Mrs. Riis. Would not that be more honest, too? Because now it is only being corrupted, long before it begins.
Christensen. Oh, of course it is all the men's fault! It is the fashion to say that now—it is part of the "struggle for freedom." Down with man's authority, of course!
Mrs. Riis. The authority his bachelor life has won for him!
Nordan. Ha, ha!
Mrs. Riis. Do not let us cover up the real issue with phrases! Let us rather speak of the "desolate hearth" that the poet writes of. Marriage laid in ruins is what he means by that; and what is the cause of it? What is the cause of the chilly, horrible commonplace of every-day life—sensual, idle, brutish? I could paint it even more vividly, but I will not. I will refrain, for instance, from bringing up the subject of hereditary disease. Let the question be thrashed out openly! Then perhaps a fire will be kindled—and our consciences stirred! It must become the most momentous question in every home. That is what is needed!
Christensen. Our conversation has soared to such heights that it really seems quite an anti-climax for me to say that I must go to a "higher place"!—but you must excuse me all the same.
Mrs. Riis. I hope I have not delayed you?
Christensen. No, there is plenty of time. I am only longing fervently—you really must not be offended—to get away from here.
Mrs. Riis. To your—equals?
Christensen. What a remarkable thing that you should remind me of them! And, by the way, that reminds me that I am scarcely likely to meet you or your family in future.