Stensgård.
Yes, you have! You are intriguing against me, behind my back. Why do you do that? Be open with me—will you?
Fieldbo.
Frankly, I won’t. You are so dangerous, so unscrupulous—well, so reckless at any rate, that one dare not be open with you. Whatever you know, you make use of without hesitation. But this I say to you as a friend: put Miss Bratsberg out of your head.
Stensgård.
I cannot. I must extricate myself from these sordid surroundings. I can’t go on living in this hugger-mugger way. Here have I got to be hail-fellow-well-met with Dick, Tom, and Harry; to whisper in corners with them, to hob-nob with them, to laugh at their beery witticisms; to be hand in glove with hobbledehoys and unlicked cubs. How can I keep my love of the People untarnished in the midst of all this? I feel as if all the electricity went out of my words. I have no elbow-room, no fresh air to breathe. Oh, a longing comes over me at times for exquisite women! I want something that brings beauty with it! I lie here in a sort of turbid eddy, while out there the clear blue current sweeps past me——But what can you understand of all this!
Lundestad.
[Enters from the back.] Ah, here we are. Good-morning, gentlemen.
Stensgård.
I have news for you, Mr. Lundestad! Do you know who the Chamberlain is voting for?