Valborg. Yes. You must not be misemployed any longer.

Sannaes. Misemployed? In what I myself desire so much?

Valborg. When I have talked it over with my father, I think he will see my point.

Sannaes (anxiously). What do you mean?

Valborg (after a moment's reflection).—I mean, the reason of your having made such great sacrifices for us—and of your being willing to make still greater now. (A pause. SANNAES hangs his head, and is raising his hands to hide his face, when suddenly he puts them behind his back again. VALBORG continues, in gentle but firm tones:) I have taught myself, all my life, to look behind deeds and words for their motives.

Sannaes (quietly, without raising his head). You have taught yourself to be cruelly bitter, hard and unjust.

Valborg (starts, but collects herself, and says gently:) Don't say that, Mr. Sannaes! It is not hard-heartedness or bitterness that makes me think of your future now—and makes me wish to spare you disappointment.

Sannaes (with a cry of pain). Miss Valborg!

Valborg. Be honest with yourself, and you will be able to take a fairer view of what I have just said.

Sannaes. Have you any more orders, Miss Valborg?

Valborg. I give you no orders, as I have told you already. I am only bidding you good-bye; and I do it with grateful thanks to you for all your goodness to me—and to us all. Good-bye and good luck, Mr. Sannaes. (SANNAES bows.)Won't you shake hands? Ah, I forgot—I offended you. I beg your pardon for that. (SANNAES bows and turns to go.) Come, Mr. Sannaes—let us at least part as good friends! You are going to America, and I am going among strangers. Let us go away wishing one another well.

Sannaes (moved). Good-bye, Miss Valborg. (Turns to go.)

Valborg. Mr. Sannaes—shake hands!

Sannaes (stopping). No, Miss Valborg.

Valborg. Don't treat me uncivilly; I have not deserved that. (SANNAES again turns to go.) Mr. Sannaes!

Sannaes (stopping). You might soil your fingers, Miss Valborg! (Walks proudly away.)

Valborg (controlling herself with an effort). Well, we have offended each other now. But why should we not forgive each other as well?

Sannaes. Because you have just offended me for the second time to-day—and more deeply than the first time.

Valborg. Oh, this is too much! I spoke as I did, because I owed it to myself not to be put in a false position, and owed it to you to spare you future disappointment. And you call that insulting you! Which of us has insulted the other, I should like to know?

Sannaes. You have, by thinking such things of me. Do you realise how cruelly you have spoilt the happiest action of my life?

Valborg. I have done so quite unintentionally, then. I am only glad that I was mistaken.

Sannes (bitterly). You are glad! So it really makes you glad to know that I am not a scoundrel!

Valborg (quietly). Who said anything of the kind?

Sannaes. You! You know the weak spot in my armour; but that you should on that account believe that I could lay a trap for you and try to trade on your father's misfortune, Miss Valborg—! No, I cannot shake hands with any one who has thought so badly of me as that! And, since you have so persistently insulted me that I have lost all the timidity I used to feel in your presence, let me tell you this openly; these hands (stretching out his hands to her) have grown red and ugly in loyal work for your father, and his daughter should have been above mocking at me for them! (Turns to go, but stops.) And, one word more. Ask your father for his hand now, and hold fast to it, instead of deserting him on the very day that misfortune has overtaken him. That would be more to the point than worrying about my future. I can look after that for myself. (Turns again to go, but comes back.) And when, in his service—which will be no easy service now—your hands bear the same honourable marks of work as mine do, and are as red as mine, then you will perhaps understand how you have hurt me! At present you cannot. (He goes quickly towards the door of the outer office.)

Valborg (with a wry smile). What a temper! (More seriously.) And yet, after all—. (Looks after him. Just as SANNAES gets to the door TJAELDE'S voice is heard calling him from the top of the staircase. SANNAES answers him.)

Tjaelde (coming down the stairs). Sannaes! Sannaes! I can see Jakobsen coming. (Hurries across the room as if pursued by fear. SANNAES follows him.) Of course he will be coming back to look for me again! It is cowardly of me to feel that I cannot stand it; but I cannot—not to-day, not now! I cannot stand any more! Stop him! Don't let him come in! I shall have to drink my cup of misery to the dregs; but (almost in a whisper) not all at one draught! (Hides his face in his hands.)

Sannaes. He shan't come; don't be afraid! (Goes quickly out, with an air of determination.)

Tjaelde. It is hard—oh, it is hard!

Valborg (coming to his side). Father! (He looks at her, anxiously.) You may safely accept the money Sannaes offers you.

Tjaelde (in surprise). What do you mean by that?

Valborg. I mean—that, if you do, I will not forsake you either, but stay here with you too.

Tjaelde (incredulously). You, Valborg?

Valborg. Yes, you know I want to learn office work, and business; and I would rather learn in your office.

Tjaelde (shyly). I don't understand what you—?

Valborg. Don't you understand, dear? I believe I could become of some use in the office. And in that way, you know, we might begin afresh—and try, with God's help, to pay your creditors.

Tjaelde (happily, but shyly). My child! Who put such a happy idea into your head?

Valborg (putting an arm round his neck). Father, forgive me for all that I have neglected to do! You shall see how I will try and make up for it! How hard I shall work!

Tjaelde (still half incredulous). My child! My child!

Valborg. I feel—I cannot tell you how deeply—a craving for love and for work! (Throws both her arms round his neck.) Oh, father, how I love you!—and how I shall work for you!

Tjaelde. Ah, that is the Valborg I have waited for, ever since you were a little child! But we had drifted away from one another, somehow.

Valborg. No more about the past! Look forward, father, look forward! Concerns "that would not be affected by the uncertainties of high finance,"—weren't those his words?

Tjaelde. So you were struck by that expression, too?

Valborg. That may mean a future for us now! We will have a home all to ourselves—a little house down on the shore—and I shall help you, and Signe will help mother—we shall know what it is to live, for the first time!

Tjaelde. What happiness it will be!

Valborg. Only look forward, father! Look forward! A united family is invincible!

Tjaelde. And to think that such help should come to me now!

Valborg. Yes, now we are all going to our posts—and all together, where formerly you stood alone! You will have good fairies round you; wherever you look, you will see happy faces and busy fingers all day long; and we shall all enjoy our meals and our evenings together, just as we did when we were children!

Tjaelde. That, above everything!

Valborg. Ha, ha!—it is after the rain that the birds sing blithest, you know! And this time our happiness can never miscarry, because we shall have something worth living for!

Tjaelde. Let us go to your mother! This will cheer her heart!

Valborg. Ah, how I have learnt to love her! What has happened to-day has taught me.

Tjaelde. It is for her that we shall all work now.

Valborg. Yes—for her, for her. She shall rest now. Let us go to her!

Tjaelde. Kiss me first, my dear. (His voice trembles.) It is so long since you did!

Valborg (kissing him). Father!

Tjaelde. Now let us go to your mother. (The curtain falls as they go out together.)



ACT IV

(SCENE.—In the garden of TJAELDE'S new home, on the shore of the fjord, three years later. A view of tranquil sunlit sea, dotted with boats, in the background. On the left a portion of the house is seen, with an open window within which VALBORG is seen writing at a desk. The garden is shaded with birch trees; flower-beds run round the house, and the whole atmosphere one of modest comfort. Two small garden tables and several chairs are in the foreground on the right. A chair standing by itself, further back, has evidently had a recent occupant. When the curtain rises the stage is empty, but VALBORG is visible at the open window. Soon afterwards TJAELDE comes in, wheeling MRS. TJAELDE in an invalid chair.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. Another lovely day!

Tjaelde. Tjaelde. Lovely! There was not a ripple on the sea last night. I saw a couple of steamers far out, and a sailing ship that had hove to, and the fisher-boats drifting silently in.

Mrs. Tjaelde. And think of the storm that was raging two days ago!

Tjaelde. And think of the storm that broke over our lives barely three years ago! I was thinking of that in the night.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Sit down here with me.

Tjaelde. Shall we not continue our stroll?

Mrs. Tjaelde. The sun is too hot.

Tjaelde. Not for me.

Mrs. Tjaelde. You big strong man! It is too hot for me.

Tjaelde (taking a chair). There you are, then.

Mrs. Tjaelde (taking off his hat and wiping his forehead). You are very hot, dear. You have never looked so handsome as you do now!

Tjaelde. That's just as well, as you have so much time to admire me now!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Now that I find getting about so difficult, you mean? Ah, that is only my pretence, so as to get you to wheel me about!

Tjaelde (with a sigh). Ah, my dear, it is good of you to take it so cheerfully. But that you should be the only one of us to bear such hard traces of our misfortune—

Mrs. Tjaelde (interrupting him). Do you forget your own whitened hair? That is a sign of it, too, but a beautiful one! And, as for my being an invalid, I thank God every day for it! In the first place I have almost no pain, and then it gives me the opportunity to feel how good you are to me in every way.

Tjaelde. You enjoy your life, then?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, indeed I do—and just as I should wish to.

Tjaelde. Just to be spoiled, and yourself to spoil us?

Valborg (from the window). I have finished the accounts, father.

Tjaelde. Doesn't it come out at about what I said?

Valborg. Almost exactly. Shall I enter it in the ledger at once?

Tjaelde. Oho! You are glad then, as you seem in such it hurry?

Valborg. Certainly! Such a good stroke of business!

Tjaelde. And both you and Sannaes tried your best to dissuade me from it!

Valborg. Such a pair of wiseacres!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Ah, your father is your master, my dear!

Tjaelde. Tjaelde. Oh, it is easy enough to captain a small army that marches on, instead of a big one that is in retreat. (VALBORG goes on with her work.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. And yet it seemed hard enough for us to give it up.

Tjaelde. Yes, yes—oh, yes. I can tell you, I was thinking of that last night. If God had given me what I begged for then, what state should we have been in now? I was thinking of that, too.

Mrs. Tjaelde. It is the fact of the estate being at last wound up that has brought all these thoughts into your mind, dear?

Tjaelde. Yes.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Then I must confess that I, too, have scarcely been able to think of anything else since yesterday, when Sannaes went into town to settle it up. This a red-letter day! Signe is wrestling with a little banquet for us; we shall see what an artist she has become! Here she is!

Tjaelde. I think I will just go and look over Valborg's accounts. (Goes to the window. SIGNE comes out of the house, wearing a cook's apron and carrying a basin.)

Signe. Mother, you must taste my soup! (Offers her a spoonful.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. Clever girl! (Tastes the soup.) Perhaps it would stand a little—. No, it is very good as it is. You are clever!

Signe. Am I not! Will Sannaes be back soon?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Your father says we may expect him any moment.

Tjaelde (at the window, to VALBORG). No, wait a moment. I will come in. (Goes into the house, and is seen within the window beside VALBORG.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. My little Signe, I want to ask you something?

Signe. Do you?

Mrs. Tjaelde. What was in the letter you had yesterday evening?

Signe. Aha, I might have guessed that was it! Nothing, mother.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Nothing that pained you, then?

Signe. I slept like a top all night—so you can judge for yourself.

Mrs. Tjaelde. I am so glad. But, you know, there seems to me something a little forced in the gay way you say that?

Signe. Does there? Well, it was something that I shall always be ashamed of; that is all.

Mrs. Tjaelde. I am thankful to hear it, for—

Signe (interrupting her). That must be Sannaes. I hear wheels. Yes, here he is! He has come too soon; dinner won't be ready for half an hour yet.

Mrs. Tjaelde. That doesn't matter.

Signe. Father, here is Sannaes!

Tjaelde (from within). Good! I will come out! (SIGNE goes into the house as TJAELDE comes out. SANNAES comes in a moment later.)

Tjaelde and Mrs. Tjaelde. Welcome!

Sannaes. Thank you! (Lays down his dust-coat and driving gloves on a chair, and comes forward.)

Tjaelde. Well?

Sannaes. Yes—your bankruptcy is discharged!

Mrs. Tjaelde. And the result was—?

Sannaes. Just about what we expected.

Tjaelde. And, I suppose, just about what Mr. Berent wrote?

Sannaes. Just about, except for one or two inconsiderable trifles. You can see for yourself. (Gives him a bundle of papers.) The high prices that have ruled of late, and good management, have altered the whole situation.

Tjaelde (who has opened the papers and glanced at the totals). A deficit of L12,000.

Sannaes. I made a declaration on your behalf, that you intended to try and repay that sum, but that you should be at liberty to do it in whatever way you found best. And so—

Tjaelde. And so—?

Sannaes.—I proferred on the spot rather more than half the amount you still owed Jakobsen.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Not really? (TJAELDE takes out a pencil and begins making calculations on the margins of the papers.)

Sannaes. There was general satisfaction—and they all sent you their cordial congratulations.

Mrs. Tjaelde. So that, if all goes well—

Tjaelde. Yes, if things go as well with the business as they promise to, Sannaes, in twelve or fourteen years I shall have paid every one in full.

Mrs. Tjaelde. We haven't much longer than that left to live, dear!

Tjaelde. Then we shall die poor. And I shall not complain!

Mrs. Tjaelde. No, indeed! The honourable name you will leave to your children will be well worth it.

Tjaelde. And they will inherit a sound business, which they can go on with if they choose.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Did you hear that, Valborg?

Valborg (from the window). Every word! (SANNAES bows to her.) I must go in and tell Signe! (Moves away from the window.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. What did Jakobsen say?—honest old Jakobsen?

Sannaes. He was very much affected, as you would expect. He will certainly be coming out here to-day.

Tjaelde (looking up from the papers). And Mr. Berent?

Sannaes. He is coming hard on my heels. I was to give you his kind regards and tell you so.

Tjaelde. Splendid! We owe him so much.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, he has been a true friend to us. But, talking of true friends, I have something particular to ask you, Sannaes.

Sannaes. Me, Mrs. Tjaelde?

Mrs. Tjaelde. The maid told me that yesterday, when you went into town, you took the greater part of your belongings with you. Is that so?

Sannaes. Yes, Mrs. Tjaelde.

Tjaelde. What does that mean? (To his wife.) You said nothing about it to me, my dear.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Because I thought it might be a misunderstanding. But now I must ask what was the meaning of it. Are you going away?

Sannaes (fingering a chair, in evident confusion). Yes, Mrs. Tjaelde.

Tjaelde. Where to? You never said anything about it.

Sannaes. No; but I have always considered that I should have finished my task here as soon as the estate was finally wound up.

Tjaelde and Mrs. Tjaelde. You mean to leave us?

Sannaes. Yes.

Tjaelde. But why?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Where do you mean to go?

Sannaes. To my relations in America. I can now, without doing you any harm, withdraw my capital from the business by degrees and transfer it abroad.

Tjaelde. And dissolve our partnership?

Sannaes. You know that at any rate you had decided now to resume the old style of the firm's name.

Tjaelde. That is true; but, Sannaes, what does it all mean? What is your reason?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Are you not happy here, where we are all so attached to you?

Tjaelde. You have quite as good a prospect for the future here as in America.

Mrs. Tjaelde. We held together in evil days; are we not to hold together now that good days have come?

Sannaes. I owe you both so much.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Good heavens, it is we that owe you—

Tjaelde.—more than we can ever repay. (Reproachfully.) Sannaes!

(SIGNE comes in, having taken off her cooking apron.)

Signe. Congratulations! Congratulations! Father mother! (Kisses them both.) Welcome, Sannaes!—But aren't you pleased?—now? (A pause. VALBORG comes in.)

Valborg. What has happened?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Sannaes wants to leave us, my children (A pause.)

Signe. But, Sannaes—!

Tjaelde. Even if you want to go away, why have you never said a single word to us about it before? (To the others.) Or has he spoken to any of you? (MRS. TJAELDE shakes her head.)

Signe. No.

Sannaes. It was because—because—I wanted to be able to go as soon as I had told you. Otherwise it would be too hard to go.

Tjaelde. You must have very serious grounds for it, then! Has anything happened to you to—to make it necessary? (SANNAES does not answer.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. And to make it impossible for you to trust any of us?

Sannaes (shyly). I thought I had better keep it to myself. (A pause.)

Tjaelde. That makes it still more painful for us—to think that you could go about in our little home circle here, where you have shared everything with us, carrying the secret of this intention hidden in your heart.

Sannaes. Do not be hard on me! Believe me, if I could stay, I would; and if I could tell you the reason, I would. (A pause.)

Signe (to her mother, in an undertone). Perhaps he wants to get married?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Would his being here with us make any difference to that? Any one that Sannaes loved would be dear to us.

Tjaelde (going up to SANNAES and putting an arm round his shoulders). Tell one of us, then, if you cannot tell us all. Is it nothing we can help you in?

Sannaes. No.

Tjaelde. But can you judge of that alone? One does not always realise how much some one else's advice, on the experience of an older man, may help one.

Sannaes. Unfortunately it is as I say.

Tjaelde. It must be something very painful, then?

Sannaes. Please—!

Tjaelde. Well, Sannaes, you have quite cast a cloud over to-day's happiness for us. I shall miss you as I have never missed any one.

Mrs. Tjaelde. I cannot imagine the house without Sannaes!

Tjaelde (to his wife). Come, dear, shall we go in again?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes—it is not nice out here any longer. (TJAELDE takes her into the house. SIGNE turns to VALBORG to go in with her, but when she comes close to her she gives a little cry. VALBORG takes her arm, and their eyes meet.)

Signe. Where have my wits been? (She goes into the house, looking back at VALBORG and SANNAES. The latter is giving way to his emotion, but as soon as his eyes fall on VALBORG he recovers himself.)

Valborg (impetuously). Sannaes!

Sannaes. What are your orders, Miss Valborg?

Valborg (turning away from him, then turning back, but avoiding his eyes). Do you really mean to leave us?

Sannaes. Yes, Miss Valborg. (A pause.)

Valborg. So we shall never stand back to back at our desks in the same room again?

Sannaes. No, Miss Valborg.

Valborg. That is a pity; I had become so accustomed to it.

Sannaes. You will easily become accustomed to some one else's—back.

Valborg. Ah, some one else is some one else.

Sannaes. You must excuse me, Miss Valborg; I don't feel in the humour for jesting to-day. (Turn to go.)

Valborg (looking up at him). Is this to be our parting, then? (A pause.)

Sannaes. I thought of taking leave of you all this afternoon.

Valborg (taking a step towards him). But ought not we two to settle our accounts first?

Sannaes (coldly). No, Miss Valborg.

Valborg. Do you feel then that everything between us has been just as it ought?

Sannaes. God knows I don't!

Valborg. But you think I am to blame?—Oh, well, it doesn't matter.

Sannaes. I am quite willing to take the blame. Put anyway, it is all finished with now.

Valborg. But if we were to share the blame? You cannot be quite indifferent as to which of us should take it?

Sannaes. I confess I am not. But, as I said, I do not wish for any settling of accounts between us.

Valborg. But I wish it.

Sannaes. You will have plenty of time to settle it to your own satisfaction.

Valborg. But, if I am in difficulties about it, I cannot do it alone.

Sannaes. I do not think you will find any difficulty.

Valborg. But if I think so?—if I feel myself deeply wronged?

Sannaes. I have told you that I am willing to take all the blame upon myself.

Valborg. No, Sannaes—I don't want charity; I want to be understood. I have a question to ask you.

Sannaes. As you will.

Valborg. How was it that we got on so well for the first year after my father's failure-and even longer? Have you ever thought of that?

Sannaes. Yes. I think it was because we never talked about anything but our work—about business.

Valborg. You were my instructor.

Sannaes. And when you no longer needed an instructor—

Valborg.—we hardly spoke to one another.

Sannaes (softly). No.

Valborg. Well, what could I say or do, when every sign of friendship on my part went unnoticed?

Sannaes. Unnoticed? Oh no, Miss Valborg, I noticed them.

Valborg. That was my punishment, then!

Sannas. God forbid I should do you an injustice. You had a motive which did you credit; you felt compassion for me, and so you could not help acting as you did. But, Miss Valborg, I refuse your compassion.

Valborg. And suppose it were gratitude?

Sannaes (softly). I dreaded that more than anything else! I had had a warning.

Valborg. You must admit, Sannaes, that all this made you very difficult to deal with!

Sannaes. I quite admit that. But, honestly, you must admit that I had good reason to mistrust an interest in me that sprang from mere gratitude. Had circumstances been different, I should only have bored you cruelly; I knew that quite well. And I had no fancy for being an amusement for your idle hours.

Valborg. How you have mistaken me!—If you will think of it, surely you must understand how different a girl, who has been accustomed to travel and society, becomes when she has to stay at home and work because it is her duty. She comes to judge men by an altogether different standard, too. The men that she used to think delightful are very likely to appear small in her eyes when it is a question of the demands life makes on ability or courage or self-sacrifice; while the men she used to laugh at are transformed in her eyes into models of what God meant men to be, when she is brought into close contact with them in her father's office.—Is there anything so surprising in that? (A pause.)

Sannaes. Thank you, at all events, for saying that to me. It has done me good. But you should have said it sooner.

Valborg (emphatically). How could I, when you misjudged everything I did or said? No; it was impossible until mistakes and misunderstandings had driven us so far apart that we could not endure them any longer (Turns away.)

Sannaes. Perhaps you are right. I cannot at once recall all that has happened. If I have been mistaken, I shall by degrees find the knowledge of it a profound comfort.—You must excuse me, Miss Valborg, I have a number of things to see to. (Turns to go.)

Valborg (anxiously). Sannaes, as you admit that you have judged me unjustly, don't you think you ought at least to give me—some satisfaction?

Sannaes. You may be certain, Miss Valborg, that when I am balancing our account you shall not suffer any injustice. But I cannot do it now. All I have to do now is to get ready to go.

Valborg. But you are not ready to go, Sannaes! You have not finished your work here yet! There is what I just spoke of—and something else that dates farther back than that.

Sannaes. You must feel how painful it is for me to prolong this interview. (Turns to go.)

Valborg. But surely you won't go without setting right something that I am going to beg you to?

Sannas. What is that, Miss Valborg?

Valborg. Something that happened a long time ago.

Sannaes. If it is in my power, I will do what you ask.

Valborg. It is.—Ever since that day you have never offered to shake hands with me.

Sannaes. Have you really noticed that? (A pause.)

Valborg (with a smile, turning away). Will you do so now?

Sannaes (stepping nearer to her). Is this more than a mere whim?

Valborg (concealing her emotion). How can you ask such a question now?

Sannaes. Because all this time you have never once asked me to shake hands with you.

Valborg. I wanted you to offer me your hand. (A pause.)

Sannaes. Are you serious for once?

Valborg. I mean it, seriously.

Sannaes (in a happier voice). You really set a value on it?

Valborg. A great value.

Sannaes (going up to her). Here it is, then!

Valborg (turning and taking his hand). I accept the hand you offer me.

Sannaes (turning pale). What do you mean?

Valborg. I mean that for some time past I have known that I should be proud to be the wife of a man who has loved me, and me alone, ever since he was a boy, and has saved my father and us all.

Sannaes. Oh, Miss Valborg!

Valborg. And you wanted to go away, rather than offer me your hand; and that, only because we had accepted help from you—and you did not think we were free agents! That was too much; and, as you would not speak, I had to!

Sannaes (kneeling to her). Miss Valborg!

Valborg. You have the most loyal nature, the most delicate mind, and the warmest heart I have ever known.

Sannaes. This is a thousand times too much!

Valborg. Next to God, I have to thank you that I have become what I am; and I feel that I can offer you a life's devotion such as you would rarely find in this world.

Sannaes. I cannot answer because I scarcely realise what you are saying. But you are saying it because you are sorry for me, now that I have to go away, and feel that you owe me some gratitude. (Takes both her hand in his.) Let me speak! I know the truth better than you, and have thought over it far more than you. You are so immeasurably above me in ability, in education, in manners—and a wife should not be able to look down on her husband. At all events, I am too proud to be willing to be exposed to that. No, what you are feeling now is only the result of your beautiful nature, and the recollection of it will hallow all my life. All the pain and all the happiness I have known have come from you. Your life will be one of self-renunciation; but, God knows there are many such! And my burden will be lightened now, because I shall know that your good wishes will always be with me. (Gets up.) But part we must—and now more than ever! For I could not bear to be near you unless you were mine, and to make you mine would only mean misery for us both after a little while!

Valborg. Sannaes—!

Sannaes (holding her hands and interrupting her). I entreat you not to say anything more! You have too much power over me; do not use it to make me sin! For it would be that—a great sin—to put two honest hearts into a false position, where they would distress one another, even perhaps get to hate one another.

Valborg. But let me—

Sannas (letting go her hands and stepping back). No, you must not tempt me. Life with you would mean perpetual anxiety, for I should never feel equal to what it would demand of me! But now I can part from you comforted. There will be no bitterness in my heart now; and by degrees all my thoughts of the past and of you will turn to sweetness. God bless you! May every good fortune go with you! Good-bye! (Goes quickly towards the house.)

Valborg. Sannaes! (Follows him.) Sannaes! Listen to me! (SANNAES takes up his coat and gloves, and, as he rushes out without looking where he is going, runs full tilt into BERENT who comes in at that moment followed by JAKOBSEN.)

Sannaes. I beg your pardon! (Rushes out to the right.)

Berent. Are you two playing a game of blind man's buff?

Valborg. God knows we are!

Berent. You need not be so emphatic about it! I have had forcible evidence of it. (Rubs his stomach and laughs.)

Valborg. You must excuse me! Father is in there. (Points to the left and goes hurriedly out to the right.)

Berent. We don't seem to be getting a particularly polite reception!

Jakobsen. No, we seem to be rather in the way, Mr. Berent.

Berent (laughing). It looks like it. But what has been going on?

Jakobsen. I don't know. They looked as if they had been fighting, their faces were so flushed.

Berent. They looked upset, you mean?

Jakobsen. Yes, that's it. Ah, here is Mr. Tjaelde! (To himself.) Good Lord, how aged he looks! (Withdraws into the background as BERENT goes forward to greet TJAELDE, who comes in.)

Tjaelde (to BERENT). I am delighted to see you! You are always welcome in our little home—and this year more welcome than ever!

Berent. Because things are going better than ever this year! I congratulate you on your discharge—and also on your determination to pay everything in full!

Tjaelde. Yes, if God wills, I mean to—

Berent. Well, things are going splendidly, aren't they?

Tjaelde. So far, yes.

Berent. You are over the worst of it, now that you have laid the foundations of a new business and laid them solidly.

Tjaelde. One of the things that have given me the greatest encouragement has been the fact that I have won your confidence—and that has gained me the confidence of others.

Berent. I could have done nothing unless you had first of all done everything. But don't let us say any more about it!—Well, the place looks even prettier than it did last year.

Tjaelde. We do a little more to it each year, you know.

Berent. And you are still all together here?

Tjaelde. So far, yes.

Berent. Ah, by the way, I can give you news of your deserter. (TJAELDE looks surprised.) I mean your lieutenant!

Tjaelde. Oh—of him! Have you seen him?

Berent. I was on the same boat coming here. There was a very rich girl on board.

Tjaelde (laughing). Oh, I see!

Berent. All the same, I don't think it came to any thing. It is rather like coming upon a herd of deer when you are stalking; after your first shot, you don't find it so easy to get another; they have grown wary!

Jakobsen (who during this conversation has been screwing up his courage to address TJAELDE). I—I am a pig, I am! I know that!

Tjaelde (taking his hand). Oh, come, Jakobsen—!

Jakobsen. A great blundering pig!—But I know it now!

Tjaelde. That's all right! I can tell you I am delighted to be able to set affairs straight between you and me.

Jakobsen. I don't know what to answer. It goes to my heart! (Shakes his hand heartily.) You are a far better man than I,—and I said so to my wife. "He's a splendid fellow," I said.

Tjaelde (releasing his hand). Let us forget everything except the happy days we have had together, Jakobsen! How do things go at the Brewery?

Jakobsen. At the Brewery! As long as folk ladle beer into their stomachs at the rate they do now—

Berent. Jakobsen was kind enough to drive me out here. We had a most amusing drive. He is a character.

Jakobsen (in an anxious undertone, to TJAELDE). What does he mean by that?

Tjaelde. That you are different from most people.

Jakobsen. Ah!—I didn't feel sure, you know, whether he wasn't sitting there making game of me, all the way here.

Tjaelde. How can you think such a thing? (To BERENT.) Do come into the house. Excuse my going first; but my wife is not always quite prepared to receive visitors since she has been able to do so little for herself. (Goes into the house.)

Berent. I don't think Mr. Tjaelde seems to me to be looking in quite as good form as I expected?

Jakobsen. Don't you? I didn't notice anything.

Berent. Perhaps I am mistaken. I think he meant us to follow him in, didn't he?

Jakobsen. So I understood.

Berent. Then, as you have brought me so far, you must take me in to Mrs. Tjaelde.

Jakobsen. I am quite at your service, sir. I have the deepest respect for Mrs. Tjaelde—(hurriedly)—and of course for Mr. Tjaelde too. Of course.

Berent. Yes. Well, let us go in.

Jakobsen. Let us go in. (He tries anxiously to keep in step with BERENT'S peculiar walk, but finds it difficult.)

Berent. I think you had better not try. My step suits very few.

Jakobsen. Oh, I shall manage—! (They go out to the left. SANNAES comes hurriedly in from the right, and crosses the stage; looks around; then comes across to the foreground and leans with his back against a tree. VALBORG comes in a moment later, comes forward, sees him, and laughs.)

Sannaes. There, you see, Miss Valborg; you are laughing at me.

Valborg. I don't know whether I want to laugh or to cry.

Sannaes. Believe me, you are mistaken about this, Miss Valborg. You don't see things as plainly as I do.

Valborg. Which of us was it that was mistaken to-day?—and had to beg pardon for it?

Sannaes. It was I, I know. But this is impossible! A real union of hearts needs to be founded on more than respect—

Valborg (laughing). On love?

Sannaes. You misunderstand me. Could you go into society with me without feeling embarrassed? (VALBORG laughs.) You see, the mere idea of it makes you laugh.

Valborg (laughing). I am laughing because you are magnifying the least important part of it into the most important.

Sannaes. You know how awkward and shy—in fact downright frightened I am amongst those who—. (VALBORG laughs again.) There, you see—you can't help laughing at the idea!

Valborg. I should perhaps even laugh at you when we were in society together! (Laughs.)

Sannaes (seriously). But I should suffer horribly if you did.

Valborg. Believe me, Sannaes, I love you well enough to be able to afford to have a little laugh sometimes at your little imperfections. Indeed, I often do! And suppose we were out in society, and I saw you weighed down under the necessity for pretty manners that do not come easy to you; if I did laugh at you, do you think there would be any unkindness behind my laughter? If others laughed at you, do you suppose I would not, the very next moment, take your arm and walk proudly down the room with you? I know what you really are, and others know it too! Thank God it is not only bad deeds that are known to others in this world!

Sannaes. Your words intoxicate me and carry me off my feet!

Valborg (earnestly). If you think I am only flattering you, let us put it to the test. Mr. Berent is here. He moves in the very best society, but he is superior to its littlenesses. Shall we take his opinion? Without betraying anything, I could make him give it in a moment.

Sannaes (carried away). I want no one's opinion but yours!

Valborg. That's right! If only you feel certain of my love—

Sannaes (impetuously).—then nothing else will seem to matter; and that alone will be able to teach me all that I lack, in a very short time.

Valborg. Look into my eyes!

Sannaes (taking her hands). Yes!

Valborg. Do you believe that nothing would ever make me ashamed of you!

Sannaes. Yes, I believe that.

Valborg (with emotion). Do you believe that I love you?

Sannaes. Yes! (Falls on one knee.)

Valborg. Deeply enough for my love to last all our lives—

Sannaes. Yes, yes!

Valborg. Then stay with me; and we will look after the old folk—and replace them when, in God's good time, they are taken from us. (SANNAES bursts into tears. TJAELDE, who has come to the window to show BERENT his ledgers, happens to look up and sees VALBORG and SANNAES.)

Tjaelde (leaning out of the window, and speaking gently:) Valborg, what has happened?

Valborg (quietly). Only that Sannaes and I are engaged to be married.

Tjaelde. Is it possible! (To BERENT, who is immersed in the accounts.) Excuse me! (Hurries away from the window.)

Sannaes (who, in his emotion has heard nothing). Forgive me! It has been such a long, hard struggle—and I feel overwhelmed!

Valborg. Let us go in to my mother.

Sannws (shrinking back). I can't, Miss Valborg—you must wait a little—

Valborg. Here they come. (TJAELDE comes in wheeling MRS. TJAELDE in her chair. VALBORG runs to her mother and throws herself into her arms.)

Mrs. Tjaelde (softly). God be praised and thanked!

Tjaelde (going up to SANNAES and embracing him). My son!

Mrs. Tjaelde. So that was why Sannaes wanted to go away! Oh, Sannaes! (TJAELDE brings SANNAES up to her. SANNAES kneels and kisses her hand, then gets up and goes into the background, to recover himself. SIGNE comes in.)

Signe. Mother, everything is ready now!

Mrs. Tjaelde. So are things out here!

Signe (looking round). Not really?

Valborg (to SIGNE). Forgive me for never having told you!

Signe. You certainly kept your secret well!

Valborg. I kept long years of suffering secret—that was all! (SIGNE kisses her and whispers to her; then turns to SANNAES.)

Signe. Sannaes! (Shakes his hand.) So we are to be brother and sister-in-law?

Sannaes (embarrassed). Oh, Miss Signe—

Signe. But you mustn't call me Miss Signe now, you know!

Valborg. You must expect that! He calls me "Miss" Valborg still!

Singe. Well, he won't be able to do that when you are married, anyway!

Mrs. Tjaelde (to TJAELDE). But where are our friends?

Tjaelde. Mr. Berent is in the office. There he is, at the window.

Berent (at the window). Now I am coming straight out to congratulate you, with my friend Jakobsen. (Comes out.)

Valborg (going to TJAELDE). Father!

Tjaelde. My child!

Valborg. If we had not known those bad days we should never have known this happy one! (He gives her a grip of the hand.)

Tjaelde (to BERENT). Allow me to present to you my daughter Valborg's fiance—Mr. Sannaes.

Berent. I congratulate you on your choice, Miss Valborg—and I congratulate the whole family on such a son-in-law.

Valborg (triumphantly). There, Sannaes!

Jakobsen. May I too, though I am only a stupid sort of chap, say that this lad has been in love with you ever since he was in his teens—he hardly could be sooner than that. But I can tell you, honestly, I should never have credited you with having so much sense as to take him. (All laugh.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. Signe is whispering to me that our dinner is getting cold.

Signe. May I take my mother's place and ask you to take me in to dinner, Mr. Berent?

Berent (offering her his arm). I am honoured!—But our bridal pair must go first!

Valborg. Sannaes—?

Sannaes (whispers, as he gives her his arm). To think that I have you on my arm! (They go into the house, followed by BERENT and SIGNE, and by JAKOBSEN.)

Tjaelde (bending over his wife, as he prepares to wheel her chair in). My dear, God has blessed our house now!

Mrs. Tjaelde. My dear man!

Curtain.



THE KING

A PLAY IN A PROLOGUE AND FOUR ACTS

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

The KING. HARALD GRAN, a rich manufacturer. KOLL, Chief Magistrate of the district. FLINK. CLARA ERNST. The PRINCESS. BARONESS MARC. ANNA, a deaf and dumb girl. FALBE. The MAYOR. NATHALIE, his daughter. ALSTAD. VILHELM, his son. The PARISH PRIEST. BANG, a rich trader. VINAeGER. COUNT PLATEN. The GENERAL. MATILDE. A Ballad Singer. A Young Beggar. A Servant of the King's. Ladies and Gentlemen, Masked Dancers, Work-people, Farmers, etc.



PROLOGUE

(SCENE.—A large gothic hall, brilliantly illuminated, in which a masked ball is taking place. At the rise of the curtain a ballet is being performed in the centre of the hall. Masked dancers are grouped around, watching it. Two of them, women, are conversing on the right of the stage.)

First Mask. Have you heard that the King is to be here to-night?

Second Mask. Yes, and since I heard it I have been imagining I saw him everywhere.

First Mask (pointing). That is not he, is it?

Second Mask. He is taller than that.

First Mask. That one, then? Look, that one!

Second Mask. That one has spoken to me. He has too old a voice.

First Mask. Shall we see if we can find him?

Second Mask. Yes, come along!

(A number of girls, wearing similar costumes and all masked, have meanwhile collected on the left side of the stage.)

First Girl. Are we all here?

Second Girl. All but Matilde.

Matilde. Here I am! Have you heard that the King is to be here?

All. Really?

Matilde. I don't know how he is dressed; but one of the masters of the ceremonies told me he was to be here.

Several of the Girls. The dear King! (Two masked dancers, dressed as Cats, pass by.)

Tom Cat. Do you hear that, my pet?

Puss. Miau!

Matilde. Let us try and discover him.

All. Yes, yes!

A Mask. And when we have discovered him—?

Matilde. Let us all dance round him!

All. Yes!

Tom Cat (to Puss). You had better look after your virtue, Miss!

Puss. Miau!

Tom Cat. Miau! (They pass out of sight.)

Matilde. Remember that we are all to meet here in a quarter of an hour!

All. Yes! (They disperse. The ballet comes to a close amidst universal applause. Conversation among the dancers becomes general and animated. The BARONESS MARC, disguised as an Old Woman, comes forward, talking to another mask dressed as a Donkey.)

Baroness. I will never forgive you for that, my lord chamberlain.

The Donkey. But you frighten me clean out of my part, Baroness!

Baroness. If only I could understand how it happened!

The Donkey. After all, my dear Baroness, you cannot be expected to take out all your schoolmistresses and their senior pupils on a leash!

Baroness. No, but I have particular reasons for wishing to look closely after her. (All this time she has been persistently looking round the room.) And in such a whirling crowd as this—

The Donkey. Let us lose ourselves in it, then! (He brays as they go out. The PRINCESS, masked and dressed in a costume of the time of Louis XV., comes forward accompanied by a Cavalier in a costume of the same period.)

Princess (continuing a discussion). And I say that if a king has such graces of mind and person as ours has, he may do anything he pleases.

Cavalier. Anything, Princess?

Princess. Anything that his mind prompts, provided that he do it beautifully. (A GENTLEMAN-IN-WAITING, dressed in a costume of the same period, approaches them.)

Gentleman-in-Waiting. I cannot discover him, your Royal Highness!

Princess. But he is here. He is here. And for a lady's sake. I am certain I am right.

Cavalier. But I asked one of the masters of the ceremonies, and he knew nothing about it.

Princess. Then it must have been one that has not been let into the secret.

Cavalier. But, your Royal Highness—

Princess. Don't keep calling me "your Royal Highness," but get me a description of the costume he is wearing. (The GENTLEMAN-IN-WAITING bows and goes away.) And you and I will go on hunting—

Cavalier.—for the noble huntsman—

Princess.—who is being hunted himself! (Moves away, but stops suddenly.) Who is that? (CLARA ERNST, masked and in peasant costume, comes forward followed by a masked figure wearing a domino. He is whispering to her over her shoulder. She keeps glancing about, as if looking for some one.)

The Domino.—and there, in the enchanted castle, buried deep in the wooded park—

Clara. Let me alone!

The Domino.—there we shall be greeted by a babbling fountain of water—a nymph, holding the cup of joy high above her head—

Clara (anxiously). What can have become of her?

(Meanwhile one of the masked dancers has been following them, and now turns back to join others.)

A Masked Dancer (pointing to the DOMINO). That is the King!

Another (quickly). But who is she?

The Domino.—on both sides, shady alleys leading to the doors of a secret retreat; and there—

Clara (turning round). I despise you! (The dancing and music suddenly stop. General consternation.)

The Baroness (starting forward as she hears CLARA voice.) Clara!

The Domino (taking CLARA's hand and leading her apart from the others). Do you know who it is that you despise?

Clara (greatly agitated). Yes, I know who you are!—and that is why, from the bottom of my heart, I despise you! (The music begins afresh, covering the general consternation that has spread among the dancers. The BARONESS comes forward with a cry of "Clara!" CLARA bursts into tears and throws herself into her arms. Curtain.)



ACT I

SCENE I

(SCENE.—A large hall in Gran's factory. The walls are bare. On the left, about half-way forward, is a small platform. A meeting of the shareholders of a railway company is in progress. Facing the platform are seated the gentry; the common herd, mainly farmers and work-people, are sitting and standing about wherever they can find room. On the right, large windows are standing open; through these another crowd can be seen, listening from outside. GRAN is standing in front of the platform, speaking to the meeting.)

Gran. And, as it was found impossible for the main line of the railway to touch our town, we determined, rather than allow all our exertions to be wasted, to construct a branch line on our own account. I had the honour to be elected chairman of the board of directors of this undertaking. No directors ever had more unrestricted powers than were given to us—possibly because there were no two opinions as to the route the line should take the natural formation of the ground indicated it unmistakably. It was only when we approached the question of the purchase of our rolling-stock that any dissension arose—not among the directors, but among the shareholders. As the majority of the latter are farmers and work-people, we had decided on buying only one class of railway carriage of a type slightly more comfortable than the ordinary third-class carriage. That is the extent of our misdeeds! To-day's meeting will probably show what the general sense on the matter is. Our powers being unlimited, we were under no obligation to consult any one in the matter; but, notwithstanding that, we decided to call a meeting of the shareholders and submit the question to them. And, on the directors' behalf, I must thank the shareholders for having attended in such numbers; young and old, men and women, I dare say quite a third of the total number of shareholders are present. The meeting will now proceed to elect a chairman. (Sits down.)

The Mayor (after a pause). I beg to move that Mr. Koll, our chief magistrate, whom it is a great pleasure to see honouring this meeting with his presence, have the further kindness to take the chair.

Gran. The motion before the meeting is that the Chief Magistrate shall take the chair. Shall I assume it to be carried? (Silence follows.)

The Mayor. Yes. (Laughter.)

Gran. The meeting should preferably elect some one who may be considered to be unaffected by considerations of party.

Alstad (half rising, with his glasses in his hand). Then we shall have to send for some one that does not live in these parts! There is no one of that sort left here! (Sits down, amidst laughter.)

The Priest. All authority springs from on high. Obedience to those set in authority over us is obedience to the Almighty. But it is against this very obedience that people are rebelling nowadays.

Gran. It is precisely some one to be in authority over us that we want to elect. At present we have no one.

The Priest. No, that's just it. Every meeting nowadays seems to claim authority on its own account. Let rather show our respect to actual authority—such respect as we would show to our fathers. (Sits down.)

Gran. Then, as far as I can grasp the situation, the Chief Magistrate has been proposed and seconded?

The Priest. Yes.

Gran. Does any one wish to propose any one else? (Silence.)

Alstad. May I request the Chief Magistrate to take the chair?

Koll (getting up). I don't know that it is any great compliment to be elected in this way; but I will take the chair, for the sole reason of enabling the meeting to proceed to business. (Takes his place on the platform, and raps on the table with a mallet.) I declare the meeting open.

Gran (getting up). Mr. Chairman!

Koll. Mr. Gran will address the meeting.

Gran. The motion proposed by the directors is this: "That only one class of railway carriage shall be purchased, slightly more comfortable than the ordinary third-class carriage." (Gives the motion in writing to the chairman, and sits down.)

Koll. The following is the motion submitted to meeting. (Reads it out.) Who wishes to speak on the motion? (Silence.) Come, some one must speak on it—or I shall have to put it to the vote forthwith. (Silence, followed by laughter here and there.)

The Priest. Mr. Chairman!

Koll. The Priest will address the meeting.

The Priest. I see, in this assembly, a number of young men, even a number of maidens; and I feel bound to ask whether young men, and even maidens, are to be allowed to take part in these proceedings?

Koll. Any shareholder that is of age has the right to.

The Priest. But St. Paul expressly tells us that women are not to speak in public places.

Koll. Well, they can hold their tongues, then. (Laughter.)

The Priest. But even the fact of voting at a railway meeting does not seem to me to be in accordance with the humility and modesty that both Nature and the Scriptures indicate as characteristic of woman. I believe it to be the first step on a wrong road. The apostle says—

Koll. We must leave them to decide the matter for themselves. Does any one wish to—?

The Priest (interrupting him). Mr. Chairman, if you will not permit me to quote the apostle, allow me at all events to say that the spectacle of a young man voting against his father, or a woman voting against her husband—

Koll. Will you tell me who could prohibit it? Does any one wish to speak—?

The Priest (interrupting). The Scriptures prohibit it, Mr. Chairman!—the Scriptures, which we are all bound to obey, even—

Gran (getting up and interrupting him). Mr. Chairman!

Koll. Mr. Gran will address the meeting.

Gran. I only want to ask whether—

The Priest. But I was addressing the meeting!

Koll. Mr. Gran will address the meeting.

The Priest. I protest against that ruling!

Alstad (half rising). Our worthy Priest must obey authority. (Sits down amidst laughter.)

The Priest. Not when it does an injustice! I appeal to the meeting!

Koll. Very good!—Will those in favour of the Priest addressing the meeting kindly stand up? (No one gets up; and those who were previously standing bob down. Laughter.) Carried unanimously, that the Priest do not address the meeting. (The PRIEST sits down.) Mr. Gran will address the meeting.

Gran (getting up). I withdraw from my right! (Renewed laughter.)

The Mayor (getting up). Mr. Chairman!

Koll. The Mayor will address the meeting.

The Mayor. I am one of many to whom this proposal of the directors seems extraordinary, to say the least of it. Do they propose that the ladies of my family—I will leave myself out of the question, for as a public man I have to rub shoulders with all sorts of people—do they propose, I say, that ladies who have been delicately brought up shall travel with any Tom, Dick and Harry?—perhaps with convicts being conveyed to gaol, or with journeymen labourers? Is his honour the Chief Magistrate, who is a Commander of a noble Order of Knighthood, to travel side by side with a drunken navvy? Supposing the King were to pay a visit to this beautiful district, which has acquired such a reputation since so many of the best people from town have taken villas here; is his Majesty to make the journey in one of these third-class carriages, with the chance of travelling in company with tradesman stinking of stale cheese?—with folk who, moreover—well, perhaps in common decency I ought not to go on, as ladies are present. (Laughter.) "Economy," I hear some one suggest. That word is in great favour nowadays. But I should like to know what economy there is getting your clothes soiled? (Laughter.) Does a first-class carriage wear out sooner than a third class? It costs more to build, no doubt, but that is soon made up by the higher fares charged. I can discover no reasonable ground for this proposal, look at it how you will from the commercial point of view. One has to look at the political aspect of the matter, to understand it; and I am reluctant to drag in politics. I will only say, in conclusion, that it must be those who have framed this proposal that expect to derive some profit from it; the railway certainly would derive none. (Sits down.)

Koll. That last remark was a little like an accusation—

The Mayor (getting up). I only alluded to what is in every one's mind. (Sits down.)

Koll. A speaker is not in order in making accusations, even though they be assumed to be in every one's mind.—I see that Mr. Alstad wishes to speak.

Alstad. Human nature is frail. That seems to me a sufficient explanation of how such a proposal came to be laid before us. But honestly—for we all ought to be honest!—it seems to me that any material advantage it might bring would be more than counterbalanced by loss of esteem. (Uproar.) There has been quite a different spirit in the place of late years—what with the factories, and the stranger workmen, and the summer visitors. We never used to have so much unrest or to hear so much of this talk about "equality." And now, if we are to give the impression that there is only one social class here—and that a third class—I know that I shall be by no means alone in feeling offended. We certainly don't want to sit on our work-people's laps; and, equally, we don't want to have them sitting on ours. (Sits down.)

Gran. Our friend the Mayor is very fond of talking of his loyalty; but I must say I am surprised at his dragging the King even into this matter. As for the matter of the railway carriage in which one of so high degree would travel here—well, if our carriages are not good enough, surely his Majesty's private saloon can be used on our line as well as on the main line. And as for any of us ordinary mortals who are afraid of mixing with the common herd, surely they can sit together in carriages by themselves. The carriages would be separate; they would only be of the same kind. I think there would be little fear of their being exposed to intrusion on the part of our country-folk. They are much more apt to be more timidly shy than is even desirable. On all small lines—even on many of the bigger ones—it is the less luxurious carriages, the second and third class, that for the cost of the more luxurious ones; it is the third class that pays for the first. But that some passengers should travel comfortably at the expense of those who travel less comfortably, is what we wish to avoid. (Applause.) An old resident of the yeoman class has reproached us with wishing to alter our customs. Well, if one of our old customs is the aristocratic one which makes the gulf that separates masters and men wider than it already is, all I can say is that the sooner it is abolished the better; for it is not a good custom; it is even a dangerous one. (Murmurs.) And as for the political aspect of the question—

Koll. Don't you think we should leave politics out of the question?

Gran (bows, with a laugh). That is just what I was going to say, Mr. Chairman; that we ought to leave politics out out of the question. (Sits down, amidst laughter applause. The audience, first the younger men and then the older farmers, begin arguing the matter with one another, more and more loudly.)

Koll. I must beg the meeting to keep quiet, as long as this business is under discussion. The Mayor wishes to speak.

The Mayor. I admit that I am loyal—

Koll. Those people outside must be quiet!

Alstad (going to the window). You must keep quiet!

The Mayor. I admit I am loyal! I count it a point of honour, as a native of the place, to show his Majesty that our first thought when we planned this railway was, at that important moment, that his Majesty might possibly be pleased to manifest a desire to pay us a visit. "Let him use his own private saloon," we are told! No, Mr. Chairman, that is not the way to speak when we are speaking of his Majesty! And what about his Majesty's suite? Are they to travel third class? What I say is that we are casting a slight on his Majesty if we cast a slight on his railway carriage—I should say, on his suite. And I go farther than that. I say that his Majesty's functionaries are his Majesty's representatives, and that it is casting an additional slight upon his Majesty not to show a proper respect for them. I know that this jars upon the ears of many present; they do not consider that a man who holds a public office should be shown any more respect than any one else. The majority rules, and the majority only thinks of its own interests and those of its servile supporters. But even in this community of ours there is a minority that bears the burden of its affairs and represents its honour; and we will never consent to be dragged down into the mire of this "equality" into which you want to plunge each and every one of us! (Uproar.)

Koll. The honourable speaker appears to me to be trenching upon politics—

The Mayor. Possibly I am, Mr. Chairman; but what honest man can shirk the truth? Only compare the present state of things in this community with what was the case when everything here was as it should be; when the King and his officials were respected; when public affairs were in the hands of those who knew how to direct them; when we used to have singing competitions, shooting competitions, and other festal meetings of that kind. And—yes—well—compare, I say, the conditions in those days with our conditions to-day—that is to say, with all this talk of "the people;" as, for instance—

Koll. It is railway carriages that we are discussing.

The Mayor. Quite so! But what is it that is at the bottom of this proposal, Mr. Chairman? Does it not spring from that passion for destruction, for a universal levelling which aims at abolishing the monarchy, at destroying authority—

The Priest. And the Church too, my friend!

The Mayor.—and the Church, it is quite true! Yes, it is because they desire the Church and—

Koll. It is railway carriages that we are discussing.

The Mayor. Exactly. But an old public official like myself, who once was held in respect, when he sees the pillars of society tottering and feels the keenest pang of sorrow at—

Koll. For the last time, it is railway carriages that we are discussing!

The Mayor (overcome by his feelings). I have no more say. (Sits down.)

Koll. Mr. Alstad wishes to speak.

Alstad (getting up). The question before the meeting is itself a small matter; but it is the consequences of it that I fear. We may expect any proposal of the same kidney now. Never let it be said that our community was eager to range itself under this banner of "equality!" It bears too old and honoured a name for that! But there is one thing I want to say. We have always, before this, felt it an honour and a privilege to have the richest man in these parts living amongst us. But when we see him one of the most eager in support of a "popular" proposal of this sort, then it appears, to me at all events, to be absolutely unaccountable how—oh, well, I won't run the risk making what our chairman calls "accusations"; I will sit down and hold my tongue. I have the right to do that at all events. (Sits down.)

Koll. Mr. Gran will address the meeting.

Flink. Three cheers for Mr. Gran! (Almost the whole meeting cheers lustily. KOLL shouts at them and hammers on the table with his mallet in vain.)

Koll (when peace is restored). I must ask the meeting to show some respect for its chairman. If not, I will leave the chair.—Mr. Gran will address the meeting.

Gran. The plan that we are proposing is no new one. It has been in practice for a long time. In America—

The Priest, Alstad, and others. Yes, in America!

The Mayor (getting up). Mr. Chairman, are we to have politics, after all?

Koll. I cannot see that to mention America is to talk politics.

The Mayor. Then what is politics, if America isn't?

Koll. To talk politics is—for instance—to use the arguments your worship did. Mr. Gran will proceed.

Gran. I see that the Priest wishes to speak. I shall be happy to give way.

Koll. The Priest will address the meeting.

The Priest. I see here, in this assembly, a number of those whom I am accustomed to address in more solemn surroundings. My dear parishioners, it was for your sake that I came here. You have heard for yourselves—the whole question is a political one; and, dear fellow Christians, let me entreat you to shun politics! Did not our Lord Himself say: "My kingdom is not of this world"? This freedom, this equality, of which they talk is not the soul's freedom, not that equality which—

Koll. I would suggest to the reverend speaker that he should postpone his remarks until the next time he gets into the pulpit. (Slight laughter.)

The Priest. One should be instant in season and out of season; therefore—

Koll. I forbid you to continue.

The Priest. It is written: "Thou shalt obey God rather than man"! My dear parishioners, let us all leave this meeting! Who will follow his priest? (Takes a few steps towards the door, but no one follows him. Laughter. He sighs deeply, and sits down again.)

Koll. If no one else wishes to speak—

Vinaeger. Mr. Chairman!

Koll. Mr. Vinaeger wishes to speak.

Vinaeger. These proceedings remind me of China, and of the Chinese mandarins who will not allow any one of lesser degree to come near them—although at moments I have felt as if I were still in Europe in the presence of a still greater power, greater even than the Grand Turk—I mean this democratic envy which grudges others what it has not got itself. To reconcile both parties I should like to make the following suggestion. Build the carriages, as is often done, in two stories. Then those who wish to ensure their privacy can do so by sitting upstairs; and the others will be satisfied too, because they will all be in the same carriage after all. (Loud laughter.)

Koll. If no one else wishes to speak (looks at GRAN, who shakes his head) I shall proceed to put the question to the vote. The motion submitted by the directors, which is now before the meeting, is as follows—

The Mayor. Excuse me, but what of my motion wit h regard to a saloon for his Majesty?

Koll. I did not understand your worship to mean your suggestion as a formal motion.

The Mayor. I did, though.

Koll. Then I will put it to the vote after the director, motion has been voted upon.

The Mayor. A motion that concerns the King should take precedence of all others.

Koll. Even the King is subject to the rules of logic. The directors' motion is: "That only one class of railway carriage shall be purchased, of a type slightly more comfortable than the ordinary third-class carriage." Will those in favour of the motion kindly go to the left—on this side of the room; those against the motion, to the right. (Nearly all go to the left. Cheers are heard outside, and are gradually taken up by those inside. KOLL hammers with his mallet.) Order, please! (The cheering ceases, but an animated conversation goes on.) The directors' motion is carried!

The Mayor (shouting). I am sure every one did not understand the method of voting!

Koll (hammering with his mallet). Order, order. (Quiet is gradually restored.) What did your worship say?

The Mayor. That some people must have misunderstood the way of voting; because I see my daughter Natalie, who is a shareholder too, on the other side of the room. Of course she has made a mistake.

Natalie. Oh no, father, I haven't. (Loud laughter, and applause.)

The Priest. Ah, my poor deluded parishioners, I shall pray for you!

The Mayor. Order!—The Mayor's motion—

Alstad. I would suggest that the Mayor should withdraw it. We know what its fate would be in such a meeting as this.

Koll. As long as I occupy the chair, I shall not permit any derogatory expressions to be applied to the meeting. Does the Mayor still insist on his motion being put? (Whispers to him: "Say no!")

The Mayor. No.

Koll. Then, as no one else wishes to speak, I declare the meeting at an end. (Every one begins to move about and discuss affairs vigorously.)

Alstad (to his son VILHELM). So you have the face to vote with these—these Americans, against your old father, have you?

Vilhelm. Well, father, I honestly think—

Alstad. Just you wait till I get you home!

Vilhelm. Oh, that's it, is it? Then I shan't go home—so there! I shall stay here and get drunk, I shall.

Alstad. Oh, come, come!

Vilhelm. Yes, I shall! I shall stay here and get drunk!

Alstad. But, Vilhelm, listen to me! (Takes him by the arm. Meantime a STRANGER has taken KOLL and GRAN by the arm, to their manifest surprise, and brought the forward away from the crowd. He stands for a moment, looking them in the face, till suddenly KOLL gives a start and cries out: "The King!")

The King. Hush!

Gran. It really is—!

The King (to GRAN). You are at home here; take up into a room—and give us some champagne. My throat is as dry as a lime-kiln!

Curtain

SCENE II

(SCENE.—A room built in Gothic style, comfortably furnished and decorated with trophies of the chase. GRAN ushers in the KING and KOLL.)

Gran. We can be quite alone here. (ANNA, a deaf and dumb girl of about fifteen, brings in some bottles of champagne, and, during the following dialogue, sets out glasses, refreshments, cigars, and pipes. She is quick and attentive to render the slightest service required of her; when not employed, she sits on a stool in the background. She talks to GRAN on her fingers, and receives orders from him in the same manner.)

The King. Ah, this is like old times! I know the setting: "Gothic room in mediaeval style, decorated with trophies of the chase. Furnished with an eye to bachelor comfort!" You always had bachelor habits, you know, even when you were quite a boy. (To KOLL.) We never called him anything but "the Bachelor" on board ship. He never had a love affair in all the three years our cruise lasted; but the rest of us had them in every port we touched at!

Koll. He is just the same in that respect now.

Gran (offering the KING some champagne). Allow me!

The King. Thanks; I shall be glad of it. (To KOLL.) Your health, my former tutor! (To GRAN.) And yours! (They drink.) Ah, that has done me good!—Well now, let me ask you this: isn't it true that, all through the meeting, you were talking nothing but republicanism, although you didn't actually mention the word?

Koll (laughing). You are not far wrong.

The King. And you, who in the old days were considered to be too advanced in your opinions to be retained as my tutor, are now not considered advanced enough! They nearly—threw you over, didn't they?

Koll. Yes! That shows you, if I may say so, the result of government by a minority.

The King. And the result of mixing with such people as our excellent friend the millionaire here, I suppose?

Gran. It is always a mistake to lay the blame of public opinion on individuals.

The King. I quite agree with you. And now it is time you knew the reason of my coming here—in the strictest incognito, as you see. By the way, I hope no one recognised me?

Gran and Koll. Not a soul!

(FLINK comes in.)

Flink. Ah, here you are! (Comes forward, rubbing his hands delightedly.) Well, what did you think of the meeting, my boys?

The King (aside to GRAN). Who is that?

Gran (to the KING). We will get rid of him. (To FLINK.) Look here, old chap—!

Flink (catching sight of the KING). Oh, I beg your pardon, I thought we were—

Gran (obliged to introduce him). Let me introduce Mr.—? Mr.—? (Looks at the KING inquiringly.)

The King. Speranza.

Flink. An Italian?

The King. In name only.

Gran (completing the introduction). Mr. Flink.

The King. Surely not A. B. Flink?

Gran. Yes.

The King (interested). Our peripatetic philosopher? (Shakes hands with him.) I have read one or two of your books.

Flink (laughing). Really?

The King. Are you meditating another expedition?

Flink. That's it.

The King. And on foot?

Flink. Always on foot.

The King. Upon my word, I don't believe there is a man in the country that can gauge popular opinion as accurately as you! Let us sit down and have a chat. Do you drink champagne?

Flink. Yes—when I can't get anything better!

The King (lifting his glass to FLINK). Your health, (They all drink, and then seat themselves.) What part the country were you in last?

Flink. I have just been shooting with our friend here.

The King. So he is your friend? He is mine, too! My best friend, ever since I was a boy. (He stretches out his hand; GRAN gets up and grasps it in both of his.)

Koll (to FLINK, who is looking astonished). Mr. Speranza was a naval cadet at the same time as Gran.

Flink. Really! Were they on the same ship?

The King. Yes, we were on a cruise round the world together—

Flink. Do you mean the time when the Prince went on account of his lungs?—the present King, I mean?

The King. The Prince that afterwards became King—yes.

Flink. There is quite a royal flavour about our little gathering, then! Here is the King's shipmate, and here is his tutor in jurisprudence—

Koll. You are forgetting yourself! You are the King's tutor's tutor, you know—

The King. Were you Koll's tutor? Really?

Flink (with a laugh). Yes, I had that misfortune!

The King. You hadn't so great a misfortune in your pupil as he had in his!

Koll. The King was a very apt pupil.

Flink (jestingly). He has shown traces of it in his reign, hasn't he!

Koll. Don't speak ill of the King, please.

Flink (ironically). Heaven forbid! (Takes a pinch of snuff.) I know all about his talent—his great talent, his genial talent! (Offers his snuff-box to the KING.)

Gran. But it was public opinion we were talking about, Flink; is it very much like what we heard to-day?

Flink. I wouldn't say that; your opinions are rather advanced in these parts.

The King. Is the tendency republican, rather than monarchical?

Flink. That depends how you look at it. The King has just been paying some visits in the country districts; he is, so to speak, the commercial traveller for his firm—as all kings and crown princes are. Of course he was cheered everywhere. But go and ask the agricultural classes if they set great store by the pomp and circumstance of royalty; they will unanimously answer: "It costs an infernal lot to keep up!" Ha, ha, ha!

Gran. Your farmer is a realist.

Flink. A brutal realist! Ha, ha, ha! Self-government is cheaper. He has it all at his fingers' ends, the scoundrel!

The King. He is not a republican by conviction, then

Flink. Not universally, no. At least, not yet. But things are moving that way; and our reactionary government is helping the movement—that, and the letter they get from America.

The King. The letters they get from America?

Koll. Letters from their relations in America.

Gran. There is scarcely a family in the country now that has not relations in America.

The King. And they write home about self-government?—about republican principles?

Flink. And republican institutions. That is the situation!

The King. Have you read any of these letters?

Flink. Lots!

The King. This is excellent champagne! (Drinks.)

Gran. Let me fill your glasses. (They all drink.)

Flink. It doesn't really agree with me.

The King. But suppose the King were to establish democratic government? Suppose he were to live like an ordinary citizen in every way?

Flink. In every way? What do you mean by that?

The King. Kept house like an ordinary citizen—were married like an ordinary citizen—were to be found in his office at regular hours like any other official?

Gran. And had no court, I suppose?

The King. No. (KOLL and GRAN exchange glances.)

Flink (shrugging his shoulders). It would be the last sensation left for him to try.

The King (who did not observe his shrug, eagerly). That is so, isn't it? You agree with me as to that? I am delighted to have had this talk with you, Mr. Flink.

Flink. The same to you, Mr.—Mr.—. (In an undertone, to KOLL.) Is he a republican?

The King (who has overheard him). Am I a republican? I have had too much experience not to be! Ha, ha! (Takes up his glass.) Devilish good champagne, this!

Flink (drinking). But, you know, Mr.—Mr. Republican—ha, ha!—(smiles and whispers)—the King simply would not be allowed to do what you suggest. Ha, ha!

The King. What do you mean?

Gran (aside to KOLL, who gets up). Are you sure this is right?

Koll. It will do him good, anyway, to hear all sides.

Flink (who has got up and gone to the table on the other side to get a pipe). He simply would not be allowed to, poor chap! What is monarchy, I ask you? Nothing more or less than an insurance business in which a whole crew of priests, officials, noblemen, landed proprietors, merchants and military men hold shares? And, goodness knows, they are not going to give their director leave to commit any such folly! Ha, ha, ha!

The King (getting up). Ha, ha, ha!

Flink (vociferously, to him). Don't you think that is true?

The King. Good Lord!—perfectly true! Ha, ha ha!

Flink (who has cleaned and filled a pipe, but forgotten to light it, going up to the KING). And what do they insure themselves again, these beauties? (More seriously.) Against the great mass of the people—against his people! (The KING looks at him and makes a movement of dislike.)

Gran. Look here, Flink; suppose we go out into the garden for a little? These spring evenings are so lovely.

Flink. Compared to a political talk, the loveliest spring evenings have no attraction for me—no more than warm water, offered me in place of fine cooling wine, would have. No, let us stay where we are. What is the matter with this pipe? (ANNA signs that she will put it right for him, but he does not understand.)

Gran. Give her your pipe; she will put it right.

Koll. What I have always said is that, if the King had an opportunity of understanding the situation, he would interfere.

Flink. The King? He doesn't care a brass farthing about the whole matter! He has something else to do! Ha, ha!

The King. Ha, ha, ha!

Koll. The King is an unusually gifted man; he would not remain indifferent in the long run.

Flink. He has so many unusual gifts that have gone to the devil—!

The King. Tralalla! Tralalalalala! Tralala! It feels quite odd to be with you fellows again! (Drinks.)

Flink (in an undertone, to GRAN). Is he drunk?

The King (sitting down). Give me a cigar—! And let us discuss the matter a little more seriously. (KOLL and GRAN sit down.)

Gran. As a matter of fact, it is not a thing that can be discussed. It must be tried. If, one day, the King were to say: "I mean to live a natural life among my people, and to withdraw my name from the old-established royal firm, which has lost all its reputation for honesty"—that day everything else would follow of itself.

Flink. Yes, that day, I dare say!

Gran. Remember you are the guest of a man who is a friend of the King's!

The King. Don't play the domestic despot—you who are a republican! Let us have free discussion!

Flink. I certainly don't intend to insult the King. He has never done me any harm. But surely you will allow me to doubt whether he is really the shining light you make him out to be?

The King. That is true enough!

Flink (eagerly). You agree with me as to that, then?

The King. Absolutely! But—leaving him out of the question—suppose we had a king who made himself independent of others, and, as a necessary consequence, rose superior to questions of party—?

Flink (interrupting him). It is a vain supposition, my dear fellow! A king bound to no party? (Puffs at his pipe.) It wouldn't work! (Puffs again.) It wouldn't work!—It wouldn't work!—Falsehood is the foundation of constitutional monarchy. A king superior to questions of party? Rubbish!

Gran. It would be expecting something superhuman of him, too.

Flink. Of course it would!

The King. But the president of a republic is even less independent of party, isn't he?

Flink (turning to hint). He doesn't make any pretence that he isn't. Haha! That's the difference! (Comes forward, repeating to himself.) It is the falsehood that makes the difference.

Koll. Oh, there are falsehoods enough in republics too, unfortunately!

Flink. I know; but they are not old-established institutions! Ha, ha!

The King. That is an idea you have got from Professor Ernst's writings.

Flink (eagerly). Have you read them?

The King. I have scarcely read anything else for the last few months. (KOLL and GRAN exchange glances.)

Flink. Indeed?—Then there is no need for me to say anything more.

Koll. But, after all this talk, we have got no further. Our friend (pointing to the KING) wants to know, I think, whether a real, serious attempt at what one might call "democratic monarchy" could not reckon on being understood and supported—

The King (breaking in, eagerly). Yes, that's just it!

Koll.—understood and supported by the most enlightened section of the people, who are weary of falsehood and long for a generous but secure measure of self-government.

The King. That's just it!

Flink (who was just going to sit down, jumps up again, lays down his pipe and stands with arms akimbo, as he says:) But what sort of ridiculous ideas are these? Aren't you republicans, then?

Koll. I am not.

Gran. I am; but that does not prevent my being of opinion that the change of government should be made gradually and gently—

Flink. That would be treason!

Gran. Treason!

Flink. Treason against the truth—against our convictions!

Koll. Don't let us use big words! Monarchy is strongly rooted in the existing order of things.

Flink (with a laugh). In the insurance company!

Koll. Well, call it so if you like. It exists; that is the point. And, since it exists, we must make it as honest and as serviceable as we can.

The King. Your health, Koll! (Drinks to him.)

Flink (moving away from them). No true republican would agree with you.

Gran. You are wrong there. (FLINK gives a start of surprise.)

The King (who has seen FLINK's surprise, gets up). Listen to me! Suppose we had a king who said: "Either you help me to establish a democratic monarchy—purged of all traces of absolutism, purged of falsehood—or else I abdicate—"

Flink. Bah!

The King. I only say, "suppose"! You know quite well that the cousin of the present king, the heir apparent, is a bigoted—

Koll (who has been exchanging glances with GRAN while the KING was speaking, breaks in hurriedly). Don't go on!

The King (with a laugh). I won't!—And his mother, who rules him—

Flink.—is even worse!

The King. What would be your choice, then? Would you help the king to establish a democratic monarchy or—?

Flink (impetuously). I would ten thousand times rather have the bigoted prince, with all his own and his mother's follies!—the madder the better!

Gran. No, no, no, no!

The King (to GRAN and KOLL). We see his true colours now! (Moves away from them.)

Koll (to FLINK). That is the way you republicans always ride your principles to death.

Gran. Patriotism ought to come before—

Flink.—before truth? No; a short sharp pang of agony is better than endless doubt and falsehood, my friend! That is true patriotism.

Koll. Oh, these theories!—these phrases!

Gran. I am a republican as well as you, and, I think, as sincere a one. But I should have no hesitation—

Flink.—in playing the traitor?

Gran. Why do you use such words as that?

Flink. Words! Do you think it is nothing but words? No, my friend, if you did what—what I did not allow you to say—I should come here one day to call you to account. And if you refused to fight me, I should shoot you like a dog!

Gran (gently). You would not do that.

Flink (heatedly). Not do it?—Have I given you the deepest affection of which my heart is capable, only for you to turn traitor to it? Am I to see the man whose character is the crowning achievement of my life, betraying our cause—and, by reason of his great personal prestige, dragging thousands down with him? On the head of all the disillusionments I have suffered, am I to have this one in the evening of my life—? (Stops, overcome by his emotion. A pause.) You shouldn't jest about such things you know. (Walks away. ANNA has placed herself in front of GRAN, as if to protect him.)

Koll. I think we had better change the subject, and go out for a little!

The King (aside, to him). Yes, get him away!

Flink (in the background, as if he were addressing an invisible audience). We must have discipline in the ranks!

Koll. Gran, ask your maid to hurry up with the supper.

Gran. Yes, I will.

Koll (to the KING). What do you say to a turn in the garden, meanwhile?

The King. By all means!

Flink (coming forward to GRAN). This friendship of yours with the King—to which I had attached no particular importance—I hope it has not altogether—(Stops short.)

Gran.—not altogether corrupted me, you mean?

Flink. Exactly.

The King (laughing). Politically?

Flink. Politics are not unconnected with morals, sir!

The King. But why get so heated, sir? We know that the present King is a—

Koll (breaking in hurriedly). Don't say any more!

The King (with a laugh). You said yourself that he doesn't care a brass farthing about the whole matter—he has something else to do! And so the whole thing ends in smoke!

Flink (more amiably). I dare say you are right.

The King. Of course I am. You are all agreed that, under his rule, republican sentiments are growing in real earnest.

Flink. You are right! He couldn't help things on better if he were a republican himself, I assure you!

The King. Perhaps he is a republican?

Flink (animatedly). Perhaps he is! Splendid! And works against his own interests—!

The King. A sort of commercial traveller working for the downfall of his own firm!

Flink (excitedly). For the downfall of his own firm! Splendid! Props up his reactionary rule by means of royal pronouncements, confidential communications, public speeches—

The King.—in a suicidal manner!

Flink. Splendidly suicidal! Ah, that makes you laugh, does it?

Koll. Hush, some one might hear us!

Flink. I don't care who hears us! (The KING bursts out laughing.) But you ought, as one of the King's officials, to stop his laughing! (Points to the KING.) It's shocking!—It's high treason!

Koll. Listen to me!

Flink. You ought to arrest him for laughing like that! Suppose the King—

Gran. That is the King! (The KING goes on laughing. FLINK looks from him to the others, and from the others to him.)

The King. This is too much for me! (Sits down. FLINK rushes out.)

Koll. That was very bad of you.

The King. I know it was; but forgive me! I couldn't help it! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

Koll. For all his queer ways, he is too good a fellow to be made a fool of.

The King. Yes, scold me; I deserve it. But, all the same—ha, ha, ha, ha!

Gran. Hush!—he is coming back. (The KING gets up as FLINK comes in again.)

Flink. Your Majesty may be assured that I would never have expressed myself as I did in your Majesty's presence if I had been fairly treated and told whom I was addressing.

The King. I know. The fault is mine alone.

Flink. The fault is that of others—my so-called friends.

The King (earnestly). By no means! It is mine—mine alone. I have had a scolding for it!—And in your presence I ask my friends' pardon; I have put them in a false position. And, in the next place, I ask for your forgiveness. My sense of humour got the better of me. (Laughs again.)

Flink. Yes, it was extremely amusing.

The King. It really was! And, after all, what have you to complain of? You had an opportunity of speaking your mind, any way!

Flink. I certainly did!

The King. Very well, then!—And when you wanted to show any respect, I prevented you. So I think we are quits.

Flink. No, we are not.

The King (impatiently). Indeed?—What do you want from me, then?

Flink (proudly). Nothing!

The King. I beg your pardon! I did not mean to offend you.

Flink. You have done so to a degree that you are naturally incapable of appreciating. (Goes out.)

The King. This is a nice business! (Laughs. Then notices GRAN, who is standing at his desk with his back to the KING, and goes up to him.) You are angry with me.

Gran (looking up slowly). Yes.

The King. Why didn't you stop me?

Gran. It all happened too quickly. But to think that you could have the heart to do it—in my own house—to a man who was my father's oldest friend, and is mine—!

The King. Harald! (Puts his arm round his shoulders.) Have I ever asked you for anything that you have not given me?

Gran. No.

The King. Then I ask you now to admit that you know that, if I had thought this would hurt you, I would never have done it—not for worlds! Do you still believe as well of me as that?

Gran. Yes.

The King. Thank you. Then I will admit to you, in return, that for months past I have lived in a state of horrible tension of mind; and that is why I jump too easily from one extreme to the other. So, my friends, you must forgive me! Or finish my scolding some other time! Because now I must talk to you of the matter which induced me to come here. You are the only ones I can turn to; so be good to me!—Shall we sit down again?

Koll. As you please.

The King (moving towards the table). I know you both want to ask me the same question: why I have never come before now. My answer is: because I have only now arrived at a clear conception of my own position. Some months ago some hard words that were used to me lit a fire in my heart and burnt out a heap of rubbish that had collected there. (ANNA fills their glasses.) Won't you send that girl away?

Gran. She is deaf and dumb.

The King. Poor girl! (Sits down.) When I came back from my cruise round the world, the old king was dead. My father had come to the throne, and I was crown prince, and I went with my father to the cathedral to attend a thanksgiving service for my safe return.

Gran. I was there.

The King. The whole thing was a novelty to me, and a solemn one. I was overcome with emotion. Seeing that, my father whispered to me: "Come farther forward, my boy! The people must see their future king praying." That finished it! I was not born to be a king; my soul was still too unsullied, and I spurned such falsehood with the deepest loathing. Just think of it!—to come back from three years at sea, and begin my life in that way—as if perpetually in front of a mirror! I won't dwell on it. But when my father died and I became king, I had become so accustomed to the atmosphere of falsehood I lived in that I no longer recognised truth when I saw it. The constitution prescribed my religion for me—and naturally I had none. And it was the same with everything—one thing after another! What else could you expect? The only tutor I valued—you, Koll—had been dismissed; they considered you to be too freethinking.

Koll (smilingly). Oh, yes!

The King. The only real friend that dated from my happier days—you, Harald, had been sent to the right about; you were a republican. It was while I was in despair over that loss that I fell really in love for the first time—with your sister, Harald. Banishment, again. What then? Why, then the craving that every healthy youth feels—the desire for love—was turned into dissolute channels. (Drinks.)

Gran. I understand, well enough.

The King. Well, put all those things together. That was what my life was—until just lately. Because lately something happened, my dear friends. And now you must help me! Because, to make a long story short, either I mean to be the chief official in my country in a peaceful, citizenlike, genuine way, or—as God is above me—I will no longer be king! (Gets up, and the others do so.)

Koll. Ah, we have got it at last!

The King. Do you think I don't know that our republican friend there spoke what is every thoughtful man's verdict upon me? (They are silent.) But how could I possibly undertake my task, as long as I believed everything to be make-believe and falsehood, without exception? Now I know the root of the falsehood! It is in our institutions; he was quite right. And one kind of falsehood begets another. You cannot imagine how ludicrous it appeared to me—who up till then had led such a sinful, miserable existence—when I saw honourable men pretending that I was a being of some superior mould! I! (Walks up and down, then stops.) It is the state—our institutions—that demand this falsehood both on their part and on mine. And that for the security and happiness of the country! (Moves about restlessly.) From the time I became crown prince they kept from me everything that might have instilled truth into me—friendship, love, religion, a vocation—for my vocation is quite another one; and it was all done in the name of my country! And now that I am king, they take away all responsibility from me as well—all responsibility for my own acts—the system demands it! Instead of an individual, what sort of a contemptible creature do they make of me! The kingly power, too?—that is in the hands of the people's representatives and the government. I don't complain of that; but what I do complain of is that they should pretend that I have it, and that everything should be done in my name; that I should be the recipient of petitions, cheers, acclamations, obeisances—as if the whole power and responsibility were centred in my person! In me—from whom, in the interests of all, they have taken away everything! Is that not a pitiful and ludicrous falsehood? And, to make it credible, they endow me into the bargain with a halo of sanctity! "The King is sacred;" "Our Most Gracious Sovereign," "Your Majesty!" It becomes almost blasphemous!

Gran. Quite true.

The King. No, if that cannot be done away with, I can do away with myself. But it must be possible to do away with it! It cannot be necessary for a people, who are marching on the eternal path towards truth, to have a lie marching at the head of them!

Koll. No, it is not necessary.

The King (eagerly). And that is what you will help me to show them.

Koll. I have no objection! There is life in the country yet!

The King (to Gran). And you, my friend? Are you afraid of being shot by a mad republican if you help me?

Gran. I am not particularly afraid of death, any way. But the maid is telling us that supper is served.

The King. Yes, let us have supper!

Koll. And then, to our task!

Curtain



ACT II

(SCENE.—A park with old lofty trees. In the foreground, to the right, an arbour with a seat. The KING is sitting, talking to BANG, who is a man of gross corpulence.)

Bang. And I felt so well in every way that, I assure your Majesty, I used to feel it a pleasure to be alive.

The King (drawing patterns in the dust with his walking stick). I can quite believe it.

Bang. And then I was attacked by this pain in my heart and this difficulty in breathing. I run round and round this park, on an empty stomach, till I am absolutely exhausted.

The King (absently). Couldn't you drive round, then?

Bang. Drive?—But it is the exercise, your Majesty, that—

The King. Of course. I was thinking of something else.

Bang. I would not mind betting that I know what your Majesty was thinking of—if I may say so without impertinence.

The King. What was it, then?

Bang. Your Majesty was thinking of the socialists!

The King. Of the—?

Bang. The socialists!

The King (looking amused). Why particularly of them?

Bang. I was right, you see! Ha, ha, ha! (His laughter brings on a violent fit of coughing.) Your Majesty must excuse me; laughing always brings on my cough.—But, you know, the papers this morning are full of their goings on!

The King. I have not read the paper.

Bang. Then I can assure your Majesty that the way they are going on is dreadful. And just when we were all getting on so comfortably! What in the world do they want?

The King. Probably they want to get on comfortably too.

Bang. Aren't they well off as it is, the beasts? Excuse me, your Majesty, for losing my temper in your Majesty's presence.

The King. Don't mention it.

Bang. You are very good. These strikes, too—what is the object of them? To make every one poor? Every one can't be rich. However, I pin my faith to a strong monarchy. Your Majesty is the padlock on my cash-box!

The King. I am what?

Bang. The padlock on my cash-box! A figure of speech I ventured to apply to your Majesty.

The King. I am much obliged!

Bang. Heaven help us if the liberals come into power; their aim is to weaken the monarchy.

(A BEGGAR BOY comes up to them.)

Beggar Boy. Please, kind gentlemen, spare a penny! I've had nothing to eat to-day!

Bang (taking no notice of him). Aren't there whispers of the sort about? But of course it can't be true.

Beggar Boy (pertinaciously). Please, kind gentlemen, spare a penny! I've had nothing to eat to-day.

Bang. You have no right to beg.

The King. You have only the right to starve, my boy! Here! (Gives him a gold coin. The BEGGAR Boy backs away from him, staring at him, and gripping the coin in his fist.)

Bang. He never even thanked you! Probably the son of a socialist!—I would never have opened this park to every one in the way your Majesty has done.

The King. It saves the work-people a quarter of am hour if they can go through it to get to their work.

(The GENERAL appears, driving the BEGGAR BOY before him with his stick.)

The General (to the BEGGAR). A gentleman sitting on a seat gave it you? Point him out to me, then!

Bang (getting up). Good morning, your Majesty!

The King. Good morning! (Looks at his watch.)

The General. That gentleman, do you say?

The King (looking up). What is it?

The General. Your Majesty? Allow me to welcome you back!

The King. Thank you.

The General. Excuse me, sir; but I saw this fellow with a gold coin in his hand, and stopped him. He says your Majesty gave it to him—?

The King. It is quite true.

The General. Oh—of course that alters the case! (To the BEGGAR.) It is the King. Have you thanked him? (The boy stands still, staring at the KING.)

The King. Are you taking a morning walk on an empty stomach because of a weak heart, too?

The General. Because of my stomach, sir—because of my stomach! It has struck work!

The Beggar Boy. Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! (Runs away.)

The General. I am astonished at your Majesty's having thrown this park open to every one.

The King. It saves the work-people a quarter of an hour if they can go through it to get to their work.—Well, General, it seems you have become religious all of a sudden?

The General. Ha, ha, ha! Your Majesty has read my Order of the Day, then?

The King. Yes.

The General (confidentially). Well, sir, you see things couldn't go on any longer as they were. (Whispers.) Debauchery in the ranks! I won't say anything about the officers; but when the men take to such courses openly—!

The King. Oho!

The General. My brother the bishop and I, between us, composed an Order of the Day on the subject of the necessity of religion—religion as the basis of discipline.

The King. As a matter of fact the bishop was the first person I met here to-day.—Is he suffering from a disordered stomach, too?

The General. More so than any of us, Sir! Ha, ha, ha! (The KING motions to him to sit down.) Thank you, Sir.—But, apart from that, I have had it in my mind for some time that in these troublous days there ought to be a closer co-operation between the Army and the Church—

The King. In the matter of digestion, do you mean?

The General. Ha, ha, ha!—But seriously, Sir, the time is approaching when such a co-operation will be the only safeguard of the throne.

The King. Indeed?

The General (hurriedly). That is to say, of course, the throne stands firm by itself—God forbid I should hint otherwise! But what I mean is that it is the Army ants the Church that must supply the monarchy with the necessary splendour and authority—

The King. I suppose, then, that the monarchy has no longer any of its own?

The General (jumping up). Heaven forbid that I should say such a thing! I would give my life in support of the monarchy!

The King. You will have to die some day, unfortunately (Laughs as he gets up.) Who is that coming this way?

The General (putting up his eyeglass). That? It is the Princess and Countess L'Estoque, Sir.

The King. Is the Princess suffering from indigestion too?

The General (confidentially). I fancy your Majesty knows best what the Princess is suffering from. (The KING moves away from him.) I made a mess of that! It comes of my trying to be too clever.—He is walking towards her. Perhaps there is something in it, after all? I must tell Falbe about it. (Turns to go.) Confound it, he saw that I was watching them! (Goes out. The KING returns to the arbour with the PRINCESS on his arm. The COUNTESS and one of the royal servants are seen crossing the park in the background.)

The Princess. This is a most surprising meeting! When did your Majesty return?

The King. Last night.—You look very charming, Princess! Such blushing cheeks!—and so early in the morning!