EMMANUEL WICKBERG. And the husband is the proper guardian of his wife.
CARL JOHAN SJÖBERG. The ritual, which gives binding force to the marriage, says that the wife should obey her husband, and so it is clear to me that the man takes precedence of the woman.
ERIC OTTO BOMAN. And the children are to be brought up in the faith of the father.
ÄRENFRID SÖDERBERG. From which may be concluded that children follow the father and not the mother.
OLOF ANDERSSON OF WIK. But as in the case before us both man and wife are equally guilty, and, judging by what has come to light, equally unfit to rear a child, I hold that the child should be taken away from both.
CARL PETER ANDERSSON OF BERGA. In concurring with Olof Andersson, I may call to mind that in such cases the Court names two good men as guardians to take charge of children and property, so that out of the latter man and wife may have their support together with the child.
AXEL WALLIN. And for guardians I wish in this case to propose Alexander Eklund and Ärenfrid Söderberg, both of whom are well known to be of honest character and Christian disposition.
ANDERS ERIC RUTH. I concur with Olof Andersson of Wik as to the separation of the child from both father and mother, and with Axel Wallin as to the guardians, whose Christian disposition makes them particularly fitted to bring up the child.
SWEN OSCAR ERLING. I concur in what has just been said.
AUGUST ALEXANDER VASS. I concur.
LUDWIG ÖSTMAN. I concur.
JUDGE. AS the opinion expressed by a majority of the jurors is contrary to my own, I must ask the Jury to take a vote on the matter. And I think it proper first to put the motion made by Olof Andersson for the separation of the child from both father and mother, and for the appointment of guardians. Is it the unanimous will of the Jury that such action be taken?
ALL THE JURORS. Yes.
JUDGE. If anybody objects to the motion, he will hold up his hand. [Silence] The opinion of the Jury has won out against my own, and I shall enter an exception on the minutes against what seems to me the needless cruelty of the decision—The couple will then be sentenced to a year's separation of bed and board, at the risk of imprisonment if, during that period, they should seek each other. [To theSHERIFF] Call in the parties.
SCENE XV
TheBARONESSandSPECTATORSenter.
TheBARONESSandSPECTATORSenter.
JUDGE. Is Baron Sprengel not present?
BARONESS. The Baron will be here in a moment.
JUDGE. Whoever does not observe the time, has only himself to blame. This is the decision of the County Court: that husband and wife be sentenced to a year's separation of bed and board, and that the child be taken from the parents and placed in charge of two guardians for education. For this purpose the Court has selected and appointed the jurors Alexander Eklund and Ärenfrid Söderberg.
TheBARONESScries out and sinks to the floor. TheSHERIFFand theCONSTABLEraise her up and place her on a chair. Some of theSPECTATORSleave in the meantime.
TheBARONESScries out and sinks to the floor. TheSHERIFFand theCONSTABLEraise her up and place her on a chair. Some of theSPECTATORSleave in the meantime.
BARON. [Enters] Your Honor! I heard the sentence of the Court from the outside, and I wish to enter a challenge, first against the Jury as a whole, it being made up of my personal enemies, and secondly against the guardians, Alexander Eklund and Ärenfrid Söderberg, neither of whom possesses the financial status demanded of guardians. Furthermore, I shall enter proceedings against the judge for incompetence displayed in the exercise of his office, in so far as he has failed to recognise that the primary guilt of one led to the subsequent guilt of the other, so that both cannot be held equally responsible.
JUDGE. Whosoever be not satisfied with the decision rendered may appeal to the higher court within the term set by law. Will the Jury please accompany me on house visitation to the Rectory in connection with the suit pending against the communal assessors?
TheJUDGEand theJURYgo out through the door in the background.
TheJUDGEand theJURYgo out through the door in the background.
SCENE XVI
TheBARONand theBARONESS.TheSPECTATORSwithdraw gradually.
TheBARONand theBARONESS.TheSPECTATORSwithdraw gradually.
BARONESS. Where is Emil?
BARON. He was gone!
BARONESS. That's a lie!
BARON. [After a pause] Yes—I did not bring him to my mother, whom I cannot trust, but to the Rectory.
BARONESS. To the minister!
BARON. Your one reliable enemy! Yes. Who was there else that I might trust? And I did it because a while ago I caught a glance in your eye which made me think that you possibly might kill yourself and the child.
BARONESS. You saw that!—Oh, why did I let myself be fooled into believing you.
BARON. Well, what do you say of all this?
BARONESS. I don't know. But I am so tired that I no longer feel the blows. It seems almost a relief to have received the final stab.
BARON. You give no thought to what is now going to happen: how your son is going to be brought up by two peasants, whose ignorance and rude habits will kill the child by slow torture; how he is going to be forced down into their narrow sphere; how his intelligence is going to be smothered by religious superstition; how he is going to be taught contempt for his father and mother——
BARONESS. Hush! Don't say another word, or I shall lose my reason! My Emil in the hands of peasant women, who don't know enough to wash themselves, who have their beds full of vermin, and who cannot even keep a comb clean! My Emil! No, it is impossible!
BARON. It is the actual reality, and you have nobody but yourself to blame for it.
BARONESS. Myself? But did I make myself? Did I put evil tendencies, hatred, and wild passions into myself? No! And who was it that denied me the power and will to combat all those things?—When I look at myself this moment, I feel that I am to be pitied. Am I not?
BARON. Yes, you are! Both of us are to be pitied. We tried to avoid the rocks that beset marriage by living unmarried as husband and wife; but nevertheless we quarrelled, and we were sacrificing one of life's greatest joys, the respect of our fellow-men—and so we were married. But we must needs steal a march on the social body and its laws. We wanted no religious ceremony, but instead we wriggled into a civil marriage. We did not want to depend on each other—we were to have no common pocket-book and to insist on no personal ownership of each other—and with that we fell right back into the old rut again. Without wedding ceremony, but with a marriage contract! And then it went to pieces. I forgave your faithlessness, and for the child's sake we lived together in voluntary separation—and freedom! But I grew tired of introducing my friend's mistress as my wife—and so we had to get a divorce. Can you guess—do you know against whom we have been fighting? You call him God, but I call him nature. And that was the master who egged us on to hate each other, just as he is egging people on to love each other. And now we are condemned to keep on tearing each other as long as a spark of life remains. New proceedings in the higher court, reopening of the case, report by the Vestry Board, opinion from the Diocesan Chapter, decision by the Supreme Court. Then comes my complaint to the Attorney-General, my application for a guardian, your objections and counter-suits: from pillory to post! Without hope of a merciful executioner! Neglect of the property, financial ruin, scamped education for the child! And why do we not put an end to these two miserable lives? Because the child stays our hands! You cry, but I cannot! Not even when my thought runs ahead to the night that is waiting for me in a home laid waste! And you, poor Helen, who must go back to your mother! That mother whom you once left with such eagerness in order to get a home of your own. To become her daughter once more—and perhaps find it worse than being a wife! One year! Two years! Many years! How many more do you think we can bear to suffer?
BARONESS. I shall never go back to my mother. Never! I shall go out on the high-roads and into the woods so that I may find a hiding-place where I can scream—scream myself tired against God, who has put this infernal love into the world as a torment for us human creatures—and when night comes, I shall seek shelter in the Pastor's barn, so that I may sleep near my child.
BARON. You hope to sleep to-night—you?
CHARACTERS
EDGAR,Captain in the Coast ArtilleryALICE,his wife,a former actressCURT,Master of QuarantineJENNY}THE OLD WOMAN}Subordinate charactersTHE SENTRY}
The scene is laid inside of a round fort built of granite.In the background, a gateway, closed by huge, swinging double doors; in these, small square window panes, through which may be seen a sea shore with batteries and the sea beyond.On either side of the gateway, a window with flower pots and bird cages.To the right of the gateway, an upright piano; further down the stage, a sewing-table and two easy-chairs.On the left, half-way down the stage, a writing-table with a telegraph instrument on it; further down, a what-not full of framed photographs. Beside it, a couch that can be used to sleep on. Against the wall, a buffet.A lamp suspended from the ceiling. On the wall near the piano hang two large laurel wreaths with ribbons. Between them, the picture of a woman in stage dress.Beside the door, a hat-stand on which hang accoutrements, sabres, and so forth. Near it, a chiffonier.To the left of the gateway hangs a mercurial barometer.It is a mild Fall evening. The doors stand open, and a sentry is seen pacing back and forth on the shore battery. He wears a helmet with a forward pointed brush for a crest. Now and then his drawn sabre catches the red glare of the setting sun. The sea lies dark and quiet.TheCAPTAINsits in the easy-chair to the left of the sewing-table, fumbling an extinguished cigar. He has on a much-worn undress uniform and riding-boots with spurs. Looks tired and bored.ALICEsits in the easy-chair on the right, doing nothing at all. Looks tired and expectant.
The scene is laid inside of a round fort built of granite.
In the background, a gateway, closed by huge, swinging double doors; in these, small square window panes, through which may be seen a sea shore with batteries and the sea beyond.
On either side of the gateway, a window with flower pots and bird cages.
To the right of the gateway, an upright piano; further down the stage, a sewing-table and two easy-chairs.
On the left, half-way down the stage, a writing-table with a telegraph instrument on it; further down, a what-not full of framed photographs. Beside it, a couch that can be used to sleep on. Against the wall, a buffet.
A lamp suspended from the ceiling. On the wall near the piano hang two large laurel wreaths with ribbons. Between them, the picture of a woman in stage dress.
Beside the door, a hat-stand on which hang accoutrements, sabres, and so forth. Near it, a chiffonier.
To the left of the gateway hangs a mercurial barometer.
It is a mild Fall evening. The doors stand open, and a sentry is seen pacing back and forth on the shore battery. He wears a helmet with a forward pointed brush for a crest. Now and then his drawn sabre catches the red glare of the setting sun. The sea lies dark and quiet.
TheCAPTAINsits in the easy-chair to the left of the sewing-table, fumbling an extinguished cigar. He has on a much-worn undress uniform and riding-boots with spurs. Looks tired and bored.
ALICEsits in the easy-chair on the right, doing nothing at all. Looks tired and expectant.
CAPTAIN. Won't you play something for me?
ALICE. [Indifferently, but not snappishly] What am I to play?
CAPTAIN. Whatever suits you.
ALICE. You don't like my repertory.
CAPTAIN. Nor you mine.
ALICE. [Evasively] Do you want the doors to stay open?
CAPTAIN. If you wish it.
ALICE. Let them be, then. [Pause] Why don't you smoke?
CAPTAIN. Strong tobacco is beginning not to agree with me.
ALICE. [In an almost friendly tone] Get weaker tobacco then. It is your only pleasure, as you call it.
CAPTAIN. Pleasure—what is that?
ALICE. Don't ask me. I know it as little as you—Don't you want your whiskey yet?
CAPTAIN. I'll wait a little. What have you for supper?
ALICE. How do I know? Ask Christine.
CAPTAIN. The mackerel ought to be in season soon—now the Fall is here.
ALICE. Yes, it is Fall!
CAPTAIN. Within and without. But leaving aside the cold that comes with the Fall, both within and without, a little broiled mackerel, with a slice of lemon and a glass of white Burgundy, wouldn't be so very bad.
ALICE. Now you grow eloquent.
CAPTAIN. Have we any Burgundy left in the wine-cellar?
ALICE. So far as I know, we have had no wine-cellar these last five years——
CAPTAIN. You never know anything. However, wemuststock up for our silver wedding.
ALICE. Do you actually mean to celebrate it?
CAPTAIN. Of course!
ALICE. It would be more seemly to hide our misery—our twenty-five years of misery——
CAPTAIN. My dear Alice, it has been a misery, but we have also had some fun—now and then. One has to avail one-self of what little time there is, for afterward it is all over.
ALICE. Is it over? Would that it were!
CAPTAIN. It is over! Nothing left but what can be put on a wheel-barrow and spread on the garden beds.
ALICE. And so much trouble for the sake of the garden beds!
CAPTAIN. Well, that's the way of it. And it is not of my making.
ALICE. So much trouble! [Pause] Did the mail come?
CAPTAIN. Yes.
ALICE. Did the butcher send his bill?
CAPTAIN. Yes.
ALICE. How large is it?
CAPTAIN. [Takes a paper from his pocket and puts on his spectacles, but takes them off again at once] Look at it yourself. I cannot see any longer.
ALICE. What is wrong with your eyes?
CAPTAIN. Don't know.
ALICE. Growing old?
CAPTAIN. Nonsense! I?
ALICE. Well, not I!
CAPTAIN. Hm!
ALICE. [Looking at the bill] Can you pay it?
CAPTAIN. Yes, but not this moment.
ALICE. Some other time, of course! In a year, when you have been retired with a small pension, and it is too late! And then, when your trouble returns——
CAPTAIN. Trouble? I never had any trouble—only a slight indisposition once. And I can live another twenty years.
ALICE. The doctor thought otherwise.
CAPTAIN. The doctor!
ALICE. Yes, who else could express any valid opinion about sickness?
CAPTAIN. I have no sickness, and never had. I am not going to have it either, for I shall die all of a sudden—like an old soldier.
ALICE. Speaking of the doctor—you know they are having a party to-night?
CAPTAIN. [Agitated] Yes, what of it? We are not invited because we don't associate with those people, and we don't associate with them because we don't want to—because we despise both of them. Rabble—that's what they are!
ALICE. You say that of everybody.
CAPTAIN. Because everybody is rabble.
ALICE. Except yourself.
CAPTAIN. Yes, because I have behaved decently under all conditions of life. That's why I don't belong to the rabble.
[Pause.
ALICE. Do you want to play cards?
CAPTAIN. All right.
ALICE. [Takes a pack of cards from the drawer in the sewing-table and begins to shuffle them] Just think, the doctor is permitted to use the band for a private entertainment!
CAPTAIN. [Angrily] That's because he goes to the city and truckles to the Colonel. Truckle, you know—if one could only do that!
ALICE. [Deals] I used to be friendly with Gerda, but she played me false——
CAPTAIN. They are all false! What did you turn up for trumps?
ALICE. Put on your spectacles.
CAPTAIN. They are no help—Well, well!
ALICE. Spades are trumps.
CAPTAIN. [Disappointed] Spades——?
ALICE. [Leads] Well, be that as it may, our case is settled in advance with the wives of the new officers.
CAPTAIN. [Taking the trick] What does it matter? We never give any parties anyhow, so nobody is the wiser. I can live by myself—as I have always done.
ALICE. I, too. But the children? The children have to grow up without any companionship.
CAPTAIN. Let them find it for themselves in the city—I take that! Got any trumps left?
ALICE. One—That's mine!
CAPTAIN. Six and eight make fifteen——
ALICE. Fourteen—fourteen!
CAPTAIN. Six and eight make fourteen. I think I am also forgetting how to count. And two makes sixteen—[Yawns] It is your deal.
ALICE. You are tired?
CAPTAIN. [Dealing] Not at all.
ALICE. [Listening in direction of the open doors] One can hear the music all this way. [Pause] Do you think Curt is invited also?
CAPTAIN. He arrived this morning, so I guess he has had time to get out his evening clothes, though he has not had time to call on us.
ALICE. Master of Quarantine—is there to be a quarantine station here?
CAPTAIN. Yes.
ALICE. He is my own cousin after all, and once I bore the same name as he——
CAPTAIN. In which there was no particular honour——
ALICE. See here! [Sharply] You leave my family alone, and I'll leave yours!
CAPTAIN. All right, all right—don't let us begin again!
ALICE. Must the Master of Quarantine be a physician?
CAPTAIN. Oh, no, he's merely a sort of superintendent or book-keeper—and Curt never became anything in particular.
ALICE. He was not much good——
CAPTAIN. And he has cost us a lot of money. And when he left wife and children, he became disgraced.
ALICE. Not quite so severe, Edgar!
CAPTAIN. That's what happened! What has he been doing in America since then? Well, I cannot say that I am longing for him—but he was a nice chap, and I liked to argue with him.
ALICE. Because he was so tractable——
CAPTAIN. [Haughtily] Tractable or not, he was at least a man one could talk to. Here, on this island, there is notoneperson who understands what I say—it's a community of idiots!
ALICE. It is rather strange that Curt should arrive just in time for our silver wedding—whether we celebrate it or not——
CAPTAIN. Why is that strange? Oh, I see! It was he who brought us together, or got you married, as they put it.
ALICE. Well, didn't he?
CAPTAIN. Certainly! It was a kind of fixed idea with him—I leave it for you to say what kind.
ALICE. A wanton fancy——
CAPTAIN. For which we have had to pay, and not he!
ALICE. Yes, think only if I had remained on the stage! All my friends are stars now.
CAPTAIN. [Rising] Well, well, well! Now I am going to have a drink. [Goes over to the buffet and mixes a drink, which he takes standing up] There should be a rail here to put the foot on, so that one might dream of being at Copenhagen, in the American Bar.
ALICE. Let us put a rail there, if it will only remind us of Copenhagen. For there we spent our best moments.
CAPTAIN. [Drinks quickly] Yes, do you remember that "navarin aux pommes"?
ALICE. No, but I remember the concerts at the Tivoli.
CAPTAIN. Yes, your tastes are so—exalted!
ALICE. It ought to please you to have a wife whose taste is good.
CAPTAIN. So it does.
ALICE. Sometimes, when you need something to brag of——
CAPTAIN. [Drinking] I guess they must be dancing at the doctor's—I catch the three-four time of the tuba: boom-boom-boom!
ALICE. I can hear the entire melody of the Alcazar Waltz. Well, it was not yesterday I danced a waltz——
CAPTAIN. You think you could still manage?
ALICE. Still?
CAPTAIN. Ye-es. I guess you are done with dancing, you like me!
ALICE. I am ten years younger than you.
CAPTAIN. Then we are of the same age, as the lady should be ten years younger.
ALICE. Be ashamed of yourself! You are an old man—and I am still in my best years.
CAPTAIN. Oh, I know, you can be quite charming—to others, when you make up your mind to it.
ALICE. Can we light the lamp now?
CAPTAIN. Certainly.
ALICE. Will you ring, please.
TheCAPTAINgoes languidly to the writing-table and rings a bell.JENNYenters from the right.
TheCAPTAINgoes languidly to the writing-table and rings a bell.
JENNYenters from the right.
CAPTAIN. Will you be kind enough to light the lamp, Jenny?
ALICE. [Sharply] I want you to light the hanging lamp.
JENNY. Yes, ma'am.
[Lights the lamp while theCAPTAINwatches her.
[Lights the lamp while theCAPTAINwatches her.
ALICE. [Stiffly] Did you wipe the chimney?
JENNY. Sure.
ALICE. What kind of an answer is that?
CAPTAIN. Now—now——
ALICE. [ToJENNY] Leave us. I will light the lamp myself. That will be better.
JENNY. I think so too. [Starts for the door.
ALICE. [Rising] Go!
JENNY. [Stops] I wonder, ma'am, what you'd say if I did go?
ALICEremains silent.JENNYgoes out.TheCAPTAINcomes forward and lights the lamp.
ALICEremains silent.
JENNYgoes out.
TheCAPTAINcomes forward and lights the lamp.
ALICE. [With concern] Do you think she will go?
CAPTAIN. Shouldn't wonder. And then we are in for it——
ALICE. It's your fault! You spoil them.
CAPTAIN. Not at all. Can't you see that they are always polite to me?
ALICE. Because you cringe to them. And you always cringe to inferiors, for that matter, because, like all despots, you have the nature of a slave.
CAPTAIN. There—there!
ALICE. Yes, you cringe before your men, and before your sergeants, but you cannot get on with your equals or your superiors.
CAPTAIN. Ugh!
ALICE. That's the way of all tyrants—Do you think she will go?
CAPTAIN. Yes, if you don't go out and say something nice to her.
ALICE. I?
CAPTAIN. Yes, for if I should do it, you would say that I was flirting with the maids.
ALICE. Mercy, if she should leave! Then I shall have to do the work, as I did the last time, and my hands will be spoiled.
CAPTAIN. That is not the worst of it. But if Jenny leaves, Christine will also leave, and then we shall never get a servant to the island again. The mate on the steamer scares away every one that comes to look for a place—and if he should miss his chance, then my corporals attend to it.
ALICE. Yes, your corporals, whom I have to feed in my kitchen, and whom you dare not show the door——
CAPTAIN. No, for then they would also go when their terms were up—and we might have to close up the whole gun shop!
ALICE. It will be our ruin.
CAPTAIN. That's why the officers have proposed to petition His Royal Majesty for special expense money.
ALICE. For whom?
CAPTAIN. For the corporals.
ALICE. [Laughing] You are crazy!
CAPTAIN. Yes, laugh a little for me. I need it.
ALICE. I shall soon have forgotten how to laugh——
CAPTAIN. [Lighting his cigar] That is something one should never forget—it is tedious enough anyhow!
ALICE. Well, it is not very amusing—Do you want to play any more?
CAPTAIN. No, it tires me.
ALICE. Do you know, it irritates me nevertheless that my cousin, the new Master of Quarantine, makes his first visit to our enemies.
CAPTAIN. Well, what's the use of talking about it?
ALICE. But did you see in the paper that he was put down asrentier? He must have come into some money then.
CAPTAIN.Rentier! Well, well—a rich relative. That's really the first one in this family.
ALICE. In your family, yes. But among my people many have been rich.
CAPTAIN. If he has money, he's conceited, I suppose, but I'll hold him in check—and he won't get a chance to look at my cards.
The telegraph receiver begins to click.
The telegraph receiver begins to click.
ALICE. Who is it?
CAPTAIN. [Standing still] Keep quiet, please.
ALICE. Well, are you not going to look——
CAPTAIN. I can hear—I can hear what they are saying—It's the children.
Goes over to the instrument and sends an answer; the receiver continues to click for awhile, and then theCAPTAINanswers again.
Goes over to the instrument and sends an answer; the receiver continues to click for awhile, and then theCAPTAINanswers again.
ALICE. Well?
CAPTAIN. Wait a little—[Gives a final click] The children are at the guard-house in the city. Judith is not well again and is staying away from school.
ALICE. Again! What more did they say?
CAPTAIN. Money, of course!
ALICE. Why is Judith in such a hurry? If she didn't pass her examinations until next year, it would be just as well.
CAPTAIN. Tell her, and see what it helps.
ALICE. You should tell her.
CAPTAIN. How many times have I not done so? But children have their own wills, you know.
ALICE. Yes, in this house at least. [TheCAPTAINyawns] So, you yawn in your wife's presence!
CAPTAIN. Well, what can I do? Don't you notice how day by day we are saying the same things to each other? When, just now, you sprang that good old phrase of yours, "in this house at least," I should have come back with my own stand-by, "it is not my house only." But as I have already made that reply some five hundred times, I yawned instead. And my yawn could be taken to mean either that I was too lazy to answer, or "right you are, my angel," or "supposing we quit."
ALICE. You are very amiable to-night.
CAPTAIN. Is it not time for supper soon?
ALICE. Do you know that the doctor ordered supper from the city—from the Grand Hotel?
CAPTAIN. No! Then they are having ptarmigans—tschk! Ptarmigan, you know, is the finest bird there is, but it's clear barbarism to fry it in bacon grease——
ALICE. Ugh! Don't talk of food.
CAPTAIN. Well, how about wines? I wonder what those barbarians are drinking with the ptarmigans?
ALICE. Do you want me to play for you?
CAPTAIN. [Sits down at the writing-table] The last resource! Well, if you could only leave your dirges and lamentations alone—it sounds too much like music with a moral. And I am always adding within myself: "Can't you hear how unhappy I am! Meow, meow! Can't you hear what a horrible husband I have! Brum, brum, brum! If he would only die soon! Beating of the joyful drum, flourishes, the finale of the Alcazar Waltz, Champagne Galop!" Speaking of champagne, I guess there are a couple of bottles left. What would you say about bringing them up and pretending to have company?
ALICE. No, we won't, for they are mine—they were given to me personally.
CAPTAIN. You are so economical.
ALICE. And you are always stingy—to your wife at least!
CAPTAIN. Then I don't know what to suggest. Perhaps I might dance for you?
ALICE. No, thank you—I guess you are done with dancing.
CAPTAIN. You should bring some friend to stay with you.
ALICE. Thanks! You might bring a friend to stay with you.
CAPTAIN. Thanks! It has been tried, and with mutual dissatisfaction. But it was interesting in the way of an experiment, for as soon as a stranger entered the house, we became quite happy—to begin with——
ALICE. And then!
CAPTAIN. Oh, don't talk of it!
There is a knock at the door on the left.
There is a knock at the door on the left.
ALICE. Who can be coming so late as this?
CAPTAIN. Jenny does not knock.
ALICE. Go and open the door, and don't yell "come"—it has a sound of the workshop.
CAPTAIN. [Goes toward the door on the left] You don't like workshops.
ALICE. Please, open!
CAPTAIN. [Opens the door and receives a visiting-card that is held out to him] It is Christine—Has Jenny left? [As the public cannot hear the answer, toALICE] Jenny has left.
ALICE. Then I become servant girl again!
CAPTAIN. And I man-of-all-work.
ALICE. Would it not be possible to get one of your gunners to help along in the kitchen?
CAPTAIN. Not these days.
ALICE. But it couldn't be Jenny who sent in her card?
CAPTAIN. [Looks at the card through his spectacles and then turns it over toALICE] You see what it is—I cannot.
ALICE. [Looks at the card] Curt—it is Curt! Hurry up and bring him in.
CAPTAIN. [Goes out to the left] Curt! Well, that's a pleasure!
[ALICEarranges her hair and seems to come to life.
[ALICEarranges her hair and seems to come to life.
CAPTAIN. [Enters from the left withCURT] Here he is, the traitor! Welcome, old man! Let me hug you!
ALICE. [Goes toCURT] Welcome to my home, Curt!
CURT. Thank you—it is some time since we saw each other.
CAPTAIN. How long? Fifteen years! And we have grown old——
ALICE. Oh, Curt has not changed, it seems to me.
CAPTAIN. Sit down, sit down! And first of all—the programme. Have you any engagement for to-night?
CURT. I am invited to the doctor's, but I have not promised to go.
ALICE. Then you will stay with your relatives.
CURT. That would seem the natural thing, but the doctor is my superior, and I might have trouble afterward.
CAPTAIN. What kind of talk is that? I have never been afraid of my superiors——
CURT. Fear or no fear, the trouble cannot be escaped.
CAPTAIN. On this island I am master. Keep behind my back, and nobody will dare to touch you.
ALICE. Oh, be quiet, Edgar! [TakesCURTby the hand] Leaving both masters and superiors aside, you must stay with us. That will be found both natural and proper.
CURT. Well, then—especially as I feel welcome here.
CAPTAIN. Why should you not be welcome? There is nothing between us—[CURTtries vainly to hide a sense of displeasure] What could there be? You were a little careless as a young man, but I have forgotten all about it. I don't let things rankle.
ALICElooks annoyed. All three sit down at the sewing-table.
ALICElooks annoyed. All three sit down at the sewing-table.
ALICE. Well, you have strayed far and wide in the world?
CURT. Yes, and now I have found a harbour with you——
CAPTAIN. Whom you married off twenty-five years ago.
CURT. It was not quite that way, but it doesn't matter. It is pleasing to see that you have stuck together for twenty-five years.
CAPTAIN. Well, we have borne with it. Now and then it has been so-so, but, as you say, we have stuck together. And Alice has had nothing to complain of. There has been plenty of everything—heaps of money. Perhaps you don't know that I am a celebrated author—an author of text-books——
CURT. Yes, I recall that, when we parted, you had just published a volume on rifle practice that was selling well. Is it still used in the military schools?
CAPTAIN. It is still in evidence, and it holds its place as number one, though they have tried to substitute a worse one —which is being used now, but which is totally worthless.
[Painful silence.
[Painful silence.
CURT. You have been travelling abroad, I have heard.
ALICE. We have been down to Copenhagen five times—think of it?
CAPTAIN. Well, you see, when I took Alice away from the stage——
ALICE. Oh, you took me?
CAPTAIN. Yes, I took you as a wife should be taken——
ALICE. How brave you have grown!
CAPTAIN. But as it was held up against me afterward that I had spoiled her brilliant career—hm!—I had to make up for it by promising to take my wife to Copenhagen—and this I have kept—fully! Five times we have been there. Five [holding up the five fingers of the left hand] Have you been in Copenhagen?
CURT. [Smiling] No, I have mostly been in America.
CAPTAIN. America? Isn't that a rotten sort of a country?
CURT. [Unpleasantly impressed] It is not Copenhagen.
ALICE. Have you—heard anything—from your children?
CURT. No.
ALICE. I hope you pardon me—but was it not rather inconsiderate to leave them like that——
CURT. I didn't leave them, but the court gave them to the mother.
CAPTAIN. Don't let us talk of that now. I for my part think it was lucky for you to get out of that mess.
CURT. [ToALICE] How are your children?
ALICE. Well, thank you. They are at school in the city and will soon be grown up.
CAPTAIN. Yes, they're splendid kids, and the boy has a brilliant head—brilliant! He is going to join the General Staff——
ALICE. If they accept him!
CAPTAIN. Him? Who has the making of a War Minister in him!
CURT. From one thing to another. There is to be a quarantine station here—against plague, cholera, and that sort of thing. And the doctor will be my superior, as you know—what sort of man is he?
CAPTAIN. Man? He is no man! He's an ignorant rascal!
CURT. [ToALICE] That is very unpleasant for me.
ALICE. Oh, it is not quite as bad as Edgar makes it out, but I must admit that I have small sympathy for the man——
CAPTAIN. A rascal, that's what he is. And that's what the others are, too—the Collector of Customs, the Postmaster, the telephone girl, the druggist, the pilot—what is it they call him now?—the Pilot Master—rascals one and all—and that's why I don't associate with them.
CURT. Are you on bad terms with all of them?
CAPTAIN. Every one!
ALICE. Yes, it is true that intercourse with those people is out of the question.
CAPTAIN. It is as if all the tyrants of the country had been sent to this island for safe-keeping.
ALICE. [Ironically] Exactly!
CAPTAIN. [Good-naturedly] Hm! Is that meant for me? I am no tyrant—not in my own house at least.
ALICE. You know better!
CAPTAIN. [ToCURT] Don't believe her! I am a very reasonable husband, and the old lady is the best wife in the world.
ALICE. Would you like something to drink, Curt?
CURT. No, thank you, not now.
CAPTAIN. Have you turned——
CURT. A little moderate only——
CAPTAIN. Is that American?
CURT. Yes.
CAPTAIN. No moderation for me, or I don't care at all. A man should stand his liquor.
CURT. Returning to our neighbours on the island—my position will put me in touch with all of them—and it is not easy to steer clear of everything, for no matter how little you care to get mixed up in other people's intrigues, you are drawn into them just the same.
ALICE. You had better take up with them—in the end you will return to us, for here you find your true friends.
CURT. Is it not dreadful to be alone among a lot of enemies as you are?
ALICE. It is not pleasant.
CAPTAIN. It isn't dreadful at all. I have never had anything but enemies all my life, and they have helped me on instead of doing me harm. And when my time to die comes, I may say that I owe nothing to anybody, and that I have never got a thing for nothing. Every particle of what I own I have had to fight for.
ALICE. Yes, Edgar's path has not been strewn with roses——
CAPTAIN. No, with thorns and stones—pieces of flint—but a man's own strength: do you know what that means?
CURT. [Simply] Yes, I learned to recognise its insufficiency about ten years ago.
CAPTAIN. Then you are no good!
ALICE. [To theCAPTAIN] Edgar!
CAPTAIN. He is no good, I say, if he does not have the strength within himself. Of course it is true that when the mechanism goes to pieces there is nothing left but a barrowful to chuck out on the garden beds; but as long as the mechanism holds together the thing to do is to kick and fight, with hands and feet, until there is nothing left. That is my philosophy.
CURT. [Smiling] It is fun to listen to you.
CAPTAIN. But you don't think it's true?
CURT. No, I don't.
CAPTAIN. But true it is, for all that.
During the preceding scene the wind has begun to blow hard, and now one of the big doors is closed with a bang.
During the preceding scene the wind has begun to blow hard, and now one of the big doors is closed with a bang.
CAPTAIN. [Rising] It's blowing. I could just feel it coming.
Goes back and closes both doors. Knocks on the barometer.
Goes back and closes both doors. Knocks on the barometer.
ALICE. [ToCURT] You will stay for supper?
CURT. Thank you.
ALICE. But it will be very simple, as our housemaid has just left us.
CURT. Oh, it will do for me, I am sure.
ALICE. You ask for so little, dear Curt.
CAPTAIN. [At the barometer] If you could only see how the mercury is dropping! Oh, I felt it coming!
ALICE. [Secretly toCURT] He is nervous.
CAPTAIN. We ought to have supper soon.
ALICE. [Rising] I am going to see about it now. You can sit here and philosophise—[secretly toCURT], but don't contradict him, for then he gets into bad humour. And don't ask him why he was not made a major.
[CURTnods assent.[ALICEgoes toward the right.
[CURTnods assent.
[ALICEgoes toward the right.
CAPTAIN. See that we get something nice now, old lady!
ALICE. You give me money, and you'll get what you want.
CAPTAIN. Always money!
[ALICEgoes out.
[ALICEgoes out.
CAPTAIN. [ToCURT] Money, money, money! All day long I have to stand ready with the purse, until at last I have come to feel as if I myself were nothing but a purse. Are you familiar with that kind of thing?
CURT. Oh, yes—with the difference that I took myself for a pocket-book.
CAPTAIN. Ha-ha! So you know the flavour of the brand! Oh, the ladies! Ha-ha! And you had one of the proper kind!
CURT. [Patiently] Let that be buried now.
CAPTAIN. She was a jewel! Then I have after all—in spite of everything—one that's pretty decent. For she is straight, in spite of everything.
CURT. [Smiling good-humouredly] In spite of everything.
CAPTAIN. Don't you laugh!
CURT. [As before] In spite of everything!
CAPTAIN. Yes, she has been a faithful mate, a splendid mother—excellent—but [with a glance at the door on the right] she has a devilish temper. Do you know, there have been moments when I cursed you for saddling me with her.
CURT. [Good-naturedly] But I didn't. Listen, man——
CAPTAIN. Yah, yah, yah! You talk nonsense and forget things that are not pleasant to remember. Don't take it badly, please—I am accustomed to command and raise Cain, you see, but you know me, and don't get angry!
CURT. Not at all. But I have not provided you with a wife—on the contrary.
CAPTAIN. [Without letting his flow of words be checked] Don't you think life is queer anyhow?
CURT. I suppose so.
CAPTAIN. And to grow old—it is no fun, but it is interesting. Well, my age is nothing to speak of, but it does begin to make itself felt. All your friends die off, and then you become so lonely.
CURT. Lucky the man who can grow old in company with a wife.
CAPTAIN. Lucky? Well, it is luck, for the children go their way, too. You ought not to have left yours.
CURT. Well, I didn't. They were taken away from me——
CAPTAIN. Don't get mad now, because I tell you——
CURT. But it was not so.
CAPTAIN. Well, whichever way it was, it has now become forgotten—but you are alone!
CURT. You get accustomed to everything.
CAPTAIN. Do you—is it possible to get accustomed—to being quite alone also?
CURT. Here am I!
CAPTAIN. What have you been doing these fifteen years?
CURT. What a question! These fifteen years!
CAPTAIN. They say you have got hold of money and grown rich.
CURT. I can hardly be called rich——
CAPTAIN. I am not going to ask for a loan.
CURT. If you were, you would find me ready.
CAPTAIN. Many thanks, but I have my bank account. You see [with a glance toward the door on the right], nothing must be lacking in this house; and the day I had no more money—she would leave me!
CURT. Oh, no!
CAPTAIN. No? Well, I know better. Think of it, she makes a point of asking me when I happen to be short, just for the pleasure of showing me that I am not supporting my family.
CURT. But I heard you say that you have a large income.
CAPTAIN. Of course, I have a large income—but it is not enough.
CURT. Then it is not large, as such things are reckoned——
CAPTAIN. Life is queer, and we as well!
The telegraph receiver begins to click.
The telegraph receiver begins to click.
CURT. What is that?
CAPTAIN. Nothing but a time correction.
CURT. Have you no telephone?
CAPTAIN. Yes, in the kitchen. But we use the telegraph because the girls at the central report everything we say.
CURT. Social conditions out here by the sea must be frightful!
CAPTAIN. They are simply horrible! But all life is horrible. And you, who believe in a sequel, do you think there will be any peace further on?
CURT. I presume there will be storms and battles there also.
CAPTAIN. There also—if there be any "there"! I prefer annihilation!
CURT. Are you sure that annihilation will come without pain?
CAPTAIN. I am going to die all of a sudden, without pain
CURT. So you know that?
CAPTAIN. Yes, I know it.
CURT. You don't appear satisfied with your life?
CAPTAIN. [Sighing] Satisfied? The day I could die, I should be satisfied.
CURT. [Rising] That you don't know! But tell me: what is going on in this house? What is happening here? There is a smell as of poisonous wall-paper, and one feels sick the moment one enters. I should prefer to get away from here, had I not promised Alice to stay. There are dead bodies beneath the flooring, and the place is so filled with hatred that one can hardly breathe. [TheCAPTAINsinks together and sits staring into vacancy] What is the matter with you? Edgar! [TheCAPTAINdoes not move. Slaps theCAPTAINon the shoulder] Edgar!
CAPTAIN. [Recovering consciousness] Did you say anything? [Looks around] I thought it was—Alice!—Oh, is that you?—Say—[Relapses into apathy.
CURT. This is horrible! [Goes over to the door on the right and opens it] Alice!
ALICE. [Enters, wearing a kitchen apron] What is it?
CURT. I don't know. Look at him.
ALICE. [Calmly] He goes off like that at times—I'll play and then he will wake up.
CURT. No, don't! Not that way! Leave it to me—Does he hear? Or see?
ALICE. Just now he neither hears nor sees.
CURT. And you can speak of that with such calm? Alice, what is going on in this house?
ALICE. Ask him there.
CURT. Him there? But he is your husband!
ALICE. A stranger to me—as strange as he was twenty-five years ago. I know nothing at all about that man—nothing but——
CURT. Stop! He may overhear you.
ALICE. Now he cannot hear anything.
A trumpet signal is sounded outside.
A trumpet signal is sounded outside.
CAPTAIN. [Leaps to his feet and grabs sabre and cap] Pardon me. I have to inspect the sentries.
[Goes out through the door in the background.
[Goes out through the door in the background.
CURT. Is he ill?
ALICE. I don't know.
CURT. Has he lost his reason?
ALICE. I don't know.
CURT. Does he drink?
ALICE. He boasts more of it than he really drinks.
CURT. Sit down and talk—but calmly and truthfully.
ALICE. [Sitting down] What am I to talk about? That I have spent a lifetime in this tower, locked up, guarded by a man whom I have always hated, and whom I now hate so beyond all bounds that the day he died I should be laughing until the air shook.
CURT. Why have you not parted?
ALICE. You may well ask! While still engaged we parted twice; since then we have been trying to part every single day—but we are chained together and cannot break away. Once we were separated—within the same house—for five whole years. Now nothing but death can part us. This we know, and for that reason we are waiting for him as for a liberator.
CURT. Why are you so lonely?
ALICE. Because he isolates me. First he "exterminated" all my brothers and sisters from our home—he speaks of it himself as "extermination"—and then my girl friends and everybody else.
CURT. Buthisrelatives? He has not "exterminated" them?
ALICE. Yes, for they came near taking my life, after having taken my honour and good name. Finally I became forced to keep up my connection with the world and with other human beings by means of that telegraph—for the telephone was watched by the operators. I have taught myself telegraphy, and he doesn't know it. You must not tell him, for then he would kill me.
CURT. Frightful! Frightful!—But why does he hold me responsible for your marriage? Let me tell you now how it was. Edgar was my childhood friend. When he saw you he fell in love at once. He came to me and asked me to plead his cause. I said no at once—and, my dear Alice, I knew your tyrannical and cruel temperament. For that reason I warned him—and when he persisted, I sent him to get your brother for his spokesman.
ALICE. I believe what you say. But he has been deceiving himself all these years, so that now you can never get him to believe anything else.
CURT. Well, let him put the blame on me if that can relieve his sufferings.
ALICE. But that is too much——
CURT. I am used to it. But what does hurt me is his unjust charge that I have deserted my children——
ALICE. That's the manner of man he is. He says what suits him, and then he believes it. But he seems to be fond of you, principally because you don't contradict him. Try not to grow tired of us now. I believe you have come in what was to us a fortunate moment; I think it was even providential—Curt, you must not grow tired of us, for we are undoubtedly the most unhappy creatures in the whole world!
[She weeps.
[She weeps.
CURT. I have seenonemarriage at close quarters, and it was dreadful—but this is almost worse!
ALICE. Do you think so?
CURT. Yes.
ALICE. Whose fault is it?
CURT. The moment you quit asking whose fault it is, Alice, you will feel a relief. Try to regard it as a fact, a trial that has to be borne——
ALICE. I cannot do it! It is too much! [Rising] It is beyond help!
CURT. I pity both of you!—Do you know why you are hating each other?
ALICE. No, it is the most unreasoning hatred, without cause, without purpose, but also without end. And can you imagine why he is principally afraid of death? He fears that I may marry again.
CURT. Then he loves you.
ALICE. Probably. But that does not prevent him from hating me.
CURT. [As if to himself] It is called love-hatred, and it hails from the pit!—Does he like you to play for him?
ALICE. Yes, but only horrid melodies—for instance, that awful "The Entry of the Boyars." When he hears it he loses his head and wants to dance.
CURT. Does he dance?
ALICE. Oh, he is very funny at times.
CURT. One thing—pardon me for asking. Where are the children?
ALICE. Perhaps you don't know that two of them are dead?
CURT. So you have had that to face also?
ALICE. What is there I have not faced?
CURT. But the other two?
ALICE. In the city. They couldn't stay at home. For he set them against me.
CURT. And you set them against him?
ALICE. Of course. And then parties were formed, votes bought, bribes given—and in order not to spoil the children completely we had to part from them. What should have been the uniting link became the seed of dissension; what is held the blessing of the home turned into a curse—well, I believe sometimes that we belong to a cursed race!
CURT. Yes, is it not so—ever since the Fall?
ALICE. [With a venomous glance and sharp voice] What fall?
CURT. That of our first parents.
ALICE. Oh, I thought you meant something else!
[Embarrassed silence.
[Embarrassed silence.
ALICE. [With folded hands] Curt, my kinsman, my childhood friend—I have not always acted toward you as I should. But now I am being punished, and you are having your revenge.
CURT. No revenge! Nothing of that kind here! Hush!
ALICE. Do you recall one Sunday while you were engaged—and I had invited you for dinner——