You need have no qualms, my dear Karsten. We agreed that it should be so; you had to be saved, and you were my friend. I can tell you I was proud of that friendship! Here was I, poor stay-at-home, plodding along, when you came back like a very prince from your great foreign tour—from London and Paris, no less! Then what should you do but choose me for your bosom friend, though I was four years younger than you. Well, that was because you were making love to Betty; now I understand it well enough. But how proud I was of it then! And who would not have been proud! Who would not gladly have served as your scapegoat, especially when it only meant a month’s town-talk, and an excuse for making a dash into the wide world.
Bernick.
H’m—my dear Johan, I must tell you frankly that the story is not so entirely forgotten yet.
Johan.
Isn’t it? Well, what does it matter to me when once I am back again at my farm?
Bernick.
Then you are going back?
Johan.
Of course.
Bernick.