Chamberlain shall pay me for keeping it out.
STENSGÅRD.
Try it; just try it! You’re drunk, fellow——!
ASLAKSEN.
Only in moderation. But I’ll fight like a lion if you try to take my
poor crust out of my mouth. Little you know what sort of a home mine is:
a bedridden wife, a crippled child——
STENSGÅRD.
Off with you! Do you think I want to be soiled with your squalor? What
are your bedridden wives and deformed brats to me? If you stand in my
way, if you dare so much as to obstruct a single one of my prospects,
you shall be on the parish before the year’s out!
ASLAKSEN.
I’ll wait _one_ day——
STENSGÅRD.
Ah, you’re coming to your senses.
ASLAKSEN.
I shall announce to the subscribers in a handbill that in consequence of
an indisposition contracted at the fête, the editor——
STENSGÅRD.
Yes, do so; I daresay, later on, we shall come to an understanding.
ASLAKSEN.
I trust we may.—Remember this, Mr. Stensgård: that paper is my one ewe
lamb.
[_Goes out by the back._
LUNDESTAD.
[_At the foremost garden door._] Ah, Mr. Stensgård!
STENSGÅRD.
Ah, Mr. Lundestad!
LUNDESTAD.
You here alone? If you have no objection, I should like to have a little
talk with you.
STENSGÅRD.
With pleasure.
LUNDESTAD.
In the first place, let me say that if any one has told you that I have
said anything to your disadvantage, you musn’t believe it.
STENSGÅRD.
To my disadvantage? What do you mean?
LUNDESTAD.
Oh, nothing; nothing, I assure you. You see, there are so many
busybodies here, that go about doing nothing but setting people by the
ears.
STENSGÅRD.
Well, on the whole—I’m afraid our relations _are_ a little strained.
LUNDESTAD.
They are quite natural relations, Mr. Stensgård: the relation of the old
to the new; it is always so.
STENSGÅRD.
Oh, come, Mr. Lundestad, you are not so old as all that.
LUNDESTAD.
Yes indeed, I’m getting old. I have held my seat ever since 1839. It’s
time I should be relieved.
STENSGÅRD.
Relieved?
LUNDESTAD.
Times change, you see. New problems arise, and for their solution we
want new forces.
STENSGÅRD.
Now, frankly, Mr. Lundestad—are you really going to give up your seat to
Monsen?
LUNDESTAD.
To Monsen? No, certainly not to Monsen.
STENSGÅRD.
Then I don’t understand——
LUNDESTAD.
Suppose, now, I did retire in Monsen’s favour: do you think he would be
elected?
STENSGÅRD.
It’s hard to say. As the preliminary election comes on the day after
to-morrow, there may scarcely be time to prepare the public mind; but——
LUNDESTAD.
I don’t believe he would manage it. The Chamberlain’s party, my party,
would not vote for him. Of course “my party” is a figure of speech; I
mean the men of property, the old families, who are settled on their own
land and belong to it. They won’t have anything to do with Monsen.
Monsen is a newcomer; no one really knows anything about Monsen and his
affairs. And then he has had to cut down so much to clear a place for
himself—to fell both trees and men, you may say.
STENSGÅRD.
Well then, if you think he has no chance——
LUNDESTAD.
H’m! You are a man of rare gifts, Mr. STENSGÅRD. Providence has dealt
lavishly with you. But it has made one little oversight: it ought to
have given you one thing more.
STENSGÅRD.
And what may that be?
LUNDESTAD.
Tell me—why do you never think of yourself? Why have you no ambition?
STENSGÅRD.
Ambition? I?
LUNDESTAD.
Why do you waste all your strength on other people? In one word—why not
go into Parliament yourself?
STENSGÅRD.
I? You are not serious?
LUNDESTAD.
Why not? You have qualified, I hear. And if you don’t seize this
opportunity, then some one else will come in; and when once he is firm
in the saddle, it may not be so easy to unseat him.
STENSGÅRD.
Great heavens, Mr. Lundestad! do you really mean what you say?
LUNDESTAD.
Oh, I don’t want to commit you; if you don’t care about it——
STENSGÅRD.
Not care about it! Well, I must confess I’m not so utterly devoid of
ambition as you suppose. But do you really think it possible?
LUNDESTAD.
Oh, there’s nothing impossible about it. I should do my best, and so, no
doubt, would the Chamberlain; he knows your oratorical gifts. You have
the young men on your side——
STENSGÅRD.
Mr. Lundestad, by heaven, you are my true friend!
LUNDESTAD.
Oh, you don’t mean much by that. If you really looked upon me as a
friend, you would relieve me of this burden. You have young shoulders;
you could bear it so easily.
STENSGÅRD.
I place myself entirely at your disposal; I will not fail you.
LUNDESTAD.
Then you are really not disinclined to——
STENSGÅRD.
Here’s my hand on it!
LUNDESTAD.
Thanks! Believe me, Mr. Stensgård, you will not regret it. But now we
must go warily to work. We must both of us take care to be on the
electoral college—I to propose you as my successor, and put you through
your facings before the rest; and you to give an account of your views——
STENSGÅRD.
If we once get so far, we are safe. In the electoral college you are
omnipotent.
LUNDESTAD.
There is a limit to omnipotence. You must of course bring your oratory
into play; you must take care to explain away anything that might seem
really awkward or objectionable——
STENSGÅRD.
You don’t mean that I am to break with my party?
LUNDESTAD.
Now just look at the thing reasonably. What do we mean when we talk of
two parties? We have, on the one hand, certain men or families who are
in possession of the common civic advantages—I mean property,
independence, and power. That is the party I belong to. On the other
hand, we have the mass of our younger fellow citizens who want to share
in these advantages. That is your party. But that party you will quite
naturally and properly pass out of when you get into power—to say
nothing of taking up a solid position as a man of property—for of course
_that_ is essential, Mr. Stensgård.
STENSGÅRD.
Yes, I believe it is. But the time is short; and such a position is not
to be attained in a day.
LUNDESTAD.
That’s true; but perhaps the prospect of such a position would be
enough——
STENSGÅRD.
The prospect——?
LUNDESTAD.
Have you any rooted objection to a good marriage, Mr. Stensgård? There
are heiresses in the country-side. A man like you, with a future before
him—a man who can reckon on attaining the highest offices—believe me,
you needn’t fear a repulse if you play your cards neatly.
STENSGÅRD.
Then, for heaven’s sake, help me in the game! You open wide vistas to
me—great visions! All that I have hoped and longed for, and that seemed
so dreamlike and far away, stands suddenly before me in living
reality—to lead the people forward towards emancipation, to——
LUNDESTAD.
Yes, we must keep our eyes open, Mr. Stensgård. I see your ambition is
already on the alert. That’s well. The rest will come of itself.—In the
meantime, thanks! I shall never forget your readiness to take the burden
of office from my old shoulders.
[_The whole party gradually enters from the garden. Two
maid-servants bring in candles and hand round refreshments
during the following scene._
SELMA.
[_Goes towards the piano at the back, left._] Mr. Stensgård, you must
join us; we are going to have a game of forfeits.
STENSGÅRD.
With pleasure; I am just in the mood.
[_Follows her towards the back, makes arrangements with her,
places chairs, etc. etc._
ERIK BRATSBERG.
[_In an undertone._] What the deuce is this my father is saying, Mr.
Heire? What speech has Mr. Stensgård been making yesterday?
HEIRE.
Hee-hee! Don’t you know about it?
ERIK.
No; we townspeople had our dinner and ball at the Club. My father
declares Mr. Stensgård has entirely broken with the Stonelee gang—that
he was frightfully rude to Monsen——
HEIRE.
To Monsen! No, you must have misunderstood him, my dear sir.
ERIK.
Well, there were a whole lot of people about, so that I couldn’t quite
follow what he said; but I certainly heard——
HEIRE.
Wait till to-morrow—— I say no more. You’ll have the whole story with
your coffee, in Aslaksen’s paper.
[_They separate._
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Well, my dear Lundestad, are you sticking to those crotchets of yours?
LUNDESTAD.
They are no crotchets, Chamberlain; rather than be ousted, one should
give way gracefully.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Nonsense; who is dreaming of ousting you?
LUNDESTAD.
H’m; I’m an old weather-prophet. There has been a change in the wind.
Besides, I have my successor ready. Mr. Stensgård is willing——
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Mr. Stensgård?
LUNDESTAD.
Wasn’t that what you meant? I took it for a hint when you said he was a
man we must make friends with and support.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
I meant in his onslaught upon all the corruption and swindling that goes
on at Stonelee.
LUNDESTAD.
But how could you count so confidently upon his breaking with that crew?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
He did it openly enough last evening, my dear fellow.
LUNDESTAD.
Last evening?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Yes, when he spoke of Monsen’s deplorable influence in the district.
LUNDESTAD.
[_Open-mouthed._] Of Monsen’s——?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Of course; that time on the table——
LUNDESTAD.
On the table? Yes?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
He was frightfully rude; called him a money-bag, and a griffin or a
basilisk, or something. Ha-ha!—it was great sport to hear him.
LUNDESTAD.
Great sport, was it?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Yes, I own I’m not sorry to see these people a little roughly handled.
But now we must back him up; for after such a savage attack——
LUNDESTAD.
As that of yesterday, you mean?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Of course.
LUNDESTAD.
Upon the table?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Yes, upon the table.
LUNDESTAD.
Against Monsen?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Yes, against Monsen and his set. Of course they’ll try to have their
revenge; you can’t blame them——
LUNDESTAD.
[_Decidedly._] Mr. Stensgård must be supported—that is clear!
THORA.
Father dear, you must join in the game.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, nonsense, child——
THORA.
Yes, indeed you must; Selma insists upon it.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Very well, I suppose I must give in. [_In an undertone as they go
towards the back._] I’m quite distressed about Lundestad; he is really
failing; fancy, he didn’t in the least understand what Stensgård——
THORA.
Oh, come, come; they’ve begun the game.
[_She drags him into the circle of young people where the game
is in full swing._
ERIK.
[_Calls from his place._] Mr. Heire, you are appointed forfeit-judge.
HEIRE.
Hee-hee! It’s the first appointment I ever had.
STENSGÅRD.
[_Also in the circle._] On account of your legal experience, Mr. Heire.
HEIRE.
Oh, my amiable young friends, I should be delighted to sentence you
all—— I say no more!
STENSGÅRD.
[_Slips up to_ LUNDESTAD, _who stands in front on the left._] You were
speaking to the Chamberlain. What about? Was it about me?
LUNDESTAD.
Unfortunately it was—about that affair of yesterday evening——
STENSGÅRD.
[_Writhing._] Oh, confound it all!
LUNDESTAD.
He said you had been frightfully rude.
STENSGÅRD.
Do you think it isn’t a torture to me?
LUNDESTAD.
Now is your chance to atone for it.
ERIK.
[_Calls._] Mr. Stensgård, it’s your turn.
STENSGÅRD.
Coming! [_Quickly to_ LUNDESTAD.] What do you mean?
LUNDESTAD.
Find an opportunity and apologise to the Chamberlain.
STENSGÅRD.
By heaven, I will!
SELMA.
Make haste, make haste!
STENSGÅRD.
I’m coming! Here I am!
[_The game goes on with noise and laughter. Some elderly
gentlemen play cards on the right._ LUNDESTAD _takes a seat
on the left;_ DANIEL HEIRE _near him._
HEIRE.
That whelp twits me with my legal experience, does he?
LUNDESTAD.
He’s rather free with his tongue, that’s certain.
HEIRE.
And so the whole family goes and fawns upon him. Hee-hee! They’re
pitifully afraid of him.
LUNDESTAD.
No, there you are wrong, Mr. Heire; the Chamberlain is not afraid of
him.
HEIRE.
Not afraid? Do you think I’m blind, my good sir?
LUNDESTAD.
No, but—I can trust you to keep the secret? Well, I’ll tell you all
about it. The Chamberlain thinks it was Monsen he was attacking.
HEIRE.
Monsen? Oh, absurd!
LUNDESTAD.
Fact, Mr. Heire! Ringdal or Miss Thora must have got him persuaded
that——
HEIRE.
And so he goes and asks him to a state dinner-party! Deuce take me, if
that isn’t the best thing I’ve heard for long! No, really now, I can’t
keep _that_ bottled up.
LUNDESTAD.
Sh, sh! Remember your promise. The Chamberlain’s your old school-fellow:
and even if he has been a little hard upon you——
HEIRE.
Hee-hee! I’ll pay him back with interest!
LUNDESTAD.
Take care! The Chamberlain is powerful. Don’t play tricks in the lion’s
den!
HEIRE.
Bratsberg a lion? Pooh, he’s a blockhead, sir, and I am not. Oh, won’t I
get a rare crop of taunts, and jibes, and innuendoes out of this, when
once our great suit comes on!
SELMA.
[_Calls from the circle._] Learned judge, what shall the owner of this
forfeit do?
ERIK.
[_Unnoticed, to_ HEIRE.] It’s Stensgård’s! Think of something amusing.
HEIRE.
That forfeit? Hee-hee, let me see; he might, for example—yes—he shall
make a speech!
SELMA.
It’s Mr. Stensgård’s forfeit.
ERIK.
Mr. Stensgård is to make a speech.
STENSGÅRD.
Oh no, spare me that; I came off badly enough last night.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Excellently, Mr. Stensgård; I know something of public speaking.
LUNDESTAD.
[_To_ HEIRE.] If only he doesn’t put his foot in it now.
HEIRE.
Put his foot in it? Hee-hee! You’re a sharp one! That’s an inspiration!
[_In an undertone to STENSGÅRD._] If you came off badly last night, why
not put yourself right again to-night?
STENSGÅRD.
[_Seized with a sudden idea._] Lundestad, here is the opportunity!
LUNDESTAD.
[_Evasively._] Play your cards neatly.
[_Looks for his hat and slips quietly towards the door._
STENSGÅRD.
Yes, I will make a speech!
THE YOUNG LADIES.
Bravo! Bravo!
STENSGÅRD.
Fill your glasses, ladies and gentlemen! I am going to make a speech
which shall begin with a fable; for here I seem to breathe the finer air
of fable-land.
ERIK.
[_To the_ LADIES.] Hush! Listen!
[THE CHAMBERLAIN _takes his glass from the card-table on the
right, beside which he remains standing._ RINGDAL, FIELDBO,
_and one or two other gentlemen come in from the garden._
STENSGÅRD.
It was in the spring time. There came a young cuckoo flying over the
uplands. Now the cuckoo is an adventurer. There was a great
Bird-Parliament on the meadow beneath him, and both wild and tame fowl
flocked to it. They came tripping out of the hen-yards; they waddled up
from the goose-ponds; down, from Stonelee hulked a fat capercailzie,
flying low and noisily; he settled down, and ruffled his feathers and
flapped his wings, and made himself even broader than he was; and every
now and then he crowed: “Krak, krak, krak!” as much as to say: I’m the
game-cock from Stonelee, I am!
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Capital! Hear, hear!
STENSGÅRD.
And then there was an old woodpecker. He bustled up and down the
tree-trunks, pecking with his pointed beak, and gorging himself with
grubs and everything that turns to gall. To right and left you heard him
going: prik, prik, prik! And that was the woodpecker.
ERIK.
Excuse me, wasn’t it a stork, or a——?[16]
HEIRE.
Say no more!
STENSGÅRD.
That was the old woodpecker. But now there came life into the crew; for
they found something to cackle evil about. And they flustered together,
and cackled in chorus, until at last the young cuckoo began to join in
the cackling——
FIELDBO.
[_Unnoticed._] For God’s sake, man, be quiet!
STENSGÅRD.
Now it was an eagle they cackled about—an eagle who dwelt in lonely
dignity upon a beetling cliff.[17] They were all agreed about him. “He’s
a bugbear to the neighbourhood,” croaked a hoarse raven. But the eagle
swooped down into their midst, seized the cuckoo, and bore him aloft to
his eyrie.—Heart conquered heart! From that clear summit the
adventurer-cuckoo looked far and wide over the lowlands; there he found
sunshine and peace; and there he learned to judge aright the swarm from
the hen-yards and the clearings——
FIELDBO.
[_Loudly._] Bravo, bravo! And now some music.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Hush! Don’t interrupt him.
STENSGÅRD.
Chamberlain Bratsberg—here my fable ends; and here I stand before you,
in the presence of every one, to beg your forgiveness for last night.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
[_Falls a step backwards._] Mine——?
STENSGÅRD.
I thank you for the magnanimous vengeance you have taken for my
senseless words. In me you have henceforth a faithful champion. And now,
ladies and gentlemen, I drink the health of the eagle on the
mountain-top—the health of Chamberlain Bratsberg.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
[_Clutching at the table._] Thank you, Mr.—Mr. Stensgård.
THE GUESTS.
[_For the most part in painful embarrassment._] The Chamberlain!
Chamberlain Bratsberg!
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Ladies! Gentlemen! [_Softly._] Thora!
THORA.
Father!
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, Doctor, Doctor, what have you done?
STENSGÅRD.
[_With his glass in his hand, radiant with self-satisfaction._] Now to
our places again! Hullo, Fieldbo! Come, join in—join in the League of
Youth! The game’s going merrily!
HEIRE.
[_In front, on the left._] Yes, on my soul, the game’s going merrily!
[LUNDESTAD _slips out by the door in the back._
-----
Footnote 14:
An allusion to Holberg’s comedy, _Jeppe på Bierget_, which deals with
the theme of Abou Hassan, treated by Shakespeare in the Induction to
_The Taming of the Shrew_, and by Hauptmann in _Schluck und Jau_.
Footnote 15:
Pronounce “Shöblom”—the modified “ö” much as in German.
Footnote 16:
As before stated, “Heire” means a heron.
Footnote 17:
“Et brat fjeld”—an allusion to the name Bratsberg.
ACT THIRD.
_An elegant morning-room, with entrance-door in the back. On the left,
the door of the_ CHAMBERLAIN’S _study; further back, a door
leading to the drawing-room. On the right, a door leading to_
RINGDAL’S _offices; further forward, a window._
THORA _is seated on the sofa, left, weeping. The_ CHAMBERLAIN _paces
angrily up and down._
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Yes, now we have the epilogue—tears and lamentations——
THORA.
Oh, that we had never seen that man!
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
What man?
THORA.
That wretched Mr. Stensgård, of course.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
You should rather say: Oh, that we had never seen that wretched Doctor.
THORA.
Doctor Fieldbo?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Yes, Fieldbo, Fieldbo! Wasn’t it he that palmed off a parcel of lies
upon me——?
THORA.
No, my dear father, it was I.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
You? Well, then, both of you! You were his accomplice—behind my back. A
nice state of affairs!
THORA.
Oh, father, if you only knew——
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, I know enough; more than enough; much more!
DR. FIELDBO _enters from the back._
FIELDBO.
Good morning, Chamberlain! Good morning, Miss Bratsberg!
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
[_Still pacing the room._] So you are there, are you—bird of evil omen!
FIELDBO.
Yes, it was a very unpleasant affair.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
[_Looking out at the window._] Oh, you think so?
FIELDBO.
You must have noticed how I kept my eye upon Stensgård all the evening.
Unfortunately, when I heard there was to be a game of forfeits, I
thought there was no danger——
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
[_Stamping on the floor._] To be made a laughing-stock by such a
windbag! What must my guests have thought of me? That I was mean enough
to want to buy this creature, this—this——as Lundestad calls him!
FIELDBO.
Yes, but——
THORA.
[_Unnoticed by her father._] Don’t speak!
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
[_After a short pause, turns to_ FIELDBO.] Tell me frankly, Doctor:—Am I
really denser than the general run of people?
FIELDBO.
How can you ask such a question. Chamberlain?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Then how did it happen that I was probably the only person there who
didn’t understand that that confounded speech was meant for me?
FIELDBO.
Shall I tell you why?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Certainly.
FIELDBO.
It is because you yourself regard your position in the district
differently from other people.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
I regard my position as my father before me regarded his. No one would
ever have ventured to treat _him_ so.
FIELDBO.
Your father died about the year 1830.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, yes; many a barrier has broken down since that time. But, after all,
it’s my own fault. I have mixed myself up too much with these good
people. So now I must be content to have my name coupled with Anders
Lundestad’s!
FIELDBO.
Well, frankly, I see no disgrace in that.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, you know quite well what I mean. Of course I don’t plume myself on
rank, or titles, or anything of that sort. But what I hold in honour,
and expect others to hold in honour, is the integrity handed down in our
family from generation to generation. What I mean is that when a man
like Lundestad goes into public life, he cannot keep his character and
his conduct entirely free from stain. In the general mud-throwing, he is
sure to find himself bespattered. But they might leave _me_ in peace; I
stand outside their parties.
FIELDBO.
Not so entirely, Chamberlain; at least you were delighted so long as you
thought it was Monsen that was attacked.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Don’t mention that fellow!—It is he that has relaxed the moral sense of
the district. And now he has gone and turned my son’s head, confound
him!
THORA.
Erik’s?
FIELDBO.
Your son’s?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Yes; what tempted him to go and set up in business? It leads to nothing.
FIELDBO.
Why, my dear Chamberlain, he must live and——
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, with economy he could quite well live on the money that came to him
from his mother.
FIELDBO.
He might perhaps live _on_ it; but what could he live _for_?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
For? Well, if he absolutely must have something to live for, hasn’t he
qualified as a lawyer? He might live for his profession.
FIELDBO.
No, that he couldn’t do; it is against his nature. Then there was no
official appointment he could well hope for; you have kept the
management of your property in your own hands; and your son has no
children to educate. Under these circumstances, when he sees tempting
examples around him—people who have started from nothing and are worth
their half million——
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Their half million! Oh, come now, let us keep to the hundred thousands.
But neither the half million nor the hundred thousands can be scraped
together with perfectly clean hands;—I don’t mean in the eyes of the
world; Heaven knows it is easy enough to keep within the law; but in
respect to one’s own conscience. Of course my son cannot descend to
anything questionable; so you may be quite sure Mr. Erik Bratsberg’s
financial operations won’t bring in any half millions.
SELMA, _in walking dress, enters from the back._
SELMA.
Good-morning! Is Erik not here?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Good-morning, child! Are you looking for your husband?
SELMA.
Yes, he said he was coming here. Mr. Monsen called upon him early this
morning, and then——
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Monsen? Does Monsen come to your house?
SELMA.
Now and then; generally on business. Why, my dear Thora, what’s the
matter? Have you been crying?
THORA.
Oh, it’s nothing.
SELMA.
No, it’s _not_ nothing! At home Erik was out of humour, and here——I can
see it in your looks: there is something wrong. What is it?
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Nothing you need trouble about, at any rate. You are too dainty to carry
burdens, my little Selma. Go into the drawing-room for the present. If
Erik said he was coming, he will be here soon, no doubt.
SELMA.
Come, Thora—and be sure you don’t let me sit in a draught! [_Embracing
her._] Oh, I could hug the life out of you, my sweet Thora!
[_The two ladies go off to the left._
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
So they are hand in glove, are they, the two speculators! They should go
into partnership. Monsen and Bratsberg—how nice it would sound! [_A
knock at the door in the back._] Come in!
STENSGÅRD _enters._
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
[_Recoiling a step._] What is this?
STENSGÅRD.
Yes, here I am again, Chamberlain!
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
So I see.
FIELDBO.
Are you mad, Stensgård?
STENSGÅRD.
You retired early yesterday evening. When Fieldbo had explained to me
how matters stood, you had already——
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Excuse me—all explanations are superfluous——
STENSGÅRD.
I understand that; therefore I have not come to make any.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
Oh, indeed?
STENSGÅRD.
I know I have insulted you.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
I know that too; and before I have you turned out, perhaps you will be
good enough to tell me why you are here.
STENSGÅRD.
Because I love your daughter, Chamberlain!
FIELDBO.
What——!
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
What does he say, Doctor?
STENSGÅRD.