to-day has made it ten times more difficult for me. But all other
considerations must give place to your rescue. You remember the promise
I gave you. You remember what you promised to answer, when I found that
the time had come. Now I can hesitate no longer, and therefore—[_To_
JOHAN TÖNNESEN]—I tell you that this girl, whom you are pursuing, is
betrothed to me.
MRS. BERNICK.
What do you say?
BERNICK.
Dina!
JOHAN.
She! Betrothed to——?
MARTHA.
No, no, Dina!
LONA.
A lie!
JOHAN.
Dina—does that man speak the truth?
DINA.
[_After a short pause._] Yes.
RÖRLUND.
This, I trust, will paralyse all your arts of seduction. The step I have
determined to take for Dina’s welfare may now be made known to our whole
community. I hope—nay, I am sure—that it will not be misinterpreted. And
now, Mrs. Bernick, I think we had better take her away from here, and
try to restore her mind to peace and equilibrium.
MRS. BERNICK.
Yes, come. Oh, Dina, what happiness for you!
[_She leads_ DINA _out to the left;_ DOCTOR RÖRLUND _goes along
with them._
MARTHA.
Good-bye, Johan! [_She goes out._
HILMAR.
[_At the garden door._] H’m—well, I really must say——
LONA.
[_Who has been following_ DINA _with her eyes._] Don’t be cast down,
boy! I shall stay here and look after the Pastor.
[_She goes out to the right._
BERNICK.
Johan, you won’t sail now with the _Indian Girl_.
JOHAN.
Now more than ever.
BERNICK.
Then you will not come back again?
JOHAN.
I shall come back.
BERNICK.
After this? What would you do after this?
JOHAN.
Revenge myself on the whole band of you; crush as many of you as I can.
_He goes out to the right._ VIGELAND _and_ KRAP _come from the
Consul’s office._
VIGELAND.
Well, the papers are in order now, Consul.
BERNICK.
Good, good——
KRAP.
[_In a low voice._] Then it is settled that the _Indian Girl_ is to sail
to-morrow.
BERNICK.
She is to sail.
_He goes into his room._ VIGELAND _and_ KRAP _go out to the
right._ HILMAR TÖNNESEN _is following them, when_ OLAF
_peeps cautiously out at the door on the left._
OLAF.
Uncle! Uncle Hilmar!
HILMAR.
Ugh, is that you? Why don’t you stay upstairs? You know you are under
arrest.
OLAF.
[_Comes a few steps forward._] Sh! Uncle Hilmar, do you know the news?
HILMAR.
I know that you got a thrashing to-day.
OLAF.
[_Looks threateningly towards his father’s room._] He sha’n’t thrash me
again. But do you know that Uncle Johan is to sail to-morrow with the
Americans?
HILMAR.
What’s that to you? You get upstairs again!
OLAF.
Perhaps I may go buffalo-hunting yet, uncle.
HILMAR.
Rubbish! such a young milksop as you——
OLAF.
Just wait a little; you shall hear something to-morrow!
HILMAR.
Little blockhead!
[_He goes out through the garden._ OLAF, _catching sight of_
KRAP, _who comes from the right, runs in again and shuts the
door._
KRAP.
[_Goes up to the Consul’s door and opens it a little._] Excuse my coming
again, Consul, but it’s blowing up to a hurricane. [_He waits a moment;
there is no answer._] Is the _Indian Girl_ to sail in spite of it?
[_After a short pause._
BERNICK.
[_Answers from the office._] The _Indian Girl_ is to sail in spite of
it.
[KRAP _shuts the door and goes out again to the right._
ACT FOURTH.
_The garden-room in_ CONSUL BERNICK’S _house. The table has been
removed. It is a stormy afternoon, already half dark, and growing
darker._
_A man-servant lights the chandelier; two maid-servants bring in
flower-pots, lamps, and candles, which are placed on tables and
brackets along the wall._ RUMMEL, _wearing a dress-coat, white
gloves, and a white necktie, stands in the room giving
directions._
RUMMEL.
[_To the servant._] Only every second candle, Jacob. The place mustn’t
look too brilliant; it’s supposed to be a surprise, you know. And all
these flowers——? Oh, yes, let them stand; it will look as if they were
always there——
CONSUL BERNICK _comes out of his room._
BERNICK.
[_At the door._] What is the meaning of all this?
RUMMEL.
Tut, tut, are you there? [_To the servants._] Yes, you can go now.
[_The servants go out by the second door on the left._
BERNICK.
[_Coming into the room._] Why, Rummel, what is the meaning of all this?
RUMMEL.
It means that the proudest moment of your life has arrived. The whole
town is coming in procession to do homage to its leading citizen.
BERNICK.
What do you mean?
RUMMEL.
With banners and music, sir! We should have had torches too; but it was
thought dangerous in this stormy weather. However, there’s to be an
illumination; and that will have an excellent effect in the newspapers.
BERNICK.
Listen, Rummel—I will have nothing to do with all this.
RUMMEL.
Oh, it’s too late now; they’ll be here in half an hour.
BERNICK.
Why did you not tell me of this before?
RUMMEL.
Just because I was afraid you would make objections. But I arranged it
all with your wife; she allowed me to put things in order a little, and
she is going to look to the refreshments herself.
BERNICK.
[_Listening._] What’s that? Are they coming already? I thought I heard
singing.
RUMMEL.
[_At the garden-door._] Singing? Oh, it’s only the Americans. They are
hauling the _Indian Girl_ out to the buoy.
BERNICK.
Hauling her out! Yes——! I really cannot this evening, Rummel; I am not
well.
RUMMEL.
You’re certainly not looking well. But you must pull yourself together.
Come, come, man, pull yourself together! I and Sandstad and Vigeland
attach the greatest importance to this affair. Our opponents must be
crushed by an overwhelming utterance of public opinion. The rumours are
spreading over the town; the announcement as to the purchase of the
property cannot be kept back any longer. This very evening, amid songs
and speeches and the ring of brimming goblets—in short, amid all the
effervescent enthusiasm of the occasion—you must announce what you have
ventured to do for the good of the community. With the aid of
effervescent enthusiasm, as I said just now, it is astonishing what one
can effect in this town. But we must have the effervescence, or it won’t
do.
BERNICK.
Yes, yes, yes——
RUMMEL.
And especially when such a ticklish point is to be dealt with. Thank
heaven, you have a name that will carry us through, Bernick. But listen
now: we must arrange a little programme. Hilmar Tönnesen has written a
song in your honour. It begins charmingly with the line, “Wave th’
Ideal’s banner high.” And Doctor Rörlund has been commissioned to make
the speech of the evening. Of course, you must reply to it.
BERNICK.
I cannot, I cannot this evening, Rummel. Couldn’t you——?
RUMMEL.
Impossible, much as I should like to. The Doctor’s speech will, of
course, be mainly addressed to you. Perhaps a few words will be devoted
to the rest of us. I have spoken to Vigeland and Sandstad about it. We
had arranged that your reply should take the form of a toast to the
general welfare of the community. Sandstad will say a few words on the
harmony between the different classes of the community; Vigeland will
express the fervent hope that our new undertaking may not disturb the
moral basis upon which we stand; and I will call attention, in a few
well-chosen words, to the claims of Woman, whose more modest exertions
are not without their use in the community. But you are not listening——
BERNICK.
Yes—yes, I am. Tell me, do you think the sea is running very high
outside?
RUMMEL.
Oh, you are anxious on account of the _Palm Tree_? She’s well insured,
isn’t she?
BERNICK.
Yes, insured; but——
RUMMEL.
And in good repair; that’s the main thing.
BERNICK.
H’m.—And even if anything happens to a vessel, it does not follow that
lives will be lost. The ship and cargo may go down—people may lose
chests and papers——
RUMMEL.
Good gracious, chests and papers don’t matter much——
BERNICK.
Not matter! No, no, I only meant——Hark—that singing again!
RUMMEL.
It’s on board the _Palm Tree_.
VIGELAND _enters from the right._
VIGELAND.
Yes, they are hauling out the _Palm Tree_. Good-evening, Consul.
BERNICK.
And you, who know the sea so well, don’t hesitate to——?
VIGELAND.
I don’t hesitate to trust in Providence, Consul! Besides, I have been on
board and distributed a few leaflets, which I hope will act with a
blessing.
SANDSTAD _and_ KRAP _enter from the right._
SANDSTAD.
[_At the door._] It’s a miracle if they manage to pull through. Ah, here
we are—good-evening, good-evening.
BERNICK.
Is anything the matter, Mr. Krap?
KRAP.
I have nothing to say, Consul.
SANDSTAD.
Every man on board the _Indian Girl_ is drunk. If those animals ever get
over alive, I’m no prophet.
LONA _enters from the right._
LONA.
[_To_ BERNICK.] Johan told me to say good-bye for him.
BERNICK.
Is he on board already?
LONA.
He will be soon, at any rate. We parted outside the hotel.
BERNICK.
And he holds to his purpose?
LONA.
Firm as a rock.
RUMMEL.
[_At one of the windows._] Deuce take these new-fangled arrangements. I
can’t get these curtains drawn.
LONA.
Are they to be drawn? I thought, on the contrary——
RUMMEL.
They are to be drawn at first, Miss Hessel. Of course you know what is
going on?
LONA.
Oh, of course. Let me help you. [_Takes one of the cords._] I shall let
the curtain fall upon my brother-in-law—though I would rather raise it.
RUMMEL.
That you can do later. When the garden is filled with a surging
multitude, then the curtains are drawn back, and reveal an astonished
and delighted family. A citizen’s home should be transparent to all the
world.
[BERNICK _seems about to say something, but turns quickly and
goes into his office._
RUMMEL.
Well, let us hold our last council of war. Come, Mr. Krap; we want you
to supply us with a few facts.
[_All the men go into the Consul’s office._ LONA _has drawn all
the curtains over the windows, and is just going to draw the
curtain over the open glass door, when_ OLAF _drops down
from above, alighting at the top of the garden stair; he has
a plaid over his shoulder and a bundle in his hand._
LONA.
Good heavens, child, how you startled me!
OLAF.
[_Hiding the bundle._] Sh, auntie!
LONA.
Why did you jump out at the window?—Where are you going?
OLAF.
Sh, don’t tell, auntie. I’m going to Uncle Johan; only down to the pier,
you know;—just to say good-bye to him. Good-night, auntie!
[_He runs out through the garden._
LONA.
No! stop! Olaf!—Olaf!
JOHAN TÖNNESEN, _in travelling dress, with a bag over his
shoulder, steals in by the door on the right._
JOHAN.
Lona!
LONA.
[_Turning._] What! You here again?
JOHAN.
There are still a few minutes to spare. I must see her once more. We
cannot part so.
MARTHA _and_ DINA, _both wearing cloaks, and the latter with a small
travelling-bag in her hand, enter by the second door on the left._
DINA.
I must see him! I must see him!
MARTHA.
Yes, you shall go to him, Dina!
DINA.
There he is!
JOHAN.
Dina!
DINA.
Take me with you!
JOHAN.
What——!
LONA.
You will go?
DINA.
Yes, take me with you. The other has written to me, saying that this
evening it is to be announced to every one——
JOHAN.
Dina—you do not love him?
DINA.
I have never loved that man. I would rather be at the bottom of the
fjord than be engaged to him! Oh, how he seemed to make me grovel before
him yesterday with his patronising phrases! How he made me feel that he
was stooping to an abject creature! I will not be looked down upon any
more. I will go away. May I come with you?
JOHAN.
Yes, yes—a thousand times yes!
DINA.
I shall not be a burden on you long. Only help me to get over there;
help me to make a start——
JOHAN.
Hurrah! We shall manage all that, Dina!
LONA.
[_Pointing to the Consul’s door._] Hush! not so loud!
JOHAN.
Dina, I will take such care of you.
DINA.
No, no, I won’t have that. I will make my own way; I shall manage well
enough over there. Only let me get away from here. Oh, those women—you
don’t know—they have actually written to me to-day, exhorting me to
appreciate my good fortune, impressing upon me what magnanimity he has
shown. To-morrow, and every day of my life, they would be watching me to
see whether I showed myself worthy of it all. I have a horror of all
this propriety!
JOHAN.
Tell me, Dina, is that your only reason for coming? Am I nothing to you?
DINA.
Yes, Johan, you are more to me than any one else in the world.
JOHAN.
Oh, Dina——!
DINA.
They all tell me that I must hate and detest you; that it is my duty.
But I don’t understand all this about duty; I never could understand it.
LONA.
And you never shall, my child!
MARTHA.
No, you shall not; and that is why you must go with him, as his wife.
JOHAN.
Yes, yes!
LONA.
What? I must kiss you for that, Martha! I didn’t expect this of _you_.
MARTHA.
No, I daresay not; I didn’t expect it myself. But sooner or later the
crisis was bound to come. Oh, how we suffer here, under this tyranny of
custom and convention! Rebel against it, Dina! Marry him. Show that it
is possible to set this use-and-wont at defiance!
JOHAN.
What is your answer, Dina?
DINA.
Yes, I will be your wife.
JOHAN.
Dina!
DINA.
But first I will work, and become something for myself, just as you are.
I will give myself; I will not be simply taken.
LONA.
Right, right! So it should be.
JOHAN.
Good; I shall wait and hope——
LONA.
——and win too, boy. But now, on board.
JOHAN.
Yes, on board! Ah, Lona, my dear, a word with you; come here——
[_He leads her up towards the back and talks rapidly to her._
MARTHA.
Dina—happy girl! Let me look at you and kiss you once more—for the last
time.
DINA.
Not the last time; no, my dear, dear aunt—we shall meet again.
MARTHA.
Never! Promise me, Dina, never to come back again. [_Seizes both her
hands and looks into her face._] Now go to your happiness, my dear
child—over the sea. Oh, how often have I sat in the schoolroom and
longed to be over there! It must be beautiful there; the heaven is
wider; the clouds sail higher than here; a larger, freer air sweeps over
the heads of the people——
DINA.
Oh, Aunt Martha, you will follow us some day.
MARTHA.
I? Never, never. My little life-work lies here; and now I think I can
give myself to it wholly and unreservedly.
DINA.
I cannot imagine being parted from you.
MARTHA.
Ah, one can part from so much, Dina. [_Kisses her._] But you will not
have to learn that lesson, my dear child. Promise me to make him happy.
DINA.
I will not promise anything. I hate this promising. Things must come as
they can.
MARTHA.
Yes, yes, you are right. You have only to remain as you are—true and
faithful to yourself.
DINA.
That I will, Aunt Martha.
LONA.
[_Puts in her pocket some papers which Johan has given her._] Good,
good, my dear boy. But now, away.
JOHAN.
Yes, now there’s no time to be lost. Good-bye, Lona; thanks, thanks for
all you have been to me. Good-bye, Martha, and thanks to you too for
your faithful friendship.
MARTHA.
Good-bye, Johan! Good-bye, Dina! And happiness be over all your days!
[_She and_ LONA _hurry them towards the door in the background._
JOHAN TÖNNESEN _and_ DINA _go quickly out through the
garden._ LONA _shuts the door and draws the curtain._
LONA.
Now we are alone, Martha. You have lost her, and I him.
MARTHA.
You—him?
LONA.
Oh, I had half lost him already over there. The boy longed to stand on
his own feet; so I made him imagine that _I_ was suffering from
home-sickness.
MARTHA.
That was it? Now I understand why you came. But he will want you back
again, Lona.
LONA.
An old step-sister—what can he want with her now? Men break many a tie
when happiness beckons to them.
MARTHA.
That is true, sometimes.
LONA.
Now we two must hold together, Martha.
MARTHA.
Can I be anything to you?
LONA.
Who more? We two foster-mothers—have we not both lost our children? Now
we are alone.
MARTHA.
Yes, alone. So now I will tell you this—I have loved him more than all
the world.
LONA.
Martha? [_Seizes her arm._] Is this the truth?
MARTHA.
My whole life lies in the words. I have loved him, and waited for him.
From summer to summer I have looked for his coming. And then he came—but
he did not see me.
LONA.
Loved him! And it was you that gave his happiness into his hands.
MARTHA.
What else should I do, since I love him? Yes, I have loved him. I have
lived my whole life for him, ever since he went away. What reason had I
to hope, you ask? Oh, I think I had _some_ reason. But then, when he
came again—it seemed as if everything were wiped out of his memory. He
did not see me.
LONA.
It was Dina that overshadowed you, Martha.
MARTHA.
It is well that she did. When he went away we were of the same age; when
I saw him again—oh, that horrible moment—I realised that I was ten years
older than he. He had lived out there in the bright, quivering sunshine,
and drunk in youth and health at every breath; and here sat I the while,
spinning and spinning——
LONA.
——the thread of his happiness, Martha.
MARTHA.
Yes, it was gold I spun. No bitterness! We have been two good sisters to
him, Lona, have we not?
LONA.
[_Embraces her._] Martha!
CONSUL BERNICK _comes out of his room._
BERNICK.
[_To the men inside._] Yes, yes, settle it as you please. When the time
comes, I shall be ready——[_Shuts the door._] Ah, are you there?
By-the-bye, Martha, you had better look to your dress a little. And tell
Betty to do the same. I don’t want anything out of the way, of course;
just homely neatness. But you must be quick.
LONA.
And you must look bright and happy, Martha; remember this is a joyful
surprise to you.
BERNICK.
Olaf must come down too. I will have him at my side.
LONA.
H’m, Olaf——
MARTHA.
I will tell Betty.
[_She goes out by the second door on the left._
LONA.
Well, so the great and solemn hour has come.
BERNICK.
[_Walks restlessly up and down._] Yes, it has come.
LONA.
At such a time, no doubt, a man must feel proud and happy.
BERNICK.
[_Looks at her._] H’m——
LONA.
The whole town is to be illuminated, I hear.
BERNICK.
Yes, I believe there is some such idea.
LONA.
All the clubs will turn out with their banners. Your name will shine in
letters of fire. To-night it will be telegraphed to every corner of the
country—“Surrounded by his happy family, Consul Bernick received the
homage of his fellow citizens as one of the pillars of society.”
BERNICK.
So it will; and the crowd in the street will shout and hurrah, and
insist on my coming forward into the doorway there, and I shall have to
bow and thank them.
LONA.
Have to——?
BERNICK.
Do you think I feel happy at this moment?
LONA.
No, _I_ do not think that you can feel altogether happy.
BERNICK.
Lona, you despise me.
LONA.
Not yet.
BERNICK.
And you have no right to. Not to _despise_ me!—Lona, you cannot conceive
how unspeakably alone I stand, here in this narrow, stunted society—how,
year by year, I have had to put a tighter curb on my ambition for a full
and satisfying life-work. What have I accomplished, for all the show it
makes? Scrap-work—odds and ends. There is no room here for other and
larger work. If I tried to go a step in advance of the views and ideas
of the day, all my power was gone. Do you know what we are, we, who are
reckoned the pillars of society? We are the tools of society, neither
more nor less.
LONA.
Why do you only see this now?
BERNICK.
Because I have been thinking much of late—since you came home—and most
of all this evening.—Oh, Lona, why did I not know you through and
through, then—in the old days?
LONA.
What then?
BERNICK.
I should never have given you up; and, with you by my side, I should not
have stood where I stand now.
LONA.
And do you never think what she might have been to you—she, whom you
chose in my stead?
BERNICK.
I know, at any rate, that she has not been anything that I required.
LONA.
Because you have never shared your life-work with her. Because you have
never placed her in a free and true relation to you. Because you have
allowed her to go on pining under the weight of shame you had cast upon
those nearest her.
BERNICK.
Yes, yes, yes; falsehood and hollowness are at the bottom of it all.
LONA.
Then why not break with all this falsehood and hollowness?
BERNICK.
Now? It is too late now, Lona.
LONA.
Karsten, tell me—what satisfaction does this show and imposture give
you?
BERNICK.
It gives me none. I must go under, along with the whole of this bungled
social system. But a new generation will grow up after us; it is my son
that I am working for; it is _his_ life-work that I am laying out for
him. There will come a time when truth will find its way into our social
order, and upon it he shall found a happier life than his father’s.
LONA.
With a lie for its groundwork? Think what it is you are giving your son
for an inheritance.
BERNICK.
[_With suppressed despair._] I am giving him an inheritance a thousand
times worse than you know of. But, sooner or later, the curse must pass
away. And yet—and yet——[_Vehemently._] How could you bring all this upon
my head! But it is done now. I must go on now. You _shall_ not succeed
in crushing me!
HILMAR TÖNNESEN, _with an open note in his hand, and much
discomposed, enters quickly from the right._
HILMAR.
Why, this is——Betty, Betty!
BERNICK.
What now? Are they coming already?
HILMAR.
No, no; but I must speak to some one at once——
[_He goes out by the second door on the left._
LONA.
Karsten, you say we came to crush you. Then let me tell you what stuff
he is made of, this prodigal whom your moral society shrinks from as if
he were plague-stricken. He can do without you all, for he has gone
away.
BERNICK.
But he is coming back——
LONA.
Johan will never come back. He has gone for ever, and Dina has gone with
him.
BERNICK.
Gone for ever? And Dina with him?
LONA.
Yes, to be his wife. That is how these two strike your seraphic society
in the face, as I once——No matter!
BERNICK.
Gone!—she too! In the _Indian Girl_?
LONA.
No; he dared not entrust such a precious freight to a ship with so
ruffianly a crew. Johan and Dina have sailed in the _Palm Tree_.
BERNICK.
Ah! Then it was—to no purpose——[_Rushes to the door of his office, tears
it open, and calls in._] Krap, stop the _Indian Girl_! She mustn’t sail
to-night!
KRAP.
[_Inside._] The _Indian Girl_ is already standing out to sea, Consul.
BERNICK.
[_Shuts the door and says feebly._] Too late—and all for nothing.
LONA.
What do you mean?
BERNICK.
Nothing, nothing. Leave me alone——!
LONA.
H’m. Listen, Karsten. Johan told me to tell you that he leaves in my
keeping the good name he once lent you, and also that which you stole
from him while he was far away. Johan will be silent; and I can do or
let alone in this matter as I will. See, I hold in my hand your two
letters.
BERNICK.
You have them! And now—now you will—this very night perhaps—when the
procession——
LONA.
I did not come here to unmask you, but to try if I could not move you to
throw off the mask of your own accord. I have failed. Remain standing in
the lie. See; I tear your two letters to shreds. Take the pieces; here
they are. Now, there is nothing to bear witness against you, Karsten.
Now you are safe; be happy too—if you can.
BERNICK.
[_Profoundly moved._] Lona, why did you not do this before! It is too
late now; my whole life is ruined now; I cannot live after to-day.
LONA.
What has happened?
BERNICK.
Don’t ask me. And yet I _must_ live! I _will_ live—for Olaf’s sake. He
shall restore all and atone for all——
LONA.
Karsten——!
HILMAR TÖNNESEN _again enters hurriedly._
HILMAR.
No one to be found; all away; not even Betty!
BERNICK.
What is the matter with you?
HILMAR.
I daren’t tell you.
BERNICK.
What is it? You must and shall tell me.
HILMAR.
Well then——Olaf has run away in the _Indian Girl_.
BERNICK.
[_Staggering backwards._] Olaf—in the _Indian Girl_! No, no!
LONA.
Yes, it is true! Now I understand——I saw him jump out of the window.
BERNICK.
[_At the door of his room, calls out in despair._] Krap, stop the
_Indian Girl_ at any cost!
KRAP.
[_Comes into the room._] Impossible, Consul. How should we be able to——
BERNICK.
We _must_ stop her! Olaf is on board!
KRAP.
What!
RUMMEL.
[_Enters from the office._] Olaf run away? Impossible!
SANDSTAD.
[_Enters from the office._] They’ll send him back with the pilot,
Consul.
HILMAR.
No, no; he has written to me. [_Showing the letter._] He says he’s going
to hide among the cargo until they are fairly out to sea.
BERNICK.
I shall never see him again!
RUMMEL.
Oh, nonsense; a good stout ship, newly repaired——
VIGELAND.
[_Who has also come in._]——and in your own yard, too, Consul.
BERNICK.
I shall never see him again, I tell you. I have lost him, Lona; and—I
see it now—he has never been really mine. [_Listens._] What is that?
RUMMEL.
Music. The procession is coming.
BERNICK.
I cannot, I will not see any one!
RUMMEL.