Chapter 9

[1]This refers to King Charles XII of Sweden, whose memory Strindberg hated mainly because of the use made of it by the jingo elements of the Swedish upper classes.

The same setting as before with the exception that the walls have been torn down so that the garden is made visible, with its vast variety of spring flowers—daphnes, deutzias, daffodils, narcissuses, tulips, auriculas—and with all the fruit-trees in bloom.ERICSON,ANDERSONand his old wife,GUSTAFSON,theHEARSE-DRIVER,MRS. WESTERLUND,and the painter,SJÖBLOM,are standing in a row staring at the spot where the house used to be.

ERICSON,ANDERSONand his old wife,GUSTAFSON,theHEARSE-DRIVER,MRS. WESTERLUND,and the painter,SJÖBLOM,are standing in a row staring at the spot where the house used to be.

STRANGER. [Entering] There they stand, enjoying the misfortune that's in the air and waiting for the victim to appear—he being the principal item. That the fire was incendiary they take for granted, merely because they want it that way.—And all these rascals are the friends and comrades of my youth. I am even related to the hearse-driver through my stepmother, whose father used to help carry out the coffins—[He speaks to the crowd of spectators] Look here, you people, I shouldn't stand there if I were you. There may have been some dynamite stored in the cellar, and if such were the case an explosion might take place any moment.

The curious crowd scatters and disappears.

STRANGER. [Stoopsover the scrap-heap and begins to poke in the books piled there] Those are the student's books—Same kind of rot as in my youth—Livy's Roman history, which is said to be lies, every word—But here's a volume out of my brother's library—"Columbus, or the Discovery of America"! My own book, which I got as a Christmas gift in 1857. My name has been erased. This means it was stolen from me—and I accused one of our maids, who was discharged on that account! Fine business! Perhaps it led to her ruin—fifty years ago! Here is the frame of one of our family portraits; my renowned grandfather, the smuggler, who was put in the pillory—fine!—But what is this? The foot-piece of a mahogany bed—the one in which I was born! Oh, damn!—Next item: a leg of a dinner-table—the one that was an heirloom. Why, it was supposed to be of ebony, and was admired on that account! And now, after fifty years, I discover it to be made of painted maple. Everything had its colours changed in our house to render it unrecognisable, even the clothes of us children, so that our bodies always were stained with various dyes. Ebony—humbug! And here's the dining-room clock—smuggled goods, that, too—which has measured out the time for two generations. It was wound up every Saturday, when we had salt codfish and a posset made with beer for dinner. Like all intelligent clocks, it used to stop when anybody died, but when I died it went on just as before. Let me have a look at you, old friend—I want to see your insides. [As he touches the clock it falls to pieces] Can't stand being handled! Nothing could stand being handled in our home—nothing! Vanity, vanity!—But there's the globe that was on top of the clock, although it ought to have been at the bottom. You tiny earth: you, the densest and the heaviest of all the planets—that's what makes everything on you so heavy—so heavy to breathe, so heavy to carry. The cross is your symbol, but it might just as well have been a fool's cap or a strait-jacket—you world of delusions and deluded!—Eternal One—perchance Thy earth has gone astray in the limitless void? And what set it whirling so that Thy children were made dizzy, and lost their reason, and became incapable of seeing what really is instead of what only seems?—Amen!—And here is the student!

TheSTUDENTenters and looks around in evident search of somebody.

STRANGER. He is looking for the mistress of the house. And he tells everything he knows—with his eyes. Happy youth!—Whom are you looking for?

STUDENT. [Embarrassed] I was looking——

STRANGER. Speak up, young man—or keep silent. I understand you just the same.

STUDENT. With whom have I the honour——

STRANGER. It's no special honour, as you know, for once I ran away to America on account of debts——

STUDENT. That wasn't right.

STRANGER. Right or wrong, it remains a fact.—So you were looking for Mrs. Walström? Well, she isn't here, but I am sure that she will come soon, like all the rest, for they are drawn by the fire like moths——

STUDENT. By a candle!

STRANGER. That's whatyousay, but I should rather have said "lamp," in order to choose a more significant word. However, you had better hide your feelings, my dear fellow, if you can—I can hide mine!—We were talking of that lamp, were we not? How about it?

STUDENT. Which lamp?

STRANGER. Well, well! Every one of them lies and denies!—The lamp that was placed in the cook's closet and set fire to the house?

STUDENT. I know nothing about it.

STRANGER. Some blush when they lie and others turn pale. This one has invented an entirely new manner.

STUDENT. Are you talking to yourself, sir?

STRANGER. I have that bad habit.—Are your parents still living?

STUDENT. They are not.

STRANGER. Now you lied again, but unconsciously.

STUDENT. I never tell a lie!

STRANGER. Not more than three in these few moments! I know your father.

STUDENT. I don't believe it.

STRANGER. So much the better for me!—Do you see this scarf-pin? It's pretty, isn't it? But I never see anything of it myself—I have no pleasure in its being there, while everybody else is enjoying it. There is nothing selfish about that, is there? But there are moments when I should like to see it in another man's tie so that I might have a chance to admire it. Would you care to have it?

STUDENT. I don't quite understand—Perhaps, as you said, it's better not to wear it.

STRANGER. Perhaps!—Don't get impatient now. She will be here soon.—Do you find it enviable to be young?

STUDENT. I can't say that I do.

STRANGER. No, youth is not its own master; it has never any money, and has to take its food out of other hands; it is not permitted to speak when company is present, but is treated as an idiot; and as it cannot marry, it has to ogle other people's wives, which leads to all sorts of dangerous consequences. Youth—humbug!

STUDENT. That's right! As a child, you want to grow up—that is, reach fifteen, be confirmed, and put on a tall hat. When you are that far, you want to be old—that is, twenty-one. Which means that nobody wants to be young.

STRANGER. And when you grow old in earnest, then you want to be dead. For then there isn't much left to wish for.—Do you know that you are to be arrested?

STUDENT. Am I?

STRANGER. The detective said so a moment ago.

STUDENT. Me?

STRANGER. Are you surprised at that? Don't you know that in this life you must be prepared for anything?

STUDENT. But what have I done?

STRANGER. You don't have to do anything in order to be arrested. To be suspected is enough.

STUDENT. Then everybody might be arrested!

STRANGER. Exactly! The rope might be laid around the neck of the whole race if justice were wanted, but it isn't. It's a disgusting race: ugly, sweating, ill-smelling; its linen dirty, its stockings full of holes; with chilblains and corns—ugh! No, an apple-tree in bloom is far more beautiful. Or look at the lilies in the field—they seem hardly to belong here—and what fragrance is theirs!

STUDENT. Are you a philosopher, sir?

STRANGER. Yes, I am a great philosopher.

STUDENT. Now you are poking fun at me!

STRANGER. You say that to get away. Well, begone then! Hurry up!

STUDENT. I was expecting somebody.

STRANGER. So I thought. But I think it would be better to go and meet——

STUDENT. She asked you to tell me?

STRANGER. Oh, that wasn't necessary.

STUDENT. Well, if that's so—I don't want to miss——

[He goes out.

STRANGER. Can that be my son? Well, if it comes to the worst—I was a child myself once, and it was neither remarkable nor pleasant—And I am his—what of it? And for that matter—who knows?—Now I'll have a look at Mrs. Westerlund. She used to work for my parents—was faithful and good-tempered; and when she had been pilfering for ten years she was raised to the rank of a "trusted" servant. [He seats himself at the table in front of the inn] There are Gustafson's wreaths—just as carelessly made as they were forty years ago. He was always careless and stupid in all he did, and so he never succeeded with anything. But much might be pardoned him on account of his self-knowledge. "Poor fool that I am," he used to say, and then he would pull off his cap and scratch his head.—Why, there's a myrtle plant! [He knocks at the pot] Not watered, of course! He always forgot to water his plants, the damned fool—and yet he expected them to grow.

SJÖBLOM,the painter, appears.

STRANGER. I wonder who that painter can be. Probably he belongs also to the Bog, and perhaps he is one of the threads in my own web.

SJÖBLOMis staring at theSTRANGERall this time.

STRANGER. [Returning the stare] Well, do you recognise me?

SJÖBLOM. Are you—Mr. Arvid?

STRANGER. Have been and am—if perception argues being.

[Pause.

SJÖBLOM. I ought really to be mad at you.

STRANGER. Well, go on and be so! However, you might tell me the reason. That has a tendency to straighten matters out.

SJÖBLOM. Do you remember——

STRANGER. Unfortunately, I have an excellent memory.

SJÖBLOM. Do you remember a boy named Robert?

STRANGER. Yes, a regular rascal who knew how to draw.

SJÖBLOM. And I was to go to the Academy in order to become a real painter, an artist. But just about that time-colour-blindness was all the go. You were studying at the Technological Institute then, and so you had to test my eyes before your father would consent to send me to the art classes. For that reason you brought two skeins of yarn from the dye works, one red and the other green, and then you asked me about them. I answered—called the red green and the green red—and that was the end of my career——

STRANGER. But that was as it should be.

SJÖBLOM. No—for the truth of it was, I could distinguish the colours, but not—thenames. And that wasn't found out until I was thirty-seven——

STRANGER. That was an unfortunate story, but I didn't know better, and so you'll have to forgive me.

SJÖBLOM. How can I?

STRANGER. Ignorance is pardonable! And now listen to me. I wanted to enter the navy, made a trial cruise as mid-shipman, seemed to become seasick, and was rejected! But I could stand the sea, and my sickness came from having drunk too much. So my career was spoiled, and I had to choose another.

SJÖBLOM. What have I got to do with the navy? I had been dreaming of Rome and Paris——

STRANGER. Oh, well, one has so many dreams in youth, and in old age too, for that matter. Besides, what's the use of bothering about what happened so long ago?

SJÖBLOM. How you talk! Perhaps you can give me back my wasted life——

STRANGER. No, I can't, but I am under no obligation to do so, either. That trick with the yarn I had learned at school, and you ought to have learned the proper names of the colours. And now you can go to—one dauber less is a blessing to humanity!—There's Mrs. Westerlund!

SJÖBLOM. How youdotalk. But I guess you'll get what's coming to you!

MRS. WESTERLUNDenters.

STRANGER. How d'you do, Mrs. Westerlund? I am Mr. Arvid—don't get scared now! I have been in America, and how are you? I am feeling fine! There has been a fire here, and I hear your husband is dead—policeman, I remember, and a very nice fellow. I liked him for his good humour and friendly ways. He was a harmless jester, whose quips never hurt. I recall once——

MRS. WESTERLUND. O, merciful! Is this my own Arvid whom I used to tend——

STRANGER. No, that wasn't me, but my brother—but never mind, it's just as well meant. I was talking of your old man who died thirty-five years ago—a very nice man and a particular friend of mine——

MRS. WESTERLUND. Yes, he died. [Pause] But I don't know if—perhaps you are getting him mixed up——

STRANGER. No, I don't. I remember old man Westerlund perfectly, and I liked him very much.

MRS. WESTERLUND. [Reluctantly] Of course it's a shame to say it, but I don't think his temper was very good.

STRANGER. What?

MRS. WESTERLUND. Well—he had a way of getting around people, but he didn't mean what he said—or if he did he meant it the other way around——

STRANGER. What is that? Didn't he mean what he was saying? Was he a hypocrite?

MRS. WESTERLUND. Well, I don't like to say it, but I believe——

STRANGER. Do you mean to say that he wasn't on the level?

MRS. WESTERLUND. N—yes—he was—a little—well, he didn't mean exactly what he said—And how have you been doing, Mr. Arvid?

STRANGER. Now a light is dawning on me!—The miserable wretch! And here I have been praising him these thirty-five years. I have missed him, and I felt something like sorrow at his departure—I even used some of my tobacco allowance to buy a wreath for his coffin.

MRS. WESTERLUND. What was it he did? What was it?

STRANGER. The villain! [Pause] Well—he fooled me—it was Shrove Tuesday, I remember. He told me that if one took away every third egg from a hen she would lay so many more. I did it, got a licking, and came near getting into court. ButInever suspected him of having told on me.—He was always hanging around our kitchen looking for tid-bits, and so our maids could do just what they pleased about the garbage—oh, now I see him in his proper aspect!—And here I am now getting into a fury at one who has been thirty-five years in his grave?—So he was a satirist, he was—and I didn't catch on—although I understand him now.

MRS. WESTERLUND. Yes, he was a little satirical all right—Iought to know that!

STRANGER. Other things are coming back to me now—and I have been saying nice things about that blackguard for thirty-five years! It was at his funeral I drank my first toddy—And I remember how he used to flatter me, and call me "professor" and "the crown prince"—ugh—And there is the stone-cutter! You had better go inside, madam, or we'll have a row when that fellow begins to turn in his bills. Good-bye, madam—we'll meet again!

MRS. WESTERLUND. No we won't. People ought never to meet again—it is never as it used to be, and they only get to clawing at each other—What business did you have to tell me all those things—seeing everything was all right as it was [She goes out.

ERICSON,the stone-cutter, comes in.

STRANGER. Come on!

ERICSON. What's that?

STRANGER. Come on, I said!

ERICSONstares at him.

STRANGER. Are you looking at my scarf-pin? I bought it in London.

ERICSON. I am no thief!

STRANGER. No, but you practise the noble art of erasure. You wipe out!

ERICSON. That's true, but that contract was sheer robbery, and it was strangling me.

STRANGER. Why did you sign it?

ERICSON. Because I was hard up.

STRANGER. Yes, thatisa motive.

ERICSON. But now I am having my revenge.

STRANGER. Yes, isn't it nice!

ERICSON. And nowtheywill be locked up.

STRANGER. Didweever fight each other as boys?

ERICSON. No, I was too young.

STRANGER. Have we never told lies about each other, or robbed each other, or got in each other's way, or seduced each other's sisters?

ERICSON. Naw, but my father was in the customs service and yours was a smuggler.

STRANGER. There you are! That's something, at least!

ERICSON. And when my father failed to catch yours he was discharged.

STRANGER. And you want to get even with me because your father was a good-for-nothing?

ERICSON. Why did you say a while ago that there was dynamite in the cellar?

STRANGER. Now, my dear sir, you are telling lies again. I said theremightbe dynamite in the cellar, and everything is possible, of course.

ERICSON. And in the meantime the student has been arrested. Do you know him?

STRANGER. Very little—his mother more, for she was a maid in our house. She was both pretty and good, and I was making up to her—until she had a child.

ERICSON. And were you not its father?

STRANGER. I was not. But as a denial of fatherhood is not allowed, I suppose I must be regarded as a sort of stepfather.

ERICSON. Then they have lied about you.

STRANGER. Of course. But that's a very common thing.

ERICSON. And I was among those who testified against you—under oath!

STRANGER. I have no doubt about it, but what does it matter? Nothing matters at all! But now we had better quit pulling—or we'll get the whole web unravelled.

ERICSON. But think of me, who have perjured myself——

STRANGER. Yes, it isn't pleasant, but such things will happen.

ERICSON. It's horrible—don't you find life horrible?

STRANGER. [Covering his eyes with his hand] Yes, horrible beyond all description!

ERICSON. I don't want to live any longer!

STRANGER. Must! [Pause] Must! [Pause] Tell me—the student is arrested, you say—can he get out of it?

ERICSON. Hardly!—And now, as we are talking nicely, I'll tell you something: he is innocent, but he cannot clear himself. For the only witness that can prove him innocent would, by doing so, prove him guilty—in another way.

STRANGER. She with the hairpins, isn't it?

ERICSON. Yes.

STRANGER. The old one or the young one?

ERICSON. You have to figure that out yourself. But it isn't the cook.

STRANGER. What a web this is!—But who put the lamp there?

ERICSON. His worst enemy.

STRANGER. And did his worst enemy also start the fire?

ERICSON. That's beyond me! Only Anderson, the mason, knows that.

STRANGER. Who is he?

ERICSON. The oldest one in the place—some kind of relative of Mrs. Westerlund—knows all the secrets of the house—but he and the dyer have got some secrets together, so he won't tell anything.

STRANGER. And the lady—my sister-in-law—who is she?

ERICSON. Well—she was in the house as governess when the first wife cleared out.

STRANGER. What sort of character has she got?

ERICSON. Hm! Character? I don't quite know what that is. Do you mean trade? The old assessment blanks used to call for your name and "character"—but that meant occupation instead of character.

STRANGER. I mean her temper.

ERICSON. Well, it changes, you know. In me it depends on the person with whom I am talking. With decent people I am decent, and with the cruel ones I become like a beast of prey.

STRANGER. But I was talking of her temper under ordinary circumstances.

ERICSON. Well, nothing in particular. Gets angry if you tease her, but comes around after a while. One cannot always have the same temper, of course.

STRANGER. I mean, is she merry or melancholy?

ERICSON. When things go right, she is happy, and when they go wrong, she gets sorry or angry—just like the rest of us.

STRANGER. Yes, but how does she behave?

ERICSON. Oh, what does it matter?—Of course, being an educated person, she behaves politely, but nevertheless, you know, she can get nasty, too, when her blood gets to boiling.

STRANGER. But that doesn't make me much wiser.

ERICSON. [Patting him on the shoulder] No, sir, we never get much wiser when it's a question of human beings.

STRANGER. Oh, you're a marvel!—And how do you like my brother, the dyer? [Pause.

ERICSON. Oh, his manners are pretty decent. And more than that I don't know, for what he keeps hidden I can't find out, of course.

STRANGER. Excellent! But—his hands are always blue, and yet you know that they are white beneath the dye.

ERICSON. But to make them so they should be scraped, and that's something he won't permit.

STRANGER. Good!—Who are the young couple coming over there?

ERICSON. That's the gardener's son and my daughter, who were to have been married to-night, but who have had to postpone it on account of the fire—Now I shall leave, for I don't want to embarrass them. You understand—I ain't much as a father-in-law. Good-bye! [He goes out.

TheSTRANGERwithdraws behind the inn, but so that he remains visible to the spectators.ALFREDandMATHILDAenter hand in hand.

TheSTRANGERwithdraws behind the inn, but so that he remains visible to the spectators.

ALFREDandMATHILDAenter hand in hand.

ALFRED. I had to have a look at this place—I had to——

MATHILDA. Why did you have to look at it?

ALFRED. Because I have suffered so much in this house that more than once I wished it on fire.

MATHILDA. Yes, I know, it kept the sun out of the garden, and now everything will grow much better—provided they don't put up a still higher house——

ALFRED. Now it's open and pleasant, with plenty of air and sunlight, and I hear they are going to lay out a street——

MATHILDA. Won't you have to move then?

ALFRED. Yes, all of us will have to move, and that's what I like—I like new things—I should like to emigrate——

MATHILDA. Mercy, no! Do you know, our pigeons were nesting on the roof. And when the fire broke out last night they kept circling around the place at first, but when the roof fell in they plunged right into the flames—They couldn't part from their old home!

ALFRED. But we must get out of here—must! My father says that the soil has been sucked dry.

MATHILDA. I heard that the cinders left by the fire were to be spread over the ground in order to improve the soil.

ALFRED. You mean the ashes?

MATHILDA. Yes; they say it's good to sow in the ashes.

ALFRED. Better still on virgin soil.

MATHILDA. But your father is ruined?

ALFRED. Not at all. He has money in the bank. Of course he's complaining, but so does everybody.

MATHILDA. Has he—The fire hasn't ruined him?

ALFRED. Not a bit! He's a shrewd old guy, although he always calls himself a fool.

MATHILDA. What am I to believe?

ALFRED. He has loaned money to the mason here—and to others.

MATHILDA. I am entirely at sea! Am I dreaming?—The whole morning we have been weeping over your father's misfortune and over the postponement of the wedding——

ALFRED. Poor little thing! But the wedding is to take place to-night——

MATHILDA. Is it not postponed?

ALFRED. Only delayed for a couple of hours so that my father will have time to get his new coat.

MATHILDA. And we who have been weeping——

ALFRED. Useless tears—such a lot of tears!

MATHILDA. I am mad because they were useless—although—to think that my father-in-law could be such a sly one!

ALFRED. Yes, he is something of a joker, to put it mildly. He is always talking about how tired he is, but that's nothing but laziness—oh, he's lazy, I tell you——

MATHILDA. Don't say any more nasty things about him—but let us get away from here. I have to dress, you know, and put up my hair.—Just think, that my father-in-law isn't what I thought him—that he could be fooling us like that and not telling the truth! Perhaps you are like that, too? Oh, that I can't know what you really are!

ALFRED. You'll find out afterward.

MATHILDA. But then it's too late.

ALFRED. It's never too late——

MATHILDA. All you who lived in this house are bad—And now I am afraid of you——

ALFRED. Not of me, though?

MATHILDA. I don't know what to think. Why didn't you tell me before that your father was well off?

ALFRED. I wanted to try you and see if you would like me as a poor man.

MATHILDA. Yes, afterward they always say that they wanted to try you. But how can I ever believe a human being again?

ALFRED. Go and get dressed now. I'll order the carriages.

MATHILDA. Are we to have carriages?

ALFRED. Of course—regular coaches.

MATHILDA. Coaches? And to-night? What fun! Come—hurry up! We'll have carriages!

ALFRED. [Gets hold of her hand and they dance out together] Hey and ho! Here we go!

STRANGER. [Coming forward] Bravo!

TheDETECTIVEenters and talks in a low tone to theSTRANGER,who answers in the same way. This lasts for about half a minute, whereupon theDETECTIVEleaves again.

MRS. WALSTRÖM. [Enters, dressed in black, and gazes long at theSTRANGER] Are you my brother-in-law?

STRANGER. I am. [Pause] Don't I look as I have been described—or painted?

MRS. WALSTRÖM. Frankly, no!

STRANGER. No, that is generally the case. And I must admit that the information I received about you a while ago does not tally with the original.

MRS. WALSTRÖM. Oh, people do each other so much wrong, and they paint each other in accordance with some image within themselves.

STRANGER. And they go about like theatrical managers, distributing parts to each other. Some accept their parts; others hand them back and prefer to improvise.

MRS. WALSTRÖM. And what has been the part assigned to you?

STRANGER. That of a seducer. Not that I have ever been one! I have never seduced anybody, be she wife or maid, but once in my youth I was seduced, and that's why the part was given to me. Strange to say, it was forced on me so long that at last I accepted it. And for twenty years I carried the bad conscience of a seducer around with me.

MRS. WALSTRÖM. You were innocent then?

STRANGER. I was.

MRS. WALSTRÖM. How curious! And to this day my husband is still talking of the Nemesis that has pursued you because you seduced another man's wife.

STRANGER. I fully believe it. But your husband represents a still more interesting case. He has created a new character for himself out of lies. Tell me: isn't he a coward in facing the struggles of life?

MRS. WALSTRÖM. Of course he is a coward!

STRANGER. And yet he boasts of his courage, which is nothing but brutality.

MRS. WALSTRÖM. You know him pretty well.

STRANGER. Yes, and no!—And you have been living in the belief that you had married into a respected family which had never disgraced itself?

MRS. WALSTRÖM. So I believed until this morning.

STRANGER. When your faith crumbled! What a web of lies and mistakes and misunderstandings! And that kind of thing we are supposed to take seriously!

MRS. WALSTRÖM. Do you?

STRANGER. Sometimes. Very seldom nowadays. I walk like a somnambulist along the edge of a roof—knowing that I am asleep, and yet being awake—and the only thing I am waiting for is to be waked up.

MRS. WALSTRÖM. You are said to have been across to the other side?

STRANGER. I have been across the river, but the only thing I can recall is—that there everythingwaswhat it pretended to be. That's what makes the difference.

MRS. WALSTRÖM. When nothing stands the test of being touched, what are you then to hold on to?

STRANGER. Don't you know?

MRS. WALSTRÖM. Tell me! Tell me!

STRANGER. Sorrow brings patience; patience brings experience; experience brings hope; and hope will not bring us to shame.

MRS. WALSTRÖM. Hope, yes!

STRANGER. Yes, hope!

MRS. WALSTRÖM. Do you ever think it pleasant to live?

STRANGER. Of course. But that is also a delusion. I tell you, my dear sister-in-law, that when you happen to be born without a film over your eyes, then you see life and your fellow creatures as they are—and you have to be a pig to feel at home in such a mess.—But when you have been looking long enough at blue mists, then you turn your eyes the other way and begin to look into your own soul? There you find something really worth looking at.

MRS. WALSTRÖM. And what is it you see?

STRANGER. Your own self. But when you have looked at that you must die.

MRS. WALSTRÖM. [Covers her eyes with her hands; after a pause she says] Do you want to help me?

STRANGER. If I can.

MRS. WALSTRÖM. Try.

STRANGER. Wait a moment!—No, I cannot. He is innocently accused. Only you can set him free again. But that you cannot do. It's a net that has not been tied by men——

MRS. WALSTRÖM. But he is not guilty.

STRANGER. Who is guilty? [Pause.

MRS. WALSTRÖM. No one! It was an accident!

STRANGER. I know it.

MRS. WALSTRÖM. What am I to do?

STRANGER. Suffer. It will pass. For that, too, is vanity.

MRS. WALSTRÖM. Suffer?

STRANGER. Yes, suffer! But with hope!

MRS. WALSTRÖM. [Holding out her hand to him] Thank you!

STRANGER. And let it be your consolation

MRS. WALSTRÖM. What?

STRANGER. That you don't suffer innocently.

MRS. WALSTRÖMwalks out with her head bent low.TheSTRANGERclimbs the pile of debris marking the site of the burned house.

MRS. WALSTRÖMwalks out with her head bent low.

TheSTRANGERclimbs the pile of debris marking the site of the burned house.

RUDOLPH. [Comes in, looking happy] Are you playing the ghost among the ruins?

STRANGER. Ghosts feel at home among ruins—And now you are happy?

RUDOLPH. Now I am happy.

STRANGER. And brave?

RUDOLPH. Whom have I got to fear, or what?

STRANGER. I conclude from your happiness that you are ignorant of one important fact—Have you the courage to bear a piece of misfortune?

RUDOLPH. What is it?

STRANGER. You turn pale?

RUDOLPH. I?

STRANGER. A serious misfortune!

RUDOLPH. Speak out!

STRANGER. The detective was here a moment ago, and he told me—in confidence——

RUDOLPH. What?

STRANGER. That the premium on your insurance was paid up two hours too late.

RUDOLPH. Great S——! what are you talking of? I sent my wife to pay the premium.

STRANGER. And she sent the bookkeeper—and he got there too late.

RUDOLPH. Then I am ruined? [Pause.

STRANGER. Are you crying?

RUDOLPH. I am ruined!

STRANGER. Well, is that something that cannot be borne?

RUDOLPH. How am I to live? What am I to do?

STRANGER. Work!

RUDOLPH. I am too old—I have no friends——

STRANGER. Perhaps you'll get some now. A man in misfortune always seems sympathetic. I had some of my best hours while fortune went against me.

RUDOLPH. [Wildly] I am ruined!

STRANGER. But in my days of success and fortune I was left alone. Envy was more than friendship could stand.

RUDOLPH. Then I'll sue the bookkeeper.

STRANGER. Don't!

RUDOLPH. He'll have to pay——

STRANGER. How little you have changed! What's the use of living, when you learn so little from it?

RUDOLPH. I'll sue him, the villain!—He hates me because I gave him a cuff on the ear once.

STRANGER. Forgive him—as I forgave you when I didn't demand my inheritance.

RUDOLPH. What inheritance?

STRANGER. Always the same! Merciless! Cowardly! Disingenuous!—Depart in peace, brother!

RUDOLPH. What inheritance is that you are talking of?

STRANGER. Now listen, Rudolph—my brother after all: my own mother's son! You put the stone-cutter in jail because he did some erasing—all right! But how about your own erasures from my book, "Christopher Columbus, or the Discovery of America"?

RUDOLPH. [Taken aback] What's that? Columbus?

STRANGER. Yes,mybook that became yours!

RUDOLPHremains silent.

STRANGER. Yes, and I understand now that it was you who put the student's lamp in the closet—I understand everything. But doyouknow that the dinner-table was not of ebony?

RUDOLPH. It wasn't?

STRANGER. It was nothing but maple.

RUDOLPH. Maple!

STRANGER. The pride and glory of the house—valued at two thousand crowns!

RUDOLPH. That, too? So that was also humbug!

STRANGER. Yes!

RUDOLPH. Ugh!

STRANGER. Thus the debt is settled. The case is dropped—the issue is beyond the court—the parties can withdraw——

RUDOLPH. [Rushing out] I am ruined!

STRANGER. [Takes his wreath from the table] I meant to take this wreath to the cemetery—to my parents' grave—but I will place it here instead—on the ruins of what was once their home—my childhood's home! [He bends his head in silent prayer] And now, wanderer, resume thy pilgrimage!

PLAYS BY AUGUST STRINDBERGPLAYS. FIRST SERIES: The Dream Play, The Link, The Dance of Death—Part I and Part II.PLAYS. SECOND SERIES: There are Crimes and Crimes, Miss Julia, The Stronger, Creditors, Pariah.PLAYS. THIRD SERIES: Swanwhite, Simoom, Debit and Credit, Advent, The Thunder Storm, After the Fire.PLAYS. FOURTH SERIES: The Bridal Crown, The Spook Sonata, The First Warning, Gustavus Vasa.CREDITORS. PARIAH.MISS JULIA. THE STRONGER.THERE ARE CRIMES AND CRIMES.

PLAYS BY AUGUST STRINDBERG

PLAYS. FIRST SERIES: The Dream Play, The Link, The Dance of Death—Part I and Part II.

PLAYS. SECOND SERIES: There are Crimes and Crimes, Miss Julia, The Stronger, Creditors, Pariah.

PLAYS. THIRD SERIES: Swanwhite, Simoom, Debit and Credit, Advent, The Thunder Storm, After the Fire.

PLAYS. FOURTH SERIES: The Bridal Crown, The Spook Sonata, The First Warning, Gustavus Vasa.

CREDITORS. PARIAH.

MISS JULIA. THE STRONGER.

THERE ARE CRIMES AND CRIMES.

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