ON THE ALTAR
The clock in the Town-hall Vaults of X-koeping thundered the seventh
hour of an October evening as the manager of the Municipal Theatre came
in. He beamed as a toad may beam after a good meal; he looked happy,
but his facial muscles, not accustomed to express such emotions, drew
the skin into worried folds and disfigured him still more than usual.
He nodded patronizingly to the little shrivelled head-waiter who was
standing behind the bar counting the guests.
"Well, and how's the world treating you?" screamed the manager in
German--he had dropped the habit of speaking long ago.
"Thank you!" replied the head-waiter in the same language, and as this
was all the German the two gentlemen knew, the conversation was
continued in Swedish.
"Well, what do you think of the lad Gustav? Wasn't his Don Diego
excellent? Don't you admit that I can make actors? What?"
"There's no denying that! Fancy, that boy! It's quite true what you
said, sir. It's easier to do something with a man who hasn't been
ruined by book-learning."
"Books are the ruin of a good many people. Nobody knows that better
than I do. However, do you know anything about books? I do! You will
see queer things when young Rehnhjelm plays Horatio! I've promised him
the part, because he gave me no peace; but I've also warned him not to
look to me for any assistance. I don't want to be held responsible for
his failure; I also told him that I was allowing him to play the part
to show him how difficult it is to act when one has no talent. Oh! He
shall have such a snub that he'll never look at a part again. See if he
won't! But that isn't what I want to say to you! Have you got two
vacant rooms?"
"The two small ones?"
"Just so!"
"They're at your disposal, sir!"
"Supper for two, the best you can do! You'd better do the waiting
yourself."
He did not shout the last few words; the head-waiter bowed; he had
understood.
At this moment Falander entered the room. He took his accustomed seat
without as much as a look at the manager. The latter rose immediately.
"At eight then," he whispered, as he passed the bar and went out.
The head-waiter brought Falander a bottle of absinth, and all the usual
trimmings. As the actor seemed disinclined to enter into conversation,
the head-waiter wiped the table with his napkin; when that was no good,
he refilled the match-stand, and said:
"Supper to-night, the small rooms! Hm!"
"Of whom and of what are you talking?"
"Of him who's just gone out."
"I see! But that's unusual, he's generally so mean. Supper for one?"
"For two," replied the head-waiter, winking. "In the small rooms, hm!"
Falander pricked up his ears, but at the same time he felt ashamed to
be listening to gossip and dropped the subject; but that was not what
the head-waiter wanted.
"I wonder who it is? His wife is ill, and...."
"What does it matter to us? Let the monster sup with whom he likes!
Have you an evening paper?"
The head-waiter was saved a reply. Rehnhjelm was approaching the table,
radiant, like a man who sees a ray of light on his path.
"Leave the absinth alone to-night," he said, "and be my guest. I am
happy, I could cry."
"What has happened?" asked Falander uneasily. "Surely, he hasn't given
you a part?"
"He has, you pessimist! I'm to play Horatio...."
Falander's face clouded.
"And she'll play Ophelia."
"How do you know?"
"I feel it."
"You and your premonitions! But after all, it wasn't so difficult to
guess. Don't you think she deserves it? Have they a better Ophelia in
the whole company?"
"No, I admit that! Do you like your part?"
"Oh! It's splendid!"
"It's extraordinary how opinions differ."
"What do _you_ think?"
"I think that he is the greatest rascal at the whole court; he says Yes
to everything: 'Yes, my prince; yes, my good prince.' If he were really
Hamlet's friend, he would sometimes say No, and not always agree with
him like any other sycophant."
"Are you going to overthrow another of my ideals?"
"I will overthrow all your false idols! How can you--as long as you
look upon all paltry creations of man as great and splendid--strive
after the eternal? If you see perfection and excellence in everything
here below, how can you yearn for the really perfect? Believe me,
pessimism is the truest idealism! It is a Christian doctrine too, if
that will salve your conscience, for Christianity teaches us that the
world is a vale of tears from which death will deliver us!"
"Can't you let me believe that the world is beautiful? Can't you let me
be grateful to Him who is the giver of all good things, and rejoice in
the happiness life has to offer?"
"Yes, yes, my boy, rejoice, rejoice and believe and hope! As all men
strive for the same thing--happiness--you will have the 1,439,134,300th
part of a chance of winning it, seeing that the denominator of this
fraction represents the number of people on this earth. Is the
happiness which has come to you to-day worth the torture and
humiliations of the last few months? And moreover--what is this great
piece of luck? You have been given a part to play, a part in which you
cannot make a success--by which I don't mean that you necessarily need
be a failure. Are you sure that...."
He paused for breath.
"That Agnes will have a success in the part of Ophelia? She may make
good use of the rare chance and get as much out of the part as most
actresses do. I am sorry I made you feel sad; don't believe what I
said; after all, who knows whether I am right or wrong?"
"If I didn't know you better, I might believe you that you're jealous."
"No, my boy; nothing would please me more than to see yours and all
men's wishes speedily fulfilled; then the thoughts of men might turn to
higher things. Perhaps that is the meaning of life."
"You can afford to say that so calmly; you have had success long ago."
"Isn't this a state of mind much to be desired? We do not yearn for
happiness so much, as for the faculty of being able to smile at our
ardent efforts. I say _ardent_ advisedly."
Eight strokes thundered through the room. Falander rose hastily as if
he were going to leave, brushed his hand across his forehead and sat
down again.
"Has Agnes gone to see Aunt Beata to-night?" he asked casually.
"What makes you think so?"
"I'm merely supposing it because you are sitting here so quietly. She
told you she would read her part to her, as the time is so short,
didn't she?"
"Yes; have you seen her to-night?"
"No! On my word of honour, I haven't! Only I can't think of anything
else which would prevent her from spending a free evening with you."
"You guessed correctly. She urged me to go out and spend the evening
with friends; she thinks I'm too much at home. The dear girl! She has
such a tender and loving little heart."
"Yes, very tender!"
"I only once waited for her in vain; her aunt had kept her till late
and forgotten to send me word. I thought I was going mad and couldn't
sleep all night."
"You are referring to the evening of the sixth of July, I suppose?"
"You startle me! Are you watching us?"
"Why should I? I know of your engagement and aid you in every way I
can. And why shouldn't I know that it was Tuesday the sixth of July?
You've told me about it more than once."
"That's true!"
Neither of them spoke for a while.
"It's extraordinary," said Rehnhjelm, suddenly breaking the silence,
"that happiness can make one feel melancholy; I feel uneasy to-night,
and would much rather have spent the evening with Agnes. Let's go to
the small rooms and send for her. She could say that friends had
arrived from the country."
"She wouldn't do that; she couldn't tell a lie."
"Oh, nonsense! The woman who can't isn't born yet!"
Falander stared at Rehnhjelm with so peculiar an expression, that the
latter felt puzzled.
"I'll go and see whether the little rooms are vacant," he said after a
short pause; "we can send her a message, if they are."
"Come along then!"
Rehnhjelm made ready to follow him, but Falander kept him back.
"I'll be back in two minutes!"
He returned with a very white face, but perfectly calm.
"They are engaged," he said quietly.
"What a nuisance!"
"Let's keep each other company and be as jolly as we can!"
And they kept each other company, ate and drank and talked of life and
love and human malice; and when they had eaten and drunk and talked
enough, they went home and to bed.