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 £14,000 for a year—I need no more than that—and I will save the situation for good and all. Think seriously, now! Remember my family, remember how long my firm has been established, remember the numbers that would be ruined if I were! And do not forget to think of your own family! Because, if you don't agree to what I ask, neither of us shall leave this room alive!