you think I have changed a great deal?
MARTHA.
You? Oh yes, you too, although——
JOHAN.
What do you mean?
MARTHA.
Oh, nothing.
JOHAN.
You don’t seem overjoyed to see me again.
MARTHA.
I have waited so long, Johan—_too_ long.
JOHAN.
Waited? For me to come?
MARTHA.
Yes.
JOHAN.
And why did you think I would come?
MARTHA.
To expiate where you had sinned.
JOHAN.
I?
MARTHA.
Have you forgotten that a woman died in shame and need for your sake?
Have you forgotten that by your fault a young girl’s best years have
been embittered?
JOHAN.
And _you_ say this to me? Martha, has your brother never——?
MARTHA.
What of him?
JOHAN.
Has he never——? Oh, I mean has he never said so much as a word in my
defence?
MARTHA.
Ah, Johan, you know Karsten’s strict principles.
JOHAN.
H’m—of course, of course—yes, I know my old friend Karsten’s strict
principles.—But this is——! Well, well—I have just been talking to him.
It seems to me he has changed a good deal.
MARTHA.
How can you say so? Karsten has always been an excellent man.
JOHAN.
That was not exactly what I meant; but let that pass.—H’m; now I
understand the light you have seen me in; it is the prodigal’s return
that you have been waiting for.
MARTHA.
Listen, Johan, and I will tell you in what light I have seen you.
[_Points down to the garden._] Do you see that girl playing on the lawn
with Olaf? That is Dina. Do you remember that confused letter you wrote
me when you went away? You asked me to believe in you. I _have_ believed
in you, Johan. All the bad things that there were rumours of afterwards
must have been done in desperation, without thought, without purpose——
JOHAN.
What do you mean?
MARTHA.
Oh, you understand me well enough; no more of that. But you had to go
away—to begin afresh—a new life. See, Johan, I have stood in your place
here, I, your old playfellow. The duties you forgot, or could not
fulfil, I have fulfilled for you. I tell you this, that you may have the
less to reproach yourself with. I have been a mother to that
much-wronged child; I have brought her up as well as I could——
JOHAN.
And thrown away your whole life in doing so!
MARTHA.
It has not been thrown away. But you have been long of coming, Johan.
JOHAN.
Martha—if I could say to you——Well, at all events let me thank you for
your faithful friendship.
MARTHA.
[_Smiling sadly._] Ah——! Well, now we have made a clean breast of
things, Johan. Hush, here comes some one. Good-bye; I don’t want them
to——
[_She goes out through the second door on the left._ LONA HESSEL
_comes from the garden, followed by_ MRS. BERNICK.
MRS. BERNICK.
[_Still in the garden._] Good heavens, Lona, what can you be thinking
of?
LONA.
Let me alone, I tell you; I must and will talk to him.
MRS. BERNICK.
Think what a frightful scandal it would be! Ah, Johan, are you still
here?
LONA.
Out with you, boy; don’t hang about indoors in the stuffy rooms; go down
the garden and talk to Dina.
JOHAN.
Just what I was thinking of doing.
MRS. BERNICK.
But——
LONA.
Listen, Johan; have you ever really looked at Dina?
JOHAN.
Yes; I should think I had.
LONA.
Well, you should look at her to some purpose. She’s the very thing for
you.
MRS. BERNICK.
But, Lona——!
JOHAN.
The thing for me?
LONA.
Yes, to look at, I mean. Now go!
JOHAN.
Yes, yes; I don’t need any driving.
[_He goes down the garden._
MRS. BERNICK.
Lona, you amaze me. You cannot possibly be in earnest.
LONA.
Yes, indeed I am. Isn’t she fresh, and sound, and true? She’s just the
wife for John. She’s the sort of companion he needs over there; a
different thing from an old step-sister.
MRS. BERNICK.
Dina! Dina Dorf! Just think——!
LONA.
I think first and foremost of the boy’s happiness. Help him I must and
will—he needs a little help in such matters; he has never had much of an
eye for women.
MRS. BERNICK.
He? Johan! Surely we have sad cause to know that——
LONA.
Oh, deuce take that foolish old story? Where is Bernick? I want to speak
to him.
MRS. BERNICK.
Lona, you shall not do it, I tell you!
LONA.
I shall do it. If the boy likes her, and she him, why then they shall
make a match of it. Bernick is such a clever man; he must manage the
thing——
MRS. BERNICK.
And you think that these American infamies will be tolerated here——
LONA.
Nonsense, Betty——
MRS. BERNICK.
——that a man like Karsten, with his strict moral ideas——
LONA.
Oh, come now, surely they’re not so tremendously strict as all that.
MRS. BERNICK.
What do you dare to say?
LONA.
I dare to say that I don’t believe Karsten Bernick is so very much more
moral than other men.
MRS. BERNICK.
Do you still hate him, then, so bitterly? What _can_ you want here,
since you have never been able to forget that——? I can’t understand how
you dare look him in the face, after the shameful way you insulted him.
LONA.
Yes, Betty, I forgot myself terribly that time.
MRS. BERNICK.
And how nobly he has forgiven you—he, who had done no wrong? For he
couldn’t help your foolish fancies. But since that time you have hated
me too. [_Bursts into tears._] You have always envied me my happiness.
And now you come here to heap this trouble upon me—to show the town what
sort of a family I have brought Karsten into. Yes; it is I that have to
suffer for it all; and that’s just what you want. Oh, it’s hateful of
you!
[_She goes out crying, by the second door on the left._
LONA.
[_Looking after her._] Poor Betty!
[CONSUL BERNICK _comes out of his office._
BERNICK.
[_Still at the door._] Yes, yes; that’s all right, Krap—that’s
excellent. Send four hundred crowns for a dinner to the poor. [_Turns._]
Lona? [_Advancing._] You are alone? Is not Betty here?
LONA.
No. Shall I call her?
BERNICK.
No, no; please don’t! Oh, Lona, you don’t know how I have been burning
to talk openly with you—to beg for your forgiveness.
LONA.
Now listen, Karsten: don’t let us get sentimental. It doesn’t suit us.
BERNICK.
You _must_ hear me, Lona. I know very well how much appearances are
against me, since you have heard all about Dina’s mother. But I swear to
you it was only a momentary aberration; at one time I really, truly, and
honestly loved you.
LONA.
What do you think has brought me home just now?
BERNICK.
Whatever you have in mind, I implore you to do nothing before I have
justified myself. I can do it, Lona; at least I can show that I was not
altogether to blame.
LONA.
Now you are frightened.—You once loved me, you say? Yes, you assured me
so, often enough, in your letters; and perhaps it was true, too—after a
fashion—so long as you were living out there in a great, free world,
that gave you courage to think freely and greatly yourself. Perhaps you
found in me a little more character, and will, and independence than in
most people at home here. And then it was a secret between us two; no
one could make fun of your bad taste.
BERNICK.
Lona, how can you think——?
LONA.
But when you came home; when you saw the ridicule that poured down upon
me; when you heard the laughter at what were called my eccentricities——
BERNICK.
You _were_ inconsiderate in those days.
LONA.
Mainly for the sake of annoying the prudes, both in trousers and
petticoats, that infested the town. And then you fell in with that
fascinating young actress——
BERNICK.
The whole thing was a piece of folly—nothing more. I swear to you, not a
tithe of the scandal and tittletattle was true.
LONA.
Perhaps not; but then Betty came home—young, beautiful, idolised by
every one—and when it became known that she was to have all our aunt’s
money, and I nothing——
BERNICK.
Yes, here we are at the root of the matter, Lona; and now you shall hear
the plain truth. I did not love Betty then; it was for no new fancy that
I broke with you. It was entirely for the sake of the money; I was
forced to do it; I _had_ to make sure of the money.
LONA.
And you tell me this to my face!
BERNICK.
Yes, I do. Hear me, Lona——
LONA.
And yet you wrote me that an irresistible passion for Betty had seized
you, appealed to my magnanimity, conjured me for Betty’s sake to say
nothing of what had passed between us——
BERNICK.
I had to, I tell you.
LONA.
Now, by all that’s holy, I am not sorry I forgot myself as I did that
day.
BERNICK.
Let me tell you, calmly and deliberately, what my position was at that
time. My mother, you know, stood at the head of the business; but she
had no business capacity. I was hurriedly called home from Paris; the
times were critical; I was to retrieve the situation. What did I find? I
found—and this, remember, had to be kept strictly secret—a house as good
as ruined. Yes, it was as good as ruined, the old, respected house, that
had stood through three generations. What could I, the son, the only
son, do, but cast about me for a means of saving it?
LONA.
So you saved the house of Bernick at the expense of a woman.
BERNICK.
You know very well that Betty loved me.
LONA.
But I?
BERNICK.
Believe me, Lona, you would never have been happy with me.
LONA.
Was it your care for my happiness that made you play me false?
BERNICK.
Do you think it was from selfish motives that I acted as I did? If I had
stood alone then, I would have begun the world again, bravely and
cheerfully. But you don’t understand how the head of a great house
becomes a living part of the business he inherits, with its enormous
responsibility. Do you know that the welfare of hundreds, ay of
thousands, depends upon him? Can you not consider that it would have
been nothing short of a disaster to the whole community, which both you
and I call our home, if the house of Bernick had fallen?
LONA.
Is it for the sake of the community, then, that for these fifteen years
you have stood upon a lie?
BERNICK.
A lie?
LONA.
How much does Betty know of all that lay beneath and before her marriage
with you?
BERNICK.
Can you think that I would wound her to no purpose by telling her these
things?
LONA.
To no purpose, you say? Well well, you are a business man; you should
understand what is to the purpose.—But listen, Karsten: I, too, will
speak calmly and deliberately. Tell me—after all, are you really happy?
BERNICK.
In my family, do you mean?
LONA.
Of course.
BERNICK.
I am indeed, Lona. Oh, you have not sacrificed yourself in vain. I can
say truly that I have grown happier year by year. Betty is so good and
docile. In the course of years she has learnt to mould her character to
what is peculiar in mine——
LONA.
H’m.
BERNICK.
At first, it is true, she had some high-flown notions about love; she
could not reconcile herself to the thought that, little by little, it
must pass over into a placid friendship.
LONA.
But she is quite reconciled to that now?
BERNICK.
Entirely. You may guess that daily intercourse with me has not been
without a ripening influence upon her. People must learn to moderate
their mutual claims if they are to fulfil their duties in the community
in which they are placed. Betty has by degrees come to understand this,
so that our house is now a model for our fellow citizens.
LONA.
But these fellow citizens know nothing of the lie?
BERNICK.
Of the lie?
LONA.
Yes, of the lie upon which you have stood for these fifteen years.
BERNICK.
You call that——?
LONA.
I call it the lie—the threefold lie. First the lie towards me; then the
lie towards Betty; then the lie towards Johan.
BERNICK.
Betty has never asked me to speak.
LONA.
Because she has known nothing.
BERNICK.
And _you_ will not ask me to;—out of consideration for her, you will
not.
LONA.
Oh, no; I daresay I shall manage to bear all the ridicule; I have a
broad back.
BERNICK.
And Johan will not ask me either—he has promised me that.
LONA.
But you yourself, Karsten? Is there not something within you that longs
to get clear of the lie?
BERNICK.
You would have me voluntarily sacrifice my domestic happiness and my
position in society!
LONA.
What right have you to stand where you are standing?
BERNICK.
For fifteen years I have every day earned a clearer right—by my whole
life, by all I have laboured for, by all I have achieved.
LONA.
Yes, you have laboured for much and achieved much, both for yourself and
others. You are the richest and most influential man in the town; they
have to bow before your will, all of them, because you are held to be a
man without stain or flaw—your home is a model, your life is a model.
But all this magnificence, and you yourself along with it, stand on a
trembling quicksand. A moment may come, a word may be spoken—and, if you
do not save yourself in time, you and all your grandeur go to the
bottom.
BERNICK.
Lona—what did you come here to do?
LONA.
To help you to get firm ground under your feet, Karsten.
BERNICK.
Revenge! You want to revenge yourself. I thought as much! But you will
not succeed! There is only _one_ who has a right to speak, and he is
silent.
LONA.
Johan?
BERNICK.
Yes, Johan. If any one else accuses me, I shall deny everything. If you
try to crush me, I shall fight for my life. You will never succeed, I
tell you! He who could destroy me will not speak—and he is going away
again.
RUMMEL _and_ VIGELAND _enter from the right._
RUMMEL.
Good-morning, good-morning, my dear Bernick. You are coming with us to
the Trade Council? We have a meeting on the railway business, you know.
BERNICK.
I cannot. It’s impossible just now.
VIGELAND.
You really must, Consul——
RUMMEL.
You must, Bernick. There are people working against us. Hammer and the
other men who were in favour of the coast line, declare that there are
private interests lurking behind the new proposal.
BERNICK
Why, then, explain to them——
VIGELAND.
It’s no good _our_ explaining to them, Consul——
RUMMEL.
No, no, you must come yourself. Of course no one will dare to suspect
_you_ of anything of that sort.
LONA.
No, I should think not.
BERNICK.
I cannot, I tell you; I am unwell;—at any rate wait—let me collect
myself.
DOCTOR RÖRLUND _enters from the right._
RÖRLUND.
Excuse me, Consul; you see me most painfully agitated——
BERNICK.
Well, well, what is the matter with you?
RÖRLUND.
I must ask you a question, Consul Bernick. Is it with your consent that
the young girl who has found an asylum under your roof shows herself in
the public streets in company with a person whom——
LONA.
What person, Pastor?
RÖRLUND.
With the person from whom, of all others in the world, she should be
kept furthest apart.
LONA.
Ho-ho!
RÖRLUND.
Is it with your consent, Consul?
BERNICK.
I know nothing about it. [_Looking for his hat and gloves._] Excuse me;
I am in a hurry; I am going up to the Trade Council.
HILMAR.
[_Enters from the garden and goes over to the second door to the left._]
Betty, Betty, come here!
MRS. BERNICK.
[_In the doorway._] What is it?
HILMAR.
You must go down the garden and put a stop to the flirtation a certain
person is carrying on with Miss Dina Dorf. It has made me quite nervous
to listen to it.
LONA.
Indeed? What did the person say?
HILMAR.
Oh, only that he wants her to go with him to America. Ugh!
RÖRLUND.
Can such things be possible!
MRS. BERNICK.
What do you say?
LONA.
Why, that would be capital.
BERNICK.
Impossible! You must have misunderstood him.
HILMAR.
Then ask him himself. Here come the couple. Only don’t drag me into the
business.
BERNICK.
[_To_ RUMMEL _and_ VIGELAND.] I shall follow you—in a moment——
[RUMMEL _and_ VIGELAND _go out to the right._ JOHAN TÖNNESEN
_and_ DINA _come in from the garden._
JOHAN.
Hurrah, Lona, she’s coming with us!
MRS. BERNICK.
Oh, Johan—how can you!
RÖRLUND.
Can this be true? Such a crying scandal? By what vile arts have you——?
JOHAN.
What, what, man? What are you saying?
RÖRLUND.
Answer me, Dina: is this your intention?—deliberately formed, and of
your own free will?
DINA.
I _must_ get away from here.
RÖRLUND.
But with _him_—with _him_!
DINA.
Tell me of any one else that has courage to set me free?
RÖRLUND.
Then you shall know who he is.
JOHAN.
Be silent!
BERNICK.
Not a word more!
RÖRLUND.
Then I should ill serve the community over whose manners and morals it
is my duty to keep watch; and I should act most indefensibly towards
this young girl, in whose training I have borne an important share, and
who is to me——
JOHAN.
Take care what you are doing!
RÖRLUND.
She _shall_ know it! Dina, it was this man who caused all your mother’s
misfortune and shame.
BERNICK.
Rector——!
DINA.
He! [_To_ JOHAN.] Is this true?
JOHAN.
Karsten, do _you_ answer!
BERNICK.
Not a word more! Not a word more to-day!
DINA.
Then it is true.
RÖRLUND.
True, true! And more than that. This person, in whom you were about to
place your trust, did not run away empty-handed—Mrs. Bernick’s
strong-box—the Consul can bear witness!
LONA.
Liar!
BERNICK.
Ah——!
MRS. BERNICK.
Oh God! oh God!
JOHAN.
[_Goes towards him with uplifted arm._] You dare to——!
LONA.
[_Keeping him back._] Don’t strike him, Johan.
RÖRLUND.
Yes, yes; assault me if you like. But the truth shall out; and this is
the truth. Consul Bernick has said so himself; it is notorious to the
whole town.—Now, Dina, now you know him.
[_A short pause._
JOHAN.
[_Softly seizing_ BERNICK’S _arm._] Karsten, Karsten, what have you
done?
MRS. BERNICK.
[_Softly, in tears._] Oh, Karsten, that I should bring all this shame
upon you!
SANDSTAD.
[_Enters hastily from the right, and says, with his hand still on the
door-handle._] You must really come now, Consul! The whole railway is
hanging by a thread.
BERNICK.
[_Absently._] What is it? What am I to——?
LONA.
[_Earnestly and with emphasis._] You are to rise and support society,
brother-in-law!
SANDSTAD.
Yes, come, come; we need all your moral predominance.
JOHAN.
[_Close to him._] Bernick, we two will talk of this to-morrow.
[_He goes out through the garden;_ BERNICK _goes out to the
right with_ SANDSTAD, _as if his will were paralysed._
ACT THIRD.
_The garden-room in_ CONSUL BERNICK’S _house._
BERNICK, _with a cane in his hand, enters, in a violent passion, from
the second room on the left, leaving the door half open._
BERNICK.
There, now! At last I’ve done it in earnest; I don’t think he’ll forget
that thrashing. [_To some one in the other room._] What do you say?—_I_
say you are a foolish mother! You make excuses for him, and encourage
him in all his naughtiness——Not naughtiness? What do you call it then?
To steal out of the house at night and go to sea in a fishing-boat; to
remain out till late in the day, and put me in mortal terror, as if I
hadn’t enough anxiety without that. And the young rascal dares to
threaten me with running away! Just let him try it!—You? No, I daresay
not; you don’t seem to care much what becomes of him. I believe if he
were to break his neck——! Oh, indeed? But it happens that _I_ need some
one to carry on my work in the world; it would not suit me to be left
childless. Don’t argue, Betty; I have said it, once for all; he is not
to leave the house. [_Listens._] Hush, don’t let people notice anything.
KRAP _comes in from the right._
KRAP.
Can you spare me a moment, Consul.
BERNICK.
[_Throws away the cane._] Of course, of course Have you come from the
shipyard?
KRAP.
Just this moment. H’m——
BERNICK.
Well? Nothing wrong with the _Palm Tree_, I hope?
KRAP.
The _Palm Tree_ can sail to-morrow, but——
BERNICK.
The _Indian Girl_, then? I might have guessed that that stiff-necked——
KRAP.
The _Indian Girl_ can sail to-morrow, too; but—I don’t think she will
get very far.
BERNICK.
What do you mean?
KRAP.
Excuse me, Consul, that door is ajar, and I think there is some one in
the room——
BERNICK.
[_Shuts the door._] There then. But what is the meaning of all this
secrecy?
KRAP.
It means this: I believe Aune intends to send the _Indian Girl_ to the
bottom, with every soul on board.
BERNICK.
Good heavens! how can you think——?
KRAP.
I can explain it in no other way, Consul.
BERNICK.
Well then, tell me as shortly as you can——
KRAP.
I will. You know how things have been dragging in the yard since we got
the new machines and the new inexperienced workmen?
BERNICK.
Yes, yes.
KRAP.
But this morning, when I went down there, I noticed that the repairs on
the American had been going at a great rate. The big patch in her
bottom—the rotten place, you know——
BERNICK.
Yes, yes; what about it?
KRAP.
It was completely repaired—to all appearance; plastered up; looked as
good as new. I heard that Aune himself had been working at it by
lantern-light the whole night through.
BERNICK.
Yes, yes, and then——?
KRAP.
I was a good deal puzzled. It happened that the workmen were at
breakfast, so I could ferret about as I pleased, both outside and
inside. It was difficult to get down into the hold, among the cargo; but
I saw enough to convince me. There is rascality at work, Consul.
BERNICK.
I can’t believe it, Mr. Krap. I cannot and will not believe such a thing
of Aune.
KRAP.
I’m sorry for it, but it’s the simple truth. There is rascality at work,
I say. Not a stick of new timber had been put in, so far as I could see.
It was only plugged and puttied up, and covered with plates and
tarpaulins, and so forth. All bogus! The _Indian Girl_ will never get to
New York. She’ll go to the bottom like a cracked pot.
BERNICK.
Why, this is horrible! What do you think can be his motive?
KRAP.
He probably wants to bring the machines into discredit; wants to revenge
himself; wants to have the old workmen taken on again.
BERNICK.
And for that he would send all these men to their death?
KRAP.
He has been heard to say that the crew of the _Indian Girl_ are brute
beasts, not men.
BERNICK.
Yes, yes, that may be; but does he not think of the great loss of
capital?
KRAP.
Aune is not over-fond of capital, Consul.
BERNICK.
True enough; he is an agitator and mischief-maker; but such a piece of
villainy as this——. I’ll tell you what, Mr. Krap: this affair must be
looked into again. Not a word of it to any one. Our yard would lose its
reputation if this came to people’s ears.
KRAP.
Of course, but——
BERNICK.
During the dinner-hour you must go down there again; I must have
absolute certainty.
KRAP.
You shall, Consul. But, excuse me, what will you do then?
BERNICK.
Why, report the case of course. We cannot be accessories to a crime. I
must keep my conscience clear. Besides, it will make a good impression
on both the press and the public, to see me disregard all personal
interests, and let justice take its course.
KRAP.
Very true, Consul.
BERNICK.
But, first of all, absolute certainty—and, until then, silence.
KRAP.
Not a word, Consul; and you shall have absolute certainty.
[_He goes out through the garden and down the street._
BERNICK.
[_Half aloud._] Horrible! But no, it’s impossible—inconceivable!
[_As he turns to go to his own room_ HILMAR TÖNNESEN _enters
from the right._
HILMAR.
Good-day, Bernick! Well, I congratulate you on your field-day in the
Trade Council yesterday.
BERNICK.
Oh, thank you.
HILMAR.
It was a brilliant victory, I hear; the victory of intelligent public
spirit over self-interest and prejudice—like a French razzia upon the
Kabyles. Strange, that after the unpleasant scene here, you——
BERNICK.
Yes, yes, don’t speak of it.
HILMAR.
But the tug-of-war is yet to come.
BERNICK.
In the matter of the railway, you mean?
HILMAR.
Yes. I suppose you have heard of the egg that our editor-friend is
hatching?
BERNICK.
[_Anxiously._] No! What is it?
HILMAR.
Oh, he has got hold of the rumour that’s floating about, and is coming
out with an article on the subject.
BERNICK.
What rumour?
HILMAR.
Why, about the great buying-up of property along the branch line, of
course.
BERNICK.
What do you mean? Is there any such rumour about?
HILMAR.
Yes, over the whole town. I heard it at the club. They say that one of
our lawyers has been secretly commissioned to buy up all the forests,
all the mining rights, all the water-power——
BERNICK.
And is it known for whom?
HILMAR.
They thought at the club that it must be for a syndicate from some other
town that had got wind of your scheme, and had rushed in before the
prices rose. Isn’t it disgraceful? Ugh!
BERNICK.
Disgraceful?
HILMAR.
Yes, that outsiders should trespass on our preserves in that way. And
that one of our own lawyers could lend himself to such a transaction!
Now all the profit will go to strangers.
BERNICK
But this is only a vague rumour.
HILMAR.
People believe it, at any rate; and to-morrow or next day you may look
for some editorial comments on the fact. Every one is indignant about it
already. I heard several people say that if this rumour is confirmed
they will strike their names off the lists.
BERNICK.
Impossible!
HILMAR.