an invitation. Be quick, before he goes. (HAMAR goes + out again.) Oh, if only it succeeds! Lind is the sort of man one can + persuade—and I must, I must persuade him! (Looks at his watch.) I + have four whole hours to do it in. I have never felt so hopeful—not + for a long time. (Is lost in thought; then says quietly:) After all, + sometimes a crisis is a good thing—like a big wave that carries + one on!—They have all had their suspicions aroused now, and are + all ready to get into a panic. (Sighs.) If only I could get safely out + of my difficulties without any one's suspecting it!—Oh, this + anxious fear, night and day!—all this mystery, these shifts, these + concealments, this farce I have to keep up! I go about my business as if + I were in a dream. (Despairingly.) This shall be the last time—my + last performance of this sort! No more of it!—I only need a + helping hand now, and I have got it! But <i>have</i> I got it? that is + the question. Oh! if only, after this, I could know what it was to have + a good night's sleep and to wake in the morning free from anxiety!—to + join them at meals with an easy conscience!—come home in the + evening and feel that it was all done with! If only I had something to + take my stand upon that I could call my own—really and truly my + own! I hardly dare to believe that there is a chance—I have so + often been disappointed! (HAMAR comes back.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. There—that's done! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Good Lord, what about a salute from our cannon? We must give + him a salute! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. We have powder. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Then send word up at once to Ole to see about it! (They hurry + out. The curtain falls.) + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT II + </h2> + <h3> + SCENE I + </h3> + <p> + (SCENE.—The same room. The table, which has been drawn to one + side, is covered with bottles of champagne aged dishes of fruit. MRS. + TJAELDE and SIGNE, with a man-servant and a maid, are busy preparing it. + Through the door on the right a lively conversation can be heard, and + occasional bursts of laughter.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (in a tired voice). Now I think it is all ready. + </p> + <p> + Signe. They are talking a long time over their dinner. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (looking at her watch). Yes, they will only have half an + hour for their dessert, because Mr. Lind has to leave at five o'clock. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Ah, they have finished at last! Listen, they are getting up from + the table. (Amidst the loud noise of conversation the noise of chairs + being pushed back is audible.) Here they come! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes; let us retreat. (The maid goes out by the farther + door; SIGNE helps MRS. TJAELDE out after her. The man-servant begins + opening the champagne. The guests come in from the dining-room, headed + by LIND escorted by TJAELDE, whom he is assuring that the dinner was + excellent, to which TJAELDE replies that it is impossible to do much in + a small country town. Both look at their watches, and observe that there + is only half an hour left. TJAELDE vainly endeavours to persuade LIND to + stay longer. Close behind them come HOLM and RING, engaged in an + animated dispute about timber prices, the former maintaining that they + will fall still lower, the latter that they will rise speedily owing to + the fall in the prices of coal and iron, a point of view which the + former vigorously controverts. Immediately behind them comes the VICAR, + escorted by HAMAR, who is a little tipsy. The VICAR is assuring him that + he has no objection to parishioners repudiating the obligation to attend + the services of their own priest, so long as they are compelled to pay + him for those services whether they avail themselves of them or not; + because order, which is an essential characteristic of the Heavenly + Kingdom, must be maintained. HAMAR tries to get in a word or two about + the bay horse, but without success. At the same time KNUTZON and FALBE + are deep in a discussion about a dancer whom FALBE has seen at Hamburg. + He is maintaining that she can leap six feet into the air, which KNUTZON + ventures to doubt, but FALBE says there is no doubt about it, and he + knows because he has once sat at the same dinner-table with her. FINNE, + KNUDSEN, and JAKOBSEN follow them. JAKOBSEN is heard challenging any one + to contradict him, while the others eagerly protest that he has entirely + misunderstood their meaning. He affirms stoutly that he doesn't care a + damn what they meant, but that his employer is the greatest business man + and the finest fellow in the world, or at all events in Norway. PRAM + comes in by himself, wrapt in tipsy contemplation. They all talk at the + same time.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (rapping on a glass). Gentlemen! (There is a sudden silence, + except for the sound of the voices of FALBE and JAKOBSEN, who are hushed + down by the others.) Gentlemen! I am sorry dinner has occupied such a + long time. + </p> + <p> + All (unanimously). No, no! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Our distinguished guest has, unfortunately, to leave us in half + an hour, so I should like to take the opportunity of saying a few words. + Gentlemen, we have a prince among us to-day. I say a prince, because if + it is true that it is the financiers that rule the world—and it is + true, gentlemen— + </p> + <p> + Pram (who is standing well forward, supporting himself by the edge of + the table, says solemnly:) Yes. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde.—then our friend here is a prince! There is not a single + important undertaking that he has not initiated, or at any rate backed + with his name. + </p> + <p> + Pram (lifting his glass). Mr. Lind, may I have the honour—? + </p> + <p> + Voices. Sh! Sh! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, gentlemen, his name backs every enterprise. It would be + impossible to carry one through that had not his backing. + </p> + <p> + Pram (solemnly). His backing. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Am I not right, then, in describing him as a prince? + </p> + <p> + Falbe (in a feeble voice). Yes. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Gentlemen, to-day his name is once more exercising its + powerful, I might say its creative, influence upon circumstances. I may + say that at this moment the country holds no truer benefactor than he. + </p> + <p> + Pram. Great man. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Let us drink his health! May prosperity attend him and his, and + may his name be deathless in Norway! Mr. Lind! + </p> + <p> + All. Mr. Lind! Mr. Lind! (They all drink his health effusively.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (to HAMAR, whom he pulls forward somewhat roughly, as the others + begin to help themselves to the dessert.) What has become of the salute? + </p> + <p> + Hamar (in consternation).Good Lord, yes! (Rushes to the window, but + comes back.) I have no handkerchief. I must have laid it down in the + dining-room. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Here is mine!(Feels in his pocket for it.) One cannot rely on + you for the least thing. The salute will be too late now. It is + disgraceful! (HAMAR goes to the window and waves the handkerchief madly. + At last the report of a cannon is heard. The guests are standing in a + group, holding their dessert plates.) + </p> + <p> + Holm. A little bit late! + </p> + <p> + Knutzon. Rather behind the moment— + </p> + <p> + Ring. A very important moment, however! + </p> + <p> + Holm. A very unexpected one, anyway! + </p> + <p> + Knutzon (jestingly). Allow me, amidst the cannon's roar, to introduce to + you a man who has been led by the nose! + </p> + <p> + Ring. Oh, Tjaelde knows what he is about! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Mr. Lind is kind enough to wish to propose a toast. (They all + compose themselves into respectful silence.) + </p> + <p> + Lind. Our worthy host has proposed my health in most flattering terms. I + would merely add this, that wealth is entrusted to those who have it + precisely in order that they may support industry, genius, and great + undertakings. + </p> + <p> + Pram (who has never changed his position). Nobly said. + </p> + <p> + Lind. I am only an administrator of a trust, and too often a weak and + short-sighted one. + </p> + <p> + Pram. Beautiful. + </p> + <p> + Lind. But I shall not be mistaken if I say that Mr. Tjaelde's many-sided + activities, which we must all admire, rest upon a sound foundation; and + of that fact no one, at the present moment, is better able to judge than + I. (The guests look at one another in surprise.) Therefore I have no + hesitation in saying that his activities are an honour to this town, to + this district, to our whole country, and that therefore his genius and + his energy deserve support. I propose the toast of "prosperity to the + firm of Tjaelde!" + </p> + <p> + All. Prosperity to the firm of Tjaelde! + </p> + <p> + (HAMAR signals again with the handkerchief, and a cannon shot is heard.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I thank you heartily, Mr. Lind! I am profoundly touched. + </p> + <p> + Lind. I said no more than I am convinced of, Mr. Tjaelde!! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Thank you! (To HAMAR.) What do you mean by signalling for a + salute for the host? Blockhead! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. You said there was to be a salute when a toast was proposed, + didn't you? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Oh, you are a—! + </p> + <p> + Hamar (to himself). Well, if ever again I—! + </p> + <p> + Holm. Then it is an accomplished fact, I suppose? + </p> + <p> + Knutzon. <i>Fait accompli</i>! That toast represents twenty thousand + pounds, at least. + </p> + <p> + Ring. Yes, Tjaelde knows what he is about! I have always said that! + (FALBE is seen drinking ceremoniously with LIND. JAKOBSEN comes forward, + talking to KNUDSEN.) + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen (in a low voice). There isn't a word of truth in what you say! + </p> + <p> + Knudsen. But, my dear Jakobsen, you misunderstand me! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen (louder). Hang it, I know my people! + </p> + <p> + Knudsen. Don't talk so loud! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen (still louder). What I say any one may hear! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. (at the same moment). The Vicar wishes to say a few words. + </p> + <p> + Knudsen (to JAKOBSEN). Hush! The Vicar wishes to say a few words. + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. Have I got to hush because that damned— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (in a voice of authority). The Vicar wishes to speak. + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. I beg your pardon! + </p> + <p> + The Vicar (in a feeble voice). As the spiritual adviser of this + household, I have the pleasing duty of invoking a blessing on the gifts + that have been so richly showered upon our host and his friends. May + they be to their souls' present good and eternal welfare! + </p> + <p> + Pram. Amen. + </p> + <p> + The Vicar. I am going to ask you to drink the health of our host's dear + children—those lovely girls whose welfare has been the object of + my prayers ever since they were confirmed—ever since that + memorable day when household and religious duties began to walk side by + side. + </p> + <p> + Pram. Ah, yes! + </p> + <p> + The Vicar. May they always in the future, as they have in the past, grow + in the holy fear of God and in meekness and gratitude towards their + parents! + </p> + <p> + All. Miss Valborg, Miss Signe! + </p> + <p> + Hamar (in a panic). Am I to signal? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Oh, go to—! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Well, if ever again—! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Thank you very much, Mr. Vicar. Like you, I hope that the + intimate relations between parent and child that exist here— + </p> + <p> + The Vicar. It has always been a pleasure to me to come into your most + hospitable house. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. May I have the honour of drinking a glass of wine with you? + (They drink to each other.) + </p> + <p> + The Vicar. Excellent champagne, my dear sir! + </p> + <p> + Lind (to HOLM). It pains me to hear what you say. Is it possible that + this town, which owes so much to Mr. Tjaelde, repays him with such + ingratitude? + </p> + <p> + Holm (in a low voice). One never can quite confidently rely on him. + </p> + <p> + Lind. Really? I have heard others sing his praises so loudly, you know. + </p> + <p> + Holm (as before). You misunderstand me. I mean his position— + </p> + <p> + Lind. His position? That must be merely envy! People are often so unjust + towards those whose enterprise has lifted them above the heads of the + crowd. + </p> + <p> + Holm. At any rate I assure you it was not from— + </p> + <p> + Lind (coldly). I don't doubt it. (Walks away from him.) + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen (with whom TJAELDE has just drunk). Gentlemen! + </p> + <p> + Knutzon (to HOLM, in passing). Is that boor really going to be allowed + to make a speech! (Going up to LIND.) May I have the honour of drinking + a glass of wine with you, Mr. Lind? (Several of the guests begin to + talk, ostentatiously indifferent to JAKOBSEN who is trying to begin his + speech.) + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen (in a formidable voice). Gentlemen! (Silence ensues, and he + continues in his usual voice.) Permit a common man to say a word, too, + on this festive occasion. I was a poor little boy when I entered Mr. + Tjaelde's employment; but he pulled me out of the gutter. (Laughter.) I + am-what I am, gentlemen! And therefore if any here is qualified to talk + about Mr. Tjaelde, it is I; because I know him. I know he is a fine + fellow. + </p> + <p> + Lind (to TJAELDE). Children and drunken men— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (laughing).—speak the truth! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. There are lots of people that will tell you one thing or + another about him—and, of course, he may have his failings like + all of us. But as I find myself in such fine company as this I am going + to say that—that—devil take me if Mr. Tjaelde isn't too good + for the lot of you! (Laughter.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. That's enough, Jakobsen! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. No, it's not enough! Because there is one toast we have all + forgotten, although we have all had such a splendid dinner. (Laughter. + FALBE claps his hands and cries: "Bravo!") Yes, and it is nothing to + laugh at; because it is the toast of Mrs. Tjaelde's health that we have + not drunk! + </p> + <p> + Lind. Bravo! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. There's a wife and mother for you! I can tell you—and + it's true—she goes about the house attending to her duties and + preparing for our entertainment when all the time she is ill, and she + takes the whole thing on her shoulders and says nothing. God bless her, + I say!—and that is all I have to say. + </p> + <p> + Several of the Guests (raising their glasses). Mrs. Tjaelde! Mrs. + Tjaelde! + </p> + <p> + Pram (grasping JAKOBSEN by the hand). That was fine of you, Jakobsen! + (LIND joins them; PRAM steps aside respectfully.) + </p> + <p> + Lind. Will you drink a glass of wine with me, Jakobsen? + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. Thank you, very much. I am only a common man— + </p> + <p> + Lind. But a good-hearted one! Your health! (They drink to each other. A + boat is seen putting in to shore below the verandah. Its crew of six men + stand up and toss their oars in naval fashion. SANNAES is standing at + the helm.) + </p> + <p> + Holm (in a whisper, to KNUTZON). Tjaelde knew what he was doing when he + invited Jakobsen! + </p> + <p> + Knutzon (whispering). Just look at the boat! + </p> + <p> + Ring. Tjaelde is a very clever fellow—a very clever fellow! + (VALBORG, SIGNE and MRS. TJAELDE are seen coming up the verandah steps.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Gentlemen, the moment of departure is at hand; I see the ladies + coming to take leave of our distinguished guest. Let us take this last + opportunity of gathering around him—round our prince—and + thanking him for coming! Let us cheer him with three times three! + (Cheers.) + </p> + <p> + Lind. Thank you, gentlemen! There is so little time left that I must + confine myself to merely bidding you all good-bye. (To MRS. TJAELDE.) + Good-bye, my dear madam! You should have heard how your health was + proposed and drunk just now. My warmest thanks for your hospitality, and + forgive me for the trouble I have caused you. (To SIGNE.) Good-bye, Miss + Signe. I am sorry time has not permitted me to have the honour of + becoming better acquainted with you; you seem so full of spirit! But if, + as you said, you are soon coming to Christiania— + </p> + <p> + Signe. I shall then do myself the honour of calling upon your wife. + </p> + <p> + Lind. Thank you, thank you—you will be most welcome. (To VALBORG.) + Are you not feeling well, Miss Valborg? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Lind. You look so serious. (As VALBORG does not reply, he continues + somewhat coldly:) Good-bye, Miss Valborg. (To HAMAR.) Good-bye, Mr.—Mr.— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Mr. Hamar. + </p> + <p> + Lind. Ah, the young man that talked to me about a horse—your + future son-in-law! Pray forgive me for not— + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Don't mention it! + </p> + <p> + Lind. Good-bye! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. A pleasant journey, sir! + </p> + <p> + Lind (coldly, to HOLM). Good-bye, Mr. Holm. + </p> + <p> + Holm (imperturbably polite). I wish you a very pleasant journey, Mr. + Lind. + </p> + <p> + Lind (to PRAM). Good-bye, Mr. Pram. + </p> + <p> + Pram (holds his hand, and seems as if he wanted to say something but + could not. At last he finds his voice). I want to thank you for—for—I + want to thank you for—for— + </p> + <p> + Lind. You are an excellent fellow! + </p> + <p> + Pram (in a relieved voice). I am so glad to hear it! Thank you. + </p> + <p> + Lind (to KNUTZON). Good-bye, Mr.— + </p> + <p> + Knutzon (hastily). Knutzon. + </p> + <p> + Pram. With a "z." + </p> + <p> + Lind (to KNUDSEN). Good-bye, Mr.— + </p> + <p> + Knudsen. Knudsen, again. + </p> + <p> + Pram. With an "s." + </p> + <p> + Lind (to FALBE). Mr—? + </p> + <p> + Falbe. Falbe. + </p> + <p> + Lind. Good-bye, Mr. Falbe! (To RING.) I am delighted to see you looking + so well, Mr. Ring. + </p> + <p> + Ring (with a low bow). The same to you, sir! + </p> + <p> + Lind. Good-bye, Mr. Vicar! + </p> + <p> + The Vicar (holding his hand, impressively). Let me wish you good luck + and happiness, Mr. Lind— + </p> + <p> + Lind. Thank you. (Tries to get away.) + </p> + <p> + The Vicar.—in your journey over the perilous seas to foreign + lands! + </p> + <p> + Lind. Thank you. (Tries to get away.) + </p> + <p> + The Vicar. Let me wish you a safe return, Mr. Lind— + </p> + <p> + Lind. Thank you very much. (Tries to get away.) + </p> + <p> + The Vicar.—to our dear fatherland; a land, Mr. Lind, which + possesses in you— + </p> + <p> + Lind. You must excuse me, Mr. Vicar, but time presses. + </p> + <p> + The Vicar. Let me thank you for the pleasure of our meeting to-day, Mr. + Lind, for— + </p> + <p> + Lind. Indeed, there is no occasion! Good-bye! (To JAKOBSEN.) Good-bye, + Jakobsen, good-bye! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. Good-bye, Mr. Lind! I am only a common man, I know; but that + is no reason why I shouldn't wish you a pleasant journey too, is it? + </p> + <p> + Lind. Certainly not, Jakobsen.—Good-bye, Mr. Finne! By the way—just + a word! (In an undertone.) You said that Mr. Berent—. (Takes him + aside.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (to HAMAR). Now, remember the salute this time!—No, no, + no! Don't be in such a hurry! Wait till the boat puts off! You want to + make a mess of it again! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Well, if ever again I—! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (to LIND, who holds out his hand to him). Goodbye, Mr. Lind! (In + a low voice.) No one has so much reason to thank you for your visit as + I. You are the only one that can understand—. + </p> + <p> + Lind (a shade coldly). Don't mention it, Mr. Tjaelde! Good luck to your + business! (In warmer tones.) Good-bye everybody—and thank you all + for your kindness! (The footman, who has for some time been holding out + his hat to him, gives it him, and his coat to SANNAES. LIND steps on + board the boat.) + </p> + <p> + All. Good-bye, Mr. Lind, good-bye! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. One cheer more! (Cheers and a cannon salute are heard together. + The boat glides away. They all wave their handkerchiefs. TJAELDE hurries + into the room.) I have no handkerchief; that blockhead has—. + (Looks at VALBORG.) Why are you not waving? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Because I don't wish to. (TJAELDE looks at her, but says + nothing. He goes into the other room and comes back with a table-napkin + in each hand, and hurries on to the verandah.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (waving and shouting). Good-bye! Good-bye! + </p> + <p> + Signe. Let us go out to the point and see the last of them! + </p> + <p> + All. Yes, yes! (All but TJAELDE and VALBORG hurry off to the right.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (coming into the room). I saw Berent coming! (VALBORG goes out + by the door on the right. TJAELDE comes forward, throws the napkins on + to a table and himself into a chair.) Oh—oh! But this must be the + last time.—I shan't need this sort of thing any more! Never again! + (Gets up wearily.) Ah, I had forgotten. Berent! + </p> + <p> + [The Curtain falls.] + </p> + <p> + [The interval between this scene and the next should be as short as + possible.] + </p> + SCENE II + <p> + (SCENE.-TJAELDE'S private office. On the left, a desk strewn with + ledgers and papers. On the right, a stove. An easy chair by the stove. A + table in the foreground to the right; on it an inkstand and pens. Two + armchairs; one at the table facing the audience, the other at the side + of the table. Windows on either side of the desk; a door beyond the + stove. A door in the background, leading to other offices. A bell-pull + hangs down the wall. A chair on either side of the door. Quite at the + back, on the left, a staircase leading direct to TJAELDE'S bedroom. + BERENT and TJAELDE come in from the back.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. You must excuse my receiving you here. But the other rooms are + all upside down; we have had some people to dinner. + </p> + <p> + Berent. I heard you had guests. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, Mr. Lind from Christiana. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Quite so. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Won't you sit down? (BERENT lays down his hat and coat on a + chair by the door. He comes slowly forward, sits down at the side of the + table, and takes some papers from his breast-pocket. TJAELDE sits down + at the other chair by the table and watches him indifferently.) + </p> + <p> + Berent. What we now want is some fixed standard by which to make our + valuations, especially of real estate. Have you any objection to our + making your business a basis for arriving at that? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. None at all. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Then may I make my comments on your own figures, and ask you a + few questions about them? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. By all means. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Well, to begin with, let us take your properties immediately + round here; they will give us the best idea of local values. For + instance, take the Mjölstad forest; you have put that down, I see, at + £16,500. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (indifferently). Have I? + </p> + <p> + Berent. You bought it for £10,000. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, four years ago. Timber prices ruled low then. + </p> + <p> + Berent. And since then you have cut down more than £20,000 worth of + timber there. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Who told you so? + </p> + <p> + Berent. Mr. Holst. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Holst knows nothing about it. + </p> + <p> + Berent. We must try to be very accurate, you know. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Well, of course, the whole valuation is not my concern; but + those whom it does concern will protest. + </p> + <p> + Berent (taking no notice of his objection). So I think we will reduce + the £16,500 to £10,000. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. To £10,000! (Laughs.) As you please. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Calculating by the same standard, we can scarcely put down the + Stav forest at more than £4000. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Allow me to say that, if that is the way you are going to make + your valuation, everybody in the place will have to go bankrupt! + </p> + <p> + Berent (with a smile). We will risk that. You have put down your wharf + and its contents at £12,000. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Including two ships in course of construction— + </p> + <p> + Berent.—for which it would be difficult to find a purchaser, as + they are so far from completion. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Indeed? + </p> + <p> + Berent. So I think we cannot put down the wharf and its contents at a + higher figure than £8,000—and I believe even that will turn out to + be too high. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. If you can find me another wharf as well stocked, and with the + advantages that this one has, I will buy it whenever you like for £8000; + I am certain I should be more than £4000 to the good over the bargain. + </p> + <p> + Berent. May I go on? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. If you like! I even feel a certain curiosity to view my + possessions under such an entirely new light. + </p> + <p> + Berent. As a matter of fact the items that are too highly valued are + just those that comprise this property that you live on—its land, + its gardens, its dwelling houses, warehouses, and quays-not to mention + the brewery and the factory, which I shall come to later. Even regarded + as business premises they seem to me to be over-valued. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Well? + </p> + <p> + Berent, Moreover, the luxurious appointments of this house of yours, + which would very probably be superfluous for any one else, cannot + possibly be counted upon to realise their full value in a sale. Suppose—as + is indeed most likely—that it were a countryman that bought the + place? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. You are reckoning me as turned out of it already, then! + </p> + <p> + Berent. I am obliged to base all my calculations on what the property + would fetch if sold now. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (getting up). What may you happen to value it at then? + </p> + <p> + Berent. At less than half your valuation; that is to say at— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. You must really forgive me if I use an expression which has + been on the tip of my tongue for some time: this is scandalous! You + force yourself into a man's house, and then, under pretext of asking for + his opinion, you practically—on paper—rob him of his + possessions! + </p> + <p> + Berent. I don't understand you. I am trying to arrive at a basis for + values hereabouts; and you said yourself, did you not, that it is a + matter that does not concern you alone? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Certainly; but even in jest—if I may be allowed the + expression—one does not take the statement that an honourable man + has voluntarily offered and treat it as a mendacious document. + </p> + <p> + Berent. There are many different points of view from which valuations + can be made, obviously. I see nothing more in it than that. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. But don't you understand that this is like cutting into my + living flesh? Bit by bit, my property has been brought together or + created by my own work, and preserved by the most strenuous exertions on + my part under terribly trying conditions—it is bound up with my + family, with all that is dear to me—it has become a part of my + very life! + </p> + <p> + Berent (with a bow). I understand that perfectly. You have put down the + Brewery at— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No; I refuse to allow you to go on in this way. You must find + some one else's property as a basis for your calculations—you must + consult some one else, whose idea of business corresponds somewhat + closer to your own ridiculous one. + </p> + <p> + Berent (leaning back in his chair). That is a pity. The banks were + anxious to be acquainted with your answers to my observations. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Have you sent my statement to the banks? + </p> + <p> + Berent. With my remarks and comments on it, and Mr. Holst's. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. This has been a trap, then? I believed I had to deal with a + gentleman! + </p> + <p> + Berent. The banks or I, what is the difference? It comes to the same + thing, as I represent them unreservedly. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Such impudent audacity is unpardonable! + </p> + <p> + Berent. I would suggest that we avoid hard words—at all events, + for the moment—and rather consider the effect that will be + produced by the balance-sheet sent in. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. That some of us will see! + </p> + <p> + Berent. The banking house of Lind & Co., for instance? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Do you mean to say that my balance-sheet, ornamented with + marginal notes by you and Holst, is to be submitted to Mr. Lind's firm + too? + </p> + <p> + Berent. When the cannon-salutes and noise of your festivities + enlightened me as to the situation, I took the liberty of making some + inquiries of the banks. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. So you have been spying here, too? You have been trying to + undermine my business connections? + </p> + <p> + Berent. Is your position such, then, that you are afraid? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. The question is not my position, but your behaviour! + </p> + <p> + Berent. I think we had better keep to the point. You have put down the + Brewery at— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No; your conduct is so absolutely underhanded that, as an + honest man, I must refuse all further dealing with you. I am, as I said + before, accustomed to have to deal with gentlemen. + </p> + <p> + Berent. I think you misunderstand the situation. Your indebtedness to + the banks is so considerable that a settlement of it may reasonably be + required of you. But to effect that you must work with us in the matter. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (after a moment's thought). Very well! But, no more details—let + me know your conclusions, briefly. + </p> + <p> + Berent. My conclusions, briefly, are that you have estimated your assets + at £90,800. I estimate them at £40,600. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (quietly). That is to say, you make me out to have a deficit of + about £30,000? + </p> + <p> + Berent. As to that, I must point out that your estimate of your + liabilities does not agree with mine, either. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (quietly). Oh, of course not! + </p> + <p> + Berent. For instance, the dividend that Möller's estate is to yield to + you. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No more details! What do you put my total liabilities at? + </p> + <p> + Berent. Let me see. Your total liabilities amount, according to your + calculations, to £70,000. I estimate them at £80,000—to be + precise, at £79,372. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. That puts my deficit at about— + </p> + <p> + Berent. At about £39,400—or, in round figures, £40,000. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Oh, by all means let us stick to round figures! + </p> + <p> + Berent. So that the difference between your views of your balance-sheet + and mine is that, whereas you give yourself a surplus of about £20,000, + I give you a deficit of about £40,000. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Thank you very much.—Do you know my opinion of the whole + matter? (BERENT looks up at him.) That I am in this room with a madman. + </p> + <p> + Berent. I have had the same opinion for some time.—The stock of + timber you hold in France I have not been able to deal with; you have + forgotten to include it in your account. Perhaps it may make a little + difference. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. It is of no consequence! I have often enough heard people speak + of your callousness and your heartlessness; but their account of you has + come nowhere near the truth. I don't know why I have not turned you out + of my house long before this; but you will have the goodness to leave it + now! + </p> + <p> + Berent. We shall both leave presently. But before we do, we must discuss + the question of handing over the house to the Receiver in Bankruptcy. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Ha, ha, ha! Allow me to inform you that at this very moment a + sum is being telegraphed to me which will be sufficient not only to + cover my present liabilities, but to set me straight in every direction! + </p> + <p> + Berent. The telegraph is a useful invention which is open to every one. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (after a moment's thought). What do you mean by that? + </p> + <p> + Berent. One effect of the noise of your festivities was that I used the + telegraph also. Mr. Lind will receive, on board the boat, a telegram + from his firm—and I doubt if the money you speak of will be + forthcoming. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. It is not true! You have not dared to do that! + </p> + <p> + Berent. The facts are exactly as I state. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Give me my balance-sheet; let me look at it again. (Stretches + out his hand to take it.) + </p> + <p> + Berent (taking it up). Excuse me! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Do you presume to keep back my own balance-sheet in my own + writing? + </p> + <p> + Berent. Yes, and even to put it in my pocket. (Does so.) A fraudulent + balance-sheet, dated and signed, is a document of some importance. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. You are determined to ruin my private and public reputation? + </p> + <p> + Berent. You have been working for that yourself for a long time. I know + your position. For a month past I have been in correspondence with all + the quarters in which you have business connections, both here any I + abroad. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. What underhanded deceitfulness an honest man is exposed to! + Here have I been surrounded by spies for the last month! A plot between + my business acquaintances and the banks! A snake creeping into my house + and crawling over my accounts! But I will break up the conspiracy! And + you will find out what it mean, to try and ruin a reputable firm by + underhand devices! + </p> + <p> + Berent. This is no time for fine phrases. Do you propose to surrender + your property at once? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Ha, ha! I am to surrender it because you have made me out a + bankrupt on your bit of paper! + </p> + <p> + Berent. You might conceal the facts for a month, I know. But for your + own sake, and especially for the sake of others, I would urgently advise + you to end the matter at once. That was the reason of my journey here. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Ah, now the truth is out! And you came here pretending a + friendly concern that the tangle should be straightened out! We were to + distinguish between the sound and unsound firms, and you requested me, + most politely, to give you my assistance in the matter! + </p> + <p> + Berent. Exactly. But there is no question of anything unsound here + except your own business and what is bound up with it. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (when he has controlled himself). So you came into my house with + the hidden design of ruining me? + </p> + <p> + Berent. I must repeat that it is not I that am responsible for your + bankruptcy; it is yourself. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. And I must repeat that my bankruptcy only exists in your + imagination! Much may happen in a month; and I have shown that I can + find a way out of difficulties before now! + </p> + <p> + Berent. That is to say, by involving yourself deeper and deeper in + falsehood. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Only a man of business can understand such things. But, if you + really understand them, I would say to you: "Give me £20,000 and I will + save the situation entirely." That would be doing something worthy of + your great powers; that would give you a reputation for penetration in + discerning the real state of affairs; because by so doing you would + safeguard the welfare of more than a thousand people, and ensure a + prosperous future for the whole district! + </p> + <p> + Berent. I don't rise to that bait. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (after a moment's reflection). Do you want me to explain to you + how £20,000 would be sufficient to set the whole complicated situation + straight? Within three months remittances would be coming in. I can make + it its clear as daylight to you— + </p> + <p> + Berent.—that you would be falling from one disillusionment to + another! That is what you have been doing for the last three years, from + month to month. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Because the last three years have been bad years—horrible + years! But we have reached the crisis; things must begin to improve now! + </p> + <p> + Berent. That is what every defaulter thinks. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Do not drive me to despair! Have you any idea what I have gone + through in these three years? Have you any idea what I am capable of? + </p> + <p> + Berent. Of still further falsehood. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Take care!—It is quite true that I am standing on the + edge of a precipice. It is true that for three years I have done + everything in mortal power to save the situation! I maintain that there + has been something heroic in the fight I have made. And that deserves + some reward. You have unrestricted powers; every one trusts you. Realise + for yourself what your mission is; do not let it be necessary for me to + teach it you! Let me tell you this, emphatically: it will be a dreadful + thing for <i>you</i> if hundreds of people are to be ruined + unnecessarily now! + </p> + <p> + Berent. Let us make an end of this. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No, devil take me if I give up a fight like this with a + senseless surrender! + </p> + <p> + Berent. How do you propose to end it, then? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. There is no issue to it that I have not turned over in my + thoughts—thousands of times. <i>I</i> know what I shall do! I + won't be a mark for the jeers of this wretched little town, nor + triumphed over by those who have envied me all round the countryside! + </p> + <p> + Berent. What will you do, then? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. You shall see! (Speaking more and more excitedly.) You won't + help me under any conditions? + </p> + <p> + Berent. No. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. You insist that I shall surrender my estate, here and now? + </p> + <p> + Berent. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Hell and damnation! You dare do that? + </p> + <p> + Berent. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (his agitation robbing him of his voice, which all at once sinks + to a hoarse whisper). You have never known what despair is!—You + don't know what an existence I have endured!-But if the decisive moment + has come, and I have a man here in my office who <i>ought</i> to save me + but will not, then that man shall share what is in store for me. + </p> + <p> + Berent (leaning back in his chair). This is beginning to be impressive. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No more jesting; you might regret it! (Goes to all the doors + and locks them with a key which he takes out of his pocket; then unlocks + his desk, and takes a revolver out of it.) How long do you suppose I + have had this in here? + </p> + <p> + Berent. Since you bought it, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. And why do you suppose I bought it?—Do you suppose that + after I have been master of this town and the biggest man in the + district, I would endure the disgrace of bankruptcy? + </p> + <p> + Berent. You have been enduring it for a long time. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. It is in your power now either to ruin me or to wave me. You + have behaved in such a way that you deserve no mercy—and you shall + have none! Report to the banks that they may give me the use of £14,000 + for a year—I need no more than that—and I will save the + situation for good and all. Think seriously, now! Remember my family, + remember how long my firm has been established, remember the numbers + that would be ruined if I were! And do not forget to think of your own + family! Because, if you <i>don't</i> agree to what I ask, neither of us + shall leave this room alive! + </p> + <p> + Berent (pointing to the revolver). Is it loaded? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (putting his finger on the trigger). You will find that out in + good time. You must answer me now! + </p> + <p> + Berent. I have a suggestion to make. Shoot yourself first and me + afterwards. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (going up to him and holding the revolver to his head). I will + soon quiet your pretty wit. + </p> + <p> + Berent (getting up, and taking out of his pocket a paper which he + unfolds). This is a formal surrender of your estate to the Receiver in + Bankruptcy. If you sign it, you will be doing your duty to your + creditors, to your family, and to yourself. Shooting yourself and me + would only be adding an acted lie to all your others. Put away your + revolver and take up your pen! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Never! I had resolved on this long ago. But you shall keep me + company, now! + </p> + <p> + Berent. Do what you please. But you cannot threaten me into a falsehood. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (who has lowered the revolver, takes a step back, raises the + revolver and aims at BERENT). Very well! + </p> + <p> + Berent (walking up to TJAELDE and looking him straight in the eyes, + while the latter reluctantly lowers the revolver). Do you suppose I + don't know that a man who has for so long shivered with falsehood and + terror in his inmost heart has lots of schemes but no courage? You <i>dare</i> + not do it! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (furiously). I will show you! (Steps back and raises the + revolver again.) + </p> + <p> + Berent (following him). Shoot, and you will hear a report—that is + what you are longing for, I suppose! Or, give up your plan of shooting, + think of what you have done, confess, and afterwards hold your tongue! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No; may the devil take both you and me— + </p> + <p> + Berent. And the horse? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. The horse? + </p> + <p> + Berent. I mean the magnificent charger on which you came galloping home + from the sale of Möller's estate. You had better let some one shoot you + on horseback—on what was your last and greatest piece of business + duplicity! (Goes nearer to him and speaks more quietly.) Or—strip + yourself of the tissue of lies which enfolds you, and your bankruptcy + will bring you more blessing than your riches have ever done. (TJAELDE + lets the revolver drop out of his hand, and sinks into a chair in an + outburst of tears. There is silence for a moment.) You have made an + amazing fight of it for these last three years. I do not believe I know + any one who could have done what you have done. But you have lost the + fight this time. Do not shrink now from a final settlement and the pain + that it must cost you. Nothing else will cleanse your soul for you. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (weeping unrestrainedly, with his face buried in his hands). Oh, + oh! + </p> + <p> + Berent. You have blamed me for my method of proceeding in the matter. My + answer to that is that I forgive you for yours. (A pause.) Try now to + look the situation in the face, and take it like a man. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (as before). Oh! + </p> + <p> + Berent. At the bottom of your heart you must be weary of it all; make an + end of it all now! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (as before). Oh! + </p> + <p> + Berent (sitting down beside him, after a moment's pause). Wouldn't you + like to feel your conscience clear again—to be able really to live + with your wife and children? Because I am sure you have not done that + for many a day. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (as before). Oh! + </p> + <p> + Berent. I have known many speculators in my time and have received many + confessions. So I know what you have been robbed of for three years—never + a good night's rest, never a meal eaten with a light heart. You have + scarcely been conscious of what your children were doing or saying, + except when accident brought you together. And your wife— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. My wife! + </p> + <p> + Berent. Yes, she has slaved hard enough to prepare these banquets that + were to conceal the nakedness of the land. Indeed, she has been the + hardest worked servant in your house. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. My patient, good wife! + </p> + <p> + Berent. I feel certain you would rather be the humblest labourer earning + your daily bread than live through such suffering again. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. A thousand times rather! + </p> + <p> + Berent. Then can you hesitate to do what will give every man his due, + and bring you back to truthfulness again? Take the paper and sign it! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (falling on his knees). Mercy, mercy! You do not know what you + are asking me. My own children will curse me. I have just heard of a + child doing that to her father! And my business friends, who will be + ruined with me—numbers of them—think of their families! Oh! + What is to become of my work-people? Do you know there are more than + four hundred of them? Think of them and their families, robbed of their + livelihood!—Be merciful! I cannot, I dare not, do it! Save me, + help me! It was horrible of me to try and threaten you; but now I + implore you, for the sake of all those that deserve more than I, but to + whom I shall devote the rest of my life in loyal work! + </p> + <p> + Berent. I cannot save you, least of all with money that belongs to + others. What you ask me to do would be disloyalty to them. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No, no! Publish my accounts openly—put me under trustees, + if you like; but let me go on with the scheme that I believe will + succeed! Every clear-headed man will see that it must succeed! + </p> + <p> + Berent. Come and sit down. Let us discuss it. (TJAELDE sits down.) Isn't + what you are now proposing exactly what you have been trying to do for + the last three years? You <i>have</i> been able to borrow the means; but + what good has it done? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Times have been so bad! + </p> + <p> + Berent (shaking his head). You have mixed up falsehood and truth for so + long that you have forgotten the simplest laws of commerce. To speculate + during bad times, on the chance of their becoming better, is all very + well for those who can afford it. Others must leave such things alone. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. But it is to the advantage of my creditors themselves, and of + the banks too, that my estate should hold together! + </p> + <p> + Berent. It is of no advantage to sound firms to prop up unsound ones. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. But, surely, to avoid losing their capital—? + </p> + <p> + Berent, Oh, perhaps in the Receiver's hands the estate may— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (hopefully, half rising from his chair). Yes? Well? + </p> + <p> + Berent. But not till you have been removed from the control of it. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (sinking down again). Not till I have been removed from the + control of it! + </p> + <p> + Berent. On <i>its own</i> resources I dare say the estate can hold out + until better times come, but not on borrowed money. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Not on borrowed money— + </p> + <p> + Berent. You understand the difference, of course? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Oh, yes. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Good. Then you must understand that there is nothing left for + you to do but to sign this. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Nothing left but to sign— + </p> + <p> + Berent. Here is the paper. Come, now! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (rousing himself). Oh, I cannot, I cannot! + </p> + <p> + Berent. Very well. But in that case the crash will come of itself in a + short time, and everything will be worse than it is now. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (falling on his knees).Mercy, mercy! I cannot let go of all + hope! Think, after a fight like mine! + </p> + <p> + Berent. Tell the truth and say: "I haven't the courage to face the + consequences." + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, that is the truth. + </p> + <p> + Berent. "I haven't the courage to begin an honest life." + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Berent. You don't know what you are saying, man! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No, I don't. But spare me! + </p> + <p> + Berent (getting up). This is nothing but despair! I am sorry for you. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (getting up). Yes, surely you must be? Try me! Ask me to do + anything you like! Tell me what you— + </p> + <p> + Berent. No, no! Before anything else, you must sign this. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (sinking back into his chair). Oh!—How shall I ever dare + to look any one in the face again?—I, who, have defied everything + and deceived every one! + </p> + <p> + Berent. The man who has enjoyed the respect which he did not deserve + must some day undergo the humiliation which he has deserved. That is a + law; and I cannot save you from that. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. But they will be crueller to me than to any one else! I deserve + it, I know; but I shall not be able to endure it! + </p> + <p> + Berent. Hm! You are remarkably tough; your fight, these last three + years, proves that. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Be merciful! Surely your ingenuity—your influence—<i>must</i> + be able to find some way out for me? + </p> + <p> + Berent. Yes. The way out is for you to sign this. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Won't you even take it over from me by private contract? If you + did that, everything would come right. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Sign! Here is the paper! Every hour is precious. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Oh! (Takes up a pen; but turns to BERENT with a gesture of + supplication.) Daren't you test me, after what I have just gone through? + </p> + <p> + Berent. Yes, when you have signed. (TJAELDE signs the paper, and sinks + back in his chair with an expression of the keenest anguish. BERENT + takes the paper, folds it, and puts it in his pocket-book.) Now I will + go to the Bankruptcy Court with this, and afterwards to the telegraph + office. Probably the officials of the court will come this evening to + make their inventory. So you ought to warn your family. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. How shall I be able to do that? Give me a little time! Be + merciful! + </p> + <p> + Berent. The sooner the better for you—not to speak of the + interests of all concerned. Well, I have finished for the present. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Don't desert me like this! Don't desert me! + </p> + <p> + Berent. You would like your wife to come to you, wouldn't you? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (resignedly). Yes. + </p> + <p> + Berent (taking up the revolver). And this—I will not take it with + me. There is no danger from it now. But I will put it in the desk, for + the sake of the others. Now, if you or yours should need me, send word + to me. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Thank you. + </p> + <p> + Berent. I shall not leave the town until the worst is over.—Remember, + night or day, if you need me, send word to me. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Thank you. + </p> + <p> + Berent. And now will you unlock the door for me? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (getting up). Ah, of course. Excuse me! + </p> + <p> + Berent (taking his hat and coat). Won't you call your wife now? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No. I must have a little time first. I have the worst part of + it before me now. + </p> + <p> + Berent. I believe you have, and that is just why—. (Takes hold of + the bell-pull and rings the bell.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. What are you doing? + </p> + <p> + Berent. I want, before I go, to be sure of your wife's coming to you. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. You should not have done that! (An office-boy comes in. BERENT + looks at TJAELDE.) Ask your mistress—ask my wife to come to me. + </p> + <p> + Berent. At once, please. (The boy goes out.) Good-bye! (Goes out. + TJAELDE sinks down on to a chair by the door.) + </p> + <p> + [The Curtain falls.] + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT III + </h2> + <p> + (SCENE.-The same as in the preceding act. TJAELDE is sitting alone, on + the chair by the door, in the position he was in when the curtain fell + on the last act. After sitting motionless for a considerable time, he + suddenly gets up.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. How am I to begin? After her, there are the children; after + them, all my work-people—and then all the others! If only I could + get away! But the Receiver's men will be here.—I must have some + air! (Goes to the nearest window.) What a beautiful day!—but not + for me. (Opens the window and looks out.) My horse! No, I daren't look + at it. Why is it saddled? Oh, of course I meant, after my talk with + Berent, to—. But now everything is different! (Walks up and down + once or twice, thinking; then says suddenly:) Yes, on that horse I might + reach the outer harbour before the foreign boat sails! (Looks at his + watch.) I can do it! And I shall be able to put behind me all—. + (Stops, with a start, as he hears footsteps on the stair.) Who is there? + What is it? (MRS. TJAELDE comes down the stair into the room.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. You sent for me? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes. (Watching her.) Were you upstairs? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, I was resting. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (sympathetically). Ah, you were sleeping, and I woke you up! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. No, I was not asleep. (She has come slowly forward.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. You weren't asleep? (Apprehensively, to her.) I suppose you + didn't—? (To himself.) No, I daren't ask her. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. What did you want? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I wanted—. (Sees her eyes fixed on the revolver.) You are + surprised at my having that out? I got it out because I am going on a + journey. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (supporting herself on the desk). Going on a journey? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes. Mr. Berent has been here, as I dare say you know. (She + does not answer.) Business, you know. I have to go abroad. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (faintly). Abroad? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Only for a few days. So I will only take my usual bag with a + change of clothes and one or two shirts; but I must have it at once. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. I don't think your bag has been unpacked since you brought + it home to-day. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. So much the better. Will you get it for me? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Are you going away now—at once? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, by the foreign boat—from the outer harbour. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. You have no time to lose, then. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Are you not well? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Not very. + </p> + <p> + Tiwlde. One of your attacks? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes!—but I must fetch your bag. (TJAELDE helps her + over to the staircase.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. You are not well, my dear—but you will be better some + day. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. I only wish <i>you</i> looked better. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. We all have our burdens to bear. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. If only we could bear more together! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. But you don't understand my affairs—and I have never had + time to talk about yours. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. No—that's it. (Begins to go upstairs slowly.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Shall I help you? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. No, thank you, dear. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (coming forward). Does she suspect? She is always like that—she + takes all my courage away from me. But there is no other way! Now—about + money? I surely have some gold here somewhere. (Goes to his desk, takes + some gold out of a drawer and counts it; then lifts his head and sees + MRS. TJAELDE who has sat down on the stair half-way up.) My dear, are + you sitting down? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. I felt faint for a moment. I will go up now. (Gets up and + climbs the stair slowly.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Poor thing, she is worn out. (Pulls himself together.) No—five, + six, eight, ten—that is not enough. I must have some more. + (Searches in the desk.) And when I run short I have my watch and chain. + Twenty, twenty-four—that is all I can find. Ah, my papers! I must + on no account forget them. The ground is falling away under me! Isn't + she coming back? The bag was packed, surely?—Ah, how all this will + make her suffer! But it will not be so bad for her if I am away. People + will be more merciful, both to her and the children. Oh, my children! + (Collects himself.) Only let me get away, away! Thoughts will follow me + there, all the same!—Ah, here she is! (MRS. TJAELDE is seen coming + down slowly, with a bag which is evidently, heavy.) Shall I help you, + dear? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Thanks, will you take hold of the bag? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (takes it; she comes slowly down). It is heavier than it was + this morning. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Is it? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I have some papers to put in it. (Opens the bag.) But, my dear, + there is money in this bag. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes—some gold that you have given me at odd times. I + thought it might be useful to you now. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. There is a large sum. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. I don't believe you even know how much you have given me. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. She knows everything!—My dear! (Opens his arms.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Henning! (They both burst into tears and fall into each + other's arms. MRS. TJAELDE whispers to him:) Shall I call the children? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (in a whisper). No, say nothing—till later! (They embrace + again. He takes up the bag.) Go to the window, so that I can see you + when I mount. (Shuts the bag and hurries to the door, but stops.) My + dear! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Forgive me! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Everything! (TJAELDE, as he is hurrying out, meets in the + doorway an office-boy who is bringing him a letter. TJAELDE takes it, + and the boy goes out.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. From Berent! (Opens the letter, stands in the doorway and reads + it; then comes back into the room, with his bag in his hand, and reads + it again.) "When I left your house, I saw a horse standing saddled at + your door. To prevent misunderstanding, let me inform you that your + house is watched by the police." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (supporting herself on the desk). You can't go? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. No. (A pause. He puts down the bag and wipes his forehead.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Henning, shall we pray together? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Pray—pray to God to help us? (Bursts into tears. + TJAELDE is silent. She falls on her knees.) Come, Henning! You see that + all human ingenuity is of no avail! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I know that, only too well. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Well, try once, in this hour of our greatest need! + (TJAELDE appears to be struggling with his emotion.) You never would! + You have never confided in us, or in your God!—never opened your + heart to any one! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Be quiet! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. But what you concealed by day, you used to talk of in the + night. We mortals must talk, you know! But I have lain awake and + listened to your distress. Now you know why I am no longer good for + anything. No sleep at night, and none of your confidence in the daytime. + I have suffered even more than you. (TJAELDE throws himself into a + chair. She goes to him.) You wanted to run away. When we are afraid of + our fellow-men, we have only Him to turn to. Do you think I should be + alive now, if it were not for Him? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I have thrown myself imploringly at His feet, but always in + vain! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Henning, Henning! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Why did He not bless my work and the fight I was making? It is + all one now. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Ah, there is more to come. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (getting up). Yes, the worst is before us now— + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde.—because it is in our own hearts! (A pause. VALBORG + appears coming down the stair, but stops at the sight of the others.) + What do you want, dear? + </p> + <p> + Valborg (with suppressed emotion). From my room I can see the police + watching the house. Are the Receiver's men coming now? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (sitting down). Yes, my child. After a terrible struggle—how + terrible, his God and I alone know—your father has just sent in + his declaration of bankruptcy. (VALBORG takes a step or two forward, + then stands still. A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (unable to control himself). Now I suppose you will say to me + just what Möller's daughter said to him! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (getting up). You won't do that, Valborg!—God alone + can judge him. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Tell me how cruelly I have wronged you! Tell me that you will + never be able to forgive me—(breaking down)—that I have lost + your respect and your love for ever! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Oh, my child! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. That your anger and your shame know no bounds! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Oh, father, father! (Goes out by the door at the back. TJAELDE + tries to cross the room, as if to follow her, but can only stagger as + far as the staircase, to which he clings for support. MRS. TJAELDE sinks + back into her chair. There is a long pause. Suddenly JAKOBSEN cones in + from the outer once, dressed as before except that he has changed his + coat. TJAELDE is not aware of his entrance until JAKOBSEN is close to + him; then he stretches out his hands to him as if in entreaty, but + JAKOBSEN goes right up to him and speaks in a voice choked with rage.) + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. You scoundrel! (TJAELDE recoils.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Jakobsen! Jakobsen! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen (without heeding her). The Receiver's men are here. The books + and papers at the Brewery have been seized. Work is at a standstill—and + the same thing at the factory. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. My God! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. And I had made myself responsible for twice as much as I + possessed! (He speaks low, but his voice vibrates with anger and + emotion.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Dear Jakobsen! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen (turning to her). Didn't I say to him, every time he told me to + sign, "But I don't possess as much as that! It's not right!"—But + he used to answer, "It is only a matter of form, Jakobsen." "Yes, but + not an honourable form," I used to say. "It is a matter of form in + business," he would say; "all business folk do it." And all I knew of + business, I had learnt from him; so I trusted him. (With emotion.) And + he made me do it time after time. And now I owe more than I shall ever + be able to pay, all my life. I shall live and die a dishonoured man. + What have you to say to that, Mrs. Tjaelde? (She does not answer him. He + turns angrily upon TJAELDE.) Do you hear? Even <i>she</i> can find + nothing to say!—Scoundrel! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Jakobsen! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen (in a voice broken with emotion). I have nothing but the + deepest respect for you, Mrs. Tjaelde. But, you see, he has made me + swindle other people! In his name I shall have ruined numbers of them. + They trusted me, you see; just as I trusted him. I used to tell them + that he was a benefactor to the whole countryside, and that therefore + they ought to help him in these hard times. And now there will be many + an honest family robbed of house and home by our treachery. And that is + what he has brought me to! What heartless cruelty! (To TJAELDE.) I can + tell I feel inclined to—. (Takes a threatening step towards him.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (getting up). For my sake, Jakobsen! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen (restraining himself). Yes, for your sake, ma'am; because I + have the deepest respect for you. But how am I to face all those poor + creatures that I have ruined? It will do them no good to explain to them + how it has happened; that won't help them to get their daily bread! How + shall I face my own wife! (With emotion.) She has had such faith in me, + and in those I trusted. And my children, too? It is very hard on + children, because they hear so much talk in the street. It won't be long + before they hear what sort of a father they have got; and they will hear + it from the children of the men I have ruined. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. As you feel how hard it is yourself, that should make you + willing to spare others. Be merciful! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. I have the deepest respect for you; but it is hard that in my + home we should never again be able to eat a crust that we can properly + call our own—for I owe more than I can ever live to repay! That is + hard, Mrs. Tjaelde! What will become of my evenings with my children + now?—of our Sundays together? No, I mean that he shall hear the + truth from me. (Turns upon TJAELDE.) You scoundrel! You shan't escape + me! (TJAELDE shrinks back in terror and tries to reach the office door, + but at that moment the RECEIVER comes in, followed by two of his clerks + and SANNAES. TJAELDE crosses the room, staggers to his desk, and leans + upon it with his back turned to the newcomers.) + </p> + <p> + The Receiver (coming up behind Tjaelde). Excuse me! May I have your + books and papers? (TJAELDE gives a start, moves away to the stove, and + supports himself on it.) + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen (in a whisper, standing over him). Scoundrel! (TJAELDE moves + away from him and sits down on a chair by the door, hiding his face in + his hands.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (getting up and whispering to JAKOBSEN), Jakobsen! + Jakobsen! (He comes towards her.) He has never deliberately cheated any + one! He has never been what you say, and never will be! (Sits down + again.) + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. I have the deepest respect for <i>you</i>, Mrs. Tjaelde. But + if <i>he</i> is not a liar and swindler, there is no truth in anything! + (Bursts into tears. MRS. TJAELDE hides her face in her hands as she + leans back in her chair. A short silence. Then a confused noise of + voices is heard without. The RECEIVER and his men stop their work of + sorting and inventorying papers, and all look up.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (apprehensively). What is that? (SANNAES and the RECEIVER + go to one window, and JAKOBSEN to another.) + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. It's the hands from the quay and the brewery and the factory + and the warehouse. All work is stopped until further orders; but this is + pay-day—and there is no pay for them! (The others resume their + work.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (coming forward despairingly). I had forgotten that! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen (going up to him). Well, go out and face them, and they will + let you know what you are! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (in a low voice, as he takes up his saddle-bag). Here is money, + but it is all in gold. Go into the town and get it changed, and pay + them! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, do, Jakobsen! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen (in lower tones). If <i>you</i> ask me to, ma'am, I—So + there is money in this bag? (Opens it.) And all done up in rolls. He + meant to bolt, then!—and with the money his people had lent him. + And yet you say he is not a scoundrel! (TJAELDE gives a groan. The noise + of voices without grows louder.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (in a low voice). Be quick, or we shall have them in here. + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. I will go. + </p> + <p> + The Receiver (interposing). Excuse me, but nothing must be taken away + from here until it has been examined and inventoried. + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. It is pay-day, and this is the money for the wages. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Jakobsen is responsible for it, and will account for it. + </p> + <p> + The Receiver. Oh, that alters the case. Mr. Jakobsen is a man of + integrity. (Goes back to his work.) + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen (to MRS. TJAELDE, in a low voice full of emotion). Did you hear + that, Mrs. Tjaelde? He called me a man of integrity—and very soon + not a single soul will call me that! (Goes out past TJAELDE to whom he + whispers as he passes:) Scoundrel! I shall come back again! + </p> + <p> + The Receiver (going up to TJAELDE). Excuse me, but I must ask you for + the keys of your private rooms and cupboards. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (answering for her husband). My housekeeper shall go with + you. Sannaes, here is the key of the cupboard. (SANNAES takes it from + her.) + </p> + <p> + The Receiver (looking at TJAELDE'S massive watch-chain). Whatever + article of dress can be called a necessary, we have nothing to do with; + but if it happens that it comrises jewellery of any great value—. + (TJAELDE begins to take off the watch-chain.) No, no; keep it on. But it + will have to be included in the inventory. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I don't wish to keep it. + </p> + <p> + The Receiver. As you please. (Signs to one of his clerks to take it.) + Good-day! (Meanwhile SIGNE and HAMAR have appeared at the door of the + outer office, and have seen what passed. The RECEIVER, SANNAES, and the + clerks try to open the door on the right, but find it locked.) This door + is locked. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (as if waking from a dream). Ah, of course! (Goes to the door + and unlocks it.) + </p> + <p> + Signe (rushing to MRS. TJAELDE and falling on her knees beside her). + Mother! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, dear, the day of our trial has come! And I am afraid—afraid + that it may find us all too weak. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Mother, what is to become of us? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. We are in God's hands. + </p> + <p> + Signe. I will go with Hamar to his aunt's. We will go at once. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. It is possible that his aunt may not be willing to have + you now. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Aunt Ulla! What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. I mean that you have been the rich man's daughter; and you + do not know what the world is. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Hamar, do you think Aunt Ulla would refuse to have me? + </p> + <p> + Hamar (after a moment's thought). I don't know. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. You hear that, my child. In the next few hours you will + learn more than you have learnt in all your life. + </p> + <p> + Signe (in a horrified whisper). Do you mean that even—? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Hush! (SIGNE hides her face in her mother's lap. A loud + burst of laughter is heard outside.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar (going to the nearest window). What is that? (SANNAES comes in + through the right-hand door and goes to the other window. TJAELDE, SIGNE + and MRS. TJAELDE get up.) The bay horse! They have got hold of it. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. They have led it up the steps, and are pretending to sell it by + auction. + </p> + <p> + Hamar. They are ill-treating it! (SANNAES runs out. HAMAR snatches up + the revolver from the desk and looks to see if it is loaded.) I will—! + </p> + <p> + Signe. What are you going to do? (As he starts to go out, she clings to + him and prevents him.) + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Let me go! + </p> + <p> + Signe. Tell me first what you are going to do! Do you mean to go out + among all those men—alone? + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Signe (throwing her arms round him). You shan't go! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. Take care, this is loaded! + </p> + <p> + Signe. What are you going to do with it? + </p> + <p> + Hamar (in a determined voice, as he shakes himself free of her). Put a + bullet into the poor beast! It is too good for that crew. It shan't be + put up for auction, either in joke or in earnest! (Goes to the farther + window.) I shall get a better aim from here. + </p> + <p> + Signe (following him, with a cry). You will hit some one! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. No, I can aim too well for that. (Takes aim.) + </p> + <p> + Signe. Father! If they hear a shot from here now— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (starting up). The house belongs to my creditors now—and + the revolver too! + </p> + <p> + Hamar. No, I am past taking orders from you now! (TJAELDE snatches at + the revolver, which goes off. SIGNE screams and rushes to her mother. + Outside, but this time immediately below the window, two cries are + heard: "They are shooting at us! They are shooting at us!" Then the + noise of breaking glass is heard, and stones fly in through the windows, + followed by shouts and ribald laughter. VALBORG, who has rushed in from + the outer office, stands in front of her father to protect him, her face + turned to the window. A voice is heard: "Follow me, my lads!") + </p> + <p> + Hamar (pointing the revolver at the window). Yes, just you try it! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde and Signe. They are coming in here! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. You shan't shoot! (Stands between him and the window.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. It is Sannaes with the police! (Cries of "Get back, there!" are + heard; then a renewed uproar and a loud voice gradually dominating it; + until at last the noise gradually lessens and ceases.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Thank God! We were in great danger. (Sinks into a chair. A + pause.) Henning, where are you? (TJAELDE comes up behind her, and + strokes her head with his hand, but turns away immediately to hide his + deep emotion. A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Signe (on her knees by her mother's side). But won't they come back? + Hadn't we better go away from here? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Where to? + </p> + <p> + Signe (despairingly). What is to become of us? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. What God wills. (A pause. Meanwhile HAMAR, unobserved, has + laid down the revolver on a chair and slipped out of the room by the + door at the back.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg (softly). Signe, look! (SIGNE gets up, looks round the room, and + gives a little cry.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. What is it? + </p> + <p> + Signe. I knew he would! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (apprehensively). What is it? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Every rich family has its tame lieutenant—and ours has + just left us. That's all. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (getting up). Signe, my child! + </p> + <p> + Signe (throwing herself into her arms). Mother! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. There will be no more pretence now. Do not let us regret + it! + </p> + <p> + Signe (in tears). Mother, mother! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Things are better as they are. Do you hear, dear? Don't + cry! + </p> + <p> + Signe. I am not crying! but I feel so ashamed—oh, so ashamed! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. It is I that ought to feel ashamed for never having had + the courage to put a stop to what I saw was folly. + </p> + <p> + Signe (as before). Mother! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Soon there will be no one else left to desert us; and we + shall have nothing left that any one can rob us of, either. + </p> + <p> + Valborg (comes forward evidently labouring under great emotion). Yes, + there is, mother; <i>I</i> mean to desert you. + </p> + <p> + Signe. You, Valborg? Desert us? You? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Our home is going to be broken up, anyway. Each of us ought to + shift for herself. + </p> + <p> + Signe. But what am I to do? I don't know how to do anything. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (who has sunk back into her chair). What a bad mother I + must have been, not to be able to keep my children together now! + </p> + <p> + Valborg (impetuously). You know we cannot stay together now! You know we + cannot put up with living on the charity of our creditors; we have done + that too long! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Hush, remember your father is in the room. (A pause.) What + do you want to do, Valborg? + </p> + <p> + Valborg (after she has regained her self-control, quietly). I want to go + into Mr. Holst's office, and learn commercial work—and keep + myself. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. You don't know what you are undertaking. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. But I know what I am leaving. + </p> + <p> + Signe. And I shall only be a burden to you, mother, because I can't do + anything— + </p> + <p> + Valborg. You <i>can</i>! Go out and earn a living; even if it is only as + a servant, what does that matter? Don't live on our creditors—not + for a day, not for an hour! + </p> + <p> + Signe. And what is to become of mother, then? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Your mother will stay with your father. + </p> + <p> + Signe. But all alone? You, who are so ill? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. No, not alone! Your father and I will be together. + (TJAELDE comes forward, kisses the hand she has stretched out to him, + and falls on his knees by her chair, burying his face in her lap. She + strokes his hair gently.) Forgive your father, children. That is the + finest thing you can do. (TJAELDE gets up again and goes back to the + other end of the room. A messenger comes in with a letter.) + </p> + <p> + Signe (turning round anxiously). It is a letter from him! I can't stand + any more! I won't have it! (The messenger hands the letter to TJAELDE.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I accept no more letters. + </p> + <p> + Valborg (looking at the letter). It is from Sannaes? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. He, too! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Take it and read it, Valborg. Let us get it all over at + once. (VALBORG takes the letter from the messenger, who goes out. She + opens the letter, looks at it, and then reads it with emotion.) "Sir,—I + have owed you everything since I entered your employment as a boy. + Therefore do not take what I am going to say amiss. You know that about + eight years ago I came into a little legacy. I have used the money to + some advantage, having especially looked out for such investments as + would not be affected by the uncertainties of high finance. The total + sum, which now amounts to about £1400, I beg to offer to you as a token + of respectful gratitude; because, in the end, I owe it to you that I + have been able to make it that sum. Besides, you will be able to make + many times better use of it than I could. If you need me, my dearest + wish is to remain with you in the future. Forgive me for having seized + just this moment for doing this; I could not do otherwise.—Your + obedient servant, J. SANNAES." (While VALBORG has been reading, TJAELDE + has come gradually forward, and is now standing beside his wife.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Though out of all those you have helped, Henning, only one + comes to your aid at a time like this, you must feel that you have your + reward. (TJAELDE nods, and goes to the back of the room again.) And you, + children—do you see how loyally this man, a stranger, is standing + by your father? (A pause. SIGNE stands by the desk, crying. TJAELDE + walks up and down uneasily at the back of the room once or twice, then + goes up the staircase.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I should like to speak to Sannaes. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, do, dear! I couldn't, just now; and I am sure your + father couldn't either. You speak to him! (Gets up.) Come, Signe, you + and I must have a talk; you must open your heart to me now.—Ah, + when have we ever had a real talk together? (SIGNE goes to her.) Where + is your father? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. He went upstairs. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (leaning on SIGNE's arm). So he did. I am sure he must be + longing to rest—although he won't find it easy to do that. It has + been a terrible day; but surely God will turn it to our good! (Goes out + with SIGNE. VALBORG goes to the back of the room and rings the bell. A + messenger comes.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg. If Mr. Sannaes is out there, please ask him to be so good as to + come in here for a moment. (The messenger goes out.) Perhaps he won't + come, when he hears it is I. (Listens.) Yes, he is coming! + </p> + <p> + (SANNAES comes in, but stops short when he sees VALBORG, and hurriedly + puts his hands behind his back.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Is it you, Miss Valborg, that want me? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Please come in. (SANNAES takes a few timid steps forward. + VALBORG speaks in a more friendly tone.) Come in, then! (SANNAES comes + further into the room.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg. You have written a letter to my father. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (after a moment's pause). Yes. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. And made him a most generous offer. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (as before). Oh, well—it was only natural that I should. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Do you think so? It doesn't seem so to me. It is an offer that + honours the man that made it. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. I hope he means to accept it? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I don't know. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (sadly, after a moment's pause). Then he doesn't mean to? No—I + suppose not. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I honestly don't know. It depends on whether he dare. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Whether he dare? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Yes. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (evidently very shy of VALBORG). Have you any more orders for + me, Miss Valborg? + </p> + <p> + Valborg (with a smile). Orders? I am not giving you orders.—You + have offered also to stay with my father for the future. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Yes—that is to say, if he wishes me to. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I don't know. In that case there would be only he and my mother + and you; no one else. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Indeed? What about the others, then? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I don't know for certain what my sister means to do—but I + am leaving home to-day. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Then you are going to— + </p> + <p> + Valborg.—to try and get a clerkship somewhere. So that it will be + a bit lonely for you to be in my father's employment now. (A pause.) I + expect you had not thought of it in that light? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. No—yes—that is to say, your father will have all + the more need of me then. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Indeed he will. But what sort of a prospect is it for you to + bind up your fortunes with my father's? The future is so very + problematical, you know. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. What sort of a prospect—? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Yes, a young man should have some sort of a prospect before + him. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Yes—of course; that is to say, I only thought that at + first it would be so difficult for him. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. But I am thinking of you. Surely you have some plans for the + future? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (embarrassed). Really I would rather not talk about myself. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. But I want to.—You have something else in reserve, then? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Well—if I must tell you—I have some well-to-do + relations in America who have for a long time wanted me to go over + there. I should soon be able to get, a good situation there. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Indeed?—But why haven't you accepted such a good offer + long before this? (SANNAES does not answer.) You must have been + sacrificing your best interests by staying so long with us? (SANNAES is + still silent.) Any! it will be making a still greater sacrifice to stay + with us now— + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (struggling with his embarrassment). I have never thought of it + as being that. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. But my father can scarcely accept so much from you. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (in alarm). Why not? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Because it really would be too much.—And, in any case, I + shall try to prevent him. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (almost imploringly). You, Miss Valborg? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Yes. You must not be misemployed any longer. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Misemployed? In what I <i>myself</i> desire so much? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. When I have talked it over with my father, I think he will see + my point. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (anxiously). What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + Valborg (after a moment's reflection).—I mean, the reason of your + having made such great sacrifices for us—and of your being willing + to make still greater now. (A pause. SANNAES hangs his head, and is + raising his hands to hide his face, when suddenly he puts them behind + his back again. VALBORG continues, in gentle but firm tones:) I have + taught myself, all my life, to look behind deeds and words for their + motives. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (quietly, without raising his head). You have taught yourself to + be cruelly bitter, hard and unjust. + </p> + <p> + Valborg (starts, but collects herself, and says gently:) Don't say that, + Mr. Sannaes! It is not hard-heartedness or bitterness that makes me + think of your future now—and makes me wish to spare you + disappointment. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (with a cry of pain). Miss Valborg! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Be honest with yourself, and you will be able to take a fairer + view of what I have just said. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Have you any more orders, Miss Valborg? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I give you no orders, as I have told you already. I am only + bidding you good-bye; and I do it with grateful thanks to you for all + your goodness to me—and to us all. Good-bye and good luck, Mr. + Sannaes. (SANNAES bows.)Won't you shake hands? Ah, I forgot—I + offended you. I beg your pardon for that. (SANNAES bows and turns to + go.) Come, Mr. Sannaes—let us at least part as good friends! You + are going to America, and I am going among strangers. Let us go away + wishing one another well. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (moved). Good-bye, Miss Valborg. (Turns to go.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Mr. Sannaes—shake hands! + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (stopping). No, Miss Valborg. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Don't treat me uncivilly; I have not deserved that. (SANNAES + again turns to go.) Mr. Sannaes! + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (stopping). You might soil your fingers, Miss Valborg! (Walks + proudly away.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg (controlling herself with an effort). Well, we have offended + each other now. But why should we not forgive each other as well? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Because you have just offended me for the second time to-day—and + more deeply than the first time. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Oh, this is too much! I spoke as I did, because I owed it to + myself not to be put in a false position, and owed it to you to spare + you future disappointment. And you call that insulting you! Which of us + has insulted the other, I should like to know? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. You have, by thinking such things of me. Do you realise how + cruelly you have spoilt the happiest action of my life? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I have done so quite unintentionally, then. I am only glad that + I was mistaken. + </p> + <p> + Sannes (bitterly). You are glad! So it really makes you glad to know + that I am not a scoundrel! + </p> + <p> + Valborg (quietly). Who said anything of the kind? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. You! You know the weak spot in my armour; but that you should + on that account believe that I could lay a trap for you and try to trade + on your father's misfortune, Miss Valborg—! No, I cannot shake + hands with any one who has thought so badly of me as that! And, since + you have so persistently insulted me that I have lost all the timidity I + used to feel in your presence, let me tell you this openly; these hands + (stretching out his hands to her) have grown red and ugly in loyal work + for your father, and his daughter should have been above mocking at me + for them! (Turns to go, but stops.) And, one word more. Ask your father + for <i>his</i> hand now, and hold fast to it, instead of deserting him + on the very day that misfortune has overtaken him. That would be more to + the point than worrying about <i>my</i> future. I can look after that + for myself. (Turns again to go, but comes back.) And when, in his + service—which will be no easy service now—your hands bear + the same honourable marks of work as mine do, and are as red as mine, + then you will perhaps understand how you have hurt me! At present you + cannot. (He goes quickly towards the door of the outer office.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg (with a wry smile). What a temper! (More seriously.) And yet, + after all—. (Looks after him. Just as SANNAES gets to the door + TJAELDE'S voice is heard calling him from the top of the staircase. + SANNAES answers him.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (coming down the stairs). Sannaes! Sannaes! I can see Jakobsen + coming. (Hurries across the room as if pursued by fear. SANNAES follows + him.) Of course he will be coming back to look for me again! It is + cowardly of me to feel that I cannot stand it; but I cannot—not + to-day, not now! I cannot stand any more! Stop him! Don't let him come + in! I shall have to drink my cup of misery to the dregs; but (almost in + a whisper) not all at one draught! (Hides his face in his hands.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. He shan't come; don't be afraid! (Goes quickly out, with an air + of determination.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. It is hard—oh, it is hard! + </p> + <p> + Valborg (coming to his side). Father! (He looks at her, anxiously.) You + may safely accept the money Sannaes offers you. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (in surprise). What do you mean by that? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I mean—that, if you do, I will not forsake you either, + but stay here with you too. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (incredulously). You, Valborg? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Yes, you know I want to learn office work, and business; and I + would rather learn in your office. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (shyly). I don't understand what you—? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Don't you understand, dear? I believe I could become of some + use in the office. And in that way, you know, we might begin afresh—and + try, with God's help, to pay your creditors. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (happily, but shyly). My child! Who put such a happy idea into + your head? + </p> + <p> + Valborg (putting an arm round his neck). Father, forgive me for all that + I have neglected to do! You shall see how I will try and make up for it! + How hard I shall work! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (still half incredulous). My child! My child! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I feel—I cannot tell you how deeply—a craving for + love and for work! (Throws both her arms round his neck.) Oh, father, + how I love you!—and how I shall work for you! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Ah, that is the Valborg I have waited for, ever since you were + a little child! But we had drifted away from one another, somehow. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. No more about the past! Look forward, father, look forward! + Concerns "that would not be affected by the uncertainties of high + finance,"—weren't those his words? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. So you were struck by that expression, too? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. That may mean a future for us now! We will have a home all to + ourselves—a little house down on the shore—and I shall help + you, and Signe will help mother—we shall know what it is to live, + for the first time! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. What happiness it will be! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Only look forward, father! Look forward! A united family is + invincible! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. And to think that such help should come to me now! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Yes, now we are all going to our posts—and all together, + where formerly you stood alone! You will have good fairies round you; + wherever you look, you will see happy faces and busy fingers all day + long; and we shall all enjoy our meals and our evenings together, just + as we did when we were children! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. That, above everything! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Ha, ha!—it is after the rain that the birds sing + blithest, you know! And this time our happiness can never miscarry, + because we shall have something worth living for! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Let us go to your mother! This will cheer her heart! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Ah, how I have learnt to love her! What has happened to-day has + taught me. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. It is for her that we shall all work now. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Yes—for her, for her. She shall rest now. Let us go to + her! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Kiss me first, my dear. (His voice trembles.) It is so long + since you did! + </p> + <p> + Valborg (kissing him). Father! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Now let us go to your mother. (The curtain falls as they go out + together.) + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT IV + </h2> + <p> + (SCENE.—In the garden of TJAELDE'S new home, on the shore of the + fjord, three years later. A view of tranquil sunlit sea, dotted with + boats, in the background. On the left a portion of the house is seen, + with an open window within which VALBORG is seen writing at a desk. The + garden is shaded with birch trees; flower-beds run round the house, and + the whole atmosphere one of modest comfort. Two small garden tables and + several chairs are in the foreground on the right. A chair standing by + itself, further back, has evidently had a recent occupant. When the + curtain rises the stage is empty, but VALBORG is visible at the open + window. Soon afterwards TJAELDE comes in, wheeling MRS. TJAELDE in an + invalid chair.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Another lovely day! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Tjaelde. Lovely! There was not a ripple on the sea last night. + I saw a couple of steamers far out, and a sailing ship that had hove to, + and the fisher-boats drifting silently in. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. And think of the storm that was raging two days ago! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. And think of the storm that broke over our lives barely three + years ago! I was thinking of that in the night. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Sit down here with me. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Shall we not continue our stroll? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. The sun is too hot. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Not for me. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. You big strong man! It is too hot for me. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (taking a chair). There you are, then. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (taking off his hat and wiping his forehead). You are very + hot, dear. You have never looked so handsome as you do now! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. That's just as well, as you have so much time to admire me now! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Now that I find getting about so difficult, you mean? Ah, + that is only my pretence, so as to get you to wheel me about! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (with a sigh). Ah, my dear, it is good of you to take it so + cheerfully. But that you should be the only one of us to bear such hard + traces of our misfortune— + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (interrupting him). Do you forget your own whitened hair? + That is a sign of it, too, but a beautiful one! And, as for my being an + invalid, I thank God every day for it! In the first place I have almost + no pain, and then it gives me the opportunity to feel how good you are + to me in every way. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. You enjoy your life, then? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, indeed I do—and just as I should wish to. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Just to be spoiled, and yourself to spoil us? + </p> + <p> + Valborg (from the window). I have finished the accounts, father. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Doesn't it come out at about what I said? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Almost exactly. Shall I enter it in the ledger at once? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Oho! You are glad then, as you seem in such it hurry? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Certainly! Such a good stroke of business! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. And both you and Sannaes tried your best to dissuade me from + it! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Such a pair of wiseacres! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Ah, your father is your master, my dear! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Tjaelde. Oh, it is easy enough to captain a small army that + marches on, instead of a big one that is in retreat. (VALBORG goes on + with her work.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. And yet it seemed hard enough for us to give it up. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, yes—oh, yes. I can tell you, I was thinking of that + last night. If God had given me what I begged for then, what state + should we have been in now? I was thinking of that, too. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. It is the fact of the estate being at last wound up that + has brought all these thoughts into your mind, dear? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Then I must confess that I, too, have scarcely been able + to think of anything else since yesterday, when Sannaes went into town + to settle it up. This a red-letter day! Signe is wrestling with a little + banquet for us; we shall see what an artist she has become! Here she is! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. I think I will just go and look over Valborg's accounts. (Goes + to the window. SIGNE comes out of the house, wearing a cook's apron and + carrying a basin.) + </p> + <p> + Signe. Mother, you must taste my soup! (Offers her a spoonful.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Clever girl! (Tastes the soup.) Perhaps it would stand a + little—. No, it is very good as it is. You are clever! + </p> + <p> + Signe. Am I not! Will Sannaes be back soon? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Your father says we may expect him any moment. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (at the window, to VALBORG). No, wait a moment. I will come in. + (Goes into the house, and is seen within the window beside VALBORG.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. My little Signe, I want to ask you something? + </p> + <p> + Signe. Do you? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. What was in the letter you had yesterday evening? + </p> + <p> + Signe. Aha, I might have guessed that was it! Nothing, mother. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Nothing that pained you, then? + </p> + <p> + Signe. I slept like a top all night—so you can judge for yourself. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. I am so glad. But, you know, there seems to me something a + little forced in the gay way you say that? + </p> + <p> + Signe. Does there? Well, it was something that I shall always be ashamed + of; that is all. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. I am thankful to hear it, for— + </p> + <p> + Signe (interrupting her). That must be Sannaes. I hear wheels. Yes, here + he is! He has come too soon; dinner won't be ready for half an hour yet. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. That doesn't matter. + </p> + <p> + Signe. Father, here is Sannaes! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (from within). Good! I will come out! (SIGNE goes into the house + as TJAELDE comes out. SANNAES comes in a moment later.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde and Mrs. Tjaelde. Welcome! + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Thank you! (Lays down his dust-coat and driving gloves on a + chair, and comes forward.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Well? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Yes—your bankruptcy is discharged! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. And the result was—? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Just about what we expected. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. And, I suppose, just about what Mr. Berent wrote? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Just about, except for one or two inconsiderable trifles. You + can see for yourself. (Gives him a bundle of papers.) The high prices + that have ruled of late, and good management, have altered the whole + situation. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (who has opened the papers and glanced at the totals). A deficit + of £12,000. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. I made a declaration on your behalf, that you intended to try + and repay that sum, but that you should be at liberty to do it in + whatever way you found best. And so— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. And so—? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes.—I proferred on the spot rather more than half the amount + you still owed Jakobsen. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Not really? (TJAELDE takes out a pencil and begins making + calculations on the margins of the papers.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. There was general satisfaction—and they all sent you + their cordial congratulations. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. So that, if all goes well— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, if things go as well with the business as they promise to, + Sannaes, in twelve or fourteen years I shall have paid every one in + full. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. We haven't much longer than that left to live, dear! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Then we shall die poor. And I shall not complain! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. No, indeed! The honourable name you will leave to your + children will be well worth it. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. And they will inherit a sound business, which they can go on + with if they choose. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Did you hear that, Valborg? + </p> + <p> + Valborg (from the window). Every word! (SANNAES bows to her.) I must go + in and tell Signe! (Moves away from the window.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. What did Jakobsen say?—honest old Jakobsen? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. He was very much affected, as you would expect. He will + certainly be coming out here to-day. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (looking up from the papers). And Mr. Berent? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. He is coming hard on my heels. I was to give you his kind + regards and tell you so. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Splendid! We owe him so much. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, he has been a true friend to us. But, talking of true + friends, I have something particular to ask <i>you</i>, Sannaes. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Me, Mrs. Tjaelde? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. The maid told me that yesterday, when you went into town, + you took the greater part of your belongings with you. Is that so? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Yes, Mrs. Tjaelde. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. What does that mean? (To his wife.) You said nothing about it + to me, my dear. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Because I thought it might be a misunderstanding. But now + I must ask what was the meaning of it. Are you going away? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (fingering a chair, in evident confusion). Yes, Mrs. Tjaelde. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Where to? You never said anything about it. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. No; but I have always considered that I should have finished my + task here as soon as the estate was finally wound up. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde and Mrs. Tjaelde. You mean to leave us? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. But why? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Where do you mean to go? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. To my relations in America. I can now, without doing you any + harm, withdraw my capital from the business by degrees and transfer it + abroad. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. And dissolve our partnership? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. You know that at any rate you had decided now to resume the old + style of the firm's name. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. That is true; but, Sannaes, what does it all mean? What is your + reason? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Are you not happy here, where we are all so attached to + you? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. You have quite as good a prospect for the future here as in + America. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. We held together in evil days; are we not to hold together + now that good days have come? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. I owe you both so much. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Good heavens, it is we that owe you— + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde.—more than we can ever repay. (Reproachfully.) Sannaes! + </p> + <p> + (SIGNE comes in, having taken off her cooking apron.) + </p> + <p> + Signe. Congratulations! Congratulations! Father mother! (Kisses them + both.) Welcome, Sannaes!—But aren't you pleased?—now? (A + pause. VALBORG comes in.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg. What has happened? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Sannaes wants to leave us, my children (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Signe. But, Sannaes—! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Even if you want to go away, why have you never said a single + word to us about it before? (To the others.) Or has he spoken to any of + you? (MRS. TJAELDE shakes her head.) + </p> + <p> + Signe. No. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. It was because—because—I wanted to be able to go as + soon as I had told you. Otherwise it would be too hard to go. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. You must have very serious grounds for it, then! Has anything + happened to you to—to make it necessary? (SANNAES does not + answer.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. And to make it impossible for you to trust any of us? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (shyly). I thought I had better keep it to myself. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. That makes it still more painful for us—to think that you + could go about in our little home circle here, where you have shared + everything with us, carrying the secret of this intention hidden in your + heart. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Do not be hard on me! Believe me, if I could stay, I would; and + if I could tell you the reason, I would. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Signe (to her mother, in an undertone). Perhaps he wants to get married? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Would his being here with us make any difference to that? + Any one that Sannaes loved would be dear to us. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (going up to SANNAES and putting an arm round his shoulders). + Tell one of us, then, if you cannot tell us all. Is it nothing we can + help you in? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. No. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. But can you judge of that alone? One does not always realise + how much some one else's advice, on the experience of an older man, may + help one. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Unfortunately it is as I say. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. It must be something very painful, then? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Please—! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Well, Sannaes, you have quite cast a cloud over to-day's + happiness for us. I shall miss you as I have never missed any one. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. I cannot imagine the house without Sannaes! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (to his wife). Come, dear, shall we go in again? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes—it is not nice out here any longer. (TJAELDE + takes her into the house. SIGNE turns to VALBORG to go in with her, but + when she comes close to her she gives a little cry. VALBORG takes her + arm, and their eyes meet.) + </p> + <p> + Signe. Where have my wits been? (She goes into the house, looking back + at VALBORG and SANNAES. The latter is giving way to his emotion, but as + soon as his eyes fall on VALBORG he recovers himself.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg (impetuously). Sannaes! + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. What are your orders, Miss Valborg? + </p> + <p> + Valborg (turning away from him, then turning back, but avoiding his + eyes). Do you really mean to leave us? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Yes, Miss Valborg. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg. So we shall never stand back to back at our desks in the same + room again? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. No, Miss Valborg. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. That is a pity; I had become so accustomed to it. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. You will easily become accustomed to some one else's—back. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Ah, some one else is some one else. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. You must excuse me, Miss Valborg; I don't feel in the humour + for jesting to-day. (Turn to go.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg (looking up at him). Is this to be our parting, then? (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. I thought of taking leave of you all this afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Valborg (taking a step towards him). But ought not we two to settle our + accounts first? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (coldly). No, Miss Valborg. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Do you feel then that everything between us has been just as it + ought? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. God knows I don't! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. But you think I am to blame?—Oh, well, it doesn't matter. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. I am quite willing to take the blame. Put anyway, it is all + finished with now. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. But if we were to share the blame? You cannot be quite + indifferent as to which of us should take it? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. I confess I am not. But, as I said, I do not wish for any + settling of accounts between us. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. But I wish it. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. You will have plenty of time to settle it to your own + satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. But, if I am in difficulties about it, I cannot do it alone. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. I do not think you will find any difficulty. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. But if <i>I</i> think so?—if I feel myself deeply + wronged? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. I have told you that I am willing to take all the blame upon + myself. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. No, Sannaes—I don't want charity; I want to be + understood. I have a question to ask you. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. As you will. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. How was it that we got on so well for the first year after my + father's failure-and even longer? Have you ever thought of that? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Yes. I think it was because we never talked about anything but + our work—about business. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. You were my instructor. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. And when you no longer needed an instructor— + </p> + <p> + Valborg.—we hardly spoke to one another. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (softly). No. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Well, what could I say or do, when every sign of friendship on + my part went unnoticed? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Unnoticed? Oh no, Miss Valborg, I noticed them. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. That was my punishment, then! + </p> + <p> + Sannas. God forbid I should do you an injustice. You had a motive which + did you credit; you felt compassion for me, and so you could not help + acting as you did. But, Miss Valborg, I refuse your compassion. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. And suppose it were gratitude? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (softly). I dreaded that more than anything else! I had had a + warning. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. You must admit, Sannaes, that all this made you very difficult + to deal with! + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. I quite admit that. But, honestly, <i>you</i> must admit that I + had good reason to mistrust an interest in me that sprang from mere + gratitude. Had circumstances been different, I should only have bored + you cruelly; I knew that quite well. And I had no fancy for being an + amusement for your idle hours. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. How you have mistaken me!—If you will think of it, surely + you must understand how different a girl, who has been accustomed to + travel and society, becomes when she has to stay at home and work + because it is her duty. She comes to judge men by an altogether + different standard, too. The men that she used to think delightful are + very likely to appear small in her eyes when it is a question of the + demands life makes on ability or courage or self-sacrifice; while the + men she used to laugh at are transformed in her eyes into models of what + God meant men to be, when she is brought into close contact with them in + her father's office.—Is there anything so surprising in that? (A + pause.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Thank you, at all events, for saying that to me. It has done me + good. But you should have said it sooner. + </p> + <p> + Valborg (emphatically). How could I, when you misjudged everything I did + or said? No; it was impossible until mistakes and misunderstandings had + driven us so far apart that we could not endure them any longer (Turns + away.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Perhaps you are right. I cannot at once recall all that has + happened. If I have been mistaken, I shall by degrees find the knowledge + of it a profound comfort.—You must excuse me, Miss Valborg, I have + a number of things to see to. (Turns to go.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg (anxiously). Sannaes, as you admit that you have judged me + unjustly, don't you think you ought at least to give me—some + satisfaction? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. You may be certain, Miss Valborg, that when I am balancing our + account you shall not suffer any injustice. But I cannot do it now. All + I have to do now is to get ready to go. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. But you are not ready to go, Sannaes! You have not finished + your work here yet! There is what I just spoke of—and something + else that dates farther back than that. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. You must feel how painful it is for me to prolong this + interview. (Turns to go.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg. But surely you won't go without setting right something that I + am going to beg you to? + </p> + <p> + Sannas. What is that, Miss Valborg? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Something that happened a long time ago. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. If it is in my power, I will do what you ask. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. It is.—Ever since that day you have never offered to + shake hands with me. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Have you really noticed that? (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg (with a smile, turning away). Will you do so now? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (stepping nearer to her). Is this more than a mere whim? + </p> + <p> + Valborg (concealing her emotion). How can you ask such a question now? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Because all this time you have never once asked me to shake + hands with you. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I wanted you to offer me your hand. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Are you serious for once? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I mean it, seriously. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (in a happier voice). You really set a value on it? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. A great value. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (going up to her). Here it is, then! + </p> + <p> + Valborg (turning and taking his hand). I accept the hand you offer me. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (turning pale). What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I mean that for some time past I have known that I should be + proud to be the wife of a man who has loved me, and me alone, ever since + he was a boy, and has saved my father and us all. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Oh, Miss Valborg! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. And you wanted to go away, rather than offer me your hand; and + that, only because we had accepted help from you—and you did not + think we were free agents! That was too much; and, as you would not + speak, I had to! + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (kneeling to her). Miss Valborg! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. You have the most loyal nature, the most delicate mind, and the + warmest heart I have ever known. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. This is a thousand times too much! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Next to God, I have to thank you that I have become what I am; + and I feel that I can offer you a life's devotion such as you would + rarely find in this world. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. I cannot answer because I scarcely realise what you are saying. + But you are saying it because you are sorry for me, now that I have to + go away, and feel that you owe me some gratitude. (Takes both her hand + in his.) Let me speak! I know the truth better than you, and have + thought over it far more than you. You are so immeasurably above me in + ability, in education, in manners—and a wife should not be able to + look down on her husband. At all events, I am too proud to be willing to + be exposed to that. No, what you are feeling now is only the result of + your beautiful nature, and the recollection of it will hallow all my + life. All the pain and all the happiness I have known have come from + you. Your life will be one of self-renunciation; but, God knows there + are many such! And my burden will be lightened now, because I shall know + that your good wishes will always be with me. (Gets up.) But part we + must—and now more than ever! For I could not bear to be near you + unless you were mine, and to make you mine would only mean misery for us + both after a little while! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Sannaes—! + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (holding her hands and interrupting her). I entreat you not to + say anything more! You have too much power over me; do not use it to + make me sin! For it would be that—a great sin—to put two + honest hearts into a false position, where they would distress one + another, even perhaps get to hate one another. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. But let me— + </p> + <p> + Sannas (letting go her hands and stepping back). No, you must not tempt + me. Life with you would mean perpetual anxiety, for I should never feel + equal to what it would demand of me! But now I can part from you + comforted. There will be no bitterness in my heart now; and by degrees + all my thoughts of the past and of you will turn to sweetness. God bless + you! May every good fortune go with you! Good-bye! (Goes quickly towards + the house.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Sannaes! (Follows him.) Sannaes! Listen to me! (SANNAES takes + up his coat and gloves, and, as he rushes out without looking where he + is going, runs full tilt into BERENT who comes in at that moment + followed by JAKOBSEN.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. I beg your pardon! (Rushes out to the right.) + </p> + <p> + Berent. Are you two playing a game of blind man's buff? + </p> + <p> + Valborg. God knows we are! + </p> + <p> + Berent. You need not be so emphatic about it! I have had forcible + evidence of it. (Rubs his stomach and laughs.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg. You must excuse me! Father is in there. (Points to the left and + goes hurriedly out to the right.) + </p> + <p> + Berent. We don't seem to be getting a particularly polite reception! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. No, we seem to be rather in the way, Mr. Berent. + </p> + <p> + Berent (laughing). It looks like it. But what has been going on? + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. I don't know. They looked as if they had been fighting, their + faces were so flushed. + </p> + <p> + Berent. They looked upset, you mean? + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. Yes, that's it. Ah, here is Mr. Tjaelde! (To himself.) Good + Lord, how aged he looks! (Withdraws into the background as BERENT goes + forward to greet TJAELDE, who comes in.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (to BERENT). I am delighted to see you! You are always welcome + in our little home—and this year more welcome than ever! + </p> + <p> + Berent. Because things are going better than ever this year! I + congratulate you on your discharge—and also on your determination + to pay everything in full! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Yes, if God wills, I mean to— + </p> + <p> + Berent. Well, things are going splendidly, aren't they? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. So far, yes. + </p> + <p> + Berent. You are over the worst of it, now that you have laid the + foundations of a new business and laid them solidly. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. One of the things that have given me the greatest encouragement + has been the fact that I have won your confidence—and that has + gained me the confidence of others. + </p> + <p> + Berent. I could have done nothing unless you had first of all done + everything. But don't let us say any more about it!—Well, the + place looks even prettier than it did last year. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. We do a little more to it each year, you know. + </p> + <p> + Berent. And you are still all together here? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. So far, yes. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Ah, by the way, I can give you news of your deserter. (TJAELDE + looks surprised.) I mean your lieutenant! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Oh—of him! Have you seen him? + </p> + <p> + Berent. I was on the same boat coming here. There was a very rich girl + on board. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (laughing). Oh, I see! + </p> + <p> + Berent. All the same, I don't think it came to any thing. It is rather + like coming upon a herd of deer when you are stalking; after your first + shot, you don't find it so easy to get another; they have grown wary! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen (who during this conversation has been screwing up his courage + to address TJAELDE). I—I am a pig, I am! I know that! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (taking his hand). Oh, come, Jakobsen—! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. A great blundering pig!—But I know it now! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. That's all right! I can tell you I am delighted to be able to + set affairs straight between you and me. + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. I don't know what to answer. It goes to my heart! (Shakes his + hand heartily.) You are a far better man than I,—and I said so to + my wife. "He's a splendid fellow," I said. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (releasing his hand). Let us forget everything except the happy + days we have had together, Jakobsen! How do things go at the Brewery? + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. At the Brewery! As long as folk ladle beer into their stomachs + at the rate they do now— + </p> + <p> + Berent. Jakobsen was kind enough to drive me out here. We had a most + amusing drive. He is a character. + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen (in an anxious undertone, to TJAELDE). What does he mean by + that? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. That you are different from most people. + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. Ah!—I didn't feel sure, you know, whether he wasn't + sitting there making game of me, all the way here. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. How can you think such a thing? (To BERENT.) Do come into the + house. Excuse my going first; but my wife is not always quite prepared + to receive visitors since she has been able to do so little for herself. + (Goes into the house.) + </p> + <p> + Berent. I don't think Mr. Tjaelde seems to me to be looking in quite as + good form as I expected? + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. Don't you? I didn't notice anything. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Perhaps I am mistaken. I think he meant us to follow him in, + didn't he? + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. So I understood. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Then, as you have brought me so far, you must take me in to Mrs. + Tjaelde. + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. I am quite at your service, sir. I have the deepest respect + for Mrs. Tjaelde—(hurriedly)—and of course for Mr. Tjaelde + too. Of course. + </p> + <p> + Berent. Yes. Well, let us go in. + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. Let us go in. (He tries anxiously to keep in step with + BERENT'S peculiar walk, but finds it difficult.) + </p> + <p> + Berent. I think you had better not try. My step suits very few. + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. Oh, I shall manage—! (They go out to the left. SANNAES + comes hurriedly in from the right, and crosses the stage; looks around; + then comes across to the foreground and leans with his back against a + tree. VALBORG comes in a moment later, comes forward, sees him, and + laughs.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. There, you see, Miss Valborg; you are laughing at me. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I don't know whether I want to laugh or to cry. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Believe me, you are mistaken about this, Miss Valborg. You + don't see things as plainly as I do. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Which of us was it that was mistaken to-day?—and had to + beg pardon for it? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. It was I, I know. But this is impossible! A real union of + hearts needs to be founded on more than respect— + </p> + <p> + Valborg (laughing). On love? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. You misunderstand me. Could you go into society with me without + feeling embarrassed? (VALBORG laughs.) You see, the mere idea of it + makes you laugh. + </p> + <p> + Valborg (laughing). I am laughing because you are magnifying the least + important part of it into the most important. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. You know how awkward and shy—in fact downright frightened + I am amongst those who—. (VALBORG laughs again.) There, you see—you + can't help laughing at the idea! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I should perhaps even laugh at you when we were in society + together! (Laughs.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (seriously). But I should suffer horribly if you did. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Believe me, Sannaes, I love you well enough to be able to + afford to have a little laugh sometimes at your little imperfections. + Indeed, I often do! And suppose we were out in society, and I saw you + weighed down under the necessity for pretty manners that do not come + easy to you; if I did laugh at you, do you think there would be any + unkindness behind my laughter? If others laughed at you, do you suppose + I would not, the very next moment, take your arm and walk proudly down + the room with you? I know what you really are, and others know it too! + Thank God it is not only bad deeds that are known to others in this + world! + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Your words intoxicate me and carry me off my feet! + </p> + <p> + Valborg (earnestly). If you think I am only flattering you, let us put + it to the test. Mr. Berent is here. He moves in the very best society, + but he is superior to its littlenesses. Shall we take his opinion? + Without betraying anything, I could make him give it in a moment. + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (carried away). I want no one's opinion but yours! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. That's right! If only you feel certain of my love— + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (impetuously).—then nothing else will seem to matter; and + that alone will be able to teach me all that I lack, in a very short + time. + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Look into my eyes! + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (taking her hands). Yes! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Do you believe that nothing would ever make me ashamed of you! + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Yes, I believe that. + </p> + <p> + Valborg (with emotion). Do you believe that I love you? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Yes! (Falls on one knee.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Deeply enough for my love to last all our lives— + </p> + <p> + Sannaes. Yes, yes! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Then stay with me; and we will look after the old folk—and + replace them when, in God's good time, they are taken from us. (SANNAES + bursts into tears. TJAELDE, who has come to the window to show BERENT + his ledgers, happens to look up and sees VALBORG and SANNAES.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (leaning out of the window, and speaking gently:) Valborg, what + has happened? + </p> + <p> + Valborg (quietly). Only that Sannaes and I are engaged to be married. + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Is it possible! (To BERENT, who is immersed in the accounts.) + Excuse me! (Hurries away from the window.) + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (who, in his emotion has heard nothing). Forgive me! It has been + such a long, hard struggle—and I feel overwhelmed! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Let us go in to my mother. + </p> + <p> + Sannws (shrinking back). I can't, Miss Valborg—you must wait a + little— + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Here they come. (TJAELDE comes in wheeling MRS. TJAELDE in her + chair. VALBORG runs to her mother and throws herself into her arms.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (softly). God be praised and thanked! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (going up to SANNAES and embracing him). My son! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. So that was why Sannaes wanted to go away! Oh, Sannaes! + (TJAELDE brings SANNAES up to her. SANNAES kneels and kisses her hand, + then gets up and goes into the background, to recover himself. SIGNE + comes in.) + </p> + <p> + Signe. Mother, everything is ready now! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. So are things out here! + </p> + <p> + Signe (looking round). Not really? + </p> + <p> + Valborg (to SIGNE). Forgive me for never having told you! + </p> + <p> + Signe. You certainly kept your secret well! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. I kept long years of suffering secret—that was all! + (SIGNE kisses her and whispers to her; then turns to SANNAES.) + </p> + <p> + Signe. Sannaes! (Shakes his hand.) So we are to be brother and + sister-in-law? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (embarrassed). Oh, Miss Signe— + </p> + <p> + Signe. But you mustn't call me Miss Signe now, you know! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. You must expect that! He calls me "Miss" Valborg still! + </p> + <p> + Singe. Well, he won't be able to do that when you are married, anyway! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde (to TJAELDE). But where are our friends? + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. Mr. Berent is in the office. There he is, at the window. + </p> + <p> + Berent (at the window). Now I am coming straight out to congratulate + you, with my friend Jakobsen. (Comes out.) + </p> + <p> + Valborg (going to TJAELDE). Father! + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde. My child! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. If we had not known those bad days we should never have known + this happy one! (He gives her a grip of the hand.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (to BERENT). Allow me to present to you my daughter Valborg's + fiancé—Mr. Sannaes. + </p> + <p> + Berent. I congratulate you on your choice, Miss Valborg—and I + congratulate the whole family on such a son-in-law. + </p> + <p> + Valborg (triumphantly). There, Sannaes! + </p> + <p> + Jakobsen. May I too, though I am only a stupid sort of chap, say that + this lad has been in love with you ever since he was in his teens—he + hardly could be sooner than that. But I can tell you, honestly, I should + never have credited you with having so much sense as to take him. (All + laugh.) + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. Signe is whispering to me that our dinner is getting cold. + </p> + <p> + Signe. May I take my mother's place and ask you to take me in to dinner, + Mr. Berent? + </p> + <p> + Berent (offering her his arm). I am honoured!—But our bridal pair + must go first! + </p> + <p> + Valborg. Sannaes—? + </p> + <p> + Sannaes (whispers, as he gives her his arm). To think that I have you on + my arm! (They go into the house, followed by BERENT and SIGNE, and by + JAKOBSEN.) + </p> + <p> + Tjaelde (bending over his wife, as he prepares to wheel her chair in). + My dear, God has blessed our house now! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tjaelde. My dear man! + </p> + <p> + Curtain. + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE KING + </h2> + <h3> + A PLAY IN A PROLOGUE AND FOUR ACTS + </h3> + DRAMATIS PERSONAE +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The KING. + HARALD GRAN, a rich manufacturer. + KOLL, Chief Magistrate of the district. + FLINK. + CLARA ERNST. + The PRINCESS. + BARONESS MARC. + ANNA, a deaf and dumb girl. + FALBE. + The MAYOR. + NATHALIE, his daughter. + ALSTAD. + VILHELM, his son. + The PARISH PRIEST. + BANG, a rich trader. + VINÄGER. + COUNT PLATEN. + The GENERAL. + MATILDE. + A Ballad Singer. + A Young Beggar. + A Servant of the King's. + Ladies and Gentlemen, + Masked Dancers, + Work-people, + Farmers, etc. +</pre> + <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROLOGUE + </h2> + <p> + (SCENE.—A large gothic hall, brilliantly illuminated, in which a + masked ball is taking place. At the rise of the curtain a ballet is + being performed in the centre of the hall. Masked dancers are grouped + around, watching it. Two of them, women, are conversing on the right of + the stage.) + </p> + <p> + First Mask. Have you heard that the King is to be here to-night? + </p> + <p> + Second Mask. Yes, and since I heard it I have been imagining I saw him + everywhere. + </p> + <p> + First Mask (pointing). That is not he, is it? + </p> + <p> + Second Mask. He is taller than that. + </p> + <p> + First Mask. That one, then? Look, that one! + </p> + <p> + Second Mask. That one has spoken to me. He has too old a voice. + </p> + <p> + First Mask. Shall we see if we can find him? + </p> + <p> + Second Mask. Yes, come along! + </p> + <p> + (A number of girls, wearing similar costumes and all masked, have + meanwhile collected on the left side of the stage.) + </p> + <p> + First Girl. Are we all here? + </p> + <p> + Second Girl. All but Matilde. + </p> + <p> + Matilde. Here I am! Have you heard that the King is to be here? + </p> + <p> + All. Really? + </p> + <p> + Matilde. I don't know how he is dressed; but one of the masters of the + ceremonies told me he was to be here. + </p> + <p> + Several of the Girls. The dear King! (Two masked dancers, dressed as + Cats, pass by.) + </p> + <p> + Tom Cat. Do you hear that, my pet? + </p> + <p> + Puss. Miau! + </p> + <p> + Matilde. Let us try and discover him. + </p> + <p> + All. Yes, yes! + </p> + <p> + A Mask. And when we have discovered him—? + </p> + <p> + Matilde. Let us all dance round him! + </p> + <p> + All. Yes! + </p> + <p> + Tom Cat (to Puss). You had better look after your virtue, Miss! + </p> + <p> + Puss. Miau! + </p> + <p> + Tom Cat. Miau! (They pass out of sight.) + </p> + <p> + Matilde. Remember that we are all to meet here in a quarter of an hour! + </p> + <p> + All. Yes! (They disperse. The ballet comes to a close amidst universal + applause. Conversation among the dancers becomes general and animated. + The BARONESS MARC, disguised as an Old Woman, comes forward, talking to + another mask dressed as a Donkey.) + </p> + <p> + Baroness. I will never forgive you for that, my lord chamberlain. + </p> + <p> + The Donkey. But you frighten me clean out of my part, Baroness! + </p> + <p> + Baroness. If only I could understand how it happened! + </p> + <p> + The Donkey. After all, my dear Baroness, you cannot be expected to take + out all your schoolmistresses and their senior pupils on a leash! + </p> + <p> + Baroness. No, but I have particular reasons for wishing to look closely + after <i>her</i>. (All this time she has been persistently looking round + the room.) And in such a whirling crowd as this— + </p> + <p> + The Donkey. Let us lose ourselves in it, then! (He brays as they go out. + The PRINCESS, masked and dressed in a costume of the time of Louis XV., + comes forward accompanied by a Cavalier in a costume of the same + period.) + </p> + <p> + Princess (continuing a discussion). And I say that if a king has such + graces of mind and person as ours has, he may do anything he pleases. + </p> + <p> + Cavalier. <i>Anything</i>, Princess? + </p> + <p> + Princess. Anything that his mind prompts, provided that he do it + beautifully. (A GENTLEMAN-IN-WAITING, dressed in a costume of the same + period, approaches them.) + </p> + <p> + Gentleman-in-Waiting. I cannot discover him, your Royal Highness! + </p> + <p> + Princess. But he is here. He is <i>here</i>. And for a lady's sake. I am + certain I am right. + </p> + <p> + Cavalier. But I asked one of the masters of the ceremonies, and he knew + nothing about it. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Then it must have been one that has not been let into the + secret. + </p> + <p> + Cavalier. But, your Royal Highness— + </p> + <p> + Princess. Don't keep calling me "your Royal Highness," but get me a + description of the costume he is wearing. (The GENTLEMAN-IN-WAITING bows + and goes away.) And you and I will go on hunting— + </p> + <p> + Cavalier.—for the noble huntsman— + </p> + <p> + Princess.—who is being hunted himself! (Moves away, but stops + suddenly.) Who is that? (CLARA ERNST, masked and in peasant costume, + comes forward followed by a masked figure wearing a domino. He is + whispering to her over her shoulder. She keeps glancing about, as if + looking for some one.) + </p> + <p> + The Domino.—and there, in the enchanted castle, buried deep in the + wooded park— + </p> + <p> + Clara. Let me alone! + </p> + <p> + The Domino.—there we shall be greeted by a babbling fountain of + water—a nymph, holding the cup of joy high above her head— + </p> + <p> + Clara (anxiously). What can have become of her? + </p> + <p> + (Meanwhile one of the masked dancers has been following them, and now + turns back to join others.) + </p> + <p> + A Masked Dancer (pointing to the DOMINO). That is the King! + </p> + <p> + Another (quickly). But who is <i>she</i>? + </p> + <p> + The Domino.—on both sides, shady alleys leading to the doors of a + secret retreat; and there— + </p> + <p> + Clara (turning round). I despise you! (The dancing and music suddenly + stop. General consternation.) + </p> + <p> + The Baroness (starting forward as she hears CLARA voice.) Clara! + </p> + <p> + The Domino (taking CLARA's hand and leading her apart from the others). + Do you know who it is that you despise? + </p> + <p> + Clara (greatly agitated). Yes, I know who you are!—and that is + why, from the bottom of my heart, I despise you! (The music begins + afresh, covering the general consternation that has spread among the + dancers. The BARONESS comes forward with a cry of "Clara!" CLARA bursts + into tears and throws herself into her arms. Curtain.) + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT I + </h2> + SCENE I + <p> + (SCENE.—A large hall in Gran's factory. The walls are bare. On the + left, about half-way forward, is a small platform. A meeting of the + shareholders of a railway company is in progress. Facing the platform + are seated the gentry; the common herd, mainly farmers and work-people, + are sitting and standing about wherever they can find room. On the + right, large windows are standing open; through these another crowd can + be seen, listening from outside. GRAN is standing in front of the + platform, speaking to the meeting.) + </p> + <p> + Gran. And, as it was found impossible for the main line of the railway + to touch our town, we determined, rather than allow all our exertions to + be wasted, to construct a branch line on our own account. I had the + honour to be elected chairman of the board of directors of this + undertaking. No directors ever had more unrestricted powers than were + given to us—possibly because there were no two opinions as to the + route the line should take the natural formation of the ground indicated + it unmistakably. It was only when we approached the question of the + purchase of our rolling-stock that any dissension arose—not among + the directors, but among the shareholders. As the majority of the latter + are farmers and work-people, we had decided on buying only one class of + railway carriage of a type slightly more comfortable than the ordinary + third-class carriage. That is the extent of our misdeeds! To-day's + meeting will probably show what the general sense on the matter is. Our + powers being unlimited, we were under no obligation to consult any one + in the matter; but, notwithstanding that, we decided to call a meeting + of the shareholders and submit the question to them. And, on the + directors' behalf, I must thank the shareholders for having attended in + such numbers; young and old, men and women, I dare say quite a third of + the total number of shareholders are present. The meeting will now + proceed to elect a chairman. (Sits down.) + </p> + <p> + The Mayor (after a pause). I beg to move that Mr. Koll, our chief + magistrate, whom it is a great pleasure to see honouring this meeting + with his presence, have the further kindness to take the chair. + </p> + <p> + Gran. The motion before the meeting is that the Chief Magistrate shall + take the chair. Shall I assume it to be carried? (Silence follows.) + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. Yes. (Laughter.) + </p> + <p> + Gran. The meeting should preferably elect some one who may be considered + to be unaffected by considerations of party. + </p> + <p> + Alstad (half rising, with his glasses in his hand). Then we shall have + to send for some one that does not live in these parts! There is no one + of that sort left here! (Sits down, amidst laughter.) + </p> + <p> + The Priest. All authority springs from on high. Obedience to those set + in authority over us is obedience to the Almighty. But it is against + this very obedience that people are rebelling nowadays. + </p> + <p> + Gran. It is precisely some one to be in authority over us that we want + to elect. At present we have no one. + </p> + <p> + The Priest. No, that's just it. Every meeting nowadays seems to claim + authority on its own account. Let rather show our respect to actual + authority—such respect as we would show to our fathers. (Sits + down.) + </p> + <p> + Gran. Then, as far as I can grasp the situation, the Chief Magistrate + has been proposed and seconded? + </p> + <p> + The Priest. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Gran. Does any one wish to propose any one else? (Silence.) + </p> + <p> + Alstad. May I request the Chief Magistrate to take the chair? + </p> + <p> + Koll (getting up). I don't know that it is any great compliment to be + elected in this way; but I will take the chair, for the sole reason of + enabling the meeting to proceed to business. (Takes his place on the + platform, and raps on the table with a mallet.) I declare the meeting + open. + </p> + <p> + Gran (getting up). Mr. Chairman! + </p> + <p> + Koll. Mr. Gran will address the meeting. + </p> + <p> + Gran. The motion proposed by the directors is this: "That only one class + of railway carriage shall be purchased, slightly more comfortable than + the ordinary third-class carriage." (Gives the motion in writing to the + chairman, and sits down.) + </p> + <p> + Koll. The following is the motion submitted to meeting. (Reads it out.) + Who wishes to speak on the motion? (Silence.) Come, some one must speak + on it—or I shall have to put it to the vote forthwith. (Silence, + followed by laughter here and there.) + </p> + <p> + The Priest. Mr. Chairman! + </p> + <p> + Koll. The Priest will address the meeting. + </p> + <p> + The Priest. I see, in this assembly, a number of young men, even a + number of maidens; and I feel bound to ask whether young men, and even + maidens, are to be allowed to take part in these proceedings? + </p> + <p> + Koll. Any shareholder that is of age has the right to. + </p> + <p> + The Priest. But St. Paul expressly tells us that women are not to speak + in public places. + </p> + <p> + Koll. Well, they can hold their tongues, then. (Laughter.) + </p> + <p> + The Priest. But even the fact of voting at a railway meeting does not + seem to me to be in accordance with the humility and modesty that both + Nature and the Scriptures indicate as characteristic of woman. I believe + it to be the first step on a wrong road. The apostle says— + </p> + <p> + Koll. We must leave them to decide the matter for themselves. Does any + one wish to—? + </p> + <p> + The Priest (interrupting him). Mr. Chairman, if you will not permit me + to quote the apostle, allow me at all events to say that the spectacle + of a young man voting against his father, or a woman voting against her + husband— + </p> + <p> + Koll. Will you tell me who could prohibit it? Does any one wish to speak—? + </p> + <p> + The Priest (interrupting). The Scriptures prohibit it, Mr. Chairman!—the + Scriptures, which we are all bound to obey, even— + </p> + <p> + Gran (getting up and interrupting him). Mr. Chairman! + </p> + <p> + Koll. Mr. Gran will address the meeting. + </p> + <p> + Gran. I only want to ask whether— + </p> + <p> + The Priest. But <i>I</i> was addressing the meeting! + </p> + <p> + Koll. Mr. Gran will address the meeting. + </p> + <p> + The Priest. I protest against that ruling! + </p> + <p> + Alstad (half rising). Our worthy Priest must obey authority. (Sits down + amidst laughter.) + </p> + <p> + The Priest. Not when it does an injustice! I appeal to the meeting! + </p> + <p> + Koll. Very good!—Will those in favour of the Priest addressing the + meeting kindly stand up? (No one gets up; and those who were previously + standing bob down. Laughter.) Carried unanimously, that the Priest do + not address the meeting. (The PRIEST sits down.) Mr. Gran will address + the meeting. + </p> + <p> + Gran (getting up). I withdraw from my right! (Renewed laughter.) + </p> + <p> + The Mayor (getting up). Mr. Chairman! + </p> + <p> + Koll. The Mayor will address the meeting. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. I am one of many to whom this proposal of the directors seems + extraordinary, to say the least of it. Do they propose that the ladies + of my family—I will leave myself out of the question, for as a + public man I have to rub shoulders with all sorts of people—do + they propose, I say, that ladies who have been delicately brought up + shall travel with any Tom, Dick and Harry?—perhaps with convicts + being conveyed to gaol, or with journeymen labourers? Is his honour the + Chief Magistrate, who is a Commander of a noble Order of Knighthood, to + travel side by side with a drunken navvy? Supposing the King were to pay + a visit to this beautiful district, which has acquired such a reputation + since so many of the best people from town have taken villas here; is + his Majesty to make the journey in one of these third-class carriages, + with the chance of travelling in company with tradesman stinking of + stale cheese?—with folk who, moreover—well, perhaps in + common decency I ought not to go on, as ladies are present. (Laughter.) + "Economy," I hear some one suggest. That word is in great favour + nowadays. But I should like to know what economy there is getting your + clothes soiled? (Laughter.) Does a first-class carriage wear out sooner + than a third class? It costs more to build, no doubt, but that is soon + made up by the higher fares charged. I can discover no reasonable ground + for this proposal, look at it how you will from the commercial point of + view. One has to look at the <i>political</i> aspect of the matter, to + understand it; and I am reluctant to drag in politics. I will only say, + in conclusion, that it must be those who have framed this proposal that + expect to derive some profit from it; the railway certainly would derive + none. (Sits down.) + </p> + <p> + Koll. That last remark was a little like an accusation— + </p> + <p> + The Mayor (getting up). I only alluded to what is in every one's mind. + (Sits down.) + </p> + <p> + Koll. A speaker is not in order in making accusations, even though they + be assumed to be in every one's mind.—I see that Mr. Alstad wishes + to speak. + </p> + <p> + Alstad. Human nature is frail. That seems to me a sufficient explanation + of how such a proposal came to be laid before us. But honestly—for + we all ought to be honest!—it seems to me that any material + advantage it might bring would be more than counterbalanced by loss of + esteem. (Uproar.) There has been quite a different spirit in the place + of late years—what with the factories, and the stranger workmen, + and the summer visitors. We never used to have so much unrest or to hear + so much of this talk about "equality." And now, if we are to give the + impression that there is only one social class here—and that a + third class—I know that I shall be by no means alone in feeling + offended. We certainly don't want to sit on our work-people's laps; and, + equally, we don't want to have them sitting on ours. (Sits down.) + </p> + <p> + Gran. Our friend the Mayor is very fond of talking of his loyalty; but I + must say I am surprised at his dragging the King even into this matter. + As for the matter of the railway carriage in which one of so high degree + would travel here—well, if our carriages are not good enough, + surely his Majesty's private saloon can be used on our line as well as + on the main line. And as for any of us ordinary mortals who are afraid + of mixing with the common herd, surely they can sit together in + carriages by themselves. The carriages would be separate; they would + only be of the same kind. I think there would be little fear of their + being exposed to intrusion on the part of our country-folk. <i>They</i> + are much more apt to be more timidly shy than is even desirable. On all + small lines—even on many of the bigger ones—it is the less + luxurious carriages, the second and third class, that for the cost of + the more luxurious ones; it is the third class that pays for the first. + But that some passengers should travel comfortably at the expense of + those who travel less comfortably, is what we wish to avoid. (Applause.) + An old resident of the yeoman class has reproached us with wishing to + alter our customs. Well, if one of our old customs is the aristocratic + one which makes the gulf that separates masters and men wider than it + already is, all I can say is that the sooner it is abolished the better; + for it is not a good custom; it is even a dangerous one. (Murmurs.) And + as for the political aspect of the question— + </p> + <p> + Koll. Don't you think we should leave politics out of the question? + </p> + <p> + Gran (bows, with a laugh). That is just what I was going to say, Mr. + Chairman; that we ought to leave politics out out of the question. (Sits + down, amidst laughter applause. The audience, first the younger men and + then the older farmers, begin arguing the matter with one another, more + and more loudly.) + </p> + <p> + Koll. I must beg the meeting to keep quiet, as long as this business is + under discussion. The Mayor wishes to speak. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. I admit that I am loyal— + </p> + <p> + Koll. Those people outside must be quiet! + </p> + <p> + Alstad (going to the window). You must keep quiet! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. I admit I am loyal! I count it a point of honour, as a native + of the place, to show his Majesty that our first thought when we planned + this railway was, at that important moment, that his Majesty might + possibly be pleased to manifest a desire to pay us a visit. "Let him use + his own private saloon," we are told! No, Mr. Chairman, that is not the + way to speak when we are speaking of his Majesty! And what about his + Majesty's suite? Are they to travel third class? What I say is that we + are casting a slight on his Majesty if we cast a slight on his railway + carriage—I should say, on his suite. And I go farther than that. I + say that his Majesty's functionaries are his Majesty's representatives, + and that it is casting an additional slight upon his Majesty not to show + a proper respect for them. I know that this jars upon the ears of many + present; they do not consider that a man who holds a public office + should be shown any more respect than any one else. The majority rules, + and the majority only thinks of its own interests and those of its + servile supporters. But even in this community of ours there is a + minority that bears the burden of its affairs and represents its honour; + and we will never consent to be dragged down into the mire of this + "equality" into which you want to plunge each and every one of us! + (Uproar.) + </p> + <p> + Koll. The honourable speaker appears to me to be trenching upon politics— + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. Possibly I am, Mr. Chairman; but what honest man can shirk + the truth? Only compare the present state of things in this community + with what was the case when everything here was as it should be; when + the King and his officials were respected; when public affairs were in + the hands of those who knew how to direct them; when we used to have + singing competitions, shooting competitions, and other festal meetings + of that kind. And—yes—well—compare, I say, the + conditions in those days with our conditions to-day—that is to + say, with all this talk of "the people;" as, for instance— + </p> + <p> + Koll. It is railway carriages that we are discussing. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. Quite so! But what is it that is at the bottom of this + proposal, Mr. Chairman? Does it not spring from that passion for + destruction, for a universal levelling which aims at abolishing the + monarchy, at destroying authority— + </p> + <p> + The Priest. And the Church too, my friend! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor.—and the Church, it is quite true! Yes, it is because + they desire the Church and— + </p> + <p> + Koll. It is railway carriages that we are discussing. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. Exactly. But an old public official like myself, who once was + held in respect, when he sees the pillars of society tottering and feels + the keenest pang of sorrow at— + </p> + <p> + Koll. For the last time, it is railway carriages that we are discussing! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor (overcome by his feelings). I have no more say. (Sits down.) + </p> + <p> + Koll. Mr. Alstad wishes to speak. + </p> + <p> + Alstad (getting up). The question before the meeting is itself a small + matter; but it is the consequences of it that I fear. We may expect any + proposal of the same kidney now. Never let it be said that our community + was eager to range itself under this banner of "equality!" It bears too + old and honoured a name for that! But there is one thing I want to say. + We have always, before this, felt it an honour and a privilege to have + the richest man in these parts living amongst us. But when we see him + one of the most eager in support of a "popular" proposal of this sort, + then it appears, to me at all events, to be absolutely unaccountable how—oh, + well, I won't run the risk making what our chairman calls "accusations"; + I will sit down and hold my tongue. I have the right to do that at all + events. (Sits down.) + </p> + <p> + Koll. Mr. Gran will address the meeting. + </p> + <p> + Flink. Three cheers for Mr. Gran! (Almost the whole meeting cheers + lustily. KOLL shouts at them and hammers on the table with his mallet in + vain.) + </p> + <p> + Koll (when peace is restored). I must ask the meeting to show some + respect for its chairman. If not, I will leave the chair.—Mr. Gran + will address the meeting. + </p> + <p> + Gran. The plan that we are proposing is no new one. It has been in + practice for a long time. In America— + </p> + <p> + The Priest, Alstad, and others. Yes, in America! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor (getting up). Mr. Chairman, are we to have politics, after + all? + </p> + <p> + Koll. I cannot see that to mention America is to talk politics. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. Then what is politics, if America isn't? + </p> + <p> + Koll. To talk politics is—for instance—to use the arguments + your worship did. Mr. Gran will proceed. + </p> + <p> + Gran. I see that the Priest wishes to speak. I shall be happy to give + way. + </p> + <p> + Koll. The Priest will address the meeting. + </p> + <p> + The Priest. I see here, in this assembly, a number of those whom I am + accustomed to address in more solemn surroundings. My dear parishioners, + it was for your sake that I came here. You have heard for yourselves—the + whole question is a political one; and, dear fellow Christians, let me + entreat you to shun politics! Did not our Lord Himself say: "My kingdom + is not of this world"? This freedom, this equality, of which they talk + is not the soul's freedom, not that equality which— + </p> + <p> + Koll. I would suggest to the reverend speaker that he should postpone + his remarks until the next time he gets into the pulpit. (Slight + laughter.) + </p> + <p> + The Priest. One should be instant in season and out of season; therefore— + </p> + <p> + Koll. I forbid you to continue. + </p> + <p> + The Priest. It is written: "Thou shalt obey God rather than man"! My + dear parishioners, let us all leave this meeting! Who will follow his + priest? (Takes a few steps towards the door, but no one follows him. + Laughter. He sighs deeply, and sits down again.) + </p> + <p> + Koll. If no one else wishes to speak— + </p> + <p> + Vinäger. Mr. Chairman! + </p> + <p> + Koll. Mr. Vinäger wishes to speak. + </p> + <p> + Vinäger. These proceedings remind me of China, and of the Chinese + mandarins who will not allow any one of lesser degree to come near them—although + at moments I have felt as if I were still in Europe in the presence of a + still greater power, greater even than the Grand Turk—I mean this + democratic envy which grudges others what it has not got itself. To + reconcile both parties I should like to make the following suggestion. + Build the carriages, as is often done, in two stories. Then those who + wish to ensure their privacy can do so by sitting upstairs; and the + others will be satisfied too, because they will all be in the same + carriage after all. (Loud laughter.) + </p> + <p> + Koll. If no one else wishes to speak (looks at GRAN, who shakes his + head) I shall proceed to put the question to the vote. The motion + submitted by the directors, which is now before the meeting, is as + follows— + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. Excuse me, but what of my motion wit h regard to a saloon for + his Majesty? + </p> + <p> + Koll. I did not understand your worship to mean your suggestion as a + formal motion. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. I did, though. + </p> + <p> + Koll. Then I will put it to the vote after the director, motion has been + voted upon. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. A motion that concerns the King should take precedence of all + others. + </p> + <p> + Koll. Even the King is subject to the rules of logic. The directors' + motion is: "That only one class of railway carriage shall be purchased, + of a type slightly more comfortable than the ordinary third-class + carriage." Will those in favour of the motion kindly go to the left—on + this side of the room; those against the motion, to the right. (Nearly + all go to the left. Cheers are heard outside, and are gradually taken up + by those inside. KOLL hammers with his mallet.) Order, please! (The + cheering ceases, but an animated conversation goes on.) The directors' + motion is carried! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor (shouting). I am sure every one did not understand the method + of voting! + </p> + <p> + Koll (hammering with his mallet). Order, order. (Quiet is gradually + restored.) What did your worship say? + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. That some people must have misunderstood the way of voting; + because I see my daughter Natalie, who is a shareholder too, on the + other side of the room. Of course she has made a mistake. + </p> + <p> + Natalie. Oh no, father, I haven't. (Loud laughter, and applause.) + </p> + <p> + The Priest. Ah, my poor deluded parishioners, I shall pray for you! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. Order!—The Mayor's motion— + </p> + <p> + Alstad. I would suggest that the Mayor should withdraw it. We know what + its fate would be in such a meeting as this. + </p> + <p> + Koll. As long as I occupy the chair, I shall not permit any derogatory + expressions to be applied to the meeting. Does the Mayor still insist on + his motion being put? (Whispers to him: "Say no!") + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. No. + </p> + <p> + Koll. Then, as no one else wishes to speak, I declare the meeting at an + end. (Every one begins to move about and discuss affairs vigorously.) + </p> + <p> + Alstad (to his son VILHELM). So you have the face to vote with these—these + Americans, against your old father, have you? + </p> + <p> + Vilhelm. Well, father, I honestly think— + </p> + <p> + Alstad. Just you wait till I get you home! + </p> + <p> + Vilhelm. Oh, that's it, is it? Then I shan't go home—so there! I + shall stay here and get drunk, I shall. + </p> + <p> + Alstad. Oh, come, come! + </p> + <p> + Vilhelm. Yes, I shall! I shall stay here and get drunk! + </p> + <p> + Alstad. But, Vilhelm, listen to me! (Takes him by the arm. Meantime a + STRANGER has taken KOLL and GRAN by the arm, to their manifest surprise, + and brought the forward away from the crowd. He stands for a moment, + looking them in the face, till suddenly KOLL gives a start and cries + out: "The King!") + </p> + <p> + The King. Hush! + </p> + <p> + Gran. It really is—! + </p> + <p> + The King (to GRAN). You are at home here; take up into a room—and + give us some champagne. My throat is as dry as a lime-kiln! + </p> + <p> + Curtain + </p> + SCENE II + <p> + (SCENE.—A room built in Gothic style, comfortably furnished and + decorated with trophies of the chase. GRAN ushers in the KING and KOLL.) + </p> + <p> + Gran. We can be quite alone here. (ANNA, a deaf and dumb girl of about + fifteen, brings in some bottles of champagne, and, during the following + dialogue, sets out glasses, refreshments, cigars, and pipes. She is + quick and attentive to render the slightest service required of her; + when not employed, she sits on a stool in the background. She talks to + GRAN on her fingers, and receives orders from him in the same manner.) + </p> + <p> + The King. Ah, this is like old times! I know the setting: "Gothic room + in mediaeval style, decorated with trophies of the chase. Furnished with + an eye to bachelor comfort!" You always had bachelor habits, you know, + even when you were quite a boy. (To KOLL.) We never called him anything + but "the Bachelor" on board ship. He never had a love affair in all the + three years our cruise lasted; but the rest of us had them in every port + we touched at! + </p> + <p> + Koll. He is just the same in that respect now. + </p> + <p> + Gran (offering the KING some champagne). Allow me! + </p> + <p> + The King. Thanks; I shall be glad of it. (To KOLL.) Your health, my + former tutor! (To GRAN.) And yours! (They drink.) Ah, that has done me + good!—Well now, let me ask you this: isn't it true that, all + through the meeting, you were talking nothing but republicanism, + although you didn't actually mention the word? + </p> + <p> + Koll (laughing). You are not far wrong. + </p> + <p> + The King. And you, who in the old days were considered to be too + advanced in your opinions to be retained as my tutor, are now not + considered advanced enough! They nearly—threw you over, didn't + they? + </p> + <p> + Koll. Yes! That shows you, if I may say so, the result of government by + a minority. + </p> + <p> + The King. And the result of mixing with such people as our excellent + friend the millionaire here, I suppose? + </p> + <p> + Gran. It is always a mistake to lay the blame of public opinion on + individuals. + </p> + <p> + The King. I quite agree with you. And now it is time you knew the reason + of my coming here—in the strictest incognito, as you see. By the + way, I hope no one recognised me? + </p> + <p> + Gran and Koll. Not a soul! + </p> + <p> + (FLINK comes in.) + </p> + <p> + Flink. Ah, here you are! (Comes forward, rubbing his hands delightedly.) + Well, what did you think of the meeting, my boys? + </p> + <p> + The King (aside to GRAN). Who is that? + </p> + <p> + Gran (to the KING). We will get rid of him. (To FLINK.) Look here, old + chap—! + </p> + <p> + Flink (catching sight of the KING). Oh, I beg your pardon, I thought we + were— + </p> + <p> + Gran (obliged to introduce him). Let me introduce Mr.—? Mr.—? + (Looks at the KING inquiringly.) + </p> + <p> + The King. Speranza. + </p> + <p> + Flink. An Italian? + </p> + <p> + The King. In name only. + </p> + <p> + Gran (completing the introduction). Mr. Flink. + </p> + <p> + The King. Surely not A. B. Flink? + </p> + <p> + Gran. Yes. + </p> + <p> + The King (interested). Our peripatetic philosopher? (Shakes hands with + him.) I have read one or two of your books. + </p> + <p> + Flink (laughing). Really? + </p> + <p> + The King. Are you meditating another expedition? + </p> + <p> + Flink. That's it. + </p> + <p> + The King. And on foot? + </p> + <p> + Flink. Always on foot. + </p> + <p> + The King. Upon my word, I don't believe there is a man in the country + that can gauge popular opinion as accurately as you! Let us sit down and + have a chat. Do you drink champagne? + </p> + <p> + Flink. Yes—when I can't get anything better! + </p> + <p> + The King (lifting his glass to FLINK). Your health, (They all drink, and + then seat themselves.) What part the country were you in last? + </p> + <p> + Flink. I have just been shooting with our friend here. + </p> + <p> + The King. So he is your friend? He is mine, too! My best friend, ever + since I was a boy. (He stretches out his hand; GRAN gets up and grasps + it in both of his.) + </p> + <p> + Koll (to FLINK, who is looking astonished). Mr. Speranza was a naval + cadet at the same time as Gran. + </p> + <p> + Flink. Really! Were they on the same ship? + </p> + <p> + The King. Yes, we were on a cruise round the world together— + </p> + <p> + Flink. Do you mean the time when the Prince went on account of his + lungs?—the present King, I mean? + </p> + <p> + The King. The Prince that afterwards became King—yes. + </p> + <p> + Flink. There is quite a royal flavour about our little gathering, then! + Here is the King's shipmate, and here is his tutor in jurisprudence— + </p> + <p> + Koll. You are forgetting yourself! You are the King's tutor's tutor, you + know— + </p> + <p> + The King. Were you Koll's tutor? Really? + </p> + <p> + Flink (with a laugh). Yes, I had that misfortune! + </p> + <p> + The King. You hadn't so great a misfortune in your pupil as he had in + his! + </p> + <p> + Koll. The King was a very apt pupil. + </p> + <p> + Flink (jestingly). He has shown traces of it in his reign, hasn't he! + </p> + <p> + Koll. Don't speak ill of the King, please. + </p> + <p> + Flink (ironically). Heaven forbid! (Takes a pinch of snuff.) I know all + about his talent—his great talent, his genial talent! (Offers his + snuff-box to the KING.) + </p> + <p> + Gran. But it was public opinion we were talking about, Flink; is it very + much like what we heard to-day? + </p> + <p> + Flink. I wouldn't say that; your opinions are rather advanced in these + parts. + </p> + <p> + The King. Is the tendency republican, rather than monarchical? + </p> + <p> + Flink. That depends how you look at it. The King has just been paying + some visits in the country districts; he is, so to speak, the commercial + traveller for his firm—as all kings and crown princes are. Of + course he was cheered everywhere. But go and ask the agricultural + classes if they set great store by the pomp and circumstance of royalty; + they will unanimously answer: "It costs an infernal lot to keep up!" Ha, + ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Gran. Your farmer is a realist. + </p> + <p> + Flink. A brutal realist! Ha, ha, ha! Self-government is cheaper. He has + it all at his fingers' ends, the scoundrel! + </p> + <p> + The King. He is not a republican by conviction, then + </p> + <p> + Flink. Not universally, no. At least, not <i>yet</i>. But things are + moving that way; and our reactionary government is helping the movement—that, + and the letter they get from America. + </p> + <p> + The King. The letters they get from America? + </p> + <p> + Koll. Letters from their relations in America. + </p> + <p> + Gran. There is scarcely a family in the country now that has not + relations in America. + </p> + <p> + The King. And they write home about self-government?—about + republican principles? + </p> + <p> + Flink. And republican institutions. That is the situation! + </p> + <p> + The King. Have you read any of these letters? + </p> + <p> + Flink. Lots! + </p> + <p> + The King. This is excellent champagne! (Drinks.) + </p> + <p> + Gran. Let me fill your glasses. (They all drink.) + </p> + <p> + Flink. It doesn't really agree with me. + </p> + <p> + The King. But suppose the King were to establish democratic government? + Suppose he were to live like an ordinary citizen in every way? + </p> + <p> + Flink. In every way? What do you mean by that? + </p> + <p> + The King. Kept house like an ordinary citizen—were married like an + ordinary citizen—were to be found in his office at regular hours + like any other official? + </p> + <p> + Gran. And had no court, I suppose? + </p> + <p> + The King. No. (KOLL and GRAN exchange glances.) + </p> + <p> + Flink (shrugging his shoulders). It would be the last sensation left for + him to try. + </p> + <p> + The King (who did not observe his shrug, eagerly). That is so, isn't it? + You agree with me as to that? I am delighted to have had this talk with + you, Mr. Flink. + </p> + <p> + Flink. The same to you, Mr.—Mr.—. (In an undertone, to + KOLL.) Is he a republican? + </p> + <p> + The King (who has overheard him). Am I a republican? I have had too much + experience not to be! Ha, ha! (Takes up his glass.) Devilish good + champagne, this! + </p> + <p> + Flink (drinking). But, you know, Mr.—Mr. Republican—ha, ha!—(smiles + and whispers)—the King simply would not be allowed to do what you + suggest. Ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + The King. What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + Gran (aside to KOLL, who gets up). Are you sure this is right? + </p> + <p> + Koll. It will do him good, anyway, to hear all sides. + </p> + <p> + Flink (who has got up and gone to the table on the other side to get a + pipe). He simply would not be allowed to, poor chap! What is monarchy, I + ask you? Nothing more or less than an insurance business in which a + whole crew of priests, officials, noblemen, landed proprietors, + merchants and military men hold shares? And, goodness knows, <i>they</i> + are not going to give their director leave to commit any such folly! Ha, + ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + The King (getting up). Ha, ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Flink (vociferously, to him). Don't you think that is true? + </p> + <p> + The King. Good Lord!—perfectly true! Ha, ha ha! + </p> + <p> + Flink (who has cleaned and filled a pipe, but forgotten to light it, + going up to the KING). And what do they insure themselves again, these + beauties? (More seriously.) Against the great mass of the people—against + <i>his</i> people! (The KING looks at him and makes a movement of + dislike.) + </p> + <p> + Gran. Look here, Flink; suppose we go out into the garden for a little? + These spring evenings are so lovely. + </p> + <p> + Flink. Compared to a political talk, the loveliest spring evenings have + no attraction for me—no more than warm water, offered me in place + of fine cooling wine, would have. No, let us stay where we are. What is + the matter with this pipe? (ANNA signs that she will put it right for + him, but he does not understand.) + </p> + <p> + Gran. Give her your pipe; she will put it right. + </p> + <p> + Koll. What I have always said is that, if the King had an opportunity of + understanding the situation, he would interfere. + </p> + <p> + Flink. The King? He doesn't care a brass farthing about the whole + matter! He has something else to do! Ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + The King. Ha, ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Koll. The King is an unusually gifted man; he would not remain + indifferent in the long run. + </p> + <p> + Flink. He has so many unusual gifts that have gone to the devil—! + </p> + <p> + The King. Tralalla! Tralalalalala! Tralala! It feels quite odd to be + with you fellows again! (Drinks.) + </p> + <p> + Flink (in an undertone, to GRAN). Is he drunk? + </p> + <p> + The King (sitting down). Give me a cigar—! And let us discuss the + matter a little more seriously. (KOLL and GRAN sit down.) + </p> + <p> + Gran. As a matter of fact, it is not a thing that can be discussed. It + must be tried. If, one day, the King were to say: "I mean to live a + natural life among my people, and to withdraw my name from the + old-established royal firm, which has lost all its reputation for + honesty"—that day everything else would follow of itself. + </p> + <p> + Flink. Yes, that day, I dare say! + </p> + <p> + Gran. Remember you are the guest of a man who is a friend of the King's! + </p> + <p> + The King. Don't play the domestic despot—you who are a republican! + Let us have free discussion! + </p> + <p> + Flink. I certainly don't intend to insult the King. He has never done me + any harm. But surely you will allow me to doubt whether he is really the + shining light you make him out to be? + </p> + <p> + The King. That is true enough! + </p> + <p> + Flink (eagerly). You agree with me as to that, then? + </p> + <p> + The King. Absolutely! But—leaving him out of the question—suppose + we <i>had</i> a king who made himself independent of others, and, as a + necessary consequence, rose superior to questions of party—? + </p> + <p> + Flink (interrupting him). It is a vain supposition, my dear fellow! A + king bound to no party? (Puffs at his pipe.) It wouldn't work! (Puffs + again.) It wouldn't work!—It wouldn't work!—Falsehood is the + foundation of constitutional monarchy. A king superior to questions of + party? Rubbish! + </p> + <p> + Gran. It would be expecting something superhuman of him, too. + </p> + <p> + Flink. Of course it would! + </p> + <p> + The King. But the president of a republic is even less independent of + party, isn't he? + </p> + <p> + Flink (turning to hint). He doesn't make any pretence that he isn't. + Haha! That's the difference! (Comes forward, repeating to himself.) It + is the falsehood that makes the difference. + </p> + <p> + Koll. Oh, there are falsehoods enough in republics too, unfortunately! + </p> + <p> + Flink. I know; but they are not old-established institutions! Ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + The King. That is an idea you have got from Professor Ernst's writings. + </p> + <p> + Flink (eagerly). Have you read them? + </p> + <p> + The King. I have scarcely read anything else for the last few months. + (KOLL and GRAN exchange glances.) + </p> + <p> + Flink. Indeed?—Then there is no need for me to say anything more. + </p> + <p> + Koll. But, after all this talk, we have got no further. Our friend + (pointing to the KING) wants to know, I think, whether a real, serious + attempt at what one might call "democratic monarchy" could not reckon on + being understood and supported— + </p> + <p> + The King (breaking in, eagerly). Yes, that's just it! + </p> + <p> + Koll.—understood and supported by the most enlightened section of + the people, who are weary of falsehood and long for a generous but + secure measure of self-government. + </p> + <p> + The King. That's just it! + </p> + <p> + Flink (who was just going to sit down, jumps up again, lays down his + pipe and stands with arms akimbo, as he says:) But what sort of + ridiculous ideas are these? Aren't you republicans, then? + </p> + <p> + Koll. I am not. + </p> + <p> + Gran. I am; but that does not prevent my being of opinion that the + change of government should be made gradually and gently— + </p> + <p> + Flink. That would be treason! + </p> + <p> + Gran. Treason! + </p> + <p> + Flink. Treason against the truth—against our convictions! + </p> + <p> + Koll. Don't let us use big words! Monarchy is strongly rooted in the + existing order of things. + </p> + <p> + Flink (with a laugh). In the insurance company! + </p> + <p> + Koll. Well, call it so if you like. It <i>exists</i>; that is the point. + And, since it exists, we must make it as honest and as serviceable as we + can. + </p> + <p> + The King. Your health, Koll! (Drinks to him.) + </p> + <p> + Flink (moving away from them). No true republican would agree with you. + </p> + <p> + Gran. You are wrong there. (FLINK gives a start of surprise.) + </p> + <p> + The King (who has seen FLINK's surprise, gets up). Listen to me! Suppose + we had a king who said: "Either you help me to establish a democratic + monarchy—purged of all traces of absolutism, purged of falsehood—or + else I abdicate—" + </p> + <p> + Flink. Bah! + </p> + <p> + The King. I only say, "suppose"! You know quite well that the cousin of + the present king, the heir apparent, is a bigoted— + </p> + <p> + Koll (who has been exchanging glances with GRAN while the KING was + speaking, breaks in hurriedly). Don't go on! + </p> + <p> + The King (with a laugh). I won't!—And his mother, who rules him— + </p> + <p> + Flink.—is even worse! + </p> + <p> + The King. What would be your choice, then? Would you help the king to + establish a democratic monarchy or—? + </p> + <p> + Flink (impetuously). I would ten thousand times rather have the bigoted + prince, with all his own and his mother's follies!—the madder the + better! + </p> + <p> + Gran. No, no, no, no! + </p> + <p> + The King (to GRAN and KOLL). We see his true colours now! (Moves away + from them.) + </p> + <p> + Koll (to FLINK). That is the way you republicans always ride your + principles to death. + </p> + <p> + Gran. Patriotism ought to come before— + </p> + <p> + Flink.—before truth? No; a short sharp pang of agony is better + than endless doubt and falsehood, my friend! That is true patriotism. + </p> + <p> + Koll. Oh, these theories!—these phrases! + </p> + <p> + Gran. I am a republican as well as you, and, I think, as sincere a one. + But I should have no hesitation— + </p> + <p> + Flink.—in playing the traitor? + </p> + <p> + Gran. Why do you use such words as that? + </p> + <p> + Flink. Words! Do you think it is nothing but words? No, my friend, if + you did what—what I did not allow you to say—I should come + here one day to call you to account. And if you refused to fight me, I + should shoot you like a dog! + </p> + <p> + Gran (gently). You would not do that. + </p> + <p> + Flink (heatedly). Not do it?—Have I given you the deepest + affection of which my heart is capable, only for you to turn traitor to + it? Am I to see the man whose character is the crowning achievement of + my life, betraying our cause—and, by reason of his great personal + prestige, dragging thousands down with him? On the head of all the + disillusionments I have suffered, am I to have this one in the evening + of my life—? (Stops, overcome by his emotion. A pause.) You + shouldn't jest about such things you know. (Walks away. ANNA has placed + herself in front of GRAN, as if to protect him.) + </p> + <p> + Koll. I think we had better change the subject, and go out for a little! + </p> + <p> + The King (aside, to him). Yes, get him away! + </p> + <p> + Flink (in the background, as if he were addressing an invisible + audience). We must have discipline in the ranks! + </p> + <p> + Koll. Gran, ask your maid to hurry up with the supper. + </p> + <p> + Gran. Yes, I will. + </p> + <p> + Koll (to the KING). What do you say to a turn in the garden, meanwhile? + </p> + <p> + The King. By all means! + </p> + <p> + Flink (coming forward to GRAN). This friendship of yours with the King—to + which I had attached no particular importance—I hope it has not + altogether—(Stops short.) + </p> + <p> + Gran.—not altogether corrupted me, you mean? + </p> + <p> + Flink. Exactly. + </p> + <p> + The King (laughing). Politically? + </p> + <p> + Flink. Politics are not unconnected with morals, sir! + </p> + <p> + The King. But why get so heated, sir? We know that the present King is a— + </p> + <p> + Koll (breaking in hurriedly). Don't say any more! + </p> + <p> + The King (with a laugh). You said yourself that he doesn't care a brass + farthing about the whole matter—he has something else to do! And + so the whole thing ends in smoke! + </p> + <p> + Flink (more amiably). I dare say you are right. + </p> + <p> + The King. Of course I am. You are all agreed that, under his rule, + republican sentiments are growing in real earnest. + </p> + <p> + Flink. You are right! He couldn't help things on better if he were a + republican himself, I assure you! + </p> + <p> + The King. Perhaps he <i>is</i> a republican? + </p> + <p> + Flink (animatedly). Perhaps he <i>is</i>! Splendid! And works against + his own interests—! + </p> + <p> + The King. A sort of commercial traveller working for the downfall of his + own firm! + </p> + <p> + Flink (excitedly). For the downfall of his own firm! Splendid! Props up + his reactionary rule by means of royal pronouncements, confidential + communications, public speeches— + </p> + <p> + The King.—in a suicidal manner! + </p> + <p> + Flink. Splendidly suicidal! Ah, that makes you laugh, does it? + </p> + <p> + Koll. Hush, some one might hear us! + </p> + <p> + Flink. I don't care who hears us! (The KING bursts out laughing.) But + you ought, as one of the King's officials, to stop <i>his</i> laughing! + (Points to the KING.) It's shocking!—It's high treason! + </p> + <p> + Koll. Listen to me! + </p> + <p> + Flink. You ought to arrest him for laughing like that! Suppose the King— + </p> + <p> + Gran. That <i>is</i> the King! (The KING goes on laughing. FLINK looks + from him to the others, and from the others to him.) + </p> + <p> + The King. This is too much for me! (Sits down. FLINK rushes out.) + </p> + <p> + Koll. That was very bad of you. + </p> + <p> + The King. I know it was; but forgive me! I couldn't help it! Ha, ha, ha, + ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Koll. For all his queer ways, he is too good a fellow to be made a fool + of. + </p> + <p> + The King. Yes, scold me; I deserve it. But, all the same—ha, ha, + ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + Gran. Hush!—he is coming back. (The KING gets up as FLINK comes in + again.) + </p> + <p> + Flink. Your Majesty may be assured that I would never have expressed + myself as I did in your Majesty's presence if I had been fairly treated + and told whom I was addressing. + </p> + <p> + The King. I know. The fault is mine alone. + </p> + <p> + Flink. The fault is that of others—my so-called friends. + </p> + <p> + The King (earnestly). By no means! It is mine—mine alone. I have + had a scolding for it!—And in your presence I ask my friends' + pardon; I have put them in a false position. And, in the next place, I + ask for your forgiveness. My sense of humour got the better of me. + (Laughs again.) + </p> + <p> + Flink. Yes, it was extremely amusing. + </p> + <p> + The King. It really was! And, after all, what have you to complain of? + You had an opportunity of speaking your mind, any way! + </p> + <p> + Flink. I certainly did! + </p> + <p> + The King. Very well, then!—And when you wanted to show any + respect, <i>I</i> prevented you. So I think we are quits. + </p> + <p> + Flink. No, we are not. + </p> + <p> + The King (impatiently). Indeed?—What do you want from me, then? + </p> + <p> + Flink (proudly). Nothing! + </p> + <p> + The King. I beg your pardon! I did not mean to offend you. + </p> + <p> + Flink. You have done so to a degree that you are naturally incapable of + appreciating. (Goes out.) + </p> + <p> + The King. This is a nice business! (Laughs. Then notices GRAN, who is + standing at his desk with his back to the KING, and goes up to him.) You + are angry with me. + </p> + <p> + Gran (looking up slowly). Yes. + </p> + <p> + The King. Why didn't you stop me? + </p> + <p> + Gran. It all happened too quickly. But to think that you could have the + heart to do it—in my own house—to a man who was my father's + oldest friend, and is mine—! + </p> + <p> + The King. Harald! (Puts his arm round his shoulders.) Have I ever asked + you for anything that you have not given me? + </p> + <p> + Gran. No. + </p> + <p> + The King. Then I ask you now to admit that you know that, if I had + thought this would hurt you, I would never have done it—not for + worlds! Do you still believe as well of me as that? + </p> + <p> + Gran. Yes. + </p> + <p> + The King. Thank you. Then I will admit to you, in return, that for + months past I have lived in a state of horrible tension of mind; and + that is why I jump too easily from one extreme to the other. So, my + friends, you must forgive me! Or finish my scolding some other time! + Because now I must talk to you of the matter which induced me to come + here. You are the only ones I can turn to; so be good to me!—Shall + we sit down again? + </p> + <p> + Koll. As you please. + </p> + <p> + The King (moving towards the table). I know you both want to ask me the + same question: why I have never come before now. My answer is: because I + have only now arrived at a clear conception of my own position. Some + months ago some hard words that were used to me lit a fire in my heart + and burnt out a heap of rubbish that had collected there. (ANNA fills + their glasses.) Won't you send that girl away? + </p> + <p> + Gran. She is deaf and dumb. + </p> + <p> + The King. Poor girl! (Sits down.) When I came back from my cruise round + the world, the old king was dead. My father had come to the throne, and + I was crown prince, and I went with my father to the cathedral to attend + a thanksgiving service for my safe return. + </p> + <p> + Gran. I was there. + </p> + <p> + The King. The whole thing was a novelty to me, and a solemn one. I was + overcome with emotion. Seeing that, my father whispered to me: "Come + farther forward, my boy! The people must see their future king praying." + That finished it! I was not born to be a king; my soul was still too + unsullied, and I spurned such falsehood with the deepest loathing. Just + think of it!—to come back from three years at sea, and begin my + life in that way—as if perpetually in front of a mirror! I won't + dwell on it. But when my father died and I became king, I had become so + accustomed to the atmosphere of falsehood I lived in that I no longer + recognised truth when I saw it. The constitution prescribed my religion + for me—and naturally I had none. And it was the same with + everything—one thing after another! What else could you expect? + The only tutor I valued—you, Koll—had been dismissed; they + considered you to be too freethinking. + </p> + <p> + Koll (smilingly). Oh, yes! + </p> + <p> + The King. The only real friend that dated from my happier days—you, + Harald, had been sent to the right about; you were a republican. It was + while I was in despair over that loss that I fell really in love for the + first time—with your sister, Harald. Banishment, again. What then? + Why, then the craving that every healthy youth feels—the desire + for love—was turned into dissolute channels. (Drinks.) + </p> + <p> + Gran. I understand, well enough. + </p> + <p> + The King. Well, put all those things together. That was what my life was—until + just lately. Because lately something happened, my dear friends. And now + you must help me! Because, to make a long story short, either I mean to + be the chief official in my country in a peaceful, citizenlike, genuine + way, or—as God is above me—I will no longer be king! (Gets + up, and the others do so.) + </p> + <p> + Koll. Ah, we have got it at last! + </p> + <p> + The King. Do you think I don't know that our republican friend there + spoke what is every thoughtful man's verdict upon me? (They are silent.) + But how could I possibly undertake my task, as long as I believed + everything to be make-believe and falsehood, without exception? Now I + know the root of the falsehood! It is in our institutions; he was quite + right. And one kind of falsehood begets another. You cannot imagine how + ludicrous it appeared to me—who up till then had led such a + sinful, miserable existence—when I saw honourable men pretending + that I was a being of some superior mould! I! (Walks up and down, then + stops.) It is the state—our institutions—that demand this + falsehood both on their part and on mine. And that for the security and + happiness of the country! (Moves about restlessly.) From the time I + became crown prince they kept from me everything that might have + instilled truth into me—friendship, love, religion, a vocation—for + my vocation is quite another one; and it was all done in the name of my + country! And now that I am king, they take away all responsibility from + me as well—all responsibility for my own acts—the system + demands it! Instead of an individual, what sort of a contemptible + creature do they make of me! The kingly power, too?—that is in the + hands of the people's representatives and the government. I don't + complain of that; but what I do complain of is that they should pretend + that <i>I</i> have it, and that everything should be done in <i>my</i> + name; that I should be the recipient of petitions, cheers, acclamations, + obeisances—as if the whole power and responsibility were centred + in <i>my</i> person! In me—from whom, in the interests of all, + they have taken away everything! Is that not a pitiful and ludicrous + falsehood? And, to make it credible, they endow me into the bargain with + a halo of sanctity! "The King is sacred;" "Our Most Gracious Sovereign," + "Your Majesty!" It becomes almost blasphemous! + </p> + <p> + Gran. Quite true. + </p> + <p> + The King. No, if that cannot be done away with, I can do away with + myself. But it must be possible to do away with it! It cannot be + necessary for a people, who are marching on the eternal path towards + truth, to have a lie marching at the head of them! + </p> + <p> + Koll. No, it is not necessary. + </p> + <p> + The King (eagerly). And that is what you will help me to show them. + </p> + <p> + Koll. I have no objection! There is life in the country yet! + </p> + <p> + The King (to Gran). And you, my friend? Are you afraid of being shot by + a mad republican if you help me? + </p> + <p> + Gran. I am not particularly afraid of death, any way. But the maid is + telling us that supper is served. + </p> + <p> + The King. Yes, let us have supper! + </p> + <p> + Koll. And then, to our task! + </p> + <p> + Curtain + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT II + </h2> + <p> + (SCENE.—A park with old lofty trees. In the foreground, to the + right, an arbour with a seat. The KING is sitting, talking to BANG, who + is a man of gross corpulence.) + </p> + <p> + Bang. And I felt so well in every way that, I assure your Majesty, I + used to feel it a pleasure to be alive. + </p> + <p> + The King (drawing patterns in the dust with his walking stick). I can + quite believe it. + </p> + <p> + Bang. And then I was attacked by this pain in my heart and this + difficulty in breathing. I run round and round this park, on an empty + stomach, till I am absolutely exhausted. + </p> + <p> + The King (absently). Couldn't you drive round, then? + </p> + <p> + Bang. Drive?—But it is the exercise, your Majesty, that— + </p> + <p> + The King. Of course. I was thinking of something else. + </p> + <p> + Bang. I would not mind betting that I know what your Majesty was + thinking of—if I may say so without impertinence. + </p> + <p> + The King. What was it, then? + </p> + <p> + Bang. Your Majesty was thinking of the socialists! + </p> + <p> + The King. Of the—? + </p> + <p> + Bang. The socialists! + </p> + <p> + The King (looking amused). Why particularly of them? + </p> + <p> + Bang. I was right, you see! Ha, ha, ha! (His laughter brings on a + violent fit of coughing.) Your Majesty must excuse me; laughing always + brings on my cough.—But, you know, the papers this morning are + full of their goings on! + </p> + <p> + The King. I have not read the paper. + </p> + <p> + Bang. Then I can assure your Majesty that the way they are going on is + dreadful. And just when we were all getting on so comfortably! What in + the world do they want? + </p> + <p> + The King. Probably they want to get on comfortably too. + </p> + <p> + Bang. Aren't they well off as it is, the beasts? Excuse me, your + Majesty, for losing my temper in your Majesty's presence. + </p> + <p> + The King. Don't mention it. + </p> + <p> + Bang. You are very good. These strikes, too—what is the object of + them? To make every one poor? Every one can't be rich. However, I pin my + faith to a strong monarchy. Your Majesty is the padlock on my cash-box! + </p> + <p> + The King. I am what? + </p> + <p> + Bang. The padlock on my cash-box! A figure of speech I ventured to apply + to your Majesty. + </p> + <p> + The King. I am much obliged! + </p> + <p> + Bang. Heaven help us if the liberals come into power; their aim is to + weaken the monarchy. + </p> + <p> + (A BEGGAR BOY comes up to them.) + </p> + <p> + Beggar Boy. Please, kind gentlemen, spare a penny! I've had nothing to + eat to-day! + </p> + <p> + Bang (taking no notice of him). Aren't there whispers of the sort about? + But of course it can't be true. + </p> + <p> + Beggar Boy (pertinaciously). Please, kind gentlemen, spare a penny! I've + had nothing to eat to-day. + </p> + <p> + Bang. You have no right to beg. + </p> + <p> + The King. You have only the right to starve, my boy! Here! (Gives him a + gold coin. The BEGGAR Boy backs away from him, staring at him, and + gripping the coin in his fist.) + </p> + <p> + Bang. He never even thanked you! Probably the son of a socialist!—I + would never have opened this park to every one in the way your Majesty + has done. + </p> + <p> + The King. It saves the work-people a quarter of am hour if they can go + through it to get to their work. + </p> + <p> + (The GENERAL appears, driving the BEGGAR BOY before him with his stick.) + </p> + <p> + The General (to the BEGGAR). A gentleman sitting on a seat gave it you? + Point him out to me, then! + </p> + <p> + Bang (getting up). Good morning, your Majesty! + </p> + <p> + The King. Good morning! (Looks at his watch.) + </p> + <p> + The General. That gentleman, do you say? + </p> + <p> + The King (looking up). What is it? + </p> + <p> + The General. Your Majesty? Allow me to welcome you back! + </p> + <p> + The King. Thank you. + </p> + <p> + The General. Excuse me, sir; but I saw this fellow with a gold coin in + his hand, and stopped him. He says your Majesty gave it to him—? + </p> + <p> + The King. It is quite true. + </p> + <p> + The General. Oh—of course that alters the case! (To the BEGGAR.) + It is the King. Have you thanked him? (The boy stands still, staring at + the KING.) + </p> + <p> + The King. Are you taking a morning walk on an empty stomach because of a + weak heart, too? + </p> + <p> + The General. Because of my stomach, sir—because of my stomach! It + has struck work! + </p> + <p> + The Beggar Boy. Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! (Runs away.) + </p> + <p> + The General. I am astonished at your Majesty's having thrown this park + open to every one. + </p> + <p> + The King. It saves the work-people a quarter of an hour if they can go + through it to get to their work.—Well, General, it seems you have + become religious all of a sudden? + </p> + <p> + The General. Ha, ha, ha! Your Majesty has read my Order of the Day, + then? + </p> + <p> + The King. Yes. + </p> + <p> + The General (confidentially). Well, sir, you see things couldn't go on + any longer as they were. (Whispers.) Debauchery in the ranks! I won't + say anything about the officers; but when the men take to such courses + openly—! + </p> + <p> + The King. Oho! + </p> + <p> + The General. My brother the bishop and I, between us, composed an Order + of the Day on the subject of the necessity of religion—religion as + the basis of discipline. + </p> + <p> + The King. As a matter of fact the bishop was the first person I met here + to-day.—Is he suffering from a disordered stomach, too? + </p> + <p> + The General. More so than any of us, Sir! Ha, ha, ha! (The KING motions + to him to sit down.) Thank you, Sir.—But, apart from that, I have + had it in my mind for some time that in these troublous days there ought + to be a closer co-operation between the Army and the Church— + </p> + <p> + The King. In the matter of digestion, do you mean? + </p> + <p> + The General. Ha, ha, ha!—But seriously, Sir, the time is + approaching when such a co-operation will be the only safeguard of the + throne. + </p> + <p> + The King. Indeed? + </p> + <p> + The General (hurriedly). That is to say, of course, the throne stands + firm by itself—God forbid I should hint otherwise! But what I mean + is that it is the Army ants the Church that must supply the monarchy + with the necessary splendour and authority— + </p> + <p> + The King. I suppose, then, that the monarchy has no longer any of its + own? + </p> + <p> + The General (jumping up). Heaven forbid that I should say such a thing! + I would give my life in support of the monarchy! + </p> + <p> + The King. You will have to die some day, unfortunately (Laughs as he + gets up.) Who is that coming this way? + </p> + <p> + The General (putting up his eyeglass). That? It is the Princess and + Countess L'Estoque, Sir. + </p> + <p> + The King. Is the Princess suffering from indigestion too? + </p> + <p> + The General (confidentially). I fancy your Majesty knows best what the + Princess is suffering from. (The KING moves away from him.) I made a + mess of that! It comes of my trying to be too clever.—He is + walking towards her. Perhaps there is something in it, after all? I must + tell Falbe about it. (Turns to go.) Confound it, he saw that I was + watching them! (Goes out. The KING returns to the arbour with the + PRINCESS on his arm. The COUNTESS and one of the royal servants are seen + crossing the park in the background.) + </p> + <p> + The Princess. This is a most surprising meeting! When did your Majesty + return? + </p> + <p> + The King. Last night.—You look very charming, Princess! Such + blushing cheeks!—and so early in the morning! + </p> + <p> + The Princess. I suppose you think it is rouge?—No, Sir, it is + nothing but pleasure at meeting you. + </p> + <p> + The King. Flatterer! And I went pale at the sight of you. + </p> + <p> + The Princess. Perhaps your conscience—? + </p> + <p> + The King. I am sorry to say my conscience had nothing to do with it. But + this morning I have been meeting so many people that are suffering from + indigestion that, when I saw your Highness walking quickly along— + </p> + <p> + The Princess. Make your mind easy! My reason for my morning walk is to + keep my fat down. Later in the day I ride—for the same reason. I + live for nothing else now. + </p> + <p> + The King. It is a sacred vocation! + </p> + <p> + The Princess. Because it is a royal one? + </p> + <p> + The King. Do you attribute your sanctity to me? Wicked Princess! + </p> + <p> + The Princess. Both my sanctity and any good fortune I enjoy. It is + nothing but my relationship to your Majesty that induces the + tradespeople to give me unlimited credit. + </p> + <p> + The King. You don't feel any awkwardness about it, then? + </p> + <p> + The Princess. Not a bit! The good folk have to maintain many worse + parasites than me!—By the way, talking of parasites, is it true + that you have pensioned off all your lords-in-waiting and their + hangers-on? + </p> + <p> + The King. Yes. + </p> + <p> + The Princess. Ha, ha, ha! But why did you make the special stipulation + that they should live in Switzerland? + </p> + <p> + The King. Because there is no court in Switzerland, and— + </p> + <p> + The Princess. And so they could not fall into temptation again! I have + had many a good laugh at the thought of it. But it has its serious side + too, you know; because your Majesty cannot dispense with a court. + </p> + <p> + The King. Why not? + </p> + <p> + The Princess. Well, suppose some day you are "joined in the bonds of + holy matrimony," as the parsons so beautifully put it? + </p> + <p> + The King. If I were, it would be for the sake of knowing what family + life is. + </p> + <p> + The Princess. Like any other citizen? + </p> + <p> + The King. Precisely. + </p> + <p> + The Princess. Are you going to keep no servants? + </p> + <p> + The King. As many as are necessary—but no more. + </p> + <p> + The Princess. Then I must secure a place as chambermaid in your + Majesty's household as soon as possible. Because if my financial + circumstances are inquired into there will be nothing else left for me + but that! + </p> + <p> + The King. You have too sacred a vocation for that, Princess! + </p> + <p> + The Princess. How pretty! Your Majesty is a poet, and poets are allowed + to be enthusiastic about ideals. But the people are poets too, in their + way; they like their figure-head to be well gilded, and don't mind + paying for it. That is their poetry. + </p> + <p> + The King. Are you certain of that? + </p> + <p> + The Princess. Absolutely certain! It is a point of honour with them. + </p> + <p> + The King. Then I have to weigh my honour against theirs! And my honour + forbids me—for the honour of my people and their poetry—to + keep up my palaces, my guards, and my court any longer! <i>Voilà tout</i>! + </p> + <p> + The Princess. My dear King, certain positions carry with them certain + duties! + </p> + <p> + The King. Then I know higher duties than those!—But, Princess, + here are we two seriously discussing— + </p> + <p> + The Princess. Yes, but there is something at the bottom of it that is + not to be laughed away. All tradition and all experience proclaim it to + be the truth that a king—the kingly majesty—should be a + dignity apart; and should be the ultimate source of law, surrounded with + pomp and circumstance, and secure behind the fortified walls of wealth, + rank, and hereditary nobility. If he steps out of that magic circle, the + law's authority is weakened. + </p> + <p> + The King. Has your Royal Highness breakfasted yet? + </p> + <p> + The Princess. No. (Bursts out laughing.) + </p> + <p> + The King. Because, if you had, I should have had great pleasure is + giving you a lesson in history; but on an empty stomach that would be + cruel. + </p> + <p> + The Princess. Do you know—you used to be such an entertaining + king, but this last year you have become so tedious! + </p> + <p> + The King. Most beautiful of princesses! Do you really mean to say that I + rise and fall in your estimation according as I have my pretty royal + gew-gaws on or not? + </p> + <p> + The Princess. In my estimation? + </p> + <p> + The King. Or in any one's? You know the story of "The Emperor's New + Clothes"? + </p> + <p> + The Princess. Yes. + </p> + <p> + The King. We don't keep up that pretence any longer. + </p> + <p> + The Princess. But will every one understand? + </p> + <p> + The King. You understand, don't you? + </p> + <p> + The Princess. The people or I—that is all the same, I suppose! You + are very flattering. + </p> + <p> + The King. Heaven forbid that I should lump your Royal Highness together + with the common herd; but— + </p> + <p> + The Princess. We have already had proof of the fact that your Majesty + does not hold the same place in <i>every one's</i> estimation that you + do in mine, at all events! + </p> + <p> + The King. If I occupy a place of honour in your Royal Highness's heart, + your Royal Highness may be certain that— + </p> + <p> + The Princess. I will interrupt you to save you from speaking an untruth! + Because the way to attain to a place of honour in your Majesty's heart + is not to admire you as I do, but, on the contrary, to shout out: "I + despise you!"—Au revoir! + </p> + <p> + The King. You wicked, terrifying, dangerous— + </p> + <p> + The Princess.—omniscient and ubiquitous Princess! (Makes a deep + curtsey, and goes away.) + </p> + <p> + The King (calling after her). In spite of everything, my heart goes with + you— + </p> + <p> + The Princess.—to show me the door! I know all about that! (To the + COUNTESS.) Come, Countess! (Goes out. FALBE, an old gentleman in + civilian dress, has come in from the side to which the KING'S back is + turned.) + </p> + <p> + The King. How the devil did she—? + </p> + <p> + Falbe (coming up behind him). Your Majesty! + </p> + <p> + The King (turning quickly). Ah, there you are! + </p> + <p> + Falbe. Yes, sir—we have been walking about in the park for some + time; your Majesty was engaged. + </p> + <p> + The King. Not engaged—I was only deadening thoughts by gossiping. + My anxiety was too much for me. So they have come?—both of them? + </p> + <p> + Falbe. Both of them. + </p> + <p> + The King. Can I believe it! (Appears overcome.) But—you must wait + a moment! I can't, just at this moment—. I don't know what has + come over me! + </p> + <p> + Falbe. Are you unwell, sir? You look so pale. + </p> + <p> + The King My nerves are not what they should be. Is there any water near + here? + </p> + <p> + Falbe (pointing, in astonishment). Why, there is the fountain, Sir! + </p> + <p> + The King. Of course! Of course!—I don't seem able to collect my + thoughts. And my mouth is as dry as—. Look here, I am going that + way (points); and then you can—you can bring the ladies here.—She + is here! She is here! (Goes out to the left, and turns round as he + goes.) Don't forget to lock the gates of the inner park! + </p> + <p> + Falbe. Of course not, Sir. (Goes out to the right, and returns bringing + in the BARONESS MARC and CLARA.) His Majesty will be here in a moment. + (Goes out to the right.) + </p> + <p> + Clara. You must stay near enough for me to be able to call you. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. Of course, my dear. Compose yourself; nothing can happen. + </p> + <p> + Clara. I am so frightened. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. Here is the King! (The KING comes in and bows to them.) + </p> + <p> + The King. Excuse me, ladies, for having kept you waiting. I am very + grateful to you both for coming. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. We only came upon your Majesty's solemn promise— + </p> + <p> + The King.—which shall be inviolable. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. I understand that you wish to speak to Miss Ernst alone? + </p> + <p> + The King. Your ladyship need only go up to the top of that little slope. + (Points.) I can recommend the view from there. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. The interview will not be a long one, I suppose? + </p> + <p> + The King. If it is, I give your ladyship permission to come and + interrupt us. (The BARONESS goes out. The KING turns to CLARA.) May I be + permitted to thank you again—you especially—for having been + so good as to grant me this interview? + </p> + <p> + Clara. It will be the only one. + </p> + <p> + The King. I know that. You have not condescended to answer one of my + letters— + </p> + <p> + Clara. I have not read them. + </p> + <p> + The King.—so there was nothing left for me but to address myself + to the Baroness. She was <i>obliged</i> to listen to me, Miss Ernst. + </p> + <p> + Clara (trembling). What has your Majesty to say to me? + </p> + <p> + The King. Indeed, I can't tell it you in a single sentence. Won't you + sit down? (CLARA remains standing.) You must not be afraid of me. I mean + you no harm; I never could mean you any harm. + </p> + <p> + Clara (in tears). Then what do you call the persecution that I have + endured for more than a year? + </p> + <p> + The King. If you had condescended to read a single one of my long and + many letters you would have known I call it a passion that is stronger + than—. (CLARA turns to go. The KING continues anxiously.) No, Miss + Ernst, by everything you hold dear, I beg you not to leave me! + </p> + <p> + Clara. Then you must not insult me! + </p> + <p> + The King. If that is an insult your terms are very hard. + </p> + <p> + Clara. Hard? No, but what you have done to me is hard! (Bursts into + tears.) + </p> + <p> + The King. Don't cry, Miss Ernst! You don't know how you hurt me! + </p> + <p> + Clara (angrily). Do you know what it means to try and ruin a young + girl's reputation? + </p> + <p> + The King. I repeat that you are doing me an injustice + </p> + <p> + Clara. An injustice?—Good God! Do you know who I am? + </p> + <p> + The King (taking of his hat respectfully). You are the woman I love. + </p> + <p> + Clara (quietly and with dignity). Your Majesty has solemnly promised not + to insult me. + </p> + <p> + The King. As sure as there is a heaven above us I will not, and could + not, insult you! But I will obey your wishes. + </p> + <p> + Clara. When a king says such a thing as—as you did just now, to a + poor little governess, it is more than an insult! It is so cowardly, so + base! And to think that you could have the heart to do it after what you + have done to my father! + </p> + <p> + The King. Your father?—I? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Do you really not know who I am? + </p> + <p> + The King I don't understand— + </p> + <p> + Clara. Whose daughter I am, I mean? + </p> + <p> + The King. I only know that your father's name is Ernst. (Suddenly.) + Surely your father is not—? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Professor Ernst. + </p> + <p> + The King. The republican? + </p> + <p> + Clara (slowly). Yes. (A pause.) I may remind your Majesty that he was + sentenced for high treason. And why? Because he warned the young men at + the university against the bad example set by the King! (A pause.) He + was sentenced to a long term of imprisonment. In escaping from his + prison he broke both his legs; and now he lives in exile—a cripple—supported + by what money I am able to earn. (A pause.) You have ruined his life—and + now you are trying to ruin mine too! + </p> + <p> + The King. I beg of you—! + </p> + <p> + Clara. I am ashamed of my tears. It is not compassion for myself or for + my father that makes them flow; it is the heartless injustice of it all + that overcomes me. + </p> + <p> + The King. God knows, if only I could atone for the injustice—! But + what can I do? + </p> + <p> + Clara. You can let me alone, so that I may do my work in peace; that is + what you can do! Neither he nor I ask for more than that—of you! + </p> + <p> + The King. I must do more than that! + </p> + <p> + Clara. No! Can you not understand that a girl who is persecuted by the + king's attentions cannot be a governess? All you will achieve will be to + rob me and my father of our bread!—Oh, God! + </p> + <p> + The King. But my intention is not to— + </p> + <p> + Clara (interrupting him). And you are not even man enough to be ashamed + of yourself! + </p> + <p> + The King. Yes, you may say what you please to me! + </p> + <p> + Clara. I have nothing more to say to you. I have said what I have to + say. (Turns to go.) + </p> + <p> + The King. No, don't go! You have not even heard me yet. You don't even + know what I want to beg of you! + </p> + <p> + Clara. My dishonour. + </p> + <p> + The King (vehemently). You misunderstand me utterly! If you had only + read a single one of my letters you would have known that there is + standing before you a man whom you have humbled. Ah, don't look so + incredulous! It is true, if there is any truth in anything. You don't + believe me? (Despairingly.) How am I to—! A man who has risked + your contempt for more than a year, and has been faithful to you without + even being allowed to see you or exchange a word with you—who has + had no thought for anything or any one else—is not likely to be + doing that out of mere idleness of heart! Do you not believe that, + either? + </p> + <p> + Clara. No. + </p> + <p> + The King. Well, then, there must surely be some general truths that you, + as Ernst's daughter, cannot refuse to believe! Let me ask you if you can + understand how a man becomes what I was at the time when I repeatedly + insulted you. You must know, from your father's books, in what an + unnatural atmosphere a king is brought up, the soul-destroying sense of + self-importance which all his surroundings foster, until, even in his + dreams, he thinks himself something more than human; the doubtful + channels into which his thoughts are forced, while any virtues that he + has are trumpeted abroad, and his vices glossed over with tactful and + humorous tolerance. Don't you think that a young king, full of eager + life, as I was, may plead something in excuse of himself that no other + man can? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Yes, I admit that. + </p> + <p> + The King. Then you must admit that the very position he has to assume as + a constitutional monarch is an acted lie. Think what a king's vocation + is; <i>can</i> a vocation of that sort be hereditary? Can the finest and + noblest vocation in the world be that? + </p> + <p> + Clara. No! + </p> + <p> + The King. Then suppose that he realises that himself; suppose that the + young king is conscious, however dimly and partially, of the lie he is + living—and suppose that, to escape from it, he rushes into a life + of pleasure. Is it not conceivable that he may have some good in him, + for all that? And then suppose that one morning, after a night of + revelling, the sun shines into his room; and he seems to see upon the + wall, in letters of fire, some words that were said to him the night + before—true words (CLARA looks up at him in surprise)—the + words: "I despise you!" (CLARA gives a start.) Words like that can burn + out falsehood. And he, to whom they are said, may long to hear again the + tones of the voice that spoke them. No man has ever hated what has given + him new life. If you had read a single one of the letters which I felt + impelled to write even if they were refused acceptance—you would + not have called it persecution. (CLARA does not answer.) And, as for my + persecution of your father—I am not going to make any excuses for + myself; I will only ask you to remember that a king has no control over + the law and its judgments. I feel the sincerest respect for your father. + </p> + <p> + Clara. Thank you. + </p> + <p> + The King. And it is just part of the falsehood I was speaking of, that + he should be condemned for saying of me what I have said a thousand + times of myself! + </p> + <p> + Clara (softly). Dare I believe that? + </p> + <p> + The King. Ah, if only you had read one of my letters! Or even the little + book of poems I sent you last! I thought that, if you would not receive + my letters, perhaps a book— + </p> + <p> + Clara. I do not accept anonymous gifts. + </p> + <p> + The King. I see you are on your guard—although I don't admit that + the poems were mine! May I read it to you? + </p> + <p> + Clara. I don't understand—. + </p> + <p> + The King. One that I marked—for you. It will prove to you what you + refuse to believe. + </p> + <p> + Clara. But if the poem is not yours? + </p> + <p> + The King. The fact that I have marked it shows that its sentiments apply + to me. Will you let me read it to you? (CLARA looks up.) Do not be too + much surprised, Miss Ernst! (Takes a slim volume from his pocket.) I + found this somewhere. (Turns over the leaves.) It won't take long to + read. May I? + </p> + <p> + Clara. If only I understood— + </p> + <p> + The King.—why I want to read it? Simply for the reason that you + have forbidden me to speak to you—or to write to you; but not, as + yet, to read to you! (CLARA smiles. A pause.) Do you know—a little + event has just happened in my life?—and yet not such a little one, + after all! + </p> + <p> + Clara. What is that? + </p> + <p> + The King. I have seen you smile for the first time. + </p> + <p> + Clara. Your Majesty! + </p> + <p> + The King. But, Miss Ernst, is it an insult, too, to see you smile? + </p> + <p> + Clara (smiling). If I consent to hear the poem, shall not the Baroness— + </p> + <p> + The King.—hear it also? With pleasure; but not at the same time! + Please! Because I am a very bad reader. You can show it to the Baroness + afterwards, if you like. (CLARA smiles.) May I? + </p> + <p> + Clara. You are sure there is nothing in it that— + </p> + <p> + The King. You can interrupt me, if you think fit. It is called "The + Young Prince;" and it is about—no, I won't tell you what it is + about unless you will be so good as to sit down, so that I can sit down + too. If I stand up I shall be sure to begin declaiming, and I do that + shockingly badly!—You can get up again when you like, you know! + (CLARA smiles and sits down. The KING sits down beside her.) Now, then! + "The Young Prince." (To himself.) I can scarcely breathe. (He begins to + read.) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Full fed with early flattery and pride— +</pre> + <p> + (Breaks off.) Excuse me, Miss Ernst! I don't feel— + </p> + <p> + Clara. Is your Majesty not well? + </p> + <p> + The King. Quite well! It is only—. Now, then! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Full fed with early flattery and pride, + His sated soul was wearied all too young; + Honour and kingly pomp seemed naught to him + But whimsies from the people's folly sprung. + + From such pretence he fled to what was real— + Fair women's arms, laughter and love and pleasure, + All the mad joy of life; whate'er he craved, + He found was given him in double measure. + + Whate'er he craved—until one day a maiden + To whom he whispered, like a drunken sot, + "I'd give my life to make thee mine, my sweeting!" + Turned from him silently and answered not. + + He sought by every means to win her to him; + But when his love with cold <i>contempt</i> was met, + It was as if a judgment had been spoken + Upon his life, and doom thereon were set. + + His boon companions left him; in his castles + None seemed to be awake but he alone, + Racked with remorse, enshrouded in the darkness + Of dull despair, yet longing to atone. + + Then through the darkness she appeared! and humbly, + Emboldend by her gentleness of mien, + He sued once more: "If only thou wouldst listen! + If still 'twere not too late—" +</pre> + <p> + (His emotion overcomes him, and he stops suddenly, gets up, and walks + away from CLARA. She gets up, as he comes back to her.) Excuse me! I had + no intention of making a scene. But it made me think of—. (Breaks + of again overcome by emotion, and moves a little way from her. There is + a pause as he collects himself before returning to her.) As you can + hear, Miss Ernst, it is nothing much of a poem—not written by a + real poet, that is to say; a real poet would have exalted his theme, but + this is a commonplace— + </p> + <p> + Clara. Has your Majesty anything more to say to me? (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + The King. If I have anything more to say to any one, it is to you. + </p> + <p> + Clara. I beg your pardon. + </p> + <p> + The King. No, it is I should beg yours. But I am sure you do not wish me + to lie to you. + </p> + <p> + Clara (turning her head away). No. + </p> + <p> + The King. You have no confidence in me. (Control, his emotion.) Will you + ever, I wonder, come to under stand that the only thing I crave for now + is—one person's confidence! + </p> + <p> + Clara. Any one who speaks as your Majesty has done to-day surely craves + for more than that. + </p> + <p> + The King. More than that, yes; but, first of all, one person's + confidence. + </p> + <p> + Clara (turning away). I don't understand— + </p> + <p> + The King (interrupting her, with emotion). Your life has not been as + empty and artificial as mine. + </p> + <p> + Clara. But surely you have your task here to fill it with? + </p> + <p> + The King. I remember reading once about the way a rock was undermined, + and the mine filled with gunpowder with an electric wire leading to it. + Just a slight pressure on a little button and the great rock was + shattered into a thousand pieces. And in the same way everything is + ready here; but the little pressure—to cause the explosion—is + what I am waiting for! + </p> + <p> + Clara. The metaphor is a little forced. + </p> + <p> + The King. And yet it came into my mind as unconsciously as you broke off + that twig just now. If I do not get what I lack, nothing can be + accomplished—there can be no explosion! I shall abandon the whole + thing and let myself go under. + </p> + <p> + Clara. Go under? + </p> + <p> + The King. Well, not like the hero of a sensational novel—not + straight to the bottom like a stone—but like a dreamer carried off + by pixies in a wood, with one name ever upon my lips! And the world + would have to look after itself. + </p> + <p> + Clara. But that is sheer recklessness. + </p> + <p> + The King. I know it is; but I am reckless. I stake everything upon one + throw! (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Clara. Heaven send you may win. + </p> + <p> + The King. At least I am daring enough to hope that I may—and there + are moments when I almost feel certain of victory! + </p> + <p> + Clara (embarrassed). It is a lovely morning— + </p> + <p> + The King.—for the time of year; yes. And it is lovelier here than + it is anywhere else! + </p> + <p> + Clara. I cannot really understand a course of action which implies a + want of all sense of responsibility— + </p> + <p> + The King. Every one has their own point of view. A scheme of life, to + satisfy me, must have its greatest happiness hidden away at its core; in + my case that would be to have a house of my own—all to myself, + like any other citizen—from which I should go away to my work, and + come back to as to a safe refuge. That is the button on the electric + wire, do you understand? It is the little pressure on it that I am + waiting for. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Clara. Have you read my father's book, <i>Democratic Monarchy</i>? + </p> + <p> + The King. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Clara. He wrote it when I was a child; and so I may say that I grew up + amongst ideas like—like those I have heard from you to-day. All + the friends that came to our house used to talk to me about it. + </p> + <p> + The King. Then no doubt you heard the crown prince talked about, too! + </p> + <p> + Clara. I think I heard his name oftener mentioned at home than any + one's. I believe the book was written expressly for you. + </p> + <p> + The King. I can feel that when I read it. If only I had been allowed to + read it in those days! Do you remember how in it your father maintains, + too, that all reform depends on the beating down of the hedge that + surrounds royalty?—on a king's becoming, as he says, "wedded to + his people" in the fullest sense of the word, not irregularly or + surreptitiously? No king can share his people's thoughts if he lives + apart from them in a great palace, married to a foreign princess. There + is no national spirit behind a complicated court life of outlandish + ceremonial. + </p> + <p> + Clara (turning away her head). You should have heard how vehemently my + father used to assert those ideas. + </p> + <p> + The King. And yet he abandoned them. + </p> + <p> + Clara. Became a republican, you mean? + </p> + <p> + The King. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Clara. He was so disappointed. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + The King. I sometimes wonder every one isn't a republican! It must come + to that in the end; I can see that. If only royalties nowadays thought + seriously enough about it to realise it! + </p> + <p> + Clara. It is made so difficult for them by those who surround them. + </p> + <p> + The King. Yes, you see, that is another reason why any such reform must + begin at home. Do you think that a king, who went every day to his work + from a home that was in every respect like that of one of his people, + could fail in the long run? + </p> + <p> + Clara. There are so many different kinds of homes. + </p> + <p> + The King. I mean a home that holds love instead of subservience—comfort + instead of ceremony-truth instead of flattery; a home where—ah, + well, I need not teach a woman what a home means. + </p> + <p> + Clara. We make them what they are. + </p> + <p> + The King. Surely; but they are especially what women make them. (A + pause.) + </p> + <p> + Clara. The sun is quite strong now. + </p> + <p> + The King. But it can scarcely pierce through the screen of leaves here. + </p> + <p> + Clara. When the sun shines down like this and the leaves tremble— + </p> + <p> + The King. The sunshine seems to tremble too. + </p> + <p> + Clara. Yes, but it makes one feel as if everything were trembling—even + deep down into our hearts! + </p> + <p> + The King. That is true.—Yes, its homes are the most precious + things a nation makes. Their national characteristics mean reverence for + their past and possibilities for their future. + </p> + <p> + Clara. I understand better now what you meant. + </p> + <p> + The King. When I said I wanted to begin at the beginning? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Yes. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + The King. I cannot do otherwise. My heart must be in my work. + </p> + <p> + Clara (smiling). My father had his heart in his work, too. + </p> + <p> + The King. Forgive me—but don't you think it was just the want of + an object in his life that led your father to push his theories too far?—an + object outside himself, I mean? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Perhaps. If my mother had lived—. (Stops.) + </p> + <p> + The King.—he might have taken it differently; don't you think so? + </p> + <p> + Clara. I have sometimes thought so. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + The King. How still it is! Not a sound! + </p> + <p> + Clara. Yes, there is the fountain. + </p> + <p> + The King. That is true; but one ends by hardly hearing a continuous + sound like that. + </p> + <p> + Clara. There is a tremulousness in <i>that</i> too. (Looks round her.) + </p> + <p> + The King. What are you looking for? + </p> + <p> + Clara. It is time to look for the Baroness. + </p> + <p> + The King. She is up on that slope. Shall I call her? Or—perhaps + you would like to see a fine view? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Yes. + </p> + <p> + The King. Then let us go up to her together! (They go.) + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT III + </h2> + SCENE I + <p> + (SCENE. An open place in the town. It is evening, and the square is + badly lit. On the right is the club, a large building, standing alone; + lights are shining from all its windows. Steps lead from the door, above + which is a balcony. The square is full of people. In the background, + standing on the lowest step of the pedestal of an equestrian statue, is + a BALLAD SINGER, singing to the accompaniment of his guitar. Cigars, + oranges, and other wares are being sold by hawkers. The singer's voice + is heard before the curtain rises. The crowd gradually joins him in the + refrain which he repeats after each verse of his ballad.) + </p> + <p> + The Ballad Singer (sings). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Princeling begged and begged and begged + Her love, on bended knee. + The Maid said craftily, "Nay, nay, + I doubt your high degree!" + + Refrain. + + She knew the might, the might, the might + Of love's distracting hour; + How royalty, with all its pomp, + Will curtsey to its power. + + The Princeling said: "Consent, my dear, + And you shall marry me." + The Maiden answered mockingly, + "Over the left, maybe!" + + "Nay, as my Queen, enchanting maid, + And that this very day!" + The Maiden answered him, "Gadzooks!" + And fainted right away. + + Recovering, she sighed, "My Lord, + Princesses will be wroth; + On every side they sit and wait + To plight to you their troth." + + He answered, "Bosh!"—"But what of those + Who counselled you before?" + "Whom do you mean?"—"Your ministers!" + "I'll show them to the door!" + + "But think, my dear—your generals, + Your nobles, court, and priest; + They'll try to drag you from my side + Or shun us as the pest." + + "Nay, be not feared! I'll make you more + By dozens at a word, + Who'll bow and grovel if they be + To rank and place preferred." + + "But think of the republicans! + My father!—what if he—?" + "The cock that crows the loudest, then, + Prime minister shall be!" + + "Suppose the people stoutly swear + They'll none of me?"—"Nay, nay, + An order here, a title there, + And all will homage pay." + + "Then I am yours!"—"Hurrah!" He holds + Her tight his arms between; + "Nay, not so fast, my kingly love! + Not till I am your Queen!" + + She knew the might, the might, the might + Of love's distracting hour; + How royalty, with all its pomp, + Will curtsey to its power. +</pre> + <p> + An Old Gentleman (to another). What is going on here? + </p> + <p> + Second Old Gentleman. I don't know. I have only just come. + </p> + <p> + A Workman. Why, the King is coming past here with her! + </p> + <p> + First Old Gentleman. Coming past here with her? To hold a court at the + palace? + </p> + <p> + The Workman. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Second Old Gentleman (taking a pinch of snuff). And I suppose those + fellows in the club mean to make a demonstration?—hiss them, or + something of that sort? + </p> + <p> + The Workman. So they say. + </p> + <p> + First Old Gentleman. Have they decided not to attend the court then? + </p> + <p> + A Dandy. Unanimously decided. + </p> + <p> + A Woman. It's filthy! + </p> + <p> + The Dandy. I beg your pardon? + </p> + <p> + The Woman. I say that those fellows in there will condescend to seduce + our daughters, right enough; but they won't condescend to marry them. + But, you see, the King does. + </p> + <p> + The Workman. I am not sure it wouldn't be better if he didn't. + </p> + <p> + The Woman. Well, I know people who say that she is quite a respectable + person. + </p> + <p> + The Dandy. I imagine that you have not read the newspapers? + </p> + <p> + First Old Gentleman. Hm!—one has to be a little careful as to how + far one believes the newspapers. + </p> + <p> + Second Old Gentleman (offering him his snuff-box). I am delighted to + hear you say that! There is such a lot of slander flying about. That + bawdy ballad just now; for instance. + </p> + <p> + The Woman. Yes, that's poking fun at <i>him</i>—I know that. + </p> + <p> + The Dandy. You had better take care what you are saying, my good woman! + </p> + <p> + The Woman. Ah, I only say what I know. + </p> + <p> + (FLINK appears on the steps of the statue beside the BALLAD SINGER.) + </p> + <p> + Flink. Stop your stupid songs! I want to speak! + </p> + <p> + Voice in the Crowd. Who is that? + </p> + <p> + Flink. You don't know me. I have never made public speeches—and + least of all to street mobs. + </p> + <p> + Voice in the Crowd. Why are you doing it now, then? + </p> + <p> + Flink. Because I have been charged with a message to you! (The members + of the club rush to the windows and on to the balcony and steps. + Uproar.) + </p> + <p> + Voice in the Crowd. Be quiet! Let us hear him! + </p> + <p> + Flink. Listen to me, good people! You don't know me. But you used to + know a tall chap, with long white hair and a big hat, who often made + speeches to you. I mean Professor Ernst. + </p> + <p> + Voice in the Crowd. Three cheers for Professor Ernst. (Cheers.) + </p> + <p> + Flink. He was sent to prison, as you know, for high treason; escaped + from prison, but broke his legs. Now he is living in exile, hopelessly + crippled. + </p> + <p> + Voice in the Crowd. He got a pardon. + </p> + <p> + Another. No one knows where he is. + </p> + <p> + Flink. I know where he is. He has charged me to deliver a message to you + to-day. + </p> + <p> + Voices from the Club. Bravo! + </p> + <p> + Voices from the Crowd. Has he! Bravo, Ernst! + </p> + <p> + Voices from the Club. Be quiet, down there! + </p> + <p> + Flink. He made me promise that, on the day on which his daughter was to + be presented at the palace as the King's betrothed, I would stand up in + some public place where she would pass by, and say that it was being + done against her father's will and in spite of his urgent entreaties and + commands. (Loud cries of "Bravo!" from the club. A voice in the crowd: + "That is just what we thought!") I am charged to announce publicly that + he despises her for it and sends her his curse! (Fresh cries of "Bravo!" + from the club. Voices in the crowd: "That's shocking!"—"No, he was + quite right;" etc., etc. Uproar.) Quiet, good people! + </p> + <p> + A Young Man in the Crowd. May I be allowed to ask a question? (Shouts of + "Yes!" and "No!" and laughter are heard.) + </p> + <p> + Flink. By all means. + </p> + <p> + The Young Man. Did not Professor Ernst himself advocate a king's doing + just what our King has done? + </p> + <p> + Voices in the Crowd. Hear, hear! + </p> + <p> + Flink. Yes, and in return was thrown into prison and is now an incurable + cripple. No one has been more cruelly treated by the King's hirelings. + And now here is his daughter willing to become Queen! + </p> + <p> + Count Platen (from the club balcony). I don't see why you want to blame + her! No; what I say is, that it is our dissolute King's fault + altogether! (Renewed uproar. Cries of: "Turn him out!" from the club.) + </p> + <p> + Flink. I had something more to say about those who—. But make + those fellows at the club be quiet first. + </p> + <p> + A Voice. They are fighting over there! (Laughter. Wild uproar is heard + from the club, amidst which COUNT PLATEN'S voice is heard shouting: "Let + me be! Let me alone!"—and other voices: "Don't let him go out!"—"He + is drunk!" Eventually COUNT PLATEN comes out on to the steps, hatless + and dishevelled.) + </p> + <p> + Count Platen. I'm going to make a speech to you! I am better than that + crew in there! (Cries of "Bravo!") What I say is, that the King is + coming past here directly with a woman. (Applause, and laughter. Every + one crowds towards him. The police try to pull him down. A free fight + ensues.) Hiss them when they come! (Cries of "Throw him down!"—"Bravo!"—"Hurrah!") + I, Count Platen, tell you to do so! Hiss him, howl at him, make a + regular hullabaloo when he comes! I, Count Platen, tell you to! (Cries + of "Three cheers for Count Platen!" are mingled with cries of "Three + cheers for the King!" There is a general tumult. COUNT PLATEN is hustled + up and down the steps, and tries to go on making his speech every time + he comes up.) He is defiling the throne!—He wants to marry a + traitor's daughter! Shame! I, Count Platen, say so! Here I stand—! + (A trumpet-call is heard; then cries of "Here is the King!"—"No, + it's the cavalry!"—"The cavalry are coming!"—"Clear the + square!" A shot is heard, followed by a scream; the people take to their + heels as another trumpet-call is heard. Curtain.) + </p> + SCENE II + <p> + (SCENE.—A room in the BARONESS' house. The BARONESS is sitting + reading. A MAID enters and brings her a card.) + </p> + <p> + Baroness (looking at the card). The Minister of the Interior!—Show + him in! (GRAN comes in.) I am glad to see you back, your Excellency!—You + have found him, then? + </p> + <p> + Gran. Yes, we have discovered him. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. And spoken to him? + </p> + <p> + Gran. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. May I send for his daughter? + </p> + <p> + Gran. For heaven's sake + </p> + <p> + Baroness. What is the matter? + </p> + <p> + Gran. He is a dying man. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. What! + </p> + <p> + Gran. The King desires me to tell you that he has ordered a special + train to be ready at 10 o'clock, so that as soon as the court is over + she can go to her father. The King will accompany her. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. That is kind of him! + </p> + <p> + Gran. Then you will get ready everything that she needs for a night's + journey? + </p> + <p> + Baroness. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Gran. And without her being aware of it? The King does not wish her to + know anything of her father's condition till after the court. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. The court is to be held, then? + </p> + <p> + Gran. The court is to be held. After it is over, His Majesty will tell + her the news himself. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. I am thankful for that.—But what did Professor Ernst + say? Why has he not answered his daughter's letter? Why has he hidden + from her? Is he really irreconcilable? + </p> + <p> + Gran. Irreconcilable? He hates her! + </p> + <p> + Baroness. Good heavens! + </p> + <p> + Gran. And not only her, but every one that has made common cause with + the King—every one! + </p> + <p> + Baroness. I suppose it was to be expected.—But won't you sit down? + </p> + <p> + Gran (bows, but remains standing). I had a talk with his doctor before I + saw him. He had some hesitation about letting me in. It was a fortnight + since his patient had been able to move. But when I told him my errand, + and that I had come from the King, he let me see him. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. How did he look? He was a fine man once. + </p> + <p> + Gran. He was sitting in a big chair, a mere paralysed wreck of a man. + But when he saw me and realised who I was—and probably, too, what + my errand was—he found the strength not only to move, but to seize + both his crutches and raise himself on them! I shall never forget his + gaunt ashen-grey face, the feverish gleam in his sunken eyes, his + unkempt hair and beard— + </p> + <p> + Baroness. He must have looked terrible! + </p> + <p> + Gran. He was like a creature from beyond the grave—with an + eternity of hatred in his eyes! + </p> + <p> + Baroness. Oh, my God! + </p> + <p> + Gran. When at last I could find my voice, I gave him his daughter's + greeting, and asked if she might come and see him. A dark look came into + his eyes, and his face flushed for a moment, as he gasped out: "May she + be—." He could not finish the sentence. His crutches slipped from + his grasp and he fell down, blood pouring from his mouth. The doctor + rushed to him; and for a long time we thought he was dead. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. But he came round? + </p> + <p> + Gran. I waited an hour or two before I started back. Then the doctor + told me that he had recovered consciousness, but that the end could + certainly not be far off—perhaps not twenty-four hours. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. It must have been a shock to you. + </p> + <p> + Gran. It was. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. But what did he mean by: "May she be—" + </p> + <p> + Gran. That is what I have been wondering. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. He cannot do her any harm, can he? + </p> + <p> + Grad. He may give her the same reception that he gave me; if she goes. + </p> + <p> + Baroness, Even if the King is with her? + </p> + <p> + Gran. All the more then! + </p> + <p> + Baroness. Oh, that would be horrible! But it won't prevent her going. + </p> + <p> + Gran. Let us hope so! + </p> + <p> + Baroness. I am certain of it! She has extraordinary strength of + character—just like her father's. + </p> + <p> + Gran. Yes, that is the one thing I rely on. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. What do you mean? Your words sound so despondent! + </p> + <p> + Gran. I mean what is perfectly true—that everything will depend + upon her strength of character. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. What about the King, then? + </p> + <p> + Gran. I could say a great deal on that topic, Baroness; but (bows) you + must excuse me—I haven't time now. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. How are the elections going? + </p> + <p> + Gran. They are going well—if nothing happens now? + </p> + <p> + Baroness. What could happen? + </p> + <p> + Gran. The situation is very strained; one must expect anything. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. Are you anxious, your Excellency? + </p> + <p> + Gran. I must beg leave to retire now. (A MAID comes in.) + </p> + <p> + Maid (to GRAN). The Inspector of Police, who came with your Excellency, + wishes to know if he may speak to your Excellency. + </p> + <p> + Gran. I will come at once. (To the BARONESS.) There is rioting going on + in the town, not far from here—in front of the club. + </p> + <p> + Baroness (in alarm). What?—Isn't the King coming along that way? + </p> + <p> + Gran. Don't be afraid! We have taken our precautions—Good-bye! + (Goes out.) + </p> + <p> + Baroness.—He has quite alarmed me—everything seems to come + at the same time! She has had a suspicion that there was something amiss + with her father; I have noticed that, but she hasn't wanted to speak + about it. (CLARA comes in, dressed for the court.) Ah, there you are, my + dear! Quite ready? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Quite. + </p> + <p> + Baroness (looking at her). Well, I daresay there have been royal brides + more elaborately dressed, but I am sure there has never been one more + charming. (Kisses her.) + </p> + <p> + Clara. I think I hear a carriage? + </p> + <p> + Baroness. I expect it is the King! + </p> + <p> + Clara. I am afraid it is too early yet—but all the same I hope it + is he! + </p> + <p> + Baroness. Do you feel afraid? + </p> + <p> + Clara. No, no—it is not that at all; it is something—something + that you don't—a kind of feeling as if—as if some one were + haunting me; and I know who it is. I only feel secure when the King is + with me. I hope it may be he coming. (Goes to the window.) + </p> + <p> + (The MAID comes in.) + </p> + <p> + Maid. A lady wishes to speak to you, Miss Ernst— + </p> + <p> + Baroness. A lady? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Didn't she give her name? + </p> + <p> + Maid. She is veiled—and very handsomely dressed. + </p> + <p> + Clara (with decision). No! I can see no one. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. No one that we do not know. (To the MAID.) You ought to know + that. + </p> + <p> + Maid (hesitatingly). But I think it is—. (The door opens and the + PRINCESS comes in.) + </p> + <p> + Baroness. What does this mean? Clara! leave us, my dear. + </p> + <p> + Princess (drawing aside her veil). Do you know me? + </p> + <p> + Clara and Baroness. The Princess! + </p> + <p> + Princess. Are you Clara Ernst? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Princess (haughtily, to the BARONESS). Leave us alone! (The BARONESS + goes out.) Before going to the palace I wanted to come here—even + at the risk of meeting the King. + </p> + <p> + Clara. He has not come yet. (A long pause.) + </p> + <p> + Princess. Have you thought well over what you are going to do? + </p> + <p> + Clara. I think so. + </p> + <p> + Princess. I don't think you have. Have you read what the papers say + about it—every one of them—to-day? + </p> + <p> + Clara. No. The King has advised me not to. + </p> + <p> + Princess. But the letters that have been sent to you? I know letters + have been written to you. + </p> + <p> + Clara. The King has advised me not to read them either. He takes all the + letters. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Do you know that they are rioting in the streets close to + here? + </p> + <p> + Clara (in alarm). No! + </p> + <p> + Princess. You will be received with hisses, hooting—perhaps with + stone throwing. You didn't expect anything like that, did you? + </p> + <p> + Clara. No. + </p> + <p> + Princess. What shall you do? + </p> + <p> + Clara (after a moment, quietly). I shall go with the King. + </p> + <p> + Princess. A nice road you are dragging him along, truly! And I assure + you that the farther you go along it, the worse it will become. You + cannot possibly have prepared yourself for all that you will have to go + through. + </p> + <p> + Clara. I think I have. + </p> + <p> + Princess (in surprise). What do you mean? How? + </p> + <p> + Clara (bending her head). I have prayed to God. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Pshaw! I mean that you cannot have considered the misery into + which you are dragging the King—and the disgrace and trouble you + are bringing upon all his people. (CLARA is silent.) You are young + still; your heart cannot be altogether hardened yet, whatever your past + may have been. + </p> + <p> + Clara (proudly). I have no reason to be ashamed of my past. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Indeed? What sort of a past has it been, then? + </p> + <p> + Clara. One full of suffering, princess—and of work. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Princess. Do you know what the King's past has been? + </p> + <p> + Clara (drooping her head). Ah, yes. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Yours will be tarred with the same brush—no matter what + it really has been. + </p> + <p> + Clara. I know that. He has told me so. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Really!—After all, is it a sacrifice you are making for + his sake? Do you love the King? + </p> + <p> + Clara (faintly). Yes. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Then listen to me. If you loved the King, you would have made + a <i>real</i> sacrifice for him. We are women, you and I; we can + understand these things without many words. But such a sacrifice does + not consist in consenting to be his queen. + </p> + <p> + Clara. It is not I that wished it. + </p> + <p> + Princess. You have allowed yourself to be persuaded?—Well, you are + either deceiving yourself, my girl, or you are deceiving him. Perhaps + you began with the one and are ending with the other. Anyway, it is time + you had your eyes opened as to which of you it is that is making the + sacrifice. Do you not know that, on your account, he is already the + target for general contempt? (CLARA bursts into tears.) If that makes + you repent, show it—show it by your deeds! + </p> + <p> + Clara. I repent of nothing. + </p> + <p> + Princess (in astonishment). What state of mind are you in, then? + </p> + <p> + Clara. I have suffered terribly. But I pray God for strength to bear it. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Don't talk nonsense! The whole thing is a horrible confusion + of ideas—half remorse and half cant—the one so mixed up with + the other in your mind that you cannot disentangle them. But, believe + me, others feel very sure that sacred things and—and what I won't + call bluntly by its name, go very ill together! So don't waste those + airs on me; they only irritate me! + </p> + <p> + Clara. Princess, don't be cruel to me. I <i>am</i> suffering, all the + same. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Why on earth do you want to go any farther with the affair? If + you aren't clear about it, take advice! Your father is opposed to it, + isn't he? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Yes. (Throws herself into a chair.) + </p> + <p> + Princess. He has hidden himself away from you. You don't know where he + is, or how he is—though you know he is crippled and ill. And, + meanwhile, here you are in full dress, with a rose in your hair, waiting + to set out to a court at the palace! Are you willing to pass through + contemptuous rioting crowds, and over your sick father's body, to become + queen? What callous levity! What a presumptuous mixture of what you + think is love, duty, sacrifice, trial—with an unscrupulous + ambition—! The King? Are you depending on him? He is a poet. He + loves anything unusual or sensational. Resistance stimulates him; and + that is what drives him into believing that his love will be unending. + When you have been married a week, it will be all over. If he had not + met with resistance, it would have been all over before this. I know the + King better than you; for I know his faithlessness. It is like his love—unending! + It hurts you to hear that, does it? Well, it hurts one's eyes to look at + the sun. But I can tell you about these things. The only reason I had + for coming was to tell you what I know. And now that I have seen you, I + can tell you that I know one thing more—and I will tell you what + it is. If you actually allow the King, with his ardent temperament, to + stray into a path which will lead to the ruin of his career, your action + will, in the fullness of time, recoil so appallingly upon your own head + that it will kill you. I know you are one of those that faithlessness, + remorse and contempt <i>would</i> kill.—Don't look so beseechingly + at me; I cannot retract a word of what I have said. But I can tell you + now what I had decided upon before I came. <i>I</i> will look after your + future. I am not rich; but, as sure as I stand here before you, you + shall live free from care—you shall have everything that you need—for + the rest of your life. I want no thanks! I do it for the sake of the + King, and for the sake of the country to which I belong. It is my duty. + Only get up now and come with me to my carriage. (Offers CLARA her + hand.) + </p> + <p> + Clara. If it were as easy as that, I should have done it long, long ago. + </p> + <p> + Princess (turns away. Then comes back). Get up. (Pulls her on to her + feet.) Do you love the King? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Do I love him? I am a motherless child, and have lived alone with + a father who has been constantly persecuted on account of his + principles; I shared his ideals from a very early age, and I have never + abandoned them since. Then one day I was given the chance of making + these ideals real. "What <i>I</i> long to do, <i>you</i> shall + accomplish!" he said. There is something great about that, Princess—something + all-powerful—a call from God Himself. Of that I am certain. + </p> + <p> + Princess. It is merely a rhapsody of the King's—nothing else! + </p> + <p> + Clara. Then I will make it real and live it! I have given my whole soul + to it, and have strengthened his to the same end. It has been my ideal + all my life. + </p> + <p> + Princess. And you believe that it will last? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Then let me beg you to believe this, too—it will last + until he has attained his end. + </p> + <p> + Clara. If you mean our marriage, let me tell you that <i>that</i> is not + our end. + </p> + <p> + Princess (in surprise). What is, then? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Our end is to accomplish something together. That task shall be + consecrated and ennobled by our love. Yes, you may look at me! Those + were his own words. + </p> + <p> + Princess. That answer!—That thought!—But what certainty have + you? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Of what? + </p> + <p> + Princess. That you did not put the thought into his mind?—and that + the fire in his soul may not flicker out? + </p> + <p> + Clara. If I needed any assurance, I should find it in the fact that he + changed his whole life for my sake; he waited for me for more than a + year. Has he ever done that for any one before? I am sure he has never + needed to! (The PRINCESS winces.) It is those who have seduced that + "ardent" temperament of his—you called it that yourself—that + are to blame, and not I, Princess! (A pause.) I checked him to the best + of my power when he came to me as he was wont to go to others. (A + pause.) Indeed it is no sacrifice to become his wife. When one loves, + there is no question of sacrifice. But the position in which I now stand + exposes me to more suspicion than the humblest of his subjects, to more + scorn than if I were his mistress. Think how you have spoken to me + to-day yourself, Princess! (A pause.) It is no sacrifice to endure such + things for the man one loves. It was not I that used the word + "sacrifice," either; and as for the sacrifice you implied that I ought + to have made, I don't wish to understand what you meant by that, even + though I am a woman as well as you! But if you knew, Princess, how hard + a fight I have been through before I found the strength to cast in my + lot with his, against my father's wish and against you all—you + would not have spoken to me about making a sacrifice. At all events you + would not have spoken to me as you have done to-day; because you are not + cruel, and I know that at bottom you mean me well. (A longer pause.) + </p> + <p> + Princess. This is more serious than I knew.—Poor child, your + disappointment will be all the more serious. + </p> + <p> + Clara. Not with him! + </p> + <p> + Princess (half to herself). Is it possible he can be so changed? Was + that what was needed to secure a hold on him—? (To CLARA.) Is he + coming here to fetch you? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Princess. What does he want to hold this court for? What is the good of + throwing down this challenge to all the dignitaries of his kingdom?—especially + if, after all, he means to live the life of an ordinary citizen? + </p> + <p> + Clara. He wished it. + </p> + <p> + Princess. An exciting episode in his rhapsody! Why did you not dissuade + him? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Because I agree with him. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Perhaps you don't fully realise what it means?—what + humiliation the King will have to undergo? + </p> + <p> + Clara. I only know that it seems to me that these things should be done + openly, and that he has plenty of courage. + </p> + <p> + Princess. That is mere bravado. Are you going in that dress?—to + court in that dress? (CLARA is silent.) I say it is mere bravado. + </p> + <p> + Clara. I have no better dress. + </p> + <p> + Princess. What do you mean? Surely the King can—? Are you jesting? + </p> + <p> + Clara (shyly). I do not allow the King to give me anything; not until—. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Doesn't he pay your expenses here, then? (Looks round the + room.) + </p> + <p> + Clara. No. + </p> + <p> + Princess. It is the Baroness? + </p> + <p> + Clara. She and I. We are both poor. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Ah, yes—she has lost her post now, hasn't she? + </p> + <p> + Clara. On my account—yes. And you, Princess, who have known her—for + she was once your governess—can you really suppose that she would + have been faithful to me if she did not trust me and feel that this was + right? You treated her so contemptuously when you came in. + </p> + <p> + Princess. I seem to have broken in upon the most incomprehensible + romance!—Then you love the King? (CLARA nods her head.) He knows + how to love, and make a woman happy! He is a dazzling creature!—We + shall see now whether you are to suffer for all the hearts he has + broken. You are not the first woman he has loved. + </p> + <p> + Clara. Princess! + </p> + <p> + Princess. Yes, let that sink into your mind! Your happiness is + embroidered with tears! + </p> + <p> + Clara. It is cruel of you to reproach me with it. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Forgive me! I really did not mean that.—But there is + still time to put on a more suitable dress. If you dare accept no gifts + from the King—you might from some one else? A King's bride is a + King's bride after all, you know! + </p> + <p> + Clara. He told me I should not need anything more than this. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Not in his eyes, I dare say. But we women know a little + better!—If it were only a necklace? Will you accept this one? + (Begins to unfasten hers.) + </p> + <p> + Clara. I knew you were kind.—But I daren't. + </p> + <p> + Princess. Why not? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Because—because people would think that—. (Bursts + into tears. A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Princess. Listen, my child. The whole thing is sheer lunacy; but—as + it cannot be altered—as soon as the court assembles I shall take + my place at your side and not leave you till it is all over. Tell the + King that! Good-bye! + </p> + <p> + Clara (going towards her). Princess! + </p> + <p> + Princess (kisses her, and whispers). Haven't you allowed him to kiss + you, either? + </p> + <p> + Clara (in a whisper). Yes, I have. + </p> + <p> + Princess (kissing her once snore). Love him! (The sound of carriage + wheels is heard. The BARONESS comes in.) + </p> + <p> + Baroness. I hear the King's carriage. + </p> + <p> + Princess. I don't wish to meet him. (Stretches out her hand to the + BARONESS.) Baroness! (Points to the door through which the BARONESS has + come in.) Can I get out that way? + </p> + <p> + Baroness. Yes. (She takes the PRINCESS out. A moment later the MAID + ushers in the KING, who is dressed in plain clothes and wearing no + decorations.) + </p> + <p> + The King. Clara! + </p> + <p> + Clara. My friend! (They embrace.) + </p> + <p> + The King. What does it mean? + </p> + <p> + Clara. What? + </p> + <p> + The King. The Princess' carriage here? + </p> + <p> + Clara. She told me to greet you. She has just gone, and— + </p> + <p> + The King. And—? + </p> + <p> + Clara. She said as soon as the court assembled she would take her place + beside me and stay there till we left the palace. + </p> + <p> + The King. Is it possible? + </p> + <p> + Clara. It is <i>true</i>. + </p> + <p> + The King. You have conquered her! I know she could be conquered—she + has a heart, as well as a head! It is a good omen!—So she offered + to do <i>that</i>! What will our precious nobility have to say to that? + </p> + <p> + Clara. They are about the streets, aren't they? + </p> + <p> + The King. Ah, then you know? + </p> + <p> + Clara. I know, too, that there has been rioting outside the club. + </p> + <p> + The King. You know that too?—and are not afraid? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Perhaps I might have been—but there is something else that + I am more afraid of. (Draws closer to the KING.) + </p> + <p> + The King. What is that? + </p> + <p> + Clara. You know. (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + The King. Have you been uneasy about him to-day too? + </p> + <p> + Clara. All day—incessantly. Something must have happened. + </p> + <p> + The King. Well, now I can tell you where he is. + </p> + <p> + Clara (eagerly). At last! Have you found him? + </p> + <p> + The King. Gran has been to see him. + </p> + <p> + Clara. Thank God! Is it far from here? + </p> + <p> + The King. This evening, immediately after the court, you and I will both + start for there in a special train. We shall be there early to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + Clara (throwing her arms round his neck). Thanks, thanks! How good you + are! Thanks! How is he? Is he ill! + </p> + <p> + The King. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Clara. I knew it? And implacable? + </p> + <p> + The King. Yes. + </p> + <p> + Clara. I feel it! (Nestles closer in his arms.) + </p> + <p> + The King. Are you afraid? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Yes! + </p> + <p> + The King. Dear, when you see him perhaps your fear will go. + </p> + <p> + Clara. Yes, only let me see him! Whatever he says, let me see him! + </p> + <p> + The King. Within twelve hours from now you shall! And I shall be with + you. + </p> + <p> + Clara. The finest thing about you is your kindness. Oh, I am so glad you + have come! I could not endure my fears any longer. + </p> + <p> + The King. There are dissensions going on about you! + </p> + <p> + Clara. Oh!—(Nestles in his arms again.) + </p> + <p> + The King. Bear up!—It will soon be over. + </p> + <p> + Clara. I believe it will. Yes, I know it will.—Let me walk about a + little! (The KING walks up and down with her.) + </p> + <p> + The King. And turn our thoughts to something else! Do you know where I + have come from? + </p> + <p> + Clara. Where? + </p> + <p> + The King. From our little house in the park. + </p> + <p> + Clara. Why, we drove past it yesterday! + </p> + <p> + The King. You will feel only <i>one</i> person's presence there! + Wherever you go, you will be surrounded by the thoughts I have had of + you there. If you look out of the window, or go out on to the balcony—on + every rock, by each turn of the stream—on the lawns, under the + trees, among the bushes—everywhere you will find a thousand + thoughts of you hidden. Breathe the words "my darling girl," and they + will all come clustering round you!—Let us sit down. + </p> + <p> + Clara. It is all like a fairy tale. + </p> + <p> + The King. And I am the latest fairy prince! (He sits down and draws her + on to his knee.) And you are the little maid who comes, led by good + fairies, to the enchanted castle to wake him. He has been kept asleep by + wicked spells for many, many years. + </p> + <p> + Clara. For many, many years! + </p> + <p> + The King. I am not really <i>I</i>, nor you <i>you</i>. The monarch was + bewitched long ago. He was turned into a wild beast who gave reign to + his passion by night and slept by day. And now the maiden of humble + degree has become a woman and freed him from the spells. + </p> + <p> + Clara. Really! Ah, you are so clever at inventing things to cheat my + fears away from me. And you always succeed. But after all, you know, I + have no strength and no courage; I am so weak. + </p> + <p> + The King. You have more strength than I!—more than any one I have + ever known. + </p> + <p> + Clara. No, don't say that; but—you may be sure of this!—if I + did not feel that I had <i>some</i> strength I would never try to throw + in my lot with yours. + </p> + <p> + The King. I will explain to you what you are! Some people are + tremendously more spiritual, more delicately constituted than others; + and they are a hundred times more sensitive. And they fancy that is + weakness. But it is just they who draw their strength from <i>deeper</i> + sources, through a thousand imperceptible channels. You will often find + them with heads erect and valiant when others have gone under; they + merely bend before the storm, with supple strength, when others break + under it. You are like that! + </p> + <p> + Clara. You are very ingenious when you start explaining me! + </p> + <p> + The King. Well, listen to this! At the time when I was behaving so badly + to you, your terror, every time I approached you, was so piteous that it + was always before my eyes and rang in my ears like a cry of agony from a + wounded heart. It is true! It filled me with terror, too. Do you call + that weakness, to feel things so intensely that another person is + influenced by your feelings against his will? + </p> + <p> + Clara. No. + </p> + <p> + The King. And then, when I found you again—the way you listened to + me— + </p> + <p> + Clara (stopping him with a kiss). Don't let us talk about it now! + </p> + <p> + The King. What shall we talk about, then? It is a little too early to + start yet.—Ah, I have it! We will talk about the impression you + will make this evening when you come forward through the brightly lit + rooms, radiant against the background of ugly calumny! That was prettily + put, wasn't it? "Is <i>that</i> she?" they will think. And then + something will come into their eyes that will cheat them into thinking + that pearls and gold are strewn over your hair, over your dress, over + your— + </p> + <p> + Clara (putting her hand over his mouth). No, no, no! Now I am going to + tell you a little story! + </p> + <p> + The King. Tell away! + </p> + <p> + Clara. When I was a child, I saw a balloon being filled one day, and + there was a horrible smell from the gas. Afterwards, when I saw the + gleaming balloon rising in the air, I thought to myself: "Ah, that + horrid smell was something burning; they had to burn it for the balloon + to be able to rise." And after that, every time I heard anything horrid + said about my father, I felt as if something was burning inside me, and + I thought of the balloon and imagined I could smell the smell. And then + all at once I imagined I saw it rising; the horrid part was burnt, and + it was able to mount aloft! I assure you that balloon was a good genius + to me. And now, years afterwards, when I have been a target for calumny + myself—and you for my sake—I have felt just the same thing. + Every word has burned; but I have got over it in a moment, and risen + high, high above it all! I never seem to breathe so pure an atmosphere + as a little while after something cruel has been said of me. + </p> + <p> + The King. I shall certainly set to work and abuse you at once, if it has + such delightful results! I will begin with a selection from to-day's + papers: "You Aspasia! You Messalina! You Pompadour! You Phylloxera, that + are eating into our whole moral vine-crop! You blue-eyed curse of the + country, that are causing panics in the money-market, overthrowing + ministries, and upsetting all calculations in the elections! You + mischievous hobgoblin, who are pouring gall into the printers' ink and + poison into the people's coffee, filling all the old ladies' heads with + buzzing flies, and the King's Majesty with a million lover's follies!" + Do you know that, besides all the harm you are doing to-day, you are + hastening a revolution by ten years? You are! And no one can be sure + whether you haven't been pursuing the same wicked courses for the last + hundred years or more! All our royal and noble ancestors are turning in + their graves because of you! And if our deceased queens have any noses + left— + </p> + <p> + Clara (interrupting him). The Baroness! (They get up. The BARONESS comes + in wearing a cloak over her court dress and carrying CLARA'S cloak over + her arm.) + </p> + <p> + Baroness. I must take the liberty of disturbing you. Time is up! + </p> + <p> + The King. We have been killing it by talking nonsense. + </p> + <p> + Baroness. And that has put you in a good humour? + </p> + <p> + The King (taking his hat). In the best of humours! Here, my darling + (fastens CLARA'S cloak about her shoulders), here is the last scandalous + bit of concealment for you! When we take it off again, you shall stand + radiant in the light of your own truth. Come! (Gives her his arm, and + they go trippingly up to the back of the room. Suddenly the phantom of + an emaciated figure leaning on crutches appears in their path, staring + at them. His hair and beard are in wild disorder, and blood is pouring + from his mouth. CLARA gives a terrified scream.) + </p> + <p> + The King. In Heaven's name, what is it? + </p> + <p> + Clara. My father! + </p> + <p> + The King. Where? (To the BARONESS.) Go and see! (The BARONESS opens the + doors at the back and looks out). + </p> + <p> + Baroness. I can see no one. + </p> + <p> + The King. Look down the corridor! + </p> + <p> + Baroness. No—no one there, either! (CLARA has sunk lifelessly into + the KING'S arms. After one or two spasmodic twitchings of her hands, her + arms slip away from him and her head falls back.) + </p> + <p> + The King. Help, help! + </p> + <p> + The Baroness (rushing to him with a shriek). Clara! + </p> + <p> + Curtain. + </p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT IV + </h2> + <p> + (SCENE.—A room in GRAN's house; the same as in Act I, Scene II. + GRAN is standing at his desk on the right. FLINK comes in carrying a + pistol-case, which he puts down upon the table.) + </p> + <p> + Gran. You? + </p> + <p> + Flink. As you see. (Walks up and down for a little without speaking.) + </p> + <p> + Gran. I haven't seen you since the day the King was here. + </p> + <p> + Flink. No.—Have you taken your holidays? + </p> + <p> + Gran. Yes; but, anyway, I am likely to have perpetual holidays now! The + elections are going against us. + </p> + <p> + Flink (walking about). So I hear. The clerical party and the + reactionaries are winning. + </p> + <p> + Gran. That would not have been so, but for her unhappy death—. + (Breaks off, and sighs.) + </p> + <p> + Flink. A judgment from heaven—that is what the parsons say, and + the women, and the reactionaries— + </p> + <p> + Gran.—and the landlords. And they really believe it. + </p> + <p> + Flink (stopping). Well, don't you believe it? + </p> + <p> + Gran (after a pause). At all events I interpret it differently from— + </p> + <p> + Flink.—from the parson? Naturally. But can any one doubt the fact + that it was the finger of fate? + </p> + <p> + Gran. Then fate assumed her father's shape? + </p> + <p> + Flink. Whether her father appeared to her at the moment of his death or + not (shrugs his shoulders) is a matter in which I am not interested. I + don't believe in such things. But that she was suffering pangs of + conscience, I do believe. I believe it may have brought painful visions + before her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Gran. I knew her pretty well, and I will answer for it she had no guilty + conscience. She was approaching her task with enthusiasm. Any one that + knew her will tell you the same. With her the King was first and + foremost. + </p> + <p> + Flink. What did she die of, then? Of enthusiasm? + </p> + <p> + Gran. Of being overwrought by the force of her emotions. Her task was + too great for her. The time was not ripe for it. (Sadly.) Our experiment + was bound to fail. + </p> + <p> + Flink. You condemn it when you say that!—But with her last breath + she called out: "My father!" And, just at that moment, he died, fifty + miles away from her. Either she <i>saw</i> him, or she <i>imagined</i> + she saw him, standing before her. But his bloodstained, maltreated, + crippled form standing in the way of her criminal advance towards the + throne—is that not a symbol of maltreated humanity revolting + against monarchy at the very moment when monarchy wishes to atone! Its + guilt through thousands of years is too black. Fate is inflexible. + </p> + <p> + Gran. But with what result? Are we rid of monarchy yet? + </p> + <p> + Flink. We are rid of that treacherous attempt to reconcile it with + modern conditions. Thank God it emerges, hand in glove with the parsons + and reactionaries, none the worse for its temporary eclipse. + </p> + <p> + Gran. So everything is all right, I suppose? + </p> + <p> + Flink. For the moment—yes. But there used to exist here a strong + republican party, which enjoyed universal respect, and was making + extraordinary progress. Where is it now? + </p> + <p> + Gran. I knew that was why you came. + </p> + <p> + Flink. I have come to call you to account. + </p> + <p> + Gran. If I had been in your place I would not have acted so, towards a + defeated and wounded friend. + </p> + <p> + Flink. The republican party has often been defeated—but never + despised till now. Who is to blame for that? + </p> + <p> + Gran. None of us ever think we deserve contempt. + </p> + <p> + Flink. A traitor always deserves it. + </p> + <p> + Gran. It is but a step from the present state of things to a republic; + and we shall have to take that step in the end. + </p> + <p> + Flink. But at least we can do so without treachery. + </p> + <p> + Gran. I honestly believe that what we did was right. It may have + miscarried the first time, and may miscarry a second and a third; but it + is the only possible solution. + </p> + <p> + Flink. You pronounced your doom in those words. + </p> + <p> + Gran (more attentively). What do you mean by that? + </p> + <p> + Flink. We must make sure that such an attempt will not be made again. + </p> + <p> + Gran. So that is it.—I begin to understand you now. + </p> + <p> + Flink. The republican party is broken up. For a generation it will be + annihilated by contempt. But a community without a republican party must + be one without ideals and without any aspirations towards truth in its + political life—and in other respects as well! That is what you are + responsible for. + </p> + <p> + Gran. You pay me too great a compliment. + </p> + <p> + Flink. By no means! Your reputation, your personal qualities and + associations are what have seduced them. + </p> + <p> + Gran. Listen to me for a moment! You used to overrate me in the hopes + you had of me. You are overrating me now in your censure. You are + overrating the effects of our failure—you never seem to be able to + do anything but overshoot your mark. For that reason you are a danger to + your friends. You lure them on. When things go well you lure them on to + excess of activity; when things go ill, you turn their despondency into + despair. Your inordinate enthusiasm obscures your wits. <i>You</i> are + not called upon to sit in judgment upon any one; because you draw the + pure truths that lie hidden in your soul into such a frenzied vortex of + strife that you lose sight of them; and then they have so little of + truth left in them that in your hands they can be answerable for crimes. + </p> + <p> + Flink. Oh, spare me your dialectics!—because any skill you have in + them, <i>I</i> taught you! You cannot excuse your own sins by running + over the list of mine; that is the only answer I have to make to you! I + don't stand before you as the embodiment of truth; I am no braggart. No; + but simply as one who has loved you deeply and now is as deeply offended + by you, I ask this question of your conscience: What have you done with + the love we had for one another? Where is the sacred cause we both used + to uphold? Where is our honour—our friends—our future? + </p> + <p> + Gran. I feel respect for your sorrow. Can you not feel any for mine? Or + do you suppose that I am not suffering? + </p> + <p> + Flink. You cannot act as you have done without bringing unhappiness upon + yourself. But there are others to be considered besides you, and we have + the right to call you to account. Answer me! + </p> + <p> + Gran. And is it really you—you, my old friend—that propose + to do that? + </p> + <p> + Flink. God knows I would sooner some one else did it! But none can do it + so fitly as I—because no one else has loved you as I have. I + expected too much of you, you say? The only thing I wanted of you was + that you should be faithful! I had so often been disappointed; but in + you and your quiet strength I thought I had splendid security that, as + long as you lived, our cause would bear itself proudly and confidently. + It was your prestige that brought it into being; your wealth that + supported it. It did not cry aloud for the blood of martyrs!—You + were the happiness of my life; my soul renewed its strength from yours. + </p> + <p> + Gran. Old friend—! + </p> + <p> + Flink. I was old, and you were young! Your nature was a harmonious whole—it + was what I needed to lean upon. + </p> + <p> + Gran. Flink, my dear old friend—! + </p> + <p> + Flink. And now, here you stand—a broken man, and our whole cause + broken with you; all our lives broken—at least mine is— + </p> + <p> + Gran. Don't say that! + </p> + <p> + Flink. You have destroyed my faith in mankind—and in myself, for I + see what a mistake I made; but it will be the last I shall make! I took + you to my heart of hearts—and now, the only thing I can do is to + call you to account! + </p> + <p> + Gran. What do you want me to do? Tell me! + </p> + <p> + Flink. We must stand face to face—armed! You must die! (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + Gran (without seeming greatly surprised). Of the two of us, it will go + hardest with you, old friend. + </p> + <p> + Flink. You think your aim will be the surer of the two? (Goes towards + the table.) + </p> + <p> + Gran. I was not thinking of that—but of what your life would be + afterwards. I know you. + </p> + <p> + Flink (opening the pistol-case). You need not be anxious! My life + afterwards will not be a long one. What you have done has robbed me of + anything to live for in this generation, and I don't aspire to live till + the next. So it is all over and done with! (Takes up the pistols.) + </p> + <p> + Gran. Do you mean <i>here</i>—? + </p> + <p> + Flink. Why not? We are alone here. + </p> + <p> + Gran. The King is asleep in the next room. (Points to the door near his + desk.) + </p> + <p> + Flink. The King here? + </p> + <p> + Gran. He came here to-night. + </p> + <p> + Flink. Well, it will wake him up; he will have to wake up some time, any + way. + </p> + <p> + Gran. It would be horrible! No! + </p> + <p> + Flink. Indeed? It is for his sake you have betrayed me. You did that as + soon as ever you met him again. He has bewitched you. Let him hear and + see what he has done! (Holds out the pistols.) Here! + </p> + <p> + Gran. Wait. What you have just said brings a doubt into my mind. Is not + revenge, after all, the motive for what you are doing? + </p> + <p> + Flink. Revenge? + </p> + <p> + Gran. Yes. Don't misunderstand me; I am not trying to shuffle out of it. + If I were free to choose, I would choose death rather than anything + else. The King knows that, too. But I ask because there ought to be some + serious reason for anything that may happen. I am not going to stand up + and face a sentiment of revenge that is so ill-grounded. + </p> + <p> + Flink (laying the pistols down). I hate the man who has led you astray—that + is true. When I was giving you the reasons why I took upon myself the + task of calling you to account, perhaps I forgot that. I hate him. But + the instrument that carries out a sentence is one thing; the sentence + itself is quite another. You arc sentenced to death because you have + betrayed our cause—and because you say that you were right to do + so. The world shall learn what that costs. It costs a man's life. + </p> + <p> + Gran. So be it! + </p> + <p> + Flink. The pistols are loaded. I loaded them myself. I imagine that you + still have trust in my honour? + </p> + <p> + Gran (with a smile). Indeed I have. + </p> + <p> + Flink. One of them has a blank cartridge in it; the other is fully + loaded. Choose! + </p> + <p> + Gran. But what do you mean? Suppose I were to—? + </p> + <p> + Flink. Don't be afraid! Heaven will decide! <i>You</i> will not choose + the fully loaded one!—We shall stand face to face. + </p> + <p> + Gran. You are settling everything—the sentence, the challenge, the + choice of weapons, the regulations for the duel—! + </p> + <p> + Flink. Are you dissatisfied with that? + </p> + <p> + Gran. By no means! You are quite welcome! We are to have no seconds? So + be it. But the place? + </p> + <p> + Flink. The place? Here! + </p> + <p> + Gran. Horrible! + </p> + <p> + Flink. Why? (Holds out the two pistols to him. The door to the left is + opened softly. ANNA looks in, sees what is going on, and rushes with a + pitiful attempt at a scream to GRAN, putting her arms round him + protectingly, and caressing him with every sign of the utmost terror.) + </p> + <p> + Gran (bending down and kissing her). She is right! Why should I die for + the sake of dull theories, when I can hold life in my arms as I do now? + A man who is loved has something left, after all. I won't die! + </p> + <p> + Flink. If you were not loved, my friend, you might be allowed to live. A + cry of sorrow will be heard throughout the land, from the King's palace + to the meanest hovel, when you have been shot. And that is just why I + must do it! The louder the cry of sorrow, the greater will be the + silence afterwards. And in that silence is to be found the answer to the + question "Why?" The people will not allow themselves to be cheated any + longer. + </p> + <p> + Gran. Horrible! I won't do it! (Lifts ANNA in his arms as if she were a + child.) + </p> + <p> + Flink (going up to him). It is no mere theory that you are facing. Look + at me! + </p> + <p> + Gran. Old friend—<i>must</i> it be? + </p> + <p> + Flink. It <i>must</i>. I have nothing else left to do. + </p> + <p> + Gran. But not here. + </p> + <p> + Flink. Since it cannot be here, then come out into the park. (Puts the + pistols into their case.) You owe me that. + </p> + <p> + Gran (to ANNA). You must go, my dear! + </p> + <p> + Flink (putting the pistol-case under his arm). No, let her stay here. + But you come! (They all three move towards the door. ANNA will not let + GRAN go, and there is a struggle until he, half commanding and half + entreating, persuades her to stay behind. The two men go out, shutting + the door after them. She throws herself against the door, but it has + been locked on the outside. She sinks down to the floor in despair, then + gets up, as if struck by a sudden idea, rushes into the room on the + right, and almost immediately re-appears, dragging the KING after her. + He is only half-dressed and has no shoes on.) + </p> + <p> + The King. What is it? (A shot is heard.) What is it? (ANNA pulls him to + the door. He tries to open it, but in vain. She rushes to the window, + with the KING after her. Meanwhile the door is opened from outside, and + FALBE comes in, evidently overcome with emotion.) What is it, Falbe? + (ANNA runs out.) + </p> + <p> + Falbe. His Excellency the Minister of the Interior— + </p> + <p> + The King. Well, what of him? + </p> + <p> + Falbe.—has been assassinated! + </p> + <p> + The King. The Minister of the Interior?—Gran? + </p> + <p> + Falbe. Yes. + </p> + <p> + The King. Gran?—What did you say? + </p> + <p> + Falbe. He has been assassinated! + </p> + <p> + The King. Gran? Impossible!—Where? Why? I heard his voice only + just now, here! + </p> + <p> + Falbe. That fellow shot him—the grey-haired fellow—the + republican + </p> + <p> + The King. Flink? Yes, I heard his voice here too! + </p> + <p> + Falbe. It was in the park! I saw it myself! + </p> + <p> + The King. Saw it yourself? Wretch! (Rushes out.) + </p> + <p> + Falbe. How could I prevent a madman—? (Follows the KING. The door + stands open, and through it a man is seen running past, calling out: + "Where?" Others follow him, and amidst the sound of hurrying feet, cries + are heard of "Good God!"—"In the park, did you say?"—"A + doctor! Fetch a doctor!"—"Who did it?"—"That fellow running + towards the river!"—"After him! After him!"—"Fetch a barrow + from the works!"—After a while the KING returns alone, looking + distracted. He stands motionless and silent for some time.) + </p> + <p> + The King. What a happy smile there was on his face! Just as she smiled!—Yes, + it must be happiness! (Hides his face in his hands.) And he died for me + too! My two only—. (Breaks down.) So that is the price they have + to pay for loving me!—And at once! At once!—Of course! Of + course! (The sound of the crowd returning is heard, and cries of: "This + way!"—"Into the blue room!" Women and children come streaming in, + all in tears, surrounding ANNA and the men that are carrying GRAN'S + body, and follow them into the room on the left. Cries are heard of: + "Why should he die?"—"He was so good!"—"What had he done to + deserve it!"—"He was the best man in the world!") + </p> + <p> + The King. "He was the best man in the world!" Yes. And he died for my + sake! That means something good of me!—the best possible! Are they + two together now, I wonder? Oh, let me have a sign!—or is that too + much to ask? (The crowd come out again, sobbing and weeping, and cries + are heard of: "He looks so beautiful and peaceful!"—"I can't bring + myself to believe it!" When they see the KING, they hush their voices, + and all go out as quietly as they can. When they have gone out, the + MAYOR's voice is heard asking: "Is he in here?" and an answer: "No, in + the blue room, over there." Then the GENERAL'S voice: "And the murderer + escaped?"—An answer: "They are looking for him in the river!"—The + GENERAL'S voice: "In the river? Did he jump into the river?"—The + PRIEST's voice: "Shocking!" A few moments later the GENERAL with BANG, + the MAYOR, and the PRIEST come in from the other room. They stop on + seeing the KING, who is standing at the desk with his back to them, and + whisper.) + </p> + <p> + The General. Isn't that the King? + </p> + <p> + The Others. The King? + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. Is the King back? He must have come in the night! + </p> + <p> + Bang. Let me see!—I know him personally. + </p> + <p> + The General (holding him back). Of course it is the King. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. Really? + </p> + <p> + Bang. I recognise him by his agitation! It is he. + </p> + <p> + The General. Hush! Let us go quietly out again! (They begin to move + off.) + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. He is grieved. Naturally. + </p> + <p> + Bang. First of all her death; and then this—! + </p> + <p> + The Priest. It is the judgment of heaven! + </p> + <p> + The King (turning round). Who is that? What? (Comes forward.) Who said + that? (They all stop, take off their hats and bow.) Come back! (They + come back hastily.) Who said: "It is the judgment of heaven"? + </p> + <p> + The General. Your Majesty must forgive us—we were just taking a + little stroll; I am here to spend Christmas with my friend Mr. Bang, who + has a factory here—a branch of his works—and we happened to + meet the Mayor and the Priest, and we joined company—and were + strolling along when we heard a shot. A shot. We did not think anything + more about it till we came nearer here and saw people running, and heard + a great outcry and disturbance. Great disturbance—yes. We stopped, + of course, and came to see what it was. Came to see what it was, of + course. And they told us that the Minister of the Interior— + </p> + <p> + The King. What is all that to me! (The GENERAL bows.) Who said: "It is + the judgment of heaven"? (No one speaks.) Come, answer me! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. It was the Priest—I fancy. + </p> + <p> + The King (to the PRIEST). Haven't you the courage to tell me so + yourself? + </p> + <p> + The General. Probably our reverend friend is unaccustomed to find + himself in the presence of royalty. + </p> + <p> + The Priest. It is the first time that—that I have had the honour + of speaking to your Majesty—I did not feel self-possessed enough, + for the moment, to— + </p> + <p> + The King. But you were self-possessed enough when you said it! What did + you mean by saying it was "the judgment of heaven"?—I am asking + you what you meant by it. + </p> + <p> + The Priest. I really don't quite know—it slipped out— + </p> + <p> + The King. That is a lie! Some one said: "First of all her death, and + then this." And you said: "It is the judgment of heaven." + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. That is quite right, your Majesty. + </p> + <p> + The King. First of all <i>her</i> death? That meant the death of my + betrothed, didn't it? + </p> + <p> + Bang and The Priest. Yes, your Majesty. + </p> + <p> + The King. "And then <i>this</i>" meant my friend—my dear friend! + (With emotion.) Why did heaven condemn these two to death? (A pause.) + </p> + <p> + The General. It is most regrettable that we should, quite involuntarily, + have disturbed your Majesty at a moment when your Majesty's feelings + are, naturally, so overcome— + </p> + <p> + The King (interrupting him). I asked you why heaven condemned these two + to death. (To the VICAR.) You are a clergyman; cudgel your brains! + </p> + <p> + The Priest. Well, your Majesty, I was thinking that—I meant that—that + heaven had in a miraculous way checked your Majesty— + </p> + <p> + The General. "Ventured to check" would be more suitable, I think. + </p> + <p> + The Priest.—from continuing in a course which many people thought + so unfortunate—I mean, so fatal to the nation, and the church; had + checked your Majesty— + </p> + <p> + The General (in an undertone). Ventured to check. + </p> + <p> + The Priest.—by taking away from your Majesty the two persons who—the + two persons who—in the first place the one who— + </p> + <p> + The King. The one who—? + </p> + <p> + The Priest. Who was— + </p> + <p> + The King. Who was—? A harlot that wanted to sit on the throne? + </p> + <p> + The Priest. Those are your Majesty's word, not mine. (Wipes his + forehead.) + </p> + <p> + The King. Confess that they express what you meant! + </p> + <p> + The Priest. I confess that I have heard—that people say—that— + </p> + <p> + The King. Pray to heaven that for a single day your thoughts may be as + pure as hers were every day. (Bursts into tears. Then says impetuously.) + How long have you been a clergyman? + </p> + <p> + The Priest. Fifteen years, your Majesty. + </p> + <p> + The King. Then you were already ordained at the time when I was leading + a dissolute life. Why did you never say anything to me then? + </p> + <p> + The Priest. My most gracious King— + </p> + <p> + The King. God is the only "most gracious King"! Do not speak blasphemy! + </p> + <p> + The Priest. It was not my duty to— + </p> + <p> + The General. Our friend is not a court chaplain. He has merely a parish + in the town here— + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. And his work lies chiefly among the factory hands. + </p> + <p> + The King. And so it is not your duty to speak the truth to me—but + to attack my dear dead friends by prating about heaven's judgment and + repeating vile lies? Is that your duty? + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. I only had the honour to know one of the—the deceased. + Your Majesty honoured him with your friendship; the greatest honour a + subject can enjoy. I should like to say that one would rarely find a + nobler heart, a loftier mind, or more modest fidelity, than his. + </p> + <p> + The General. I should like, if I may make so bold, to make use of the + opportunity chance has afforded me of associating myself with my + sovereign's sorrow, a sorrow for which his whole people must feel the + deepest respect, but especially those who, in consequence of their high + position, are more particularly called upon to be the pillars of the + monarchy; to use this opportunity, I say—and to do so, I know, as + the representative of many thousands of your Majesty's subjects—to + voice the sympathy, the unfeigned grief, that will be poured forth at + the news of this new loss which has wrung your Majesty's heart—a + loss which will reawaken consternation in the country and make it more + than ever necessary to take the severest possible measures against a + party to which nothing is sacred, neither the King's person nor the + highest dignities of office nor the inviolability of the home—a + party whose very existence depends on sedition and ought no longer to be + tolerated, but ought, as the enemy of the throne and of society, to be + visited with all the terrors of the law, until— + </p> + <p> + The King. What about compassion, my friend? + </p> + <p> + The General. Compassion? + </p> + <p> + The King. Not for the republicans—but for me! + </p> + <p> + The General. It is just the compassion which the whole nation will feel + for your Majesty that compels me, in spite of everything, to invoke the + intervention of justice at this particular crisis! Terror— + </p> + <p> + The King.—must be our weapon? + </p> + <p> + The General. Yes! Can any one imagine a more priceless proof of the care + that a people have for their King, than for the gravely anxious tones of + their voice to be heard, at this solemn moment, crying: Down with the + enemies of the throne! + </p> + <p> + The King (turning away). No, <i>I</i> haven't thews and sinews for that + lie! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. I must say I altogether agree with the General. The feeling + of affection, gratitude, esteem— + </p> + <p> + The General.—the legacy of devotion that your Majesty's ancestors + of blessed memory— + </p> + <p> + The King (to the Priest). You, sir—what does my ancestors being + "of blessed memory" mean? + </p> + <p> + The Priest (after a moment's thought). It is a respectful manner of + alluding to them, your Majesty. + </p> + <p> + The King. A respectful lie, you mean. (A pause. ANNA comes out of the + room on the left and throws herself at the KING'S feet, embracing his + knees in despairing sorrow.) Ah, here comes a breath of truth!—And + you come to me, my child, because you know that we two can mourn + together. But I do not weep, as you do; because I know that for a long + time he had been secretly praying for death. He has got his wish now. So + you must not weep so bitterly. You must wish what he wished, you know. + Ah, what grief there is in her eyes! (Sobs.) + </p> + <p> + (The GENERAL signs to the others that they should all withdraw quietly, + without turning round. They gradually do so; but the KING looks up and + perceives what they are doing.) + </p> + <p> + The General. Out of respect for your Majesty's grief, we were going to— + </p> + <p> + The King. Silence! With my hand on the head of this poor creature, who + used to trust so unassumingly and devotedly to his goodness of heart, I + wish to say something in memory of my friend. (ANNA clings to him, + weeping. The others come respectfully nearer, and wait.) Gran was the + richest man in the country. Why was it that he had no fear of the + people? Why was it that he believed that its salvation lay in the + overthrow of the present state of affairs? + </p> + <p> + Bang. Mr. Gran, with all his great qualities, was a visionary. + </p> + <p> + The King. He had not inherited all of his vast fortune; he had amassed a + great part of it himself. + </p> + <p> + Bang. As a man of business, Mr. Gran was beyond all praise. + </p> + <p> + The King. And yet a visionary? The two things are absolutely + contradictory.—You once called me "the padlock on your cash-box." + </p> + <p> + Bang. I allowed myself, with all respect, to make that jest—which, + nevertheless, was nothing but the serious truth! + </p> + <p> + The King. Why did he, who has met his death, consider that the security + for <i>his</i> cash-box came from those <i>below</i> him, as long as he + did what was right, and not from those above him? Because he understood + the times. No question of selfishness stood in the way of his doing + that.—That is my funeral oration over him!—(To ANNA.) Get + up, my dear! Did you understand what I was saying? Do not weep so! (She + clings to him, sobbing.) + </p> + <p> + The Priest. He was a very great man! When your Majesty speaks so, I + fully recognise it. But your Majesty may be certain that, though we may + not have been so fortunate as to see so far ahead and so clearly—though + our mental horizon may be narrow—we are none the less loyal to + your Majesty for that, nor less devoted! It is our duty as subjects to + say so, although your Majesty in your heaviness of heart seems to forget + it-seems to forget that we, too, look for everything from your Majesty's + favour, wisdom and justice. (Perspires freely.) + </p> + <p> + The King. It is very strange! My dear friend never said anything like + that to me. (A pause.) He had the most prosperous business in the + country. When I came to him and asked him to abandon it, he did so at + once. And in the end he died for me. That is the sort of man he was. (To + ANNA.) Go in to him, my dear! You are the very picture of dumb loyalty. + Although I do not deserve to have such as you to watch by my side, + still, for the sake of him who is dead, I shall have you to do so when I + too—. (Breaks off.) Yes, yes, go in there now! I shall come. Do + you understand? I shall come. (ANNA moves towards the other room.) + There, that's it! (He repeats his words to her every time she looks back + as she goes.) Yes, directly!—That's it!—In a very little + while! Go now! + </p> + <p> + Bang. Excuse me, your Majesty, but it is terribly hot in here, and the + affection of my heart which troubles me is attacking me painfully. Will + your Majesty be pleased to allow me to withdraw? + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. With all respect, I should like to be allowed to make the + same request. Your Majesty is obviously very much upset, and I am sure + we are all unwilling that our presence—which, indeed, was + unintentional and unsought by us—should augment a distress of mind + which is so natural in one of your Majesty's noble disposition, and so + inevitable considering the deep sense of gratitude your Majesty must + feel towards a friend who— + </p> + <p> + The King (interrupting him). Hush, hush! Let us have a little respect + for the truth in the presence of the dead! Do not misunderstand me—I + do not mean to say that any of you would lie wilfully; but the + atmosphere that surrounds a king is infected. And, as regards that—just + a word or two. I have only a short time. But as a farewell message from + me— + </p> + <p> + The Priest. A farewell message? + </p> + <p> + The King.—give my greeting to what is called Christianity in this + country. Greet it from me! I have been thinking a great deal about + Christian folk lately. + </p> + <p> + The Priest. I am glad to hear it! + </p> + <p> + The King. Your tone jars on me! Greet those who call themselves + Christians—. Oh! come, come—don't crane your necks and bend + your backs like that, as if the most precious words of wisdom were about + to drop from my lips! (To himself.) Is it any use my saying anything + serious to them? (Aloud.) I suppose you are Christians? + </p> + <p> + The General. Why, of course! Faith is invaluable— + </p> + <p> + The King.—in preserving discipline? (To the Mayor.) How about you? + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. I was taught by my parents, of blessed memory— + </p> + <p> + The King. Oh, so they are "of blessed memory" too, are they? Well, what + did they teach you? + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. To fear God, honour the King— + </p> + <p> + The King.—and love the brotherhood! You are a public official, Mr. + Mayor. That is what a Christian is, nowadays. (To BANG.) And you? + </p> + <p> + Bang. Of late I have been able to go so little to church, because of my + cough. And in that unwholesome atmosphere— + </p> + <p> + The King.—you go to sleep. But you are a Christian? + </p> + <p> + Bang. Undoubtedly! + </p> + <p> + The King (to the Priest). And you are one, of course? + </p> + <p> + The Priest. By the grace of God I hope so! + </p> + <p> + The King (snapping his fingers). Yes, that is the regulation formula, my + good fellow! You all answer by the card! Very well, then—you are a + community of Christians; and it is not my fault if such a community + refuses to take any serious interest in what really affects + Christianity. Tell it from me that it ought to keep an eye on the + monarchy. + </p> + <p> + The Priest. Christianity has nothing to do with such things. It concerns + only the souls of men! + </p> + <p> + The King (aside). That voice. (Aloud.) I know—it does not concern + itself with the air a patient breathes, but only with his lungs! + Excellent!—All the same, Christianity ought to keep an eye on the + monarchy. Ought to tear the falsehood away from it! Ought not to go in + crowds to stare at a coronation in a church, like apes grinning at a + peacock! I know what I felt at that moment. I had rehearsed it all once + that morning already—ha, ha! Ask your Christianity if it may not + be about time for it to interest itself a little in the monarchy? It + seems to me that it scarcely ought any longer to allow monarchy, like a + seductive harlot, to keep militarism before the people's eyes as an + ideal—seeing that that is exactly contrary to the teachings of + Christianity, or to encourage class divisions, luxury, hypocrisy and + vanity. Monarchy has become so all-pervading a lie that it infects even + the most upright of men. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. But I don't understand, your Majesty! + </p> + <p> + The King. Don't you? You are an upright man yourself, Mr. Mayor—a + most worthy man. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. I do not know whether your Majesty is pleased to jest again? + </p> + <p> + The King. In sober earnest, I say you are one of the most upright of + men. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. I cannot tell your Majesty how flattered I am to hear your + Majesty say so! + </p> + <p> + The King. Have you any decorations? + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. Your Majesty's government has not, so far, deigned to cast + their eyes on me. + </p> + <p> + The King. That fault will be repaired. Be sure of that! + </p> + <p> + The General (to the Mayor). To have that from his Majesty's own mouth is + equivalent to seeing it gazetted. I am fortunate to be able to be the + first to congratulate you! + </p> + <p> + Bang. Allow me to congratulate you also! + </p> + <p> + The Priest. And me too! I have had the honour of working hand in hand + with you, Mr. Mayor, for many years; I know how well deserved such a + distinction is. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. I feel quite overcome; but I must beg to be allowed to lay my + thanks at your Majesty's feet. I trust I shall not prove unworthy of the + distinction. One hesitates to make such confessions—but I am a + candid man, and I admit that one of the chief aims of my ambition has + been to be allowed some day to participate in— + </p> + <p> + The King (interrupting him).—in this falsehood. That just points + my moral. As long as even upright men's thoughts run in that mould, + Christianity cannot pretend to have any real hold on the nation. As for + your decoration, you are quite sure to get one from my successor.—In + a word, Christianity must tackle monarchy! And if it cannot tear the + falsehood from it without destroying it, then let it destroy it! + </p> + <p> + The General. Your Majesty! + </p> + <p> + The King (turning to him). The same thing applies to a standing army, + which is a creation of monarchy's. I do not believe that such an + institution—with all its temptations to power, all its inevitable + vices and habits—could be tolerated if Christianity were a living + thing. Away with it! + </p> + <p> + The Priest. Really, your Majesty—! + </p> + <p> + The King (turning to him). The same applies to an established church—another + of monarchy's creations! If we had in our country a Christianity worth + the name, that salvation trade would stink in men's nostrils. Away with + it! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor (reproachfully). Oh, your Majesty! + </p> + <p> + The King (turning on him). The same applies to the artificial disparity + of circumstances that you prate about with tears in your eyes! I heard + you once. Class distinctions are fostered by monarchy. + </p> + <p> + Bang. But equality is an impossibility! + </p> + <p> + The King. If <i>you</i> would only make it possible—which it can + be made—even the socialists would cease to clamour for anything + else. I tell you this: Christianity has destroyed ideals. Christianity + lives on dogmas and formulas, instead of on ideals. + </p> + <p> + The Priest. Its ideals lead us away from earth to heaven— + </p> + <p> + The King. Not in a balloon, even if it were stuffed full of all the + pages of the Bible! Christianity's ideals will lead to heaven only when + they are realised on earth—never before. + </p> + <p> + The Priest. May I venture to say that Christianity's ideal is a pious + life. + </p> + <p> + The King. Yes. But does not Christianity aim at more than that, or is it + going to be content with making some few believers? + </p> + <p> + The Priest. It is written: "Few are chosen." + </p> + <p> + The King. Then it has given up the job in advance? + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. I think our friend is right, that Christianity has never + occupied itself with such things as your Majesty demands of it. + </p> + <p> + The King. But what I mean is, could it not bring itself to do so? + </p> + <p> + The Priest. If it did, it would lose sight of its <i>inner</i> aim. The + earliest communities are the model for a Christian people! + </p> + <p> + The King (turning away from him). Oh, have any model you like, so long + as it leads to something! + </p> + <p> + The General. I must say I am astonished at the penetration your Majesty + slows even into the deepest subjects. + </p> + <p> + Bang. Yes, I have never heard anything like it! I have not had the + advantage of a university education, so I don't really understand it. + </p> + <p> + The King. And to think that I imagined that I should find my allies, my + followers, in Christian people! One is so reluctant to give up <i>all</i> + hope! I thought that a Christian nation would storm the strongholds of + lies in our modern, so-called Christian communities—storm them, + capture them!—and begin with monarchy, because that would need + most courage, and because its falsehood lies deepest and goes farthest. + I thought that Christianity would one day prove to be the salt of the + earth. No, do <i>not</i> greet Christianity from me. I have said + nothing, and do not mean it. I am what men call a betrayed man—betrayed + by all the most ideal powers of life. There! Now I have done! + </p> + <p> + The General. But what does your Majesty mean? Betrayed? By whom? Who are + the traitors? Really—! + </p> + <p> + The King. Pooh! Think it over!—As a matter of fact I am the only + one that has been foolish. + </p> + <p> + Bang. Your Majesty, just now you were so full of vigour—! + </p> + <p> + The King. Don't let that astonish you, my friend! I am a mixture of + enthusiasm and world-weariness; the scion of a decrepit race is not + likely to be any better than that, you know! And as for being a reformer—! + Ha, ha! Well, I thank you all for having listened to me so patiently. + Whatever I said had no significance—except perhaps that, like the + oysters, I had to open my shell before I died.—Good-bye! + </p> + <p> + The General. I really cannot find it in my heart to leave your Majesty + when your Majesty is in so despondent a humour. + </p> + <p> + The King. I am afraid you will have to try, my gallant friend!—Don't + look so dejected, Mr. Mayor!—Suppose some day serious-minded men + should feel just as humiliated at such falsehoods existing as you do now + because you have not been allowed to participate in them. I might + perhaps be able to endure being king then! But as things are now, I am + not strong enough for the job. I feel as if I had been shouldered out of + actual life on to this strip of carpet that I am standing on! That is + what my attempts at reform have ended in! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. May I be allowed to say that the impression made on my mind + by the somewhat painful scene we have just gone through is that your + Majesty is overwrought. + </p> + <p> + The King. Mad, you mean? + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. God forbid I should use such a word of my King! + </p> + <p> + The King. Always punctilious!—Well, judging by the fact that every + one else considers themselves sane, I must undoubtedly be the mad one. + It is as simple as a sum in arithmetic.—And, in all conscience, + isn't it madness, when all is said and done, to take such trifles so + much to heart?—to bother about a few miserable superannuated forms + that are not of the slightest importance?—a few venerable, + harmless prejudices?—a few foolish social customs and other + trumpery affairs of that sort? + </p> + <p> + The General. Quite so! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. Your Majesty is absolutely right! + </p> + <p> + Bang. I quite agree! + </p> + <p> + The Priest. It is exactly what I have been thinking all the time. + </p> + <p> + The King. And probably we had better add to the list certain extravagant + ideas—perhaps even certain dangerous ideas, like mine about + Christianity? + </p> + <p> + The Priest (hastily and impressively). Your Majesty is mistaken on the + subject of Christianity. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. Christianity is entirely a personal matter, your Majesty. + </p> + <p> + The General. Your Majesty expects too much of it. Now, as a comfort for + the dying—! + </p> + <p> + The King. And a powerful instrument of discipline. + </p> + <p> + The General (smiling). Ah, your Majesty! + </p> + <p> + Bang (confidentially). Christianity is no longer such a serious matter + nowadays, except for certain persons—. (Glances at the PRIEST.) + </p> + <p> + The King. All I have to say on the head of such unanimous approval is + this: that in such a shallow society, where there is no particular + distinction between lies and truth, because most things are mere forms + without any deeper meaning—where ideals are considered to be + extravagant, dangerous things—it is not so <i>very</i> amusing to + be alive. + </p> + <p> + The General. Oh, your Majesty! Really, you—! Ha, ha, ha! + </p> + <p> + The King. Don't you agree with me?—Ah, if only one could grapple + with it!—but we should need to be many to do that, and better + equipped than I am. + </p> + <p> + The General. Better equipped than your Majesty? Your Majesty is the most + gifted man in the whole country! + </p> + <p> + All. Yes! + </p> + <p> + The General. Yes—your Majesty must excuse me—I spoke + involuntarily! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. There was a tone running through all your Majesty said that + seemed to suggest that your Majesty was contemplating—. (Breaks + off.) + </p> + <p> + The King.—going away? Yes. + </p> + <p> + All. Going away? + </p> + <p> + The General. And abdicating? For heaven's sake, your Majesty—! + </p> + <p> + Bang. That would mean handing us over to the crown prince—the + pietist! + </p> + <p> + The Priest (betraying his pleasure in spite of himself). And his mother! + </p> + <p> + The King. You are pleased at the idea, parson! It will be a sight to see + her and her son prancing along, with all of you in your best clothes + following them! Hurrah! + </p> + <p> + The General. Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! + </p> + <p> + Bang. Ha-ha-ha! (Coughs.) I get such a cough when I laugh. + </p> + <p> + The King (seriously). I had no intention of provoking laughter in the + presence of death. I can hear the sounds of mourning through the open + door. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. With all due respect to the church—the vast majority of + the nation have no desire for things to come to <i>that</i>—to the + accession of a pietist to the throne. If your Majesty threatens to + abdicate you will have us all at your feet. + </p> + <p> + The General (with decision). The accession of a new king just now would + be universally considered a national calamity. I will wager my life on + that! + </p> + <p> + Bang. And I too! + </p> + <p> + The King. My excellent friends—you must take the consequences of + your actions! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor (despairingly). But <i>this</i>! Who ever imagined such a + thing? + </p> + <p> + The General and Bang. No one—no one! + </p> + <p> + The King. So much the worse. What is it you are asking me to do? To stay + where I am, so as to keep another man down? Is that work for a man? + Shame! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor (in distress). We ask more than that! Your Majesty is making a + fatal mistake! The whole of your Majesty's dissatisfaction springs from + the fact that you believe yourself to be deserted by your people because + the elections are going contrary to what your Majesty had hoped. Nothing + is further from the truth! The people fight shy of revolutionary ideas; + but they love their King! + </p> + <p> + Bang. They love their King! + </p> + <p> + The King. And that white dove, who came confidently to my hand—she + had some experience of what their love was! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. The King's associates may displease the people; ideas may + alter; but love for their King endures! + </p> + <p> + The Others. Endures! + </p> + <p> + The King. Cease! Cease! + </p> + <p> + The General (warmly). Your Majesty may command us to do anything except + refrain from giving utterance to a free people's freely offered homage + of devotion, loyalty, and love for its royal house! + </p> + <p> + The Mayor (emotionally). There is no one who would not give his life for + his King! + </p> + <p> + Bang, The General, and The Priest. No one! + </p> + <p> + The General. Try us! (They all press forward.) + </p> + <p> + The King. Done with you! (Takes a revolver from his pocket.) Since + yesterday I have carried this little thing in my pocket. (They all look + alarmed.) + </p> + <p> + The Priest. Merciful heavens! + </p> + <p> + The King (holding out the revolver to him). Will you die for me? If so, + I will continue to be King. + </p> + <p> + The Priest. I? What does your Majesty mean? It would be a great sin! + </p> + <p> + The King. You love me, I suppose? + </p> + <p> + All (desperately). Yes, your Majesty! + </p> + <p> + The King. Those who love, believe. Therefore, believe me when I say + this: If there is a single one of you who, without thinking twice about + it, will die for his King now—here—at once—then I + shall consider that as a command laid upon me to go on living and + working. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor (in a terrified whisper). He is insane! + </p> + <p> + The General (whispers). Yes! + </p> + <p> + The King. I can hear you!—But I suppose you love your King, even + if he is insane? + </p> + <p> + All (in agitated tones). Yes, your Majesty! + </p> + <p> + The King. Majesty, majesty! There is only One who has any majesty about + Him—certainly not a madman! But if I have been driven mad by the + lies that surround me, it would be a holy deed to make me sound again. + You said you would die for me. Redeem your words! That will make me well + again!—You, General? + </p> + <p> + The General. My beloved King, it would be—as our reverend friend + so aptly put it—a most dreadful sin. + </p> + <p> + The King. You have let slip a splendid opportunity for showing your + heroism.—You ought to have seen that I was only putting you to the + test!—Good-bye! (Goes into the room on the left.) + </p> + <p> + The General. Absolutely insane! + </p> + <p> + The Others. Absolutely. + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. Such great abilities, too! What might not have been made of + him! + </p> + <p> + Bang. The pity of it! + </p> + <p> + The Priest. I got so alarmed. + </p> + <p> + Bang. So did I! (A loud pistol-shot is heard.) + </p> + <p> + The Priest. Another shot? (A pitiful woman's cry is heard from the other + room.) + </p> + <p> + The Mayor. What on earth was that? + </p> + <p> + Bang. I daren't think! + </p> + <p> + The Priest. Nor I! (An old woman rushes out of the room on the left, + calling out: "Help!—Help!—The King!" and hurries out at the + back, calling: "The King! Help, help!" The GENERAL and the MAYOR rush + into the other room. Voices are heard outside asking: "The King?—Was + it the King?" The confusion and uproar grows. In the midst of it ANNA + comes stumbling out of the other room, her hands stretched out before + her, as if she did not know where she was going. The noise and confusion + grows louder every minute, and crowds of people come rushing into the + room from outside as the Curtain falls.) + </p> + <br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Three Dramas, by Björnstjerne M. 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