_A richly-upholstered garden-room, full of art-pots and other
furniture._ Mrs. SPRETA FRÜYSECK _stands beside the table,
unpacking the traditional bag_. _Shortly after_, Miss MOPSA
BROVIK _enters by the door; she carries a pink parasol and a
rather portly portfolio with a patent lock_.
_Mopsa_ (_as she enters_). Good morning, my dear SPRETA! (_Sees the
bag._) Why, you are unpacking a travelling-bag on the drawing-room
table! Then ALFRED has actually come home?
[_Takes off her things._]
_Spreta_ (_turns and nods with a teasing smile_). As if you didn't
_know!_ When you have never been down in these parts all the time he
has been away! (_Unpacking a flannel vest and a respirator._) Yes. He
turned up last night, quite unexpectedly.
_Mopsa._ Then it was _that_ that drew me out here! I felt I _must_. My
poor dear mother, KAIA,--she that was a Miss FOSLI, you know,--was
like that. She always felt _she_ must. It's heredity. Surely you can
understand _that?_
_Spreta_ (_takes out a bottle of cough mixture, and closes the bag
with a snap_). I am not quite a fool, my dear. But really, when you
have such a firm admirer in Mr. BLOCHDRÄHN----!
_Mopsa._ He is such a mere bachelor. I never could feel really
attracted to any unmarried man. All that seems to me so utterly
unmaidenly. (_Changing the subject._) How _is_ dear ALFRED?
_Spreta._ Dear ALFRED is tired, but perfectly transfigured by his
trip. He has never once been away from me all these years. Only think!
[Illustration: "He backs out cringingly.... Mopsëman slips out after
him."]
_Mopsa._ That would account for it certainly. And I really think he
deserved some little outing. (_With an outburst of joy._) Why, I
shouldn't wonder if he has positively finished his great big book
while he has been away!
_Spreta_ (_with a half smile_). Shouldn't you? _I_ should. But he has
not mentioned it--perhaps he was too tired. And he has been trying to
teach that miserable Little MOPSËMAN tricks ever since he came back. I
never _did_ care about dogs myself, and really ALFRED is so perfectly
absurd about him. Oh, here he is.
ALFRED FRÜYSECK _enters, followed by_ Little MOPSËMAN _on his
hind legs_. ALFRED _is a weedy, thin-haired man of about
thirty-five (or thirty-six) with tinted spectacles and limp
side-whiskers_. MOPSËMAN _wears a military tunic and a shako very
much over one eye, and is shouldering a small toy musket. He is
bandy-legged, with a broad black snout and beautiful intelligent
eyes. His tail is drooping and has lost all its hair._
_Alfred_ (_beaming_). Just see what really wonderful progress Little
MOPSËMAN has made already with his drill. Why, my dearest MOPSA!
(_Goes up and kisses her with marked pleasure._) You have come here
the very morning after my return? Fancy _that_.
_Mopsa_ (_gazes fixedly at him_). I couldn't keep away. You are
looking quite splendid! And how have you got on with your wonderful
large book, ALFRED? I felt so sure it would go so easily when once you
had got away from dear SPRETA.
_Alfred_ (_shrugging his shoulders_). It _did_--wonderfully easily.
The truth is my thick fat book on _Canine Idiosyncrasy_--h'm--has
gone--entirely out of my head. I have been trying thinking for a
change. It's easier than writing.
_Spreta._ Yes, ALFRED, I can understand that. And then, when you had
never really got farther than the title----!
_Alfred_ (_smiling at her_). No farther than _that_. Somehow, none of
the FRÜYSECKS ever _do_. My family is a thing apart. And now I have
determined to devote my whole time to Little MOPSËMAN. I am going to
foster all the noble germs in him, create a conscious happiness in his
mind. (_With enthusiasm._) That is my true vocation.
_Spreta._ You shouldn't have dressed the poor dog up like that. It
does make him look so utterly ridiculous!
_Alfred_ (_speaking lower and seriously_). Only in the eyes of the
Philistines who couldn't see any pathos in poor Mrs. SOLNESS and her
nine dolls. The truly reverent have no sense whatever of the
ridiculous. Still, it would certainly be better in future to keep
Little MOPSËMAN indoors, because if the dogs in the streets saw him in
those clothes--(_clenching his hands_)--and after he has had that
unfortunate accident to his tail, too!
_Spreta._ ALFRED, I won't _have_ you bringing up that again! There's
someone knocking. Come in.
_The Varmint-Bl[=o]k_ (_enters softly and noiselessly. He is a slouching,
sinister figure, in a fur cap and a flowered comforter. He has a large
green gingham in one hand, and in the other a bag which writhes
unpleasantly_). Humbly beg pardon, your worships, but you don't happen
to feel in the humour to see how this little wounded warrior here
(_points to_ MOPSËMAN) would polish off the lovely little ratikins, do
you?
_Alfred_ (_with suppressed indignation_). We most certainly do _not_.
He is intended for higher things. Get out, you have frightened him
under the sofa.
_The Varm.-B._ He'll come round right enough.... There, didn't I
_tell_ you! See how he sniffs at my legs. It's wonderful what a fancy
dawgs _do_ seem to take to me--follow me _anywhere_, they will. (_With
a chuckling laugh._) Seems as if they'd _got_ to.
_Spreta._ There is certainly no accounting---- And what becomes of
them when they do?
_The Varm.-B._ (_with glittering eyes_). Oh, _they_'re safe enough,
the sweet little creatures, lady. I'm very kind to 'em. And if I could
only induce you to let your lovely poodlekin tackle a dozen rats,
which 'ud be a holiday to a game little sportin' dawg like him----
_Not_ this mornin'? then here's a loving good-day to you all, and
thank ye kindly for nothing.
_He backs out cringingly, as_ SPRETA _retires to the verandah,
fanning herself elegantly with her pocket-handkerchief_; MOPSËMAN
_slips out after him, unnoticed by all_. ALFRED _sees_ MOPSA'S
_portfolio_.
_Alfred_ (_to_ MOPSA). And have you positively lugged this thing all
the way out here. Wasn't it heavy?
_Mopsa_ (_nods_). It _had_ to be. It contains all the letters written
to my poor dear Mother--by Master-builder SOLNESS, you know. My Mother
had such a rich, beautiful past. I thought, ALFRED, we might look them
through together quietly some evening, when SPRETA is out of the way.
[_Looks attentively at him._]
_Alfred_ (_uneasily, to himself_). Oh, my good gracious! (_Aloud._) It
would certainly _have_ to be some evening when---- But on the whole,
perhaps, I--I really almost think we had better---- It isn't as if you
were _really_ my second cousin!
_Spreta_ (_re-entering from verandah_). Has that horrible person with
the rats gone? He has given me almost a kind of turn.
_Alfred._ He is a sort of itinerant Trope, I suppose. Talking of
turns, did I tell you that I, too, have experienced a kind of inward
revolution away up there among the peaks?... I _have_.
_Spreta._ Oh, heavens! ALFRED, was it the cookery at those high
mountain hotels?
_Alfred_ (_soothingly, patting her head_). Not altogether--be very
sure of _that_. But it is rather a long story. I should recommend you
to sit down. (_They sit down expectantly._) I will try to tell you.
(_Gazing straight before him._) When I look back into the vague mists
that enshroud my earliest infancy, I seem almost to----
_Spreta_ (_slaps him_). Oh, for goodness' sake, ALFRED, do skip the
introduction!
_Alfred_ (_disappointed_). It was the most interesting part! But the
long and the short of it is that I have resolved to renounce writing
my wonderful work on _Canine Idiosyncracy_! I am going to act it out
instead--on Little MOPSËMAN. (_With shining eyes._) I intend to
perfect the rich possibilities that lie hidden in that rather
unprepossessing poodle. _There!_
_Spreta_ (_holding aloof from him_). And is that _all?_
_Alfred._ H'm, yes, _that_'s all. But you never _did_ properly
appreciate poor Little MOPSËMAN!
_Mopsa_ (_pressing his hand_). She never did, ALFRED. But _I_ do. And
we will teach him the loveliest new tricks together. (_Fixes her eyes
on him._) Just you and I.
_Spreta._ ALFRED, I won't have the dog taught any tomfoolery. You
shall not divide yourself up like that. Do you hear?
_Sanitary Engineer Blochdrähn_ (_enters by door_). Aha, so you've got
your husband thoroughly in hand, as usual, eh, Mrs. FRÜYSECK? (_To the
others._) I bring glorious news. I have just been called in to see to
the Schoolhouse drains _again!_ I only laid them last Autumn; but
there seems to be a leakage somewhere. Quite a big piece of new work,
really!
_Mopsa._ And you are beaming with joy over _that?_
_San. Eng. Bloch._ I am indeed. And afterwards I have several
important drains to disconnect at the great new hotel in Christiania,
and the most tremendous scientific safeguards to grapple with and
overthrow. What a glorious thing it is to be a plumber and make a
little extra work for oneself in the world! Miss MOPSA, can I persuade
you to take a little turn in the garden? Do!
[_Offers his arm._
_Mopsa_ (_takes it_). Oh, I don't mind--provided you don't talk either
shop or sentiment.
[_They go out together._
_Spreta_ (_looks after them_). What a pity it is that MOPSA can't take
more to that Mr. BLOCHDRÄHN, _isn't_ it, ALFRED?
[_Looks searchingly at him._
_Alfred_ (_wriggles_). Oh--er--I don't know. For then we should see so
much less of her.
_Spreta_ (_vehemently_). Oh, come! So much the better! (_Clutching him
round the neck._) I want you all to myself, ALFRED. I love you so much
I could throttle you. I've a good mind to, as it is!
_Alfred_ (_choking_). You _are!_ My loyal, proud, true-hearted SPRETA,
d-don't!
[_Gently releases himself._
_Spreta._ You have ceased to care for me. Don't deny it, ALFRED!
[_Bursts into convulsive weeping._
_Alfred._ I will frankly admit that, like most married Norwegians, I
am--h'm--subject to the Law of Change.
_Spreta_ (_with increasing excitement_). I saw that so plainly last
night. I sent out for some champagne, ALFRED, expressly for _you_. And
you didn't drink a drop of it!
[_Looks bitterly at him._
_Alfred._ I knew the brand. (_With a gesture of repulsion._)
Gooseberry, my dear, gooseberry!
_Spreta._ You never even kissed me, either. But you can kiss _MOPSA!_
ALFRED, if you imagine _I_ am the kind of person to play
gooseberry----
_Alfred._ Need dramatic dialogue descend to these sordid details?
Really this is verging on a mere vulgar row! And when you know, too,
how I have always regarded MOPSA almost as a sort of sister!
_Spreta._ I know that sort of sister, ALFRED. She comes from Norway!
But I am none of your fish-blooded Mrs. SOLNESSES, or half-witted
BEATA ROSMERS, and I'm not going to _stand_ it! I decline to share you
with anything or anybody--whether it's a thick fat book that never
gets even begun, or a designing minx that helps you in your precious
"vocation," or a gorging little mongrel, with his evil red and green
eyes, that I'm often tempted to wish at the bottom of the fiord!
[_Confused cries and barks are heard outside._
_Alfred_ (_shocked_). SPRETA! When I am going to bring all his desires
into harmony with his digestion! _How_ unkind of you! (_Looks out for
a moment._) What in the world are all the dogs barking at down there?
_San. Eng. Bloch._ (_re-entering with_ MOPSA, _by glass door_). Only
some organ-grinder's monkey. They have just frightened it into the
fiord. _Such_ fun!
_Alfred_ (_in an agony of dread_). Can it be our Little----? But he is
burying bones in the back garden. And he is not a _monkey_, either.
And if he were, monkeys can all swim.... What are they saying now?...
Hush!
_San. Eng. Bloch._ (_leans over verandah railings_). They say, "He is
still shouldering the little musket!"
_Alfred_ (_almost paralysed_). The little----it _is_ MOPSËMAN! I
taught him to do it so thoroughly! (_With outstretched arms._) He
cannot shoulder a musket and swim too! (_Glancing darkly at_ SPRETA.)
Woman, you have your wish! Henceforth my life will be one long rankle
of remorse!
[_Sinks down in the armchair._
_Mopsa_ (_with an affectionate expression in her eyes_). Not _alone_,
ALFRED! We will rankle together--just you and I.
_Alfred_ (_rises, half distracted_). Oh, my gracious goodness!
[_He rushes down into the garden_
* * * * *