Chapter 20

Aune.

So much the worse, Consul; for that means as my folks at home won’t put the blame onyou. They won’t say nothing to me, for they durstn’t, but they’ll look at me when I’m not noticing, as much as to say: Certain sure, it must’a’ been his fault. You see, it’s that—it’s that as I can’t abear, God knows, I’m a poor man, but I’ve always been used to be the first in my own house. My bit of a home is in a manner of speaking a little community, Consul Bernick. That little community I’ve been able to support and hold together because my wife believed in me, my children believed in me. And now the whole thing is to fall to pieces.

Bernick.

Well, if it cannot be otherwise, the less must fall before the greater; the part must, in heaven’s name, be sacrificed to the whole. I can give you no other answer; and you’ll find it is the way of the world. But you are an obstinate fellow, Aune! You stand against me, not because you can’t help it, but because youwillnot prove the superiority of machinery to manual labour.

Aune.

And you’re so dead set on this, Consul, because you know that, if you send me about my business, leastways you’ll have shown the papers your goodwill.

Bernick.

What if it were so? I have told you how much it means to me—I must either conciliate the papers, or have them all attacking me at the moment when I am working for a great andbeneficent cause. What follows? Can I possibly act otherwise than I am doing? Would you have me, in order to hold your home together, as you call it, sacrifice hundreds of other homes—homes that will never be founded, will never have a smoking hearthstone, if I do not succeed in my present enterprise? You must make your choice.

Aune.

Well, if you put it that way, I’ve got no more to say.

Bernick.

H’m—; my dear Aune, I am truly sorry we must part.

Aune.

We willnotpart, Consul Bernick.

Bernick.

What?

Aune.

Even a common man has his rights to stand up for here in the world.

Bernick.

Of course, of course. Then you can promise——?

Aune.

TheIndian Girlshall be ready for sea the day after to-morrow.

[He bows and goes out to the right.

Bernick.

Aha, I’ve madethatstiff neck bend. I take that as a good omen——

Hilmar Tönnesen,with a cigar in his mouth, comes through the garden gate.

Hilmar.

[On the verandah steps.] Good-morning, Betty! Good-morning, Bernick!

Mrs. Bernick.

Good-morning.

Hilmar.

Oh, you’ve been crying, I see. Then you’ve heard?

Mrs. Bernick.

Heard what?

Hilmar.

That the scandal is in full swing! Ugh!

Bernick.

What do you mean?

Hilmar.

[Coming into the room.] Why, that the two Americans are flaunting about the streets in company with Dina Dorf.

Mrs. Bernick.

[Also coming in.] Oh, Hilmar, is it possible——?

Hilmar.

I can bear witness, worse luck! Lona had even the want of tact to call out tome; but I naturally pretended not to hear her.

Bernick.

And of course all this has not passed unnoticed.

Hilmar.

No; you may be sure it hasn’t. People turned round and looked after them. It ran like wildfire over the town—like a fire on the Westernprairies. There were people at the windows of all the houses, head to head behind the curtains, waiting for the procession to pass. Ugh! You must excuse me, Betty; I say ugh! for it makes me so nervous. If this goes on I shall have to go for a change of air somewhere, pretty far off.

Mrs. Bernick.

But you should have spoken to him, and pointed out——

Hilmar.

In the public street? No; I beg to be excused. But how the deuce can the fellow dare to show himself here! Well, we shall see if the papers don’t put a stopper on him. I beg your pardon, Betty, but——

Bernick.

The papers, you say? Have you heard anything to make you think so?

Hilmar.

I should rather say I had! When I left here last night, I took my constitutional up to the club. I could tell from the sudden silence when I came in that they had been discussing the two Americans. And then in came that impertinent editor-fellow, Hammer, or whatever they call him, and congratulated me, before everybody, upon my rich cousin’s return.

Bernick.

Rich——?

Hilmar.

Yes; that was what he said. Of course I measured him from top to toe with the contempthe deserved, and gave him to understand that I knew nothing of Johan Tönnesen being rich. “Indeed!” says he; “that’s strange. In America people generally get on when they have something to start with, and we know your cousin didn’t go over empty-handed.”

Bernick.

H’m, be so good as to——

Mrs. Bernick.

[Troubled.] There, you see, Karsten——

Hilmar.

Well, at any rate, not a wink have I slept for thinking of the fellow. And there he goes calmly marching about the streets, as if he had nothing to be ashamed of. Why couldn’t he have been disposed of for good? Some people are intolerably tough.

Mrs. Bernick.

Oh, Hilmar, what are you saying?

Hilmar.

Oh, nothing, nothing. Only here he escapes safe and sound fromrailwayrailwayaccidents, and fights with Californian bears and Blackfoot Indians; why, he’s not even scalped——Ugh! here they are.

Bernick.

[Looks down the street.] Olaf with them too.

Hilmar.

Yes, of course; catch them letting people forget that they belong to the first family in the town. Look, look, there come all the loafers out ofthe drug-store to stare at them and make remarks. Really, this is too much for my nerves; how a man under such circumstances is to hold high the banner of the ideal——

Bernick.

They are coming straight here. Listen, Betty: it is my decided wish that you should be as friendly as possible to them.

Mrs. Bernick.

May I, Karsten?

Bernick.

Of course, of course; and you too, Hilmar. I daresay they won’t remain very long; and when we are alone with them—let us have no allusions to the past—we must on no account hurt their feelings.

Mrs. Bernick.

Oh, Karsten, how noble you are.

Bernick.

No, no, nothing of the sort.

Mrs. Bernick.

Oh, but you must let me thank you; and forgive me for being so hasty. You had every reason to——

Bernick.

Don’t talk of it, don’t talk of it, I say.

Hilmar.

Ugh!

Johan TönnesenandDina,followed byLonaandOlaf,come through the garden.

Lona.

Good-morning, good-morning, my dear people.

Johan.

We have been out looking all round the old place, Karsten.

Bernick.

Yes, so I hear. Greatly changed, is it not?

Lona.

Consul Bernick’s great and good works on every hand. We’ve been up in the gardens you have presented to the town——

Bernick.

Oh, there!

Lona.

“Karsten Bernick’s Gift,” as the inscription over the entrance says. Yes; everything here seems to be your work.

Johan.

And you have splendid ships too. I met my old school-fellow, the captain of thePalm Tree——

Lona.

Yes, and you’ve built a new school-house; and they owe both the gas- and the water-works to you, I hear.

Bernick.

Oh, one must work for the community one lives in.

Lona.

Well, you’ve done your part finely, brother-in-law; but it’s a pleasure, too, to see how people appreciate you. I don’t think I’m vain, but Icouldn’t help reminding one or two of the people we talked to that we belong to the family.

Hilmar.

Ugh——!

Lona.

Do you say “Ugh!” to that?

Hilmar.

No, I said “H’m”——

Lona.

Oh, was that all, poor fellow? But you are quite alone here to-day!

Mrs. Bernick.

Yes, to-day we are quite alone.

Lona.

By-the-bye, we met one or two of the Moral Regenerators up in the market-place; they seemed to be very busy. But we have never had a proper talk yet; yesterday we had the three pioneers of progress here, and the Pastor too——

Hilmar.

The Doctor.

Lona.

I call him the Pastor. But now—what do you think of my work for these fifteen years? Hasn’t he grown a fine boy? Who would recognise him now for the scapegrace that ran away from home?

Hilmar.

H’m——

Johan.

Oh, Lona, don’t boast too much.

Lona.

I don’t care, I’m really proud of it. Well, well, it’s the only thing I have done in the world, but it gives me a sort of right to exist. Yes, Johan, when I think how we two began life over there with only our four bare paws——

Hilmar.

Hands.

Lona.

Isay paws, they were so dirty——

Hilmar.

Ugh!

Lona.

——and empty too.

Hilmar.

Empty! Well, I must say!

Lona.

What must you say?

Bernick.

H’m!

Hilmar.

I must say—ugh!

[Goes out upon the verandah.

Lona.

Why, what’s wrong with the man?

Bernick.

Oh, never mind him; he’s rather nervous just now. Should you like to take a look round the garden? You haven’t been down there yet, and I happen to have an hour to spare.

Lona.

Yes, I should like it very much; you may be sure my thoughts have often been with you all, here in the garden.

Mrs. Bernick.

There have been great changes there too, as you’ll see.

[Consul Bernick,Mrs. Bernick,andLonago down the garden, where they are now and then visible during the following scene.

Olaf.

[At the garden door.] Uncle Hilmar, do you know what Uncle Johan asked me? He asked if I’d like to go with him to America.

Hilmar.

You, you little muff, that go about tied to your mother’s apron-strings——

Olaf.

Yes, but I won’t be so any more. You shall see when I’m big——

Hilmar.

Oh, rubbish; you have no real craving for the discipline of danger——

[They go down the garden together.

Johan.

[ToDina,who has taken off her hat, and stands at the door to the right, shaking the dust from her dress.] The walk has made you very warm.

Dina.

Yes; it was splendid. I have never had such a nice walk before.

Johan.

Perhaps you don’t often go for a walk in the morning?

Dina.

Oh, yes; but only with Olaf.

Johan.

Ah!—Should you like to go down the garden, or to stay here?

Dina.

I would rather stay here.

Johan.

And I too. Then it’s settled that we go for a walk together every morning?

Dina.

No, Mr. Tönnesen, you mustn’t do that.

Johan.

Why not? You know you promised.

Dina.

Yes, but on thinking it over, I——You mustn’t go about with me.

Johan.

Why on earth should I not?

Dina.

Ah, you are a stranger here; you don’t understand; but I must tell you——

Johan.

Well?

Dina.

No, I would rather not speak about it.

Johan.

Oh, yes—surely you can speak to me about anything you wish to.

Dina.

Then I must tell you that I am not like the other girls here; there is something—something about me. That is why you mustn’t walk with me.

Johan.

But I don’t understand a word of this. You haven’t done anything wrong?

Dina.

No, not I, but——; no, I won’t say anything more about it. You are sure to hear it from the others.

Johan.

H’m——

Dina.

But there was something else I wanted to ask you about.

Johan.

And what was that?

Dina.

Is it really so easy to lead a life that is worth living over in America?

Johan.

Well it isn’t alwayseasy; you have generally to rough it a good deal, and work hard, to begin with.

Dina.

I would willingly do that.

Johan.

You?

Dina.

I can work well enough; I am strong and healthy, and Aunt Martha has taught me a great deal.

Johan.

Then, hang it all, why not come with us?

Dina.

Oh, now you are only joking; you said the same to Olaf. But I wanted to know, too, if people over there are very—very moral, you know?

Johan.

Moral?

Dina.

Yes, I mean, are they as—as proper and well-behaved as they are here?

Johan.

Well, at any rate, they are not so bad as people here think. Don’t be at all afraid of that.

Dina.

You don’t understand. What I want is just that they shouldnotbe so very proper and moral.

Johan.

Indeed? What would you have them then?

Dina.

I would have them natural.

Johan.

Well, that is perhaps just what they are.

Dina.

Then that would be the place for me.

Johan.

Yes, I am sure it would; so you must come with us.

Dina.

No, I wouldn’t go with you; I should have to go alone. Oh, I should get on; I should soon be fit for something——

Bernick.

[At the foot of the verandah steps with the two ladies.] Stay here, stay here; I’ll fetch it, my dear Betty. You might easily catch cold.

[Comes into the room and looks for his wife’s shawl.

Mrs. Bernick.

[From the garden.] You must come too, Johan; we are going down to the grotto.

Bernick.

No, Johan must stay here just now. Here, Dina; take my wife’s shawl and go with them. Johan will stay here with me, my dear Betty. I want him to tell me a little about things in America.

Mrs. Bernick.

Very well; then come after us; you know where to find us.

[Mrs. Bernick,Lona,andDinago down through the garden to the left.

Bernick.

[Looks out after them for a moment, goes and shuts the second door on the left, then goes up toJohan,seizes both his hands, shakes them, and presses them warmly.] Johan, now we are alone; now you must give me leave to thank you.

Johan.

Oh, nonsense!

Bernick.

My house and home, my domestic happiness, my whole position in society—all these I owe to you.

Johan.

Well, I am glad of it, my dear Karsten; so some good came of that foolish story after all.

Bernick.

[Shaking his hands again.] Thanks, thanks, all the same! Not one in ten thousand would have done what you did for me then.

Johan.

Oh, nonsense! Were we not both of us young and a bit reckless? One of us had to take the blame upon him——

Bernick.

Yes, and the guilty one was the obvious person.

Johan.

Stop!Thenthe obvious person was the innocent one. I was alone, free, an orphan; it was a positive blessing to me to escape from the grind of the office. You, on the other hand, had your mother still living; and, besides, you had just got secretly engaged to Betty, and she was devoted to you. What would have become of her if she had learnt——?

Bernick.

True, true, true; but——

Johan.

And was it not just for Betty’s sake that you broke off the entanglement with Madam Dorf? It was for the very purpose of putting an end to it that you were up at her house that night——

Bernick.

Yes, the fatal night when that drunken brute came home——! Yes, Johan, it was for Betty’s sake; but yet—that you should have the generosity to turn appearances against yourself and go away——

Johan.

You need have no qualms, my dear Karsten. We agreed that it should be so; you had to be saved, and you were my friend. I can tell you I was proud of that friendship! Here was I, poor stay-at-home, plodding along, when you came back like a very prince from your great foreign tour—from London and Paris, no less! Then what should you do but choose me for your bosom friend, though I was four years younger than you. Well, that was because you were making love to Betty;nowI understand it well enough. But how proud I was of it then! And who would not have been proud! Who would not gladly have served as your scapegoat, especially when it only meant a month’s town-talk, and an excuse for making a dash into the wide world.

Bernick.

H’m—my dear Johan, I must tell you frankly that the story is not so entirely forgotten yet.

Johan.

Isn’t it? Well, what does it matter to me when once I am back again at my farm?

Bernick.

Then you are going back?

Johan.

Of course.

Bernick.

But not so very soon, I hope?

Johan.

As soon as possible. It was only to please Lona that I came over at all.

Bernick.

Indeed! How so?

Johan.

Well, you see, Lona is not so young as she once was, and for some time past a sort of home-sickness has come over her, though she would never admit it. [Smiling.] She dared not leave behind her a scapegrace like me, who, before I was out of my teens, had been mixed up in——

Bernick.

And then?

Johan.

Well, Karsten, now I must make a confession I am really ashamed of.

Bernick.

You haven’t told her the whole story?

Johan.

Yes, I have. It was wrong of me, but I couldn’t help it. You have no conception what Lona has been to me. You could never endure her; but to me she has been a mother. The first few years over there, when we were desperately poor—oh, how she worked! And when I had a long illness, and could earn nothing, and couldn’t keep her from doing it, she took to singing songs in the cafés; gave lectures that people laughed at; wrote a book she has both laughed and cried over since—and all to keep my soul and body together. Last winter, when I saw her pining for home, and thought how she had toiled and slaved for me, could I sit still and look on? No, Karsten, I couldn’t. I said, “Go, go, Lona; don’t be anxious on my account. I’m not such a ne’er-do-well as you think.” And then—then I told her everything.

Bernick.

And how did she take it?

Johan.

Oh, she said what was quite true—that as I was innocent I could have no objection to taking a trip over here myself. But you needn’t be afraid; Lona will say nothing, and I shall take better care of my own tongue another time.

Bernick.

Yes, yes; I am sure you will.

Johan.

Here is my hand upon it. And now don’t let us talk any more of that old story; fortunately it is the only escapade either you or I have beenmixed up in, I hope. And now I mean thoroughly to enjoy the few days I shall have here. You can’t think what a splendid walk we have had this forenoon. Who could have imagined that the little baggage that used to trot about and play angels in the theatre——! But tell me—what became of her parents afterwards?

Bernick.

Oh, there’s nothing to tell except what I wrote you immediately after you left. You got my two letters, of course?

Johan.

Of course, of course; I have them both. The drunken scoundrel deserted her?

Bernick.

And was afterwards killed in a drinking-bout.

Johan.

And she herself died soon after? I suppose you did all you could for her without exciting attention?

Bernick.

She was proud; she betrayed nothing, but she would accept nothing.

Johan.

Well, at any rate, you did right in taking Dina into your house.

Bernick.

Oh, yes—— However, it was really Martha that arranged that.

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