[Coming nearer.] Consul Bernick, have you rightly bethought what it means to turn an old workman away? You say he can look about for another job. Ay, ay, maybe he can—but is that everything? Ah, you should just see what it looks like in a turned-off workman’s house, the night when he comes home and puts his tool-chest behind the door.
Bernick.
Do you think I part with you willingly? Haven’t I always been a good master to you?
Aune.
So much the worse, Consul; for that means as my folks at home won’t put the blame on you. They won’t say nothing to me, for they durstn’t, but they’ll look at me when I’m not noticing, as much as to say: Certain sure, it must’a’ been his fault. You see, it’s that—it’s that as I can’t abear, God knows, I’m a poor man, but I’ve always been used to be the first in my own house. My bit of a home is in a manner of speaking a little community, Consul Bernick. That little community I’ve been able to support and hold together because my wife believed in me, my children believed in me. And now the whole thing is to fall to pieces.
Bernick.
Well, if it cannot be otherwise, the less must fall before the greater; the part must, in heaven’s name, be sacrificed to the whole. I can give you no other answer; and you’ll find it is the way of the world. But you are an obstinate fellow, Aune! You stand against me, not because you can’t help it, but because you will not prove the superiority of machinery to manual labour.
Aune.
And you’re so dead set on this, Consul, because you know that, if you send me about my business, leastways you’ll have shown the papers your goodwill.
Bernick.