Berent. Of course I was only joking. (Gets up.)

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?

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.

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.

Berent. Thank you, but my health won't allow me such dissipations.

Tjaelde. Ha, ha!—Well, if I can be of any further service to you—?

Berent. I should be glad to have a talk with you before I leave, preferably as soon as possible.

Tjaelde (somewhat surprised). You mean, after you have received all the balance-sheets?

Berent. I have already managed to get most of them quietly, through Mr. Holst.

Tjaelde (more surprised). Oh—so you mean to-day—?

Berent. Would five o'clock suit you?

Tjaelde. I am quite at your disposal! I will give myself the pleasure of calling upon you at five.

Berent. No, I will come here at five o'clock. (Bows, and turns to go.)

Tjaelde (following him). But you are the invalid—the older man—and a distinguished man—

Berent. But you are at home here. Good-bye!

Tjaelde. Let me thank you for the honour you have done me by calling upon me!

Berent. Please don't bother to see me out.

Tjaelde. Allow me to escort you?

Berent. I can find the way quite well, thank you.

Tjaelde. No doubt, no doubt-but I should feel it an honour!

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.)

Tjaelde. Let me introduce—no, I am sure Mr. Berent needs no introduction. This is my youngest daughter—and her fiance, Lieutenant Hamar.

Berent. I thought your regiment was at the manoeuvres, Lieutenant?

Hamar. I have got furlough—

Berent. On account of urgent business, no doubt! Good day!

Tjaelde. Ha, ha, ha! (He and BERENT go down the steps.)

Hamar. Insolent fellow! But he is like that to every one.

Signe. Not to my father, as far as I could see.

Hamar. Your father is insolent too.

Signe. You shan't say such things of father!

Hamar. What else do you call it, to laugh at such impertinence as Berent's.

Signe. I call it good spirits! (Sits down in a rocking-chair and begins rocking herself.)

Hamar. Oh, then, so you—. You are not very agreeable to-day.

Signe (still rocking herself). No; do you know, sometimes I get so bored with you.

Hamar. Yet you won't let me go away?

Signe. Because I should be still worse bored without you.

Hamar. Let me tell you this, I am not going to put up much longer with the way I am treated here!

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.)

Hamar. Oh, I don't say anything about you; but look at Valborg! Look at your father! He hasn't even as much as offered me a mount on his new horse!

Signe. He has had something else to think about—possibly something even more important than that. (Goes on humming.)

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.

Signe. Ha, ha, ha!

Hamar. Does it seem so unreasonable to you?

Signe. Ha, ha, ha!

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.

Signe. And that is the reason why you should have it? Ha, ha, ha!

Hamar. I won't stand it!

Signe. The peerless lieutenant on the peerless horse! Ha, ha, ha!

Hamar. Signe, be quiet!

Signe. You are so funny! (Begins to hum again.)

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?

Signe. I should like to! (Goes on humming.)

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?

Signe (after looking at him for a moment). Oh, yes, my dear, you always have such delightful ideas!

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?

Signe. And then you would stay here all the summer?

Hamar. All the summer!

Signe. So as to break in the horse.

Hamar. Just to break in the horse!

Signe. And I would go with you into town in the autumn—that was what you said, wasn't it?

Hamar. Yes; wouldn't it be jolly?

Signe. Shall you take the bay horse to stay with your Aunt Ulla too?

Hamar (laughing). What?

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—

Hamar. But, Signe, what do you—?

Signe (beginning to rock herself furiously). Ugh! Go away!

Hamar. Jealous of a horse! Ha, ha, ha!

Signe. Go away to the stables.

Hamar. Is that meant for a punishment? Because it would be more amusing there than it is here.

Signe (throwing down her ring). There! Let your horse wear that!

Hamar. Every time you throw down that ring—

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.)

Hamar. You are such a spoilt child that it would be absurd to take everything you say seriously—

Signe. I am sick of that too, I tell you—for the hundred and twentieth time! Go away!

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?

Signe (jumping up). Oh, you make me want to shout and scream! I feel so ashamed of you! (Stamps her foot.) I despise you!

Hamar (laughing). And all on account of the horse?

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!

Hamar. Yes—and I have not picked up the ring this time, either!

Signe. Oh, do go!—go, go, go! (Bursts out crying and sits down.)

Hamar. All right!—I see the steamer in the distance; I shall go home at once.

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.)

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!

Signe. No, I won't!

Hamar. Signe, dear! What does this mean? What is it that I have done?

Signe. I don't know, but I am wretchedly unhappy! (Bursts into tears.)

Hamar. But you know that in the end I always do what you want? What more can you wish than that?

Signe. I can't help it, I wish I were dead! It is always the same thing! (In tears again.)

Hamar. But, Signe—you who have told me hundreds of times that you loved me!

Signe. And so I do. But sometimes our engagement seems horrible!—No, don't come near me!

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.)

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?

Signe. Father!

Tjaelde. Well, this is no time for tomfoolery of that sort! You must all do the honours of the house to-day. Tell Valborg—

Signe. Tell her yourself, please! You know Valborg only does just what she likes.

Tjaelde. Don't talk such rubbish! This is an important moment—and you will all do as 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!

Signe (stopping). Yes?

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?

Signe. But has mother enough in the house for so many?

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?

Signe (trying to repress her fears). But mother is feeling so ill to-day—

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!

Hamar (looking about). There is none here.

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?

Hamar. Do you mean the new lot?

Tjaelde. Yes.

Hamar. The Vicar praised it highly.

Tjaelde. Good. Well, then—

Hamar (writing). The Vicar.

Tjzlde. Mr. Ring.

Hamar. Mr. Ring.

Tjaelde. And—and—

Hamar. Mr. Holst?

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!

Hamar. Mr. Holm.

Tjaelde (to himself). Although Holm is a boor. Still, it will annoy Holst. (Aloud.) The Chief Constable.

Hamar. The Chief—

Tjaelde. No, strike out the Chief Constable.

Hamar. Chief Constable struck out.

Tjaelde. Have we got the Vicar down?

Hamar. He is number one on the list.

Tjaelde. Of course, yes.

Hamar. What about the Magistrate?

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."

Hamar. Knutzon with a "z."

Tjaelde. Oh!—and—Knudsen, too! Knudsen with an "s."

Hamar. Knudsen with an "s."

Tjaelde. How many have we got?

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.

Tjaelde. And Finne, you, and I make nine. We must have twelve.

Hamar. What about some ladies?

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—?

Hamar. That new lawyer fellow? He's a smart chap—I can't remember his name?

Tjaelde. No, he always wants to be speechifying wherever he goes.—Ah, Mr. Pram, the custom-house officer!

Hamar. That man? He always gets drunk!

Tjaelde. Yes, but he doesn't get noisy with it. He does no harm—quite the contrary! Yes, put down Pram.

Hamar. Mr. Pram.

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.

Hamar. Neat in his dress, do you mean?

Tjaelde. Yes, in his dress too-but I meant it more generally. Now, for the twelfth—Morten Schultz?

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!

Tjaelde. Yes, he is rather a rough diamond. But he is the richest man about here.

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!

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.

Hamar. I can't understand what you can hope to get out of him.

Tjaelde. Hm, hm!—No, well, perhaps we had better leave him out?

Hamar. Certainly!

Tjaelde (to himself). Although Lind would understand the significance of Morten Schultz's being here—

Hamar. And the things he says! Ladies have to leave the room!

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—.

Hamar. Christopher Hansen?

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.

Hamar. Jakobsen?

Tjaelde. Hm, hm! Jakobsen will do very well. I know Jakobsen.

Hamar. Oh, he is a very good fellow—we all know that, but in polite society—!

Tjaelde. Hm, hm, hm!—Put him down!

Hamar (writing). Jakobsen. There, then! (Gets up.)

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.

Hamar. Is this an invitation? Because, if it is, we shall be thirteen at table.

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 have 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.)

Hamar. There—that's done!

Tjaelde. Good Lord, what about a salute from our cannon? We must give him a salute!

Hamar. We have powder.

Tjaelde. Then send word up at once to Ole to see about it! (They hurry out. The curtain falls.)



ACT II

SCENE I

(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.)

Mrs. Tjaelde (in a tired voice). Now I think it is all ready.

Signe. They are talking a long time over their dinner.

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.

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!

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.)

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.

All (unanimously). No, no!

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—

Pram (who is standing well forward, supporting himself by the edge of the table, says solemnly:) Yes.

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.

Pram (lifting his glass). Mr. Lind, may I have the honour—?

Voices. Sh! Sh!

Tjaelde. Yes, gentlemen, his name backs every enterprise. It would be impossible to carry one through that had not his backing.

Pram (solemnly). His backing.

Tjaelde. Am I not right, then, in describing him as a prince?

Falbe (in a feeble voice). Yes.

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.

Pram. Great man.

Tjaelde. Let us drink his health! May prosperity attend him and his, and may his name be deathless in Norway! Mr. Lind!

All. Mr. Lind! Mr. Lind! (They all drink his health effusively.)

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?

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.

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.)

Holm. A little bit late!

Knutzon. Rather behind the moment—

Ring. A very important moment, however!

Holm. A very unexpected one, anyway!

Knutzon (jestingly). Allow me, amidst the cannon's roar, to introduce to you a man who has been led by the nose!

Ring. Oh, Tjaelde knows what he is about!

Tjaelde. Mr. Lind is kind enough to wish to propose a toast. (They all compose themselves into respectful silence.)

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.

Pram (who has never changed his position). Nobly said.

Lind. I am only an administrator of a trust, and too often a weak and short-sighted one.

Pram. Beautiful.

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!"

All. Prosperity to the firm of Tjaelde!

(HAMAR signals again with the handkerchief, and a cannon shot is heard.)

Tjaelde. I thank you heartily, Mr. Lind! I am profoundly touched.

Lind. I said no more than I am convinced of, Mr. Tjaelde!!

Tjaelde. Thank you! (To HAMAR.) What do you mean by signalling for a salute for the host? Blockhead!

Hamar. You said there was to be a salute when a toast was proposed, didn't you?

Tjaelde. Oh, you are a—!

Hamar (to himself). Well, if ever again I—!

Holm. Then it is an accomplished fact, I suppose?

Knutzon. Fait accompli! That toast represents twenty thousand pounds, at least.

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.)

Jakobsen (in a low voice). There isn't a word of truth in what you say!

Knudsen. But, my dear Jakobsen, you misunderstand me!

Jakobsen (louder). Hang it, I know my people!

Knudsen. Don't talk so loud!

Jakobsen (still louder). What I say any one may hear!

Tjaelde. (at the same moment). The Vicar wishes to say a few words.

Knudsen (to JAKOBSEN). Hush! The Vicar wishes to say a few words.

Jakobsen. Have I got to hush because that damned—

Tjaelde (in a voice of authority). The Vicar wishes to speak.

Jakobsen. I beg your pardon!

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!

Pram. Amen.

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.

Pram. Ah, yes!

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!

All. Miss Valborg, Miss Signe!

Hamar (in a panic). Am I to signal?

Tjaelde. Oh, go to—!

Hamar. Well, if ever again—!

Tjaelde. Thank you very much, Mr. Vicar. Like you, I hope that the intimate relations between parent and child that exist here—

The Vicar. It has always been a pleasure to me to come into your most hospitable house.

Tjaelde. May I have the honour of drinking a glass of wine with you? (They drink to each other.)

The Vicar. Excellent champagne, my dear sir!

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?

Holm (in a low voice). One never can quite confidently rely on him.

Lind. Really? I have heard others sing his praises so loudly, you know.

Holm (as before). You misunderstand me. I mean his position—

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.

Holm. At any rate I assure you it was not from—

Lind (coldly). I don't doubt it. (Walks away from him.)

Jakobsen (with whom TJAELDE has just drunk). Gentlemen!

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.)

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.

Lind (to TJAELDE). Children and drunken men—

Tjaelde (laughing).—speak the truth!

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.)

Tjaelde. That's enough, Jakobsen!

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!

Lind. Bravo!

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.

Several of the Guests (raising their glasses). Mrs. Tjaelde! Mrs. Tjaelde!

Pram (grasping JAKOBSEN by the hand). That was fine of you, Jakobsen! (LIND joins them; PRAM steps aside respectfully.)

Lind. Will you drink a glass of wine with me, Jakobsen?

Jakobsen. Thank you, very much. I am only a common man—

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.)

Holm (in a whisper, to KNUTZON). Tjaelde knew what he was doing when he invited Jakobsen!

Knutzon (whispering). Just look at the boat!

Ring. Tjaelde is a very clever fellow—a very clever fellow! (VALBORG, SIGNE and MRS. TJAELDE are seen coming up the verandah steps.)

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.)

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—

Signe. I shall then do myself the honour of calling upon your wife.

Lind. Thank you, thank you—you will be most welcome. (To VALBORG.) Are you not feeling well, Miss Valborg?

Valborg. Yes.

Lind. You look so serious. (As VALBORG does not reply, he continues somewhat coldly:) Good-bye, Miss Valborg. (To HAMAR.) Good-bye, Mr.—Mr.—

Tjaelde. Mr. Hamar.

Lind. Ah, the young man that talked to me about a horse—your future son-in-law! Pray forgive me for not—

Hamar. Don't mention it!

Lind. Good-bye!

Hamar. A pleasant journey, sir!

Lind (coldly, to HOLM). Good-bye, Mr. Holm.

Holm (imperturbably polite). I wish you a very pleasant journey, Mr. Lind.

Lind (to PRAM). Good-bye, Mr. Pram.

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—

Lind. You are an excellent fellow!

Pram (in a relieved voice). I am so glad to hear it! Thank you.

Lind (to KNUTZON). Good-bye, Mr.—

Knutzon (hastily). Knutzon.

Pram. With a "z."

Lind (to KNUDSEN). Good-bye, Mr.—

Knudsen. Knudsen, again.

Pram. With an "s."

Lind (to FALBE). Mr—?

Falbe. Falbe.

Lind. Good-bye, Mr. Falbe! (To RING.) I am delighted to see you looking so well, Mr. Ring.

Ring (with a low bow). The same to you, sir!

Lind. Good-bye, Mr. Vicar!

The Vicar (holding his hand, impressively). Let me wish you good luck and happiness, Mr. Lind—

Lind. Thank you. (Tries to get away.)

The Vicar.—in your journey over the perilous seas to foreign lands!

Lind. Thank you. (Tries to get away.)

The Vicar. Let me wish you a safe return, Mr. Lind—

Lind. Thank you very much. (Tries to get away.)

The Vicar.—to our dear fatherland; a land, Mr. Lind, which possesses in you—

Lind. You must excuse me, Mr. Vicar, but time presses.

The Vicar. Let me thank you for the pleasure of our meeting to-day, Mr. Lind, for—

Lind. Indeed, there is no occasion! Good-bye! (To JAKOBSEN.) Good-bye, Jakobsen, good-bye!

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?

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.)

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!

Hamar. Well, if ever again I—!

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—.

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.)

All. Good-bye, Mr. Lind, good-bye!

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?

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.)

Tjaelde (waving and shouting). Good-bye! Good-bye!

Signe. Let us go out to the point and see the last of them!

All. Yes, yes! (All but TJAELDE and VALBORG hurry off to the right.)

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!

[The Curtain falls.]

[The interval between this scene and the next should be as short as possible.]

SCENE II

(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.)

Tjaelde. You must excuse my receiving you here. But the other rooms are all upside down; we have had some people to dinner.

Berent. I heard you had guests.

Tjaelde. Yes, Mr. Lind from Christiana.

Berent. Quite so.

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.)

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?

Tjaelde. None at all.

Berent. Then may I make my comments on your own figures, and ask you a few questions about them?

Tjaelde. By all means.

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 Mjolstad forest; you have put that down, I see, at L16,500.

Tjaelde (indifferently). Have I?

Berent. You bought it for L10,000.

Tjaelde. Yes, four years ago. Timber prices ruled low then.

Berent. And since then you have cut down more than L20,000 worth of timber there.

Tjaelde. Who told you so?

Berent. Mr. Holst.

Tjaelde. Holst knows nothing about it.

Berent. We must try to be very accurate, you know.

Tjaelde. Well, of course, the whole valuation is not my concern; but those whom it does concern will protest.

Berent (taking no notice of his objection). So I think we will reduce the L16,500 to L10,000.

Tjaelde. To L10,000! (Laughs.) As you please.

Berent. Calculating by the same standard, we can scarcely put down the Stav forest at more than L4000.

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!

Berent (with a smile). We will risk that. You have put down your wharf and its contents at L12,000.

Tjaelde. Including two ships in course of construction—

Berent.—for which it would be difficult to find a purchaser, as they are so far from completion.

Tjaelde. Indeed?

Berent. So I think we cannot put down the wharf and its contents at a higher figure than L8,000—and I believe even that will turn out to be too high.

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 L8000; I am certain I should be more than L4000 to the good over the bargain.

Berent. May I go on?

Tjaelde. If you like! I even feel a certain curiosity to view my possessions under such an entirely new light.

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.

Tjaelde. Well?

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?

Tjaelde. You are reckoning me as turned out of it already, then!

Berent. I am obliged to base all my calculations on what the property would fetch if sold now.

Tjaelde (getting up). What may you happen to value it at then?

Berent. At less than half your valuation; that is to say at—

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!

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?

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.

Berent. There are many different points of view from which valuations can be made, obviously. I see nothing more in it than that.

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!

Berent (with a bow). I understand that perfectly. You have put down the Brewery at—

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.

Berent (leaning back in his chair). That is a pity. The banks were anxious to be acquainted with your answers to my observations.

Tjaelde. Have you sent my statement to the banks?

Berent. With my remarks and comments on it, and Mr. Holst's.

Tjaelde. This has been a trap, then? I believed I had to deal with a gentleman!

Berent. The banks or I, what is the difference? It comes to the same thing, as I represent them unreservedly.

Tjaelde. Such impudent audacity is unpardonable!

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.

Tjaelde. That some of us will see!

Berent. The banking house of Lind & Co., for instance?

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?

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.

Tjaelde. So you have been spying here, too? You have been trying to undermine my business connections?

Berent. Is your position such, then, that you are afraid?

Tjaelde. The question is not my position, but your behaviour!

Berent. I think we had better keep to the point. You have put down the Brewery at—

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.

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.

Tjaelde (after a moment's thought). Very well! But, no more details—let me know your conclusions, briefly.

Berent. My conclusions, briefly, are that you have estimated your assets at L90,800. I estimate them at L40,600.

Tjaelde (quietly). That is to say, you make me out to have a deficit of about L30,000?

Berent. As to that, I must point out that your estimate of your liabilities does not agree with mine, either.

Tjaelde (quietly). Oh, of course not!

Berent. For instance, the dividend that Moeller's estate is to yield to you.

Tjaelde. No more details! What do you put my total liabilities at?

Berent. Let me see. Your total liabilities amount, according to your calculations, to L70,000. I estimate them at L80,000—to be precise, at L79,372.

Tjaelde. That puts my deficit at about—

Berent. At about L39,400—or, in round figures, L40,000.

Tjaelde. Oh, by all means let us stick to round figures!

Berent. So that the difference between your views of your balance-sheet and mine is that, whereas you give yourself a surplus of about L20,000, I give you a deficit of about L40,000.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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!

Berent. The telegraph is a useful invention which is open to every one.

Tjaelde (after a moment's thought). What do you mean by that?

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.

Tjaelde. It is not true! You have not dared to do that!

Berent. The facts are exactly as I state.

Tjaelde. Give me my balance-sheet; let me look at it again. (Stretches out his hand to take it.)

Berent (taking it up). Excuse me!

Tjaelde. Do you presume to keep back my own balance-sheet in my own writing?

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.

Tjaelde. You are determined to ruin my private and public reputation?

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.

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!

Berent. This is no time for fine phrases. Do you propose to surrender your property at once?

Tjaelde. Ha, ha! I am to surrender it because you have made me out a bankrupt on your bit of paper!

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.

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!

Berent. Exactly. But there is no question of anything unsound here except your own business and what is bound up with it.

Tjaelde (when he has controlled himself). So you came into my house with the hidden design of ruining me?

Berent. I must repeat that it is not I that am responsible for your bankruptcy; it is yourself.

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!

Berent. That is to say, by involving yourself deeper and deeper in falsehood.

Tjaelde. Only a man of business can understand such things. But, if you really understand them, I would say to you: "Give me L20,000 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!

Berent. I don't rise to that bait.

Tjaelde (after a moment's reflection). Do you want me to explain to you how L20,000 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—

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.

Tjaelde. Because the last three years have been bad years—horrible years! But we have reached the crisis; things must begin to improve now!

Berent. That is what every defaulter thinks.

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?

Berent. Of still further falsehood.

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 you if hundreds of people are to be ruined unnecessarily now!

Berent. Let us make an end of this.

Tjaelde. No, devil take me if I give up a fight like this with a senseless surrender!

Berent. How do you propose to end it, then?

Tjaelde. There is no issue to it that I have not turned over in my thoughts—thousands of times. 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!

Berent. What will you do, then?

Tjaelde. You shall see! (Speaking more and more excitedly.) You won't help me under any conditions?

Berent. No.

Tjaelde. You insist that I shall surrender my estate, here and now?

Berent. Yes.

Tjaelde. Hell and damnation! You dare do that?

Berent. Yes.

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 ought to save me but will not, then that man shall share what is in store for me.

Berent (leaning back in his chair). This is beginning to be impressive.

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?

Berent. Since you bought it, I suppose.

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?

Berent. You have been enduring it for a long time.

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 L14,000 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 don't agree to what I ask, neither of us shall leave this room alive!

Berent (pointing to the revolver). Is it loaded?

Tjaelde (putting his finger on the trigger). You will find that out in good time. You must answer me now!

Berent. I have a suggestion to make. Shoot yourself first and me afterwards.

Tjaelde (going up to him and holding the revolver to his head). I will soon quiet your pretty wit.

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!

Tjaelde. Never! I had resolved on this long ago. But you shall keep me company, now!

Berent. Do what you please. But you cannot threaten me into a falsehood.

Tjaelde (who has lowered the revolver, takes a step back, raises the revolver and aims at BERENT). Very well!

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 dare not do it!

Tjaelde (furiously). I will show you! (Steps back and raises the revolver again.)

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!

Tjaelde. No; may the devil take both you and me—

Berent. And the horse?

Tjaelde. The horse?

Berent. I mean the magnificent charger on which you came galloping home from the sale of Moeller'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.

Tjaelde (weeping unrestrainedly, with his face buried in his hands). Oh, oh!

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.

Tjaelde (as before). Oh!

Berent. At the bottom of your heart you must be weary of it all; make an end of it all now!

Tjaelde (as before). Oh!

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.

Tjaelde (as before). Oh!

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—

Tjaelde. My wife!

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.

Tjaelde. My patient, good wife!

Berent. I feel certain you would rather be the humblest labourer earning your daily bread than live through such suffering again.

Tjaelde. A thousand times rather!

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!

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!

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.

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!

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 have been able to borrow the means; but what good has it done?

Tjaelde. Times have been so bad!

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.

Tjaelde. But it is to the advantage of my creditors themselves, and of the banks too, that my estate should hold together!

Berent. It is of no advantage to sound firms to prop up unsound ones.

Tjaelde. But, surely, to avoid losing their capital—?

Berent, Oh, perhaps in the Receiver's hands the estate may—

Tjaelde (hopefully, half rising from his chair). Yes? Well?

Berent. But not till you have been removed from the control of it.

Tjaelde (sinking down again). Not till I have been removed from the control of it!

Berent. On its own resources I dare say the estate can hold out until better times come, but not on borrowed money.

Tjaelde. Not on borrowed money—

Berent. You understand the difference, of course?

Tjaelde. Oh, yes.

Berent. Good. Then you must understand that there is nothing left for you to do but to sign this.

Tjaelde. Nothing left but to sign—

Berent. Here is the paper. Come, now!

Tjaelde (rousing himself). Oh, I cannot, I cannot!

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.

Tjaelde (falling on his knees).Mercy, mercy! I cannot let go of all hope! Think, after a fight like mine!

Berent. Tell the truth and say: "I haven't the courage to face the consequences."

Tjaelde. Yes, that is the truth.

Berent. "I haven't the courage to begin an honest life."

Tjaelde. Yes.

Berent. You don't know what you are saying, man!

Tjaelde. No, I don't. But spare me!

Berent (getting up). This is nothing but despair! I am sorry for you.

Tjaelde (getting up). Yes, surely you must be? Try me! Ask me to do anything you like! Tell me what you—

Berent. No, no! Before anything else, you must sign this.

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!

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.

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!

Berent. Hm! You are remarkably tough; your fight, these last three years, proves that.

Tjaelde. Be merciful! Surely your ingenuity—your influence—must be able to find some way out for me?

Berent. Yes. The way out is for you to sign this.

Tjaelde. Won't you even take it over from me by private contract? If you did that, everything would come right.

Berent. Sign! Here is the paper! Every hour is precious.

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?

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.

Tjaelde. How shall I be able to do that? Give me a little time! Be merciful!

Berent. The sooner the better for you—not to speak of the interests of all concerned. Well, I have finished for the present.

Tjaelde. Don't desert me like this! Don't desert me!

Berent. You would like your wife to come to you, wouldn't you?

Tjaelde (resignedly). Yes.

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.

Tjaelde. Thank you.

Berent. I shall not leave the town until the worst is over.—Remember, night or day, if you need me, send word to me.

Tjaelde. Thank you.

Berent. And now will you unlock the door for me?

Tjaelde (getting up). Ah, of course. Excuse me!

Berent (taking his hat and coat). Won't you call your wife now?

Tjaelde. No. I must have a little time first. I have the worst part of it before me now.

Berent. I believe you have, and that is just why—. (Takes hold of the bell-pull and rings the bell.)

Tjaelde. What are you doing?

Berent. I want, before I go, to be sure of your wife's coming to you.

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.

Berent. At once, please. (The boy goes out.) Good-bye! (Goes out. TJAELDE sinks down on to a chair by the door.)

[The Curtain falls.]



ACT III

(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.)

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.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. You sent for me?

Tjaelde. Yes. (Watching her.) Were you upstairs?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, I was resting.

Tjaelde (sympathetically). Ah, you were sleeping, and I woke you up!

Mrs. Tjaelde. No, I was not asleep. (She has come slowly forward.)

Tjaelde. You weren't asleep? (Apprehensively, to her.) I suppose you didn't—? (To himself.) No, I daren't ask her.

Mrs. Tjaelde. What did you want?

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.

Mrs. Tjaelde (supporting herself on the desk). Going on a journey?

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.

Mrs. Tjaelde (faintly). Abroad?

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.

Mrs. Tjaelde. I don't think your bag has been unpacked since you brought it home to-day.

Tjaelde. So much the better. Will you get it for me?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Are you going away now—at once?

Tjaelde. Yes, by the foreign boat—from the outer harbour.

Mrs. Tjaelde. You have no time to lose, then.

Tjaelde. Are you not well?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Not very.

Tiwlde. One of your attacks?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes!—but I must fetch your bag. (TJAELDE helps her over to the staircase.)

Tjaelde. You are not well, my dear—but you will be better some day.

Mrs. Tjaelde. I only wish you looked better.

Tjaelde. We all have our burdens to bear.

Mrs. Tjaelde. If only we could bear more together!

Tjaelde. But you don't understand my affairs—and I have never had time to talk about yours.

Mrs. Tjaelde. No—that's it. (Begins to go upstairs slowly.)

Tjaelde. Shall I help you?

Mrs. Tjaelde. No, thank you, dear.

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?

Mrs. Tjaelde. I felt faint for a moment. I will go up now. (Gets up and climbs the stair slowly.)

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?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Thanks, will you take hold of the bag?

Tjaelde (takes it; she comes slowly down). It is heavier than it was this morning.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Is it?

Tjaelde. I have some papers to put in it. (Opens the bag.) But, my dear, there is money in this bag.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes—some gold that you have given me at odd times. I thought it might be useful to you now.

Tjaelde. There is a large sum.

Mrs. Tjaelde. I don't believe you even know how much you have given me.

Tjaelde. She knows everything!—My dear! (Opens his arms.)

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?

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!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes?

Tjaelde. Forgive me!

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.)

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."

Mrs. Tjaelde (supporting herself on the desk). You can't go?

Tjaelde. No. (A pause. He puts down the bag and wipes his forehead.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. Henning, shall we pray together?

Tjaelde. What do you mean?

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!

Tjaelde. I know that, only too well.

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!

Tjaelde. Be quiet!

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?

Tjaelde. I have thrown myself imploringly at His feet, but always in vain!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Henning, Henning!

Tjaelde. Why did He not bless my work and the fight I was making? It is all one now.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Ah, there is more to come.

Tjaelde (getting up). Yes, the worst is before us now—

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?

Valborg (with suppressed emotion). From my room I can see the police watching the house. Are the Receiver's men coming now?

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.)

Tjaelde (unable to control himself). Now I suppose you will say to me just what Moeller's daughter said to him!

Mrs. Tjaelde (getting up). You won't do that, Valborg!—God alone can judge him.

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!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Oh, my child!

Tjaelde. That your anger and your shame know no bounds!

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.)

Jakobsen. You scoundrel! (TJAELDE recoils.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. Jakobsen! Jakobsen!

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.

Mrs. Tjaelde. My God!

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.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. Dear Jakobsen!

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 she can find nothing to say!—Scoundrel!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Jakobsen!

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.)

Mrs. Tjaelde (getting up). For my sake, Jakobsen!

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.

Mrs. Tjaelde. As you feel how hard it is yourself, that should make you willing to spare others. Be merciful!

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.)

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.)

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.)

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.)

Jakobsen. I have the deepest respect for you, Mrs. Tjaelde. But if he 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.)

Mrs. Tjaelde (apprehensively). What is that? (SANNAES and the RECEIVER go to one window, and JAKOBSEN to another.)

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.)

Tjaelde (coming forward despairingly). I had forgotten that!

Jakobsen (going up to him). Well, go out and face them, and they will let you know what you are!

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!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, do, Jakobsen!

Jakobsen (in lower tones). If you 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.)

Mrs. Tjaelde (in a low voice). Be quick, or we shall have them in here.

Jakobsen. I will go.

The Receiver (interposing). Excuse me, but nothing must be taken away from here until it has been examined and inventoried.

Jakobsen. It is pay-day, and this is the money for the wages.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Jakobsen is responsible for it, and will account for it.

The Receiver. Oh, that alters the case. Mr. Jakobsen is a man of integrity. (Goes back to his work.)

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!

The Receiver (going up to TJAELDE). Excuse me, but I must ask you for the keys of your private rooms and cupboards.

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.)

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.

Tjaelde. I don't wish to keep it.

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.

Tjaelde (as if waking from a dream). Ah, of course! (Goes to the door and unlocks it.)

Signe (rushing to MRS. TJAELDE and falling on her knees beside her). Mother!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, dear, the day of our trial has come! And I am afraid—afraid that it may find us all too weak.

Signe. Mother, what is to become of us?

Mrs. Tjaelde. We are in God's hands.

Signe. I will go with Hamar to his aunt's. We will go at once.

Mrs. Tjaelde. It is possible that his aunt may not be willing to have you now.

Signe. Aunt Ulla! What do you mean?

Mrs. Tjaelde. I mean that you have been the rich man's daughter; and you do not know what the world is.

Signe. Hamar, do you think Aunt Ulla would refuse to have me?

Hamar (after a moment's thought). I don't know.

Mrs. Tjaelde. You hear that, my child. In the next few hours you will learn more than you have learnt in all your life.

Signe (in a horrified whisper). Do you mean that even—?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Hush! (SIGNE hides her face in her mother's lap. A loud burst of laughter is heard outside.)

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.

Sannaes. They have led it up the steps, and are pretending to sell it by auction.

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—!

Signe. What are you going to do? (As he starts to go out, she clings to him and prevents him.)

Hamar. Let me go!

Signe. Tell me first what you are going to do! Do you mean to go out among all those men—alone?

Hamar. Yes.

Signe (throwing her arms round him). You shan't go!

Hamar. Take care, this is loaded!

Signe. What are you going to do with it?

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.

Signe (following him, with a cry). You will hit some one!

Hamar. No, I can aim too well for that. (Takes aim.)

Signe. Father! If they hear a shot from here now—

Tjaelde (starting up). The house belongs to my creditors now—and the revolver too!

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!")

Hamar (pointing the revolver at the window). Yes, just you try it!

Mrs. Tjaelde and Signe. They are coming in here!

Valborg. You shan't shoot! (Stands between him and the window.)

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.)

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.)

Signe (on her knees by her mother's side). But won't they come back? Hadn't we better go away from here?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Where to?

Signe (despairingly). What is to become of us?

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.)

Valborg (softly). Signe, look! (SIGNE gets up, looks round the room, and gives a little cry.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. What is it?

Signe. I knew he would!

Mrs. Tjaelde (apprehensively). What is it?

Valborg. Every rich family has its tame lieutenant—and ours has just left us. That's all.

Mrs. Tjaelde (getting up). Signe, my child!

Signe (throwing herself into her arms). Mother!

Mrs. Tjaelde. There will be no more pretence now. Do not let us regret it!

Signe (in tears). Mother, mother!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Things are better as they are. Do you hear, dear? Don't cry!

Signe. I am not crying! but I feel so ashamed—oh, so ashamed!

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.

Signe (as before). Mother!

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.

Valborg (comes forward evidently labouring under great emotion). Yes, there is, mother; I mean to desert you.

Signe. You, Valborg? Desert us? You?

Valborg. Our home is going to be broken up, anyway. Each of us ought to shift for herself.

Signe. But what am I to do? I don't know how to do anything.

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!

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!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Hush, remember your father is in the room. (A pause.) What do you want to do, Valborg?

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.

Mrs. Tjaelde. You don't know what you are undertaking.

Valborg. But I know what I am leaving.

Signe. And I shall only be a burden to you, mother, because I can't do anything—

Valborg. You can! 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!

Signe. And what is to become of mother, then?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Your mother will stay with your father.

Signe. But all alone? You, who are so ill?

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.)

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.)

Tjaelde. I accept no more letters.

Valborg (looking at the letter). It is from Sannaes?

Tjaelde. He, too!

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 L1400, 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.)

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.)

Valborg. I should like to speak to Sannaes.

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?

Valborg. He went upstairs.

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.)

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!

(SANNAES comes in, but stops short when he sees VALBORG, and hurriedly puts his hands behind his back.)

Sannaes. Is it you, Miss Valborg, that want me?

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.)

Valborg. You have written a letter to my father.

Sannaes (after a moment's pause). Yes.

Valborg. And made him a most generous offer.

Sannaes (as before). Oh, well—it was only natural that I should.

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.)

Sannaes. I hope he means to accept it?

Valborg. I don't know.

Sannaes (sadly, after a moment's pause). Then he doesn't mean to? No—I suppose not.

Valborg. I honestly don't know. It depends on whether he dare.

Sannaes. Whether he dare?

Valborg. Yes. (A pause.)

Sannaes (evidently very shy of VALBORG). Have you any more orders for me, Miss Valborg?

Valborg (with a smile). Orders? I am not giving you orders.—You have offered also to stay with my father for the future.

Sannaes. Yes—that is to say, if he wishes me to.

Valborg. I don't know. In that case there would be only he and my mother and you; no one else.

Sannaes. Indeed? What about the others, then?

Valborg. I don't know for certain what my sister means to do—but I am leaving home to-day.

Sannaes. Then you are going to—

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?

Sannaes. No—yes—that is to say, your father will have all the more need of me then.

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.

Sannaes. What sort of a prospect—?

Valborg. Yes, a young man should have some sort of a prospect before him.

Sannaes. Yes—of course; that is to say, I only thought that at first it would be so difficult for him.

Valborg. But I am thinking of you. Surely you have some plans for the future?

Sannaes (embarrassed). Really I would rather not talk about myself.

Valborg. But I want to.—You have something else in reserve, then?

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.

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—

Sannaes (struggling with his embarrassment). I have never thought of it as being that.

Valborg. But my father can scarcely accept so much from you.

Sannaes (in alarm). Why not?

Valborg. Because it really would be too much.—And, in any case, I shall try to prevent him.

Sannaes (almost imploringly). You, Miss Valborg?