Providence, and the Chamberlain, and Destiny, and Circumstance—and I
myself in the middle of it! I’ve often thought of unravelling it all and
writing a book about it; but it’s so cursedly entangled that——[_Glances
towards the door on the left._] Ah! They’re rising from table.
[_The party, ladies and gentlemen, pass from the dining-room
into the garden, in lively conversation. Among the guests
is_ STENSGÅRD, _with_ THORA _on his left arm and_ SELMA _on
his right. _FIELDBO _and_ ASLAKSEN _stand beside the door at
the back._
STENSGÅRD.
I don’t know my way here yet; you must tell me where I am to take you,
ladies.
SELMA.
Out into the air; you must see the garden.
STENSGÅRD.
Oh, that will be delightful.
[_They go out by the foremost glass door on the right._
FIELDBO.
Why, by all that’s wonderful, there’s Stensgård!
ASLAKSEN.
It’s him I want to speak to. I’ve had a fine chase after him;
fortunately I met Daniel Heire——
DANIEL HEIRE _and_ ERIK BRATSBERG _enter from the dining-room._
HEIRE.
Hee-hee! Excellent sherry, upon my word. I’ve tasted nothing like it
since I was in London.
ERIK.
Yes, it’s good, isn’t it? It puts life into you.
HEIRE.
Well, well—it’s a real pleasure to see one’s money so well spent.
ERIK.
How so? [_Laughing._] Oh, yes; I see, I see.
[_They go into the garden._
FIELDBO.
You want to speak to Stensgård, you say?
ASLAKSEN.
Yes.
FIELDBO.
On business?
ASLAKSEN.
Of course; the report of the fête——
FIELDBO.
Well, then, you must wait out there in the meantime.
ASLAKSEN.
In the passage?
FIELDBO.
In the anteroom. This is scarcely the time or place—but the moment I see
Stensgård alone, I’ll tell him——
ASLAKSEN.
Very well; I’ll bide my time.
[_Goes out by the back._
CHAMBERLAIN BRATSBERG, LUNDESTAD, RINGDAL,
_and one or two other gentlemen come
out of the dining-room._
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
[_Conversing with_ LUNDESTAD.] Violent, you say? Well, perhaps the form
wasn’t all that could be desired; but there were real gems in the
speech, I can assure you.
LUNDESTAD.
Well, if you are satisfied, Chamberlain, I have no right to complain.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Why should you? Ah, here’s the Doctor! Starving, I’ll be bound.
FIELDBO.
It doesn’t matter, Chamberlain. The servants will attend to me. I feel
myself almost at home here, you know.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, you do, do you? I wouldn’t be in too great a hurry.
FIELDBO.
What? Am I taking too great a liberty? You yourself permitted me to——
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
What I permitted, I permitted. Well, well, make yourself at home, and
forage for something to eat. [_Slaps him lightly on the shoulder and
turns to_ LUNDESTAD.] Now, _here’s_ one you may call an adventurer
and—and the other thing I can’t remember.
FIELDBO.
Why, Chamberlain——!
LUNDESTAD.
No, I assure you——
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
No arguments after dinner; it’s bad for the digestion. They’ll serve the
coffee outside presently.
[_Goes with the guests into the garden._
LUNDESTAD.
[_To_ FIELDBO.] Did you ever see the Chamberlain so strange as he is
to-day?
FIELDBO.
I noticed it yesterday evening.
LUNDESTAD.
He will have it that I called Mr. Stensgård an adventurer and something
else of that sort.
FIELDBO.
Oh, well, Mr. Lundestad, what if you did? Excuse me; I must go and talk
to the ladies.
[_Goes out to the right._
LUNDESTAD.
[_To_ RINGDAL, _who is arranging a card table._] How do you account for
Mr. Stensgård’s appearance here to-day?
RINGDAL.
Yes, how? He wasn’t on the original list.
LUNDESTAD.
An afterthought, then? After his attack on the Chamberlain yesterday——?
RINGDAL.
Yes, can you understand it?
LUNDESTAD.
Understand it? Oh yes, I suppose I can.
RINGDAL.
[_More softly._] You think the Chamberlain is afraid of him?
LUNDESTAD.
I think he is prudent—that’s what I think.
[_They go up to the back conversing, and so out into the garden.
At the same time_ SELMA _and_ STENSGÅRD _enter by the
foremost door on the right._
SELMA.
Yes, just look—over the tops of the trees you can see the church tower
and all the upper part of the town.
STENSGÅRD.
So you can; I shouldn’t have thought so.
SELMA.
Don’t you think it’s a beautiful view?
STENSGÅRD.
Everything is beautiful here: the garden, and the view, and the
sunshine, and the people! Great heaven, how beautiful it all is! And you
live here all the summer?
SELMA.
No, not my husband and I; we come and go. We have a big, showy house in
town, much finer than this; you’ll see it soon.
STENSGÅRD.
Perhaps your family live in town?
SELMA.
My family? Who are my family?
STENSGÅRD.
Oh, I didn’t know——
SELMA.
We fairy princesses have no family.
STENSGÅRD.
Fairy princesses?
SELMA.
At most we have a wicked stepmother——
STENSGÅRD.
A witch, yes! So you are a princess!
SELMA.
Princess of all the sunken palaces, whence you hear the soft music on
midsummer nights. Doctor Fieldbo thinks it must be pleasant to be a
princess; but I must tell you——
ERIK BRATSBERG.
[_Coming from the garden._] Ah, at last I find the little lady!
SELMA.
The little lady is telling Mr. Stensgård the story of her life.
ERIK.
Oh, indeed. And what part does the husband play in the little lady’s
story?
SELMA.
The Prince, of course. [_To_ STENSGÅRD.] You know the prince always
comes and breaks the spell, and then all ends happily, and every one
calls and congratulates, and the fairy-tale is over.
STENSGÅRD.
Oh, it’s too short.
SELMA.
Perhaps—in a way.
ERIK.
[_Putting his arm round her waist._] But a new fairy-tale grows out of
the old one, and in it the Princess becomes a Queen!
SELMA.
On the same condition as real Princesses?
ERIK.
What condition?
SELMA.
They must go into exile—to a foreign kingdom.
ERIK.
A cigar, Mr. Stensgård?
STENSGÅRD.
Thank you, not just now.
DOCTOR FIELDBO _and_ THORA _enter from the garden._
SELMA.
[_Going towards them._] Is that you, Thora dear? I hope you’re not ill?
THORA.
I? No.
SELMA.
Oh, but I’m sure you must be; you seem to be always consulting the
doctor of late.
THORA.
No, I assure you——
SELMA.
Nonsense; let me feel your pulse! You are burning. My dear Doctor, don’t
you think the fever will pass over?
FIELDBO.
Everything has its time.
THORA.
Would you rather have me freezing——?
SELMA.
No, a medium temperature is the best—ask my husband.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
[_Enters from the garden._] The whole family gathered in secret
conclave? That’s not very polite to the guests.
THORA.
I am just going, father dear——
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Aha, it is you the ladies are paying court to, Mr. Stensgård! I must
look to this.
THORA.
[_Softly to_ FIELDBO.] Remain here!
[_She goes into the garden._
ERIK.
[_Offers_ SELMA _his arm._] Has Madame any objection——?
SELMA.
Come! [_They go out to the right._
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
[_Looking after them._] It’s impossible to get these two separated.
FIELDBO.
It would be sinful to try.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Fools that we are! How Providence blesses us in spite of ourselves.
[_Calls out._] Thora, Thora, do look after Selma! Get a shawl for her,
and don’t let her run about so: she’ll catch cold! How short-sighted we
mortals are, Doctor! Do you know any cure for that disease?
FIELDBO.
The spectacles of experience; through them you will see more clearly a
second time.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
You don’t say so! Thanks for the advice. But since you feel yourself at
home here, you must really pay a little attention to your guests.
FIELDBO.
Certainly; come, Stensgård, shall we——?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, no, no—there’s my old friend Heire out there——
FIELDBO.
He thinks himself at home here too.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Ha ha ha! So he does.
FIELDBO.
Well, we two will join forces, and do our best.
[_Goes into the garden._
STENSGÅRD.
You were speaking of Daniel Heire, Chamberlain. I must say I was rather
surprised to see him here.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Were you? Mr. Heire and I are old school and college friends. Besides,
we have had a good deal to do with each other in many ways since——
STENSGÅRD.
Yes, Mr. Heire was good enough to give his own account of some of these
transactions, yesterday evening.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
H’m!
STENSGÅRD.
Had it not been for him, I certainly should not have let myself boil
over as I did. But he has a way of speaking of people and things,
that—in short, he has a vile tongue in his head.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
My dear young friend—Mr. Heire is my guest; you must not forget that. My
house is liberty hall, with only one reservation: my guests must not be
discussed to their disadvantage.
STENSGÅRD.
I beg your pardon, I’m sure——!
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, never mind; you belong to the younger generation, that’s not so
punctilious. As for Mr. Heire, I don’t think you really know him. I, at
any rate, owe Mr. Heire a great deal.
STENSGÅRD.
Yes, so he gave one to understand; but I didn’t think——
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
I owe him the best part of our domestic happiness, Mr. Stensgård! I owe
him my daughter-in-law. Yes, that is really so. Daniel Heire was kind to
her in her childhood. She was a youthful prodigy; she gave concerts when
she was only ten years old. I daresay you have heard her spoken of—Selma
Sjöblom.[15]
STENSGÅRD.
Sjöblom? Yes, of course; her father was Swedish?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Yes, a music-teacher. He came here many years ago. Musicians, you know,
are seldom millionaires; and their habits are not always calculated
to——; in short, Mr. Heire has always had an eye for talent; he was
struck with the child, and had her sent to Berlin; and then, when her
father was dead and Heire’s fortunes were on the wane, she returned to
Christiania, where she was of course taken up by the best people. That
was how my son happened to fall in with her.
STENSGÅRD.
Then in that way old Daniel Heire has indeed been an instrument for
good——
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
That is how one thing leads to another in this life, you see. We are all
instruments, Mr. Stensgård; you, like the rest of us; an instrument of
wrath, I suppose——
STENSGÅRD.
Oh, don’t speak of it, Chamberlain. I am utterly ashamed——
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Ashamed?
STENSGÅRD.
It was most unbecoming——
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
The form was perhaps open to criticism, but the intention was excellent.
And now I want to ask you, in future, when you are contemplating any
move of the sort, just to come to me and tell me of it openly, and
without reserve. You know we all want to act for the best; and it is my
duty——
STENSGÅRD.
You will permit me to speak frankly to you?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Of course I will. Do you think I haven’t long realised that matters here
have in some ways taken a most undesirable turn? But what was I to do?
In the late King’s time I lived for the most part in Stockholm. I am old
now; and besides, it is not in my nature to take the lead in reforms, or
to throw myself personally into the turmoil of public affairs. You, on
the other hand, Mr. Stensgård, have every qualification for them; so let
us hold together.
STENSGÅRD.
Thanks, Chamberlain; many, many thanks!
RINGDAL _and_ DANIEL HEIRE _enter from the garden._
RINGDAL.
And I tell you it must be a misunderstanding.
HEIRE.
Indeed? I like that! How should I misunderstand my own ears?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Anything new, Heire?
HEIRE.
Only that Anders Lundestad is going over to the Stonelee party.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, you’re joking!
HEIRE.
I beg your pardon, my dear sir; I have it from his own lips. Mr.
Lundestad intends, on account of failing health, to retire from
political life; you can draw your own conclusions from that.
STENSGÅRD.
He told you so himself?
HEIRE.
Of course he did. He made the momentous announcement to an awe-struck
circle down in the garden; hee-hee!
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Why, my dear Ringdal, what can be the meaning of this?
HEIRE.
Oh, it’s not difficult to guess.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Indeed it is though. This is a most important affair for the district.
Come along, Ringdal; we must find the man himself.
[_He and_ RINGDAL _go down the garden._
FIELDBO.
[_Entering by the furthest back garden-door._] Has the Chamberlain gone
out?
HEIRE.
Sh! The sages are deliberating! Great news, Doctor! Lundestad is going
to resign.
FIELDBO.
Oh, impossible!
STENSGÅRD.
Can you understand it?
HEIRE.
Ah, now we may look out for real sport. It’s the League of Youth that’s
beginning to work, Mr. Stensgård. Do you know what you should call your
League? I’ll tell you some other time.
STENSGÅRD.
Do you think it’s really our League——?
HEIRE.
Not the least doubt about it. So we’re to have the pleasure of sending
our respected friend Mr. Mons Monsen to Parliament! I wish he were off
already;—I’d give him a lift with pleasure——I say no more; hee-hee!
[_Goes into the garden._
STENSGÅRD.
Tell me, Fieldbo—how do you explain all this?
FIELDBO.
There are other things still more difficult to explain. How come _you_
to be here?
STENSGÅRD.
I? Like the rest, of course—by invitation.
FIELDBO.
I hear you were invited yesterday evening—after your speech——
STENSGÅRD.
What then?
FIELDBO.
How could you accept the invitation?
STENSGÅRD.
What the deuce was I to do? I couldn’t insult these good people.
FIELDBO.
Indeed! You couldn’t? What about your speech then?
STENSGÅRD.
Nonsense! It was principles I attacked in my speech, not persons.
FIELDBO.
And how do you account for the Chamberlain’s invitation?
STENSGÅRD.
Why, my dear friend, there can only be one way of accounting for it.
FIELDBO.
Namely, that the Chamberlain is afraid of you?
STENSGÅRD.
By heaven, he shall have no reason to be! He is a gentleman.
FIELDBO.
That he is.
STENSGÅRD.
Isn’t it touching the way the old man has taken this affair? And how
lovely Miss Bratsberg looked when she brought me the letter!
FIELDBO.
But look here—they haven’t mentioned the scene of yesterday, have they?
STENSGÅRD.
Not a word; they have far too much tact for that. But I am filled with
remorse; I must find an opportunity of apologising——
FIELDBO.
I strongly advise you not to! You don’t know the Chamberlain——
STENSGÅRD.
Very well; then my acts shall speak for me.
FIELDBO.
You won’t break with the Stonelee party?
STENSGÅRD.
I shall bring about a reconciliation. I have my League; it’s a power
already, you see.
FIELDBO.
By-the-bye, while I remember—we were speaking of Miss Monsen—I advised
you to go in and win——
STENSGÅRD.
Oh, there’s no hurry——
FIELDBO.
But listen; I have been thinking it over: you had better put all that
out of your head.
STENSGÅRD.
I believe you are right. If you marry into an underbred family, you
marry the whole tribe of them.
FIELDBO.
Yes, and there are other reasons——
STENSGÅRD.
Monsen is an underbred fellow; I see that now.
FIELDBO.
Well, polish is not his strong point.
STENSGÅRD.
No, indeed it’s not! He goes and speaks ill of his guests; that’s
ungentlemanly. His rooms all reek of stale tobacco——
FIELDBO.
My dear fellow, how is it you haven’t noticed the stale tobacco before?
STENSGÅRD.
It’s the contrast that does it. I made a false start when I settled
here. I fell into the clutches of a clique, and they bewildered me with
their clamour. But there shall be an end to that! I won’t go and wear my
life out as a tool in the hands of self-interest or coarse stupidity.
FIELDBO.
But what will you do with your League?
STENSGÅRD.
The League shall remain as it is; it’s founded on a pretty broad basis.
Its purpose is to counteract noxious influences; and I am just beginning
to realise what side the noxious influences come from.
FIELDBO.
But do you think the “Youth” will see it in the same light?
STENSGÅRD.
They _shall_! I have surely a right to expect fellows like that to bow
before my superior insight.
FIELDBO.
But if they won’t?
STENSGÅRD.
Then they can go their own way. I have done with them. You don’t suppose
I am going to let my life slip into a wrong groove, and never reach the
goal, for the sake of mere blind, pig-headed consistency!
FIELDBO.
What do you call the goal?
STENSGÅRD.
A career that gives scope for my talents, and fulfils my aspirations.
FIELDBO.
No vague phrases! What do you mean by your goal?
STENSGÅRD.
Well, to you I can make a clean breast of it. My goal is this: in the
course of time to get into Parliament, perhaps into the Ministry, and to
marry happily into a family of means and position.
FIELDBO.
Oh, indeed! And by help of the Chamberlain’s social connections you
intend to——?
STENSGÅRD.
I intend to reach the goal by my own exertions! I must and will reach
it; and without help from any one. It will take time, I daresay; but
never mind! Meanwhile I shall enjoy life here, drinking in beauty and
sunshine——
FIELDBO.
Here?
STENSGÅRD.
Yes, here! Here there are fine manners; life moves gracefully here; the
very floors seem laid to be trodden only by lacquered shoes. Here the
arm-chairs are deep and the ladies sink exquisitely into them. Here
conversation moves lightly and elegantly, like a game at battledore;
here no blunders come plumping in to make an awkward silence. Oh,
Fieldbo—here I feel for the first time what distinction means! Yes, we
have indeed an aristocracy of our own; a little circle; an aristocracy
of culture; and to it I will belong. Don’t you yourself feel the
refining influence of this place? Don’t you feel that wealth here loses
its grossness? When I think of Monsen’s money, I seem to see piles of
fetid bank-notes and greasy mortgages—but here! here it is shimmering
silver! And the people are the same. Look at the Chamberlain—what a fine
high-bred old fellow!
FIELDBO.
He is indeed.
STENSGÅRD.
And the son—alert, straightforward, capable!
FIELDBO.
Certainly.
STENSGÅRD.
And then the daughter-in-law! Isn’t she a pearl? Good God, what a rich,
what a fascinating nature!
FIELDBO.
Thora—Miss Bratsberg has that too.
STENSGÅRD.
Oh yes; but she is less remarkable.
FIELDBO.
Oh, you don’t know her. You don’t know how deep, and steadfast, and true
her nature is.
STENSGÅRD.
But oh, the daughter-in-law! So frank, almost reckless; and yet so
appreciative, so irresistible——
FIELDBO.
Why, I really believe you’re in love with her.
STENSGÅRD.
With a married woman? Are you crazy? What good would _that_ do me? No,
but I am falling in love—I can feel that plainly. Yes, she is indeed
deep, and steadfast, and true.
FIELDBO.
Who?
STENSGÅRD.
Miss Bratsberg, of course.
FIELDBO.
What? You’re never thinking of——?
STENSGÅRD.
Yes, by heaven I am!
FIELDBO.
I assure you it’s quite out of the question.
STENSGÅRD.
Ho-ho! Will rules the world, my dear fellow! We shall see if it doesn’t.
FIELDBO.
Why, this is the merest extravagance! Yesterday it was Miss Monsen——
STENSGÅRD.
Oh, I was too hasty about that; besides, you yourself advised me not
to——
FIELDBO.
I advise you most emphatically to dismiss all thought of either of them.
STENSGÅRD.
Indeed! Perhaps you yourself think of throwing the handkerchief to one
of them?
FIELDBO.
I? No, I assure you——
STENSGÅRD.
Well, it wouldn’t have mattered if you had. If people stand in my way
and want to balk me of my future, why, I stick at nothing.
FIELDBO.
Take care I don’t say the same!
STENSGÅRD.
You! What right have you to pose as guardian and protector to
Chamberlain Bratsberg’s family?
FIELDBO.
I have at least the right of a friend.
STENSGÅRD.
Pooh! that sort of talk won’t do with me. Your motive is mere
self-interest! It gratifies your petty vanity to imagine yourself
cock-of-the-walk in this house; and so I am to be kept outside the pale.
FIELDBO.
That is the best thing that could happen to you. Here you are standing
on hollow ground.
STENSGÅRD.
Am I indeed? Many thanks! I shall manage to prop it up.
FIELDBO.
Try; but I warn you, it will fall through with you first.
STENSGÅRD.
Ho-ho! So you are intriguing against me, are you? I’m glad I have found
it out. I know you now; you are my enemy, the only one I have here.
FIELDBO.
Indeed I am not.
STENSGÅRD.
Indeed you are! You have always been so, ever since our school-days.
Just look around here and see how every one appreciates me, stranger as
I am. You, on the other hand, you who know me, have never appreciated
me. That is the radical weakness of your character—you can never
appreciate any one. What did you do in Christiania but go about from
tea-party to tea-party, spreading yourself out in little witticisms?
That sort of thing brings its own punishment! You dull your sense for
all that makes life worth living, for all that is ennobling and
inspiring; and presently you get left behind, fit for nothing.
FIELDBO.
Am I fit for nothing?
STENSGÅRD.
Have you ever been fit to appreciate me?
FIELDBO.
What was I to appreciate in you?
STENSGÅRD.
My will, if nothing else. Every one else appreciates it—the crowd at the
fête yesterday—Chamberlain Bratsberg and his family——
FIELDBO.
Mr. Mons Monsen and his ditto——! And by-the-bye, that reminds me—there’s
some one out here waiting for you——
STENSGÅRD.
Who?
FIELDBO.
[_Going towards the back._] One who appreciates you. [_Opens the door
and calls._] Aslaksen, come in!
STENSGÅRD.
Aslaksen?
ASLAKSEN.
[_Entering._] Ah, at last!
FIELDBO.
Good-bye for the present; I won’t intrude upon friends in council.
[_Goes into the garden._
STENSGÅRD.
What in the devil’s name do you want here?
ASLAKSEN.
I _must_ speak to you. You promised me yesterday an account of the
founding of the League, and——
STENSGÅRD.
I can’t give it you; it must wait till another time.
ASLAKSEN.
Impossible, Mr. Stensgård; the paper appears to-morrow morning.
STENSGÅRD.
Nonsense! It has all to be altered. The matter has entered on a new
phase; new forces have come into play. What I said about Chamberlain
Bratsberg must be entirely recast before it can appear.
ASLAKSEN.
Oh, that about the Chamberlain, _that’s_ in type already.
STENSGÅRD.
Then it must come out of type again.
ASLAKSEN.
Not go in?
STENSGÅRD.
I won’t have it published in that form. Why do you stare at me? Do you
think I don’t know how to manage the affairs of the League?
ASLAKSEN.
Oh, certainly; but you must let me tell you——
STENSGÅRD.
No arguing, Aslaksen; that I can’t and won’t stand!
ASLAKSEN.
Do you know, Mr. Stensgård, that you are doing your best to take the
bread out of my mouth? Do you know that?
STENSGÅRD.
No; I know nothing of the sort.
ASLAKSEN.
But you are. Last winter, before you came here, my paper was looking up.
I edited it myself, I must tell you, and I edited it on a principle.
STENSGÅRD.
You?
ASLAKSEN.
Yes, I!—I said to myself: it’s the great public that supports a paper;
now the great public is the bad public—that comes of the local
situation; and the bad public will have a bad paper. So you see I edited
it——
STENSGÅRD.
Badly! Yes, that’s undeniable.
ASLAKSEN.
Well, and I prospered by it. But then you came and brought ideas into
the district. The paper took on a colour, and then Lundestad’s
supporters all fell away. The subscribers that are left won’t pay their
subscriptions——
STENSGÅRD.
Ah, but the paper has become a good one.
ASLAKSEN.
I can’t live on a good paper. You were to make things lively; you were
to grapple with abuses, as you promised yesterday. The bigwigs were to
be pilloried; the paper was to be filled with things people were bound
to read—and now, you leave me in the lurch——
STENSGÅRD.
Ho-ho! You think I am going to keep you supplied with libels! No, thank
you, my good sir!
ASLAKSEN.
Mr. Stensgård, you musn’t drive me to desperation, or you’ll repent it.
STENSGÅRD.
What do you mean?
ASLAKSEN.
I mean that I must make the paper pay in another way. Heaven knows I
should be sorry to do it. Before you came I made an honest living out of
accidents and suicides and other harmless things, that often hadn’t even
happened. But now you have turned everything topsy-turvy; people now
want very different fare——
STENSGÅRD.
Just let me tell you this: if you break loose in any way, if you go a
single step beyond my orders, and try to exploit the movement in your
own dirty interests, I’ll go to the opposition printer and start a new
paper. We have money, you must know! We can bring your rag to ruin in a
fortnight.
ASLAKSEN.
[_Pale._] You wouldn’t do that!
STENSGÅRD.
Yes, I would; and you’ll see I can edit a paper so as to appeal to the
great public.
ASLAKSEN.
Then I’ll go this instant to Chamberlain Bratsberg——
STENSGÅRD.
You? What have you to do with him?
ASLAKSEN.
What have _you_ to do with him? Do you think I don’t know why you are
invited here? It’s because he is afraid of you, and of what you may do;
and you are making capital of that. But if he’s afraid of what you may
do, he’ll be no less afraid of what I may print; and _I_ will make
capital of that!
STENSGÅRD.
Would you dare to? A wretched creature like you——!
ASLAKSEN.