_Sitting-room at Rosmershölm, with a stove, flower-stand,
windows, ancient and modern ancestors, doors, and everything
handsome about it, REBECCA WEST is sitting knitting a large
antimacassar which is nearly finished. Now and then she looks
out of a window, and smiles and nods expectantly to someone
outside. Madam HELSETH is laying the table for supper._
_Rebecca_ (_folding up her work slowly_). But tell me precisely, what
about this White Horse? [_Smiling quietly._
_Madam Helseth_. Lord forgive you, Miss!--(_fetching cruet-stand, and
placing it on table_)--but you're making fun of me!
_Rebecca_ (_gravely_). No, indeed. Nobody makes fun at Rosmershölm.
Mr. ROSMER would not understand it. (_Shutting window._) Ah, here is
Rector KROLL. (_Opening door_.) You will stay to supper, will you not,
Rector, and I will tell them to give us some little extra dish.
_Kroll_ (_hanging up his hat in the hall_). Many thanks. (_Wipes his
boots._) May I come in? (_Comes in, puts down his stick, sits down,
and looks about him._) And how do you and ROSMER get on together, eh?
_Reb._ Ever since your sister, BEATA, went mad and jumped into the
mill-race, we have been as happy as two little birds together. (_After
a pause, sitting down in arm-chair._) So you don't really mind my
living here all alone with ROSMER? We were afraid you might, perhaps.
_Kroll_. Why, how on earth--on the contrary, I shouldn't object at all
if you--(_looks at her meaningly_)--h'm!
_Reb._ (_interrupting, gravely_). For shame, Rector; how can you make
such jokes!
_Kroll_ (_as if surprised_). Jokes? We do not joke in these parts--but
here is ROSMER.
[Illustration: "Taking off his gloves meaningly."]
[_Enter ROSMER, gently and softly._
_Rosmer_. So, my dear old friend, you have come again, after a year's
absence. (_Sits down._) We almost thought that--
_Kroll_ (_nods_). So Miss WEST was saying--but you are quite mistaken.
I merely thought I might remind you, if I came, of our poor BEATA's
suicide, so I kept away. We Norwegians are not without our simple
tact.
_Rosmer_. It was considerate--but unnecessary. REB--I _mean_, Miss
WEST and I often allude to the incident, do we not?
_Reb._ (_strikes Tändstickor_). Oh, yes, indeed. (_Lighting lamp_.)
Whenever we feel a little more cheerful than usual.
_Kroll_. You dear good people! (_Wanders up the room._) I came because
the Spirit of Revolt has crept into my School. A Secret Society
has existed for weeks in the Lower Third! To-day it has come to my
knowledge that a booby-trap was prepared for me by the hand of my own
son, LAURITS, and I then discovered that a hair has been inserted in
my cane by my daughter HILDA! The only way in which a right-minded
Schoolmaster can combat this anarchic and subversive spirit is to
start a newspaper, and I thought that you, as a weak, credulous,
inexperienced and impressionable kind of man, were the very person to
be the Editor.
[_REB. laughs softly, as if to herself. ROSMER jumps up and
sits down again._
_Reb._ (_with a look at Rosmer_). Tell him now!
_Rosmer_ (_returning the look_). I can't--some other evening. Well,
perhaps-- (_To KROLL._) I can't be your Editor--because (_in a low
voice_) I--I am on the side of LAURITS and HILDA!
_Kroll_ (_looks from one to the other, gloomily_). H'm!
_Rosmer_. Yes. Since we last met, I have changed my views. I am going
to create a new democracy, and awaken it to its true task of making
all the people of this country noblemen, by freeing their wills, and
purifying their minds!
_Kroll_. What _do_ you mean? [_Takes up his hat._
_Rosmer_ (_bowing his head_). I don't quite know, my dear friend; it
was REB--I should say. Miss WEST's scheme.
_Kroll_. H'm! (_A suspicion appears in his face._) Now I begin to
believe that what BEATA said about schemes--no matter. But, under the
circumstances, I will _not_ stay to supper.
[_Takes up his stick, and walks out._
_Rosmer_. I _told_ you he would be annoyed, I shall go to bed now. I
don't want any supper. [_He lights a candle, and goes out; presently
his footsteps are heard overhead, as he undresses. REBECCA pulls a
bell-rope._
_Reb._ (_to Madam HELSETH, who enters with dishes_). No, Mr. ROSMER
will not have supper to-night. (_In a lighter tone._) Perhaps he is
afraid of the nightmare. There are so many sorts of White Horses in
this world!
_Mad. H._ (_shaking_). Lord! lord! that Miss WEST--the things she does
say! [_REB. goes out through door, knitting antimacassar thoughtfully,
as Curtain falls._