ACT FIRST.
A spacious garden-room in Consul Bernick’s house. In front, to the left, a door lends into the Consul’s office; farther back, in the same wall, a similar door. In the middle of the opposite wall is a large entrance door. The back wall is almost entirely composed of plate-glass, with an open doorway leading to a broad flight of steps,[[23]] over which a sun-shade is let down. Beyond the steps a part of the garden can be seen, enclosed by a railing with a little gate. Beyond the railing, and running parallel with it, is a street of small, brightly painted wooden houses. It is summer, and the sun shines warmly. Now and then people pass along the street: they stop and speak to each other: customers come and go at the little corner shop, and so forth.
In the garden-room a number of ladies are gathered round a table. At the head of the table sits Mrs. Bernick. On her left sit Mrs. Holt and her daughter; next to them, Mrs. and Miss Rummel. On Mrs. Bernick’s right sit Mrs. Lynge, Miss Bernick (Martha), and Dina Dorf. All the ladies are busy sewing. On the table lie large heaps of half-finished and cut-out linen, and other articles of clothing. Farther back, at a little table on which are two flower-pots and a glass of eau sucré, sits Doctor Rörlund, reading from a book with gilt edges, a word here and there being heard by the audience. Out in the garden Olaf Bernick is running about, shooting at marks with a crossbow.
Presently Aune, the foreman shipbuilder, enters quietly by the door on the right. The reading ceases for a moment; Mrs. Bernick nods to him and points to the left-hand door. Aune goes quietly to the Consul’s door, knocks softly, pauses a moment, then knocks again. Krap, the Consul’s clerk, opens the door and comes out with his hat in his hand and papers under his arm.
Krap.
Oh, it’s you knocking?
Aune.
The Consul sent for me.
Krap.
Yes; but he can’t see you just now; he has commissioned me——
Aune.
You? I’d a deal sooner——
Krap.
——commissioned me to tell you this: You must stop these Saturday lectures to the workmen.
Aune.
Indeed? I sort of thought my free time was my own to——
Krap.
Not to make the men useless in work-time. Last Saturday you must needs hold forth about the harm that will be done to the workmen by our machines and new method of work. What makes you do that?
Aune.
I do it to support society.
Krap.
That’s an odd notion! The Consul says you are undermining society.
Aune.
My “society” is not the Consul’s “society,” Mr. Krap! Seeing as I’m the foreman of the Industrial Society, I have to——
Krap.
Your first duty is as foreman of Consul Bernick’s shipyard. Your first duty is to the society called Bernick & Co., for by it we all live.—Well, now you know what the Consul wanted to say to you.
Aune.
The Consul wouldn’t have said it like that, Mr. Krap! But I know well enough what I’ve got to thank for this. It’s that cursèd American that has put in for repairs. These people think work can be done here as they do it over there, and that——
Krap.
Well, well—I have no time to go into generalities. I have told you the Consul’s wishes, and that is enough. Now you had better go down to the yard again; you’re sure to be wanted; I shall be down myself presently.—I beg your pardon, ladies!
[He bows, and goes out through the garden and down the street. Aune goes quietly out to the right. Doctor Rörlund, who during the whole of the foregoing conversation has continued reading, presently closes the book with a bang.
Rörlund.
There, my dear ladies, that is the end.
Mrs. Rummel.
Oh, what an instructive tale!
Mrs. Holt.
And so moral!
Mrs. Bernick.
Such a book really gives one a great deal to think over.
Rörlund.
Yes; it forms a refreshing contrast to what we unhappily see every day, both in newspapers and magazines. The rouged and gilded exterior flaunted by the great communities—what does it really conceal? Hollowness and rottenness, if I may say so. They have no moral foundation under their feet. In one word—they are whited sepulchres, these great communities of the modern world.
Mrs. Holt.
Too true! too true!
Mrs. Rummel.
We have only to look at the crew of the American ship that’s lying here.
Rörlund.
Oh, I won’t speak of such scum of humanity. But even in the higher classes—how do matters stand? Doubt and fermenting unrest on every side; the soul at war with itself; insecurity in every relation of life. See how the family is undermined!—how a brazen spirit of subversion is assailing the most vital truths!
Dina.
[Without looking up.] But many great things are done there too, are they not?
Rörlund.
Great things——? I don’t understand——
Mrs. Holt.
[Astonished.] Good heavens, Dina——!
Mrs. Rummel.
[At the same time.] Oh, Dina, how can you?
Rörlund.
It would scarcely be for our good if such “great things” came into fashion among us. No; we ought to thank God that our lot is ordered as it is. A tare, alas! will now and then spring up among the wheat; but we honestly do our best to weed it out. The great point, ladies, is to keep society pure—to exclude from it all the questionable elements which an impatient age would force upon us.
Mrs. Holt.
Ah, there’s more than enough of that sort of thing, unfortunately.
Mrs. Rummel.
Yes; last year we only escaped the railway by a hair’s-breadth.
Mrs. Bernick.
Karsten managed to put a stop to that.
Rörlund.
Providentially, Mrs. Bernick! You may be sure your husband was an instrument in a higher hand when he refused to support that scheme.
Mrs. Bernick.
And yet the papers said such horrid things about him! But we are quite forgetting to thank you, my dear Doctor. It is really more than kind of you to sacrifice so much of your time to us.
Rörlund.
Oh, not at all; in holiday-time, you know——
Mrs. Bernick.
Yes, yes; but it’s a sacrifice, nevertheless.
Rörlund.
[Drawing his chair nearer.] Pray don’t speak of it, dear lady. Do not all of you make sacrifices for a good cause? And do you not make them willingly and gladly? The Lapsed and Lost, for whom we are working, are like wounded soldiers on a battlefield; you, ladies, are the Red Cross Guild, the Sisters of Mercy, who pick lint for these unhappy sufferers, tie the bandages gently round the wounds, dress, and heal them——
Mrs. Bernick.
It must be a great blessing to see everything in so beautiful a light.
Rörlund.
The gift is largely inborn; but it can in some measure be acquired. The great point is to see things in the light of a serious vocation. What do you say, Miss Bernick? Do you not find that you have, as it were, firmer ground under your feet since you have devoted your life to your school-work?
Martha.
I scarcely know what to say. Often, when I am pent up in the schoolroom, I wish I were far out upon the stormy sea.
Rörlund.
Yes, yes; that is temptation, my dear Miss Bernick. You must bar the door against such an unquiet guest. The stormy sea—of course you do not mean that literally; you mean the great billowing world, where so many go to wreck. And do you really find so much to attract you in the life you hear rushing and surging outside? Just look out into the street. Look at the people in the sweltering sunshine, toiling and moiling over their paltry affairs! Ours, surely, is the better part, sitting here in the pleasant shade, and turning our backs toward the quarter from which disturbance might arise.
Martha.
Yes, no doubt you are quite right——
Rörlund.
And in a house like this—in a good and pure home, where the Family is seen in its fairest shape—where peace and unity reign——[To Mrs. Bernick.] What are you listening to, Mrs. Bernick?
Mrs. Bernick.
[Who has turned towards the door of the Consul’s room.] How loudly they are talking in there!
Rörlund.
Is anything particular going on?
Mrs. Bernick.
I don’t know. There is evidently some one with my husband.
Hilmar Tönnesen, with a cigar in his mouth, comes in by the door on the right, but stops on seeing so many ladies.
Hilmar.
Oh, I beg your pardon—— [Turning to go.
Mrs. Bernick.
Come in, Hilmar, come in; you are not disturbing us. Do you want anything?
Hilmar.
No, I just happened to be passing. Good-morning, ladies. [To Mrs. Bernick.] Well, what is going to come of it?
Mrs. Bernick.
Of what?
Hilmar.
You know Bernick has called a cabinet council.
Mrs. Bernick.
Indeed! What is it about?
Hilmar.
Oh, this railway nonsense again.
Mrs. Rummel.
No! Is it possible?
Mrs. Bernick.
Poor Karsten—is he to have all that worry over again——?
Rörlund.
Why, what can be the meaning of this, Mr. Tönnesen? Consul Bernick gave it plainly to be understood last year that he would have no railway here.
Hilmar.
Yes, I thought so too; but I met Krap just now, and he told me the railway question was to the fore again, and that Bernick was holding a conference with three of our capitalists.
Mrs. Rummel.
I was certain I heard Rummel’s voice.
Hilmar.
Yes, Mr. Rummel is there, of course, and Sandstad and Michael Vigeland—“Holy Michael,” as they call him.
Rörlund.
H’m——
Hilmar.
I beg your pardon, Doctor.
Mrs. Bernick.
Just when everything was so nice and quiet too!
Hilmar.
Well, for my part, I shouldn’t mind their beginning their bickerings again. It would be a variety at least.
Rörlund.
I think we can dispense with that sort of variety.
Hilmar.
It depends upon one’s constitution. Some natures crave for a Titanic struggle now and then. But there’s no room for that sort of thing in our petty provincial life, and it’s not every one that can—— [Turning over the leaves of Rörlund’s book.] “Woman as the Servant of Society”—what rubbish is this!
Mrs. Bernick.
Oh, Hilmar, you mustn’t say that. You have surely not read the book.
Hilmar.
No, and don’t intend to.
Mrs. Bernick.
You seem out of sorts to-day.
Hilmar.
Yes, I am.
Mrs. Bernick.
Perhaps you didn’t sleep well last night?
Hilmar.
No, I slept very badly. I went a walk yesterday evening, by my doctor’s orders. Then I looked in at the club, and read an account of a polar expedition. There is something bracing in watching men at war with the elements.
Mrs. Rummel.
But it doesn’t seem to have agreed with you, Mr. Tönnesen?
Hilmar.
No, it didn’t agree with me at all. I lay tossing all night half asleep, and dreamt I was being chased by a horrible walrus.
Olaf.
[Who has come up the garden steps.] Have you been chased by a walrus, Uncle?
Hilmar.
I dreamt it, little stupid! Do you still go on playing with that ridiculous bow? Why don’t you get hold of a proper gun?
Olaf.
Oh, I should love to, but——
Hilmar.
There would be some sense in a gun; the very act of pulling the trigger braces your nerves.
Olaf.
And then I could shoot bears, Uncle. But father won’t let me.
Mrs. Bernick.
You really must not put such ideas into his head, Hilmar.
Hilmar.
Ha—there we have the rising generation nowadays! Goodness knows there’s plenty of talk about pluck and daring, but it all ends in play; no one has any real craving for the discipline that lies in looking danger manfully in the face. Don’t stand and point at me with your bow, stupid; it might go off,
Olaf.
No, Uncle, there’s no bolt in it.
Hilmar.
How do you know? There may very likely be a bolt in it. Take it away, I tell you!—Why the deuce have you never gone to America in one of your father’s ships? There you could go buffalo-hunting or fighting the redskins.
Mrs. Bernick.
Oh, Hilmar——
Olaf.
I should like to very much, Uncle; and then perhaps I might meet Uncle Johan and Aunt Lona.
Hilmar.
H’m—don’t talk nonsense.
Mrs. Bernick.
Now you can go down the garden again, Olaf.
Olaf.
Mayn’t I go out into the street, mother?
Mrs. Bernick.
Yes; but take care not to go too far.
[Olaf runs out through the garden gate.
Rörlund.
You ought not to put such notions into the child’s head, Mr. Tönnesen.
Hilmar.
No, of course, he’s to be a mere stick-in-the-mud, like so many others.
Rörlund.
Why do you not go to America yourself?
Hilmar.
I? With my complaint? Of course no one here has any consideration for that. But besides—one has duties towards the society one belongs to. There must be some one to hold high the banner of the ideal. Ugh, there he is shouting again!
The Ladies.
Who is shouting?
Hilmar.
Oh, I don’t know. They are talking rather loud in there, and it makes me so nervous.
Mrs. Rummel.
It is my husband you hear, Mr. Tönnesen; you must remember he is so accustomed to addressing great assemblies——
Rörlund.
The others are not whispering either, it seems to me.
Hilmar.
No, sure enough, when it’s a question of keeping the purse-strings tight——; everything here ends in paltry material calculations. Ugh!
Mrs. Bernick.
At least that is better than it used to be, when everything ended in dissipation.
Mrs. Lynge.
Were things really so bad as all that?
Mrs. Rummel.
They were as bad as bad could be, Mrs. Lynge. You may thank your stars that you didn’t live here then.
Mrs. Holt.
Yes, there has certainly been a great change! When I think of the time when I was a girl——
Mrs. Rummel.
Oh, you needn’t go back more than fourteen or fifteen years—heaven help us, what a life people led! There was a dancing club and a music club——
Martha.
And the dramatic club—I remember it quite well.
Mrs. Rummel.
Yes; it was there your play was acted, Mr. Tönnesen.
Hilmar.
[At the back.] Oh, nonsense——!
Rörlund.
Mr. Tönnesen’s play?
Mrs. Rummel.
Yes; that was long before you came here, Doctor. Besides, it only ran one night.
Mrs. Lynge.
Wasn’t it in that play you told me you played the heroine, Mrs. Rummel?
Mrs. Rummel.
[Glancing at Rörlund.] I? I really don’t remember, Mrs. Lynge. But I remember too well all the noisy gaiety that went on among families.
Mrs. Holt.
Yes; I actually know houses where two great dinner-parties were given in one week.
Mrs. Lynge.
And then there was a company of strolling actors, they tell me.
Mrs. Rummel.
Yes, that was the worst of all——!
Mrs. Holt.
[Uneasily.] H’m, h’m——
Mrs. Rummel.
Oh, actors did you say? No, I remember nothing about them.
Mrs. Lynge.
Why, I was told they caused all sorts of trouble. What was it that really happened?
Mrs. Rummel.
Oh, nothing at all, Mrs. Lynge.
Mrs. Holt.
Dina, dear, hand me that piece of linen, please.
Mrs. Bernick.
[At the same time.] Dina, my love, will you go and ask Katrina to bring in the coffee.
Martha.
I will go with you, Dina.
[Dina and Martha go out by the second door on the left.
Mrs. Bernick.
[Rising.] And you must excuse me for a moment, ladies; I think we had better take our coffee outside.
[She goes out to the verandah and begins arranging a table; Rörlund stands in the doorway talking to her. Hilmar sits outside smoking.
Mrs. Rummel.
[Softly.] Oh dear, Mrs. Lynge, how you frightened me!
Mrs. Lynge.
I?
Mrs. Holt.
Ah, but you began it yourself, Mrs. Rummel.
Mrs. Rummel.
I? Oh, how can you say so, Mrs. Holt? Not a single word passed my lips.
Mrs. Lynge.
But what is the matter?
Mrs. Rummel.
How could you begin to talk about——! Only think—didn’t you see that Dina was in the room?
Mrs. Lynge.
Dina? Why, bless me! what has she to do with——?
Mrs. Holt.
Here, in this house, too! Don’t you know that it was Mrs. Bernick s brother——?
Mrs. Lynge.
What about him? I know nothing at all; remember[remember] I am quite new to the town——
Mrs. Rummel.
Then you haven’t heard that——? H’m—— [To her daughter.] You can go down the garden for a little while, Hilda.
Mrs. Holt.
You too, Netta. And be sure you are very kind to poor Dina when she comes.
[Miss Rummel and Miss Holt go out into the garden.
Mrs. Lynge.
Well, what about Mrs. Bernick’s brother?
Mrs. Rummel.
Don’t you know, he was the hero of the scandal?
Mrs. Lynge.
Mr. Hilmar the hero of a scandal!
Mrs. Rummel.
Good heavens, no; Hilmar is her cousin Mrs. Lynge. I am speaking of her brother——
Mrs. Holt.
The Prodigal Tönnesen——
Mrs. Rummel.
Johan was his name. He ran away to America.
Mrs. Holt.
Had to run away, you understand.
Mrs. Lynge.
Then the scandal was about him?
Mrs. Rummel.
Yes, it was a sort of—what shall I call it?—a sort of a—with Dina’s mother. Oh, I remember it as if it were yesterday. Johan Tönnesen was in old Mrs. Bernick’s office; Karsten Bernick had just come home from Paris—it was before his engagement——
Mrs. Lynge.
Yes, but the scandal——?
Mrs. Rummel.
Well, you see, that winter Möller’s comedy company was in the town——
Mrs. Holt.
——and in the company were Dorf and his wife. All the young men were mad about her.
Mrs. Rummel.
Yes, heaven knows what they could see in her. But one evening Dorf came home very late——
Mrs. Holt.
——and quite unexpectedly——
Mrs. Rummel.
And there he found—no, really I don’t think I can tell you.
Mrs. Holt.
Why, you know, Mrs. Rummel, he found nothing, for the door was locked on the inside.
Mrs. Rummel.
Yes; that’s what I say—he found the door locked. And—only think!—some one inside had to jump out of the window.
Mrs. Holt.
Right from the attic window!
Mrs Lynge.
And it was Mrs. Bernick’s brother?
Mrs. Rummel.
Of course it was.
Mrs. Lynge.
And that was why he ran away to America?
Mrs. Holt.
He had to make himself scarce, I can assure you.
Mrs. Rummel.
For afterwards something else was found out, almost as bad. Only think, he had been making free with the cash-box——
Mrs. Holt.
But, after all, no one knows exactly about that,[that,] Mrs. Rummel; it may have been mere gossip.
Mrs. Rummel.
Well, I really must say——! Wasn’t it known over the whole town? For that matter, wasn’t old Mrs. Bernick on the point of going bankrupt? Rummel himself has told me that. But heaven forbid I should say anything!
Mrs. Holt.
Well, the money didn’t go to Madam Dorf, at any rate, for she——
Mrs. Lynge.
Yes, what became of Dina’s parents?
Mrs. Rummel.
Oh, Dorf deserted both wife and child. But Madam was impudent enough to remain here a whole year. She didn’t dare to show herself in the theatre again; but she made a living by washing and sewing——
Mrs. Holt.
And she tried to set up a dancing-school.
Mrs. Rummel.
Of course it was a failure. What parents could trust their children with such a person? But she could not hold out long; the fine Madam wasn’t accustomed to work, you see; some chest trouble set in, and carried her off.
Mrs. Lynge.
What a wretched story!
Mrs. Rummel.
Yes, you may believe it has been a terrible thing for the Bernicks. It is the dark spot on the sun of their happiness, as Rummel once expressed it. So you must never talk of these things in this house again, Mrs. Lynge.
Mrs. Holt.
And, for heaven’s sake, don’t mention the step-sister either.
Mrs. Lynge.
Yes, by-the-bye, Mrs. Bernick has a step-sister too?
Mrs. Rummel.
Used to have—fortunately; for now they don’t recognise the relationship. Yes, she was a strange being! Would you believe it, she cut her hair short, and went about in rainy weather with men’s shoes on!
Mrs. Holt.
And when her step-brother—the ne’er-do-well—had run away, and the whole town was of course crying out against him—what do you think she did? Why, she followed him.
Mrs. Rummel.
Yes, but think of the scandal before she left, Mrs. Holt!
Mrs. Holt.
Hush—don’t talk about it.
Mrs. Lynge.
What, was there a scandal about her too?
Mrs. Rummel.
Yes, I’ll tell you all about it, Mrs. Lynge. Bernick had just proposed to Betty Tönnesen; and as he was coming, with her on his arm, into her aunt’s room to announce the engagement to her——
Mrs. Holt.
The Tönnesens were orphans, you understand.
Mrs. Rummel.
——Lona Hessel rose from her chair, and gave the handsome, aristocratic Karsten Bernick a ringing box on the ear!
Mrs. Lynge.
Well, I never——!
Mrs. Holt.
Yes, every one knows it.
Mrs. Rummel.
And then she packed up her traps and went off to America.
Mrs. Lynge.
She must have had designs upon him herself.
Mrs. Rummel.
Yes, that was just it. She imagined he was going to propose to her as soon as he came home from Paris.
Mrs. Holt.
Just fancy her dreaming of such a thing! Bernick—a polished young man-of-the-world—a perfect gentleman—the darling of all the ladies——
Mrs. Rummel.
——and so high-principled, too, Mrs. Holt—so moral.
Mrs. Lynge.
Then what has become of this Miss Hessel in America?
Mrs. Rummel.
Well—over that, as Rummel once expressed it, there rests a veil which should scarcely be lifted.
Mrs. Lynge.
What does that mean?
Mrs. Rummel.
Of course the family hears nothing from her now; but every one in town knows that she has sung for money in taverns over there——
Mrs. Holt.
——and has given lectures——
Mrs. Rummel.
——and has published an utterly crazy book.
Mrs. Lynge.
Is it possible——?
Mrs. Rummel.
Yes, Lona Hessel, too, is certainly a sun-spot in the Bernicks’ happiness. But now you know the whole story, Mrs. Lynge. Heaven knows, I have only told it to put you on your guard as to what you say.
Mrs. Lynge.
You may be quite easy on that point. But poor Dina Dorf! I really feel very sorry for her.
Mrs. Rummel.
Oh, for her it was an absolute stroke of luck. Only think, if she had remained in her parents’ hands! Of course we all took an interest in her, and tried to instil good principles into her mind. At last Miss Bernick arranged that she should come and live here.
Mrs. Holt.
But she has always been a difficult girl to deal with—the effect of bad example, you know. Of course she is not like one of our own children—we have to make the best of her, Mrs. Lynge.
Mrs. Rummel.
Hush, there she comes. [Loud.] Yes, as you say, Dina is really quite a clever girl——What, are you there, Dina? We are just finishing our work here.
Mrs. Holt.
Ah, how nice your coffee smells, my dear Dina. Such a cup of coffee in the forenoon——
Mrs. Bernick.
[In the verandah.] The coffee is ready, ladies.
[Martha and Dina have meanwhile helped the servant to bring in the coffee things. All the ladies go out and sit down; they vie with each other in talking kindly to Dina. After a time she comes into the room and looks for her sewing.
Mrs. Bernick.
[Out at the coffee-table.] Dina, don’t you want——?
Dina.
No, thanks; I don’t care for any.
[She sits down to sew. Mrs. Bernick and Rörlund exchange a few words; a moment after, he comes into the room.
Rörlund.
[Goes up to the table, as if looking for something, and says in a low voice.] Dina.
Dina.
Yes.
Rörlund.
Why will you not come out?
Dina.
When I came with the coffee I could see by the strange lady’s looks that they had been talking about me.
Rörlund.
And did you not notice, too, how kindly she spoke to you?
Dina.
But that is what I can’t bear.
Rörlund.
Yours is a rebellious nature, Dina.
Dina.
Yes.
Rörlund.
What makes it so?
Dina.
It has never been otherwise.
Rörlund.
But could you not try to change?
Dina.
No.
Rörlund.
Why not?
Dina.
[Looks up at him.] Because I belong to the “Lapsed and Lost.”
Rörlund.
Fie, Dina!
Dina.
And so did my mother before me.
Rörlund.
Who has spoken to you of such things?
Dina.
No one; they never speak. Why don’t they? They all handle me as gingerly as though I would fall to pieces, if——Oh, how I hate all this good-heartedness!
Rörlund.
My dear Dina, I can very well understand that you must feel oppressed here, but——
Dina.
Oh, if I could only go far away! I could get on well enough by myself, if only I lived among people that weren’t so—so——
Rörlund.
So what?
Dina.
So proper and moral.
Rörlund.
Come, Dina, you do not mean that.
Dina.
Oh, you know very well how I mean it. Every day Hilda and Netta come here that I may take example by them. I can never be as well-behaved as they are, and I will not be. Oh, if only I were far away, I daresay I could be good.
Rörlund.
You are good, my dear Dina.
Dina.
What good does that do me, here?
Rörlund.
Then you are seriously thinking of going away?
Dina.
I would not remain here a day longer, if you were not here.
Rörlund.
Tell me, Dina—what is it that really makes you like to be with me?
Dina.
You teach me so much that is beautiful.
Rörlund.
Beautiful? Do you call what I can teach you beautiful?
Dina.
Yes; or rather—you teach me nothing; but when I hear you speak, it makes me think of so much that is beautiful.
Rörlund.
What do you understand, then, by a beautiful thing?
Dina.
I have never thought of that.
Rörlund.
Then think of it now. What do you understand by a beautiful thing?
Dina.
A beautiful thing is something great—and far away.
Rörlund.
H’m.—My dear Dina—I sympathise with you from the bottom of my heart.
Dina.
Is that all?
Rörlund.
You know very well how unspeakably dear you are to me.
Dina.
If I were Hilda or Netta you would not be afraid to let any one see it.
Rörlund.
Oh, Dina, you cannot possibly realise the thousand considerations——When a man is singled out as a moral pillar of the society he lives in, why—he cannot be too careful. If I were only sure that people would not misinterpret my motives——But no matter; you must and shall be helped to rise. Dina, shall we make a bargain that when I come—when circumstances permit me to come—and say: Here is my hand—you will take it and be my wife?—Do you promise me that, Dina?
Dina.
Yes.
Rörlund.
Thank you, thank you!—Oh, Dina, I love you so——Sh! some one is coming. Dina, for my sake—go out to the others.
[She goes out to the coffee-table. At the same moment Rummel, Sandstad, and Vigeland enter from the Consul’s office, followed by Consul Bernick, who has a bundle of papers in his hand.
Bernick.
Then that matter is settled.
Vigeland.
Yes, with the blessing of God, so let it be.
Rummel.
It is settled, Bernick! A Norseman’s word stands firm as the Dovrefjeld, you know!
Bernick.
And no one is to give in or fall away, whatever opposition we may meet with.
Rummel.
We stand or fall together, Bernick.
Hilmar.
[Coming up from the garden.] Excuse me, isn’t it the railway that falls?
Bernick.
On the contrary, it is to go ahead——
Rummel.
——full steam, Mr. Tönnesen.
Hilmar.
[Coming forward.] Indeed!
Rörlund.
What?
Mrs. Bernick.
[At the door.] My dear Karsten, what’s the meaning——?
Bernick.
Oh, my dear Betty, it can’t possibly interest you. [To the three men.] Now we must get the prospectus ready; the sooner the better. Of course we four put our names down first. Our position in society renders it our duty to do as much as we can.
Sandstad.
No doubt, Consul.
Rummel.
We will make it go, Bernick; we are bound to.
Bernick.
Oh, yes; I have no fear as to the result. We must work hard, each in his own circle; and if we can once point to a really lively interest in the affair among all classes of society, it follows that the town, too, must contribute its share.
Mrs. Bernick.
Now, Karsten, you must really come and tell us——
Bernick.
Oh, my dear Betty, ladies don’t understand these things.
Hilmar.
Then you are actually going to back up the railway after all?
Bernick.
Yes, of course.
Rörlund.
But last year, Consul——?
Bernick.
Last year it was a different matter altogether. Then it was a coast line that was proposed——
Vigeland.
——which would have been entirely superfluous, Doctor; for have we not steamboats?
Sandstad.
——and would have been outrageously expensive——
Rummel.
——yes, and would actually have interfered with important vested interests here in the town.
Bernick.
The chief objection was that it would have conferred no benefit on the great mass of the community. Therefore I opposed it; and then the inland line was adopted.
Hilmar.
Yes, but that won’t touch the towns about here.
Bernick.
It will touch our town, my dear Hilmar, for we are going to build a branch line.
Hilmar.
Aha; an entirely new idea, then?
Rummel.
Yes; a magnificent idea, isn’t it?
Rörlund.
H’m——
Vigeland.
It cannot be denied that Providence seems specially to have smoothed the way for a branch line.
Rörlund.
Do you really say so, Mr. Vigeland?
Bernick.
Yes, for my part, I cannot but regard it as a special guidance that sent me up country on business this spring, and led me by chance into a valley where I had never been before. It struck me like a flash of lightning that here was the very track for a branch line. I at once sent an engineer to inspect it; I have here the provisional calculations and estimates; nothing now stands in our way.
Mrs. Bernick.
[Still standing, along with the other ladies, at the garden door.] But, my dear Karsten, why have you kept all this so secret?
Bernick.
Oh, my good Betty, you would not have seen the situation in its true light. Besides, I have spoken of it to no living creature until to-day. But now the decisive moment has come; now we must go to work openly, and with all our might. Ay, if I have to risk all I possess in the affair, I am determined to see it through.
Rummel.
So are we, Bernick; you may rely on us.
Rörlund.
Do you really expect such great results from this undertaking, gentlemen?
Bernick.
Yes, indeed we do. What a stimulus it will give to our whole community! Think of the great tracts of forest it will bring within reach, think of all the rich mineral-seams it will allow us to work; think of the river, with its one waterfall above the other! What rare advantages for manufactures of all kinds!
Rörlund.
And you have no fear that more frequent intercourse with a depraved outer world——
Bernick.
No; make your mind easy, Doctor. Our busy little town now rests, heaven be thanked, on a sound moral foundation; we have all helped to drain it, if I may say so; and that we will continue to do, each in his own way. You, Doctor, will carry on your beneficent activity in the school and in the home. We, the practical men of business, will support society by furthering the welfare of as wide a circle as possible. And our women—yes, come nearer, ladies; I am glad that you should hear—our women, I say, our wives and daughters, will proceed unwearied in their charitable labours, and be a help and comfort to those nearest and dearest to them, as my dear Betty and Martha are to me and Olaf——[Looks around.] Why, where is Olaf to-day?
Mrs. Bernick.
Oh, in the holidays it’s impossible to keep him at home.
Bernick.
Then he’s certain to have gone down to the water again! You’ll see, this will end in a misfortune.
Hilmar.
Bah—a little sport with the forces of nature——
Mrs. Rummel.
How nice it is of you to be so domestic, Mr.[Mr.] Bernick.
Bernick.
Ah, the Family is the kernel of society. A good home, upright and trusty friends, a little close-drawn circle, where no disturbing elements cast their shadow——
Krap enters from the right, with letters and papers.
Krap.
The foreign mail, Consul—and a telegram from New York.
Bernick.
[Taking it.] Ah, from the owners of the Indian Girl.
Rummel.
Oh, the mail is in? Then you must excuse me——
Vigeland.
And me too.
Sandstad
Good-bye, Consul.
Bernick.
Good-bye, good-bye, gentlemen. And remember we have a meeting this afternoon at five o’clock.
The Three.
Yes—of course—all right.
[They go out to the right.
Bernick.
[Who has read the telegram.] Well, this is really too American! Positively shocking——!
Mrs. Bernick.
Why, Karsten, what is it?
Bernick.
Look here, Krap—read this!
Krap.
[Reads.] “Fewest possible repairs; despatch Indian Girl without delay; good season: at worst, cargo will keep her afloat.” Well, I must say——
Bernick.
The cargo keep her afloat! These gentlemen know very well that, if anything should happen, that cargo will send her to the bottom like a stone.
Rörlund.
Ay, this shows the state of things in these vaunted great nations.
Bernick.
You are right there—even human life counts for nothing when dollars are at stake. [To Krap.] Can the Indian Girl be ready for sea in four or five days?
Krap.
Yes, if Mr. Vigeland will agree to let the Palm Tree stand over in the meantime.
Bernick.
H’m—he will scarcely agree to that. Oh, just look through the mail, please. By the way, did you see Olaf down on the pier?
Krap.
No, Consul.
[He goes into Consul’s office.
Bernick.
[Looking again at the telegram.] These gentlemen think nothing of risking the lives of eighteen men——
Hilmar.
Well, it’s a sailor’s calling to brave the elements. It must brace up your nerves to feel that you have only a thin plank between you and eternity——
Bernick.
I should like to see the shipowner among us that would have the conscience to do such a thing! There isn’t one, not a single one. [Catches sight of Olaf.] Ah, thank goodness, nothing has happened to him.
[Olaf, with a fishing-line in his hand, comes running up the street and through the garden-gate.
Olaf.
[Still in the garden.] Uncle Hilmar, I’ve been down seeing the steamboat.
Bernick.
Have you been on the pier again?
Olaf.
No, I was only out in a boat. But just fancy, Uncle Hilmar, a whole circus company came ashore from the steamer, with horses and wild beasts; and there were a lot of passengers besides.
Mrs. Rummel.
Oh, are we to have a circus?
Rörlund.
We? Really I should hope not.
Mrs. Rummel.
No, of course not we, but——
Dina.
I should like to see a circus.
Olaf.
Oh, and me too!
Hilmar.
You’re a little blockhead. What is there to see? Nothing but trickery and make-believe. Now it would be something worth while to see the gaucho sweeping over the Pampas on his snorting mustang. But, hang it all, here in these little towns——
Olaf.
[Pulling Martha’s dress.] Aunt Martha, look, look—there they come!
Mrs. Holt.
Yes indeed, here we have them.
Mrs. Lynge.
Oh, what horrid people!
[Many travellers, and a whole crowd of townspeople, come up the street.
Mrs. Rummel.
Aren’t they a regular set of mountebanks! Just look at that one in the grey dress, Mrs. Holt; the one with the knapsack on her back.
Mrs. Holt.
Yes, see, she has it slung on the handle of her parasol. Of course it’s the manager’s wife.
Mrs. Rummel.
Oh, and there’s the manager himself, the one with the beard. Well, he does look a regular pirate. Don’t look at him, Hilda!
Mrs. Holt.
Nor you either, Netta!
Olaf.
Oh, mother, the manager is bowing to us.
Bernick.
What?
Mrs. Bernick.
What do you say, child?
Mrs. Rummel.
Yes, and I declare the woman is nodding too!
Bernick.
Come, this is really too much!
Martha.
[With an involuntary cry.] Ah——!
Mrs. Bernick.
What is it, Martha?
Martha.
Oh, nothing—only I thought——
Olaf.
[Shrieks with delight.] Look, look, there come the others, with the horses and wild beasts! And there are the Americans too! All the sailors from the Indian Girl——
[“Yankee Doodle” is heard, accompanied by a clarinet and drum.
Hilmar.
[Stopping his ears.] Ugh, ugh, ugh!
Rörlund.
I think we should withdraw for a moment, ladies. This is no scene for us. Let us resume our work.
Mrs. Bernick.
Perhaps we ought to draw the curtains?
Rörlund.
Yes, that is just what I was thinking.
[The ladies take their places at the table; Rörlund shuts the garden door and drams the curtains over it and over the windows; it becomes half dark in the room.
Olaf.
[Peeping out.] Mother, the manager’s wife is standing at the fountain washing her face!
Mrs. Bernick.
What? In the middle of the market-place?
Mrs. Rummel.
And in broad daylight!
Hilmar.
Well, if I were travelling in the desert and came upon a well, I should never hesitate to——Ugh, that abominable clarinet!
Rörlund.
The police ought really to interfere.
Bernick.
Oh, come; one must not be too hard upon foreigners; these people are naturally devoid of the deep-rooted sense of propriety that keeps us within the right limits. Let them do as they please; it cannot affect us. All this unseemliness, this rebellion against good taste and good manners, fortunately finds no echo, if I may say so, in our society.—What is this!
A Strange Lady enters briskly by the door on the right.
The Ladies.
[Frightened, and speaking low.] The circus woman! The manager’s wife!
Mrs. Bernick.
Why, what does this mean!
Martha.
[Starts up.] Ah——!
The Lady.
Good-morning, my dear Betty! Good-morning, Martha! Good-morning, brother-in-law!
Mrs. Bernick.
[With a shriek.] Lona——!
Bernick.
[Staggers back a step.] Merciful heavens——!
Mrs. Holt.
Why, goodness me——!
Mrs. Rummel.
It can’t be possible——!
Hilmar.
What? Ugh!
Mrs. Bernick.
Lona——! Is it really——?
Lona.
Really me? Yes, indeed it is. You may fall on my neck and embrace me, for that matter.
Hilmar.
Ugh! ugh!
Mrs. Bernick.
And you come here as——?
Bernick.
You are actually going to appear——?
Lona.
Appear? How appear?
Bernick.
I mean—in the circus——?
Lona.
Ha ha ha! What nonsense, brother-in-law. Do you think I belong to the circus? No; it’s true I have turned my hand to all sorts of things, and made a fool of myself in many ways——
Mrs. Rummel.
H’m——
Lona.
——but I’ve never learnt to play tricks on horseback.
Bernick.
Then you are not——?
Mrs. Bernick.
Oh, thank God!
Lona.
No, no; we came like other respectable people—second class, it’s true; but we’re used to that.
Mrs. Bernick.
We, you say?
Bernick.
[Advancing a step.] What we?
Lona.
Why, my boy and I, of course.
The Ladies.
[With a cry.] Your boy!
Hilmar.
What?
Rörlund.
Well, I must say——
Mrs. Bernick.
Why, what do you mean, Lona?
Lona.
Of course I mean John; I have no other boy but John, that I know of—or Johan, as you call him.
Mrs. Bernick.
Johan——!
Mrs. Rummel.
[Aside to Mrs. Lynge.] The prodigal brother.
Bernick.
[Hesitatingly.] Is Johan with you?
Lona.
Of course, of course; I would never travel without him. But you’re all looking so dismal—and sitting here in this twilight, sewing at something white. There hasn’t been a death in the family?
Rörlund.
This is a meeting, Miss Hessel, of the Society for the Moral Regeneration of the Lapsed and Lost.
Lona.
[Half to herself.] What? These nice-looking, well-behaved ladies, can they be——?
Mrs. Rummel.
Oh, this is too much——!
Lona.
Ah, I see, I see! Why, good gracious, that’s Mrs. Rummel I And there sits Mrs. Holt too! Well, we three haven’t grown younger since last we met. But listen now, good people: let the Lapsed and Lost wait for one day; they’ll be none the worse for it. On a joyful occasion like this——
Rörlund.
A return home is not always a joyful occasion.
Lona.
Indeed? Then how do you read your Bible, Pastor?
Rörlund.
I am not a clergyman.
Lona.
Oh; then you will be one, for certain.—But, pah!—this moral linen here has a tainted smell—just like a shroud. I’m accustomed to the air of the prairies now, I can tell you.
Bernick.
[Wiping his forehead.] Yes; it really is rather oppressive in here.
Lona.
Wait a moment—we’ll soon rise from the sepulchre. [Draws back the curtains.] We must have broad daylight here when my boy comes. Ah—then you shall see a boy that has washed himself———
Hilmar.
Ugh!
Lona.
[Opens the door and the windows.]——when he has washed himself, I mean—up at the hotel—for on board the steamer you get as dirty as a pig.
Hilmar.
Ugh, ugh!
Lona.
“Ugh”? Why if that isn’t——! [Points to Hilmar, and asks the others.] Does he still loaf about here saying “ugh” to everything?
Hilmar.
I do not loaf; I remain here by my doctor’s orders.
Rörlund.
Ahem—ladies, I hardly think that——
Lona.
[Catches sight of Olaf.] Is this your youngster, Betty? Give us your fist, my boy! Or are you afraid of your ugly old aunt?
Rörlund.
[Putting his book under his arm.] I do not think, ladies, that we are quite in the mood for doing more work to-day. But we shall meet again to-morrow?
Lona.
[As the visitors rise to go.] Yes, by all means—I shall be here.
Rörlund.
You? Allow me to ask, Miss Hessel, what you will do in our Society?
Lona.
I will let in fresh air, Pastor.
[21]. “Gjort umyndig” = placed under a legal interdict.
[22]. When this play was written, Ministers did not sit in the Storthing, and were not responsible to it. This state of things was altered—as Ibsen here predicts—in the great constitutional struggle of 1872-84, which ended in the victory of the Liberal party, their leader, Johan Sverdrup, becoming Prime Minister.
[23]. “Havetrappe” here seems to imply a light of steps with so wide a landing at the top as practically to form a verandah, under the sun-shade. In subsequent stage directions, the word is rendered by “verandah.”