Chapter VII: Part 7

Take care what you are doing!

RÖRLUND.

She _shall_ know it! Dina, it was this man who caused all your mother’s misfortune and shame.

BERNICK.

Rector——!

DINA.

He! [_To_ JOHAN.] Is this true?

JOHAN.

Karsten, do _you_ answer!

BERNICK.

Not a word more! Not a word more to-day!

DINA.

Then it is true.

RÖRLUND.

True, true! And more than that. This person, in whom you were about to place your trust, did not run away empty-handed—Mrs. Bernick’s strong-box—the Consul can bear witness!

LONA.

Liar!

BERNICK.

Ah——!

MRS. BERNICK.

Oh God! oh God!

JOHAN.

[_Goes towards him with uplifted arm._] You dare to——!

LONA.

[_Keeping him back._] Don’t strike him, Johan.

RÖRLUND.

Yes, yes; assault me if you like. But the truth shall out; and this is the truth. Consul Bernick has said so himself; it is notorious to the whole town.—Now, Dina, now you know him.

[_A short pause._

JOHAN.

[_Softly seizing_ BERNICK’S _arm._] Karsten, Karsten, what have you done?

MRS. BERNICK.

[_Softly, in tears._] Oh, Karsten, that I should bring all this shame upon you!

SANDSTAD.

[_Enters hastily from the right, and says, with his hand still on the door-handle._] You must really come now, Consul! The whole railway is hanging by a thread.

BERNICK.

[_Absently._] What is it? What am I to——?

LONA.

[_Earnestly and with emphasis._] You are to rise and support society, brother-in-law!

SANDSTAD.

Yes, come, come; we need all your moral predominance.

JOHAN.

[_Close to him._] Bernick, we two will talk of this to-morrow.

[_He goes out through the garden;_ BERNICK _goes out to the
right with_ SANDSTAD, _as if his will were paralysed._

ACT THIRD.

_The garden-room in_ CONSUL BERNICK’S _house._

BERNICK, _with a cane in his hand, enters, in a violent passion, from
the second room on the left, leaving the door half open._

BERNICK.

There, now! At last I’ve done it in earnest; I don’t think he’ll forget that thrashing. [_To some one in the other room._] What do you say?—_I_ say you are a foolish mother! You make excuses for him, and encourage him in all his naughtiness——Not naughtiness? What do you call it then? To steal out of the house at night and go to sea in a fishing-boat; to remain out till late in the day, and put me in mortal terror, as if I hadn’t enough anxiety without that. And the young rascal dares to threaten me with running away! Just let him try it!—You? No, I daresay not; you don’t seem to care much what becomes of him. I believe if he were to break his neck——! Oh, indeed? But it happens that _I_ need some one to carry on my work in the world; it would not suit me to be left childless. Don’t argue, Betty; I have said it, once for all; he is not to leave the house. [_Listens._] Hush, don’t let people notice anything.

KRAP _comes in from the right._

KRAP.

Can you spare me a moment, Consul.

BERNICK.

[_Throws away the cane._] Of course, of course Have you come from the shipyard?

KRAP.

Just this moment. H’m——

BERNICK.

Well? Nothing wrong with the _Palm Tree_, I hope?

KRAP.

The _Palm Tree_ can sail to-morrow, but——

BERNICK.

The _Indian Girl_, then? I might have guessed that that stiff-necked——

KRAP.

The _Indian Girl_ can sail to-morrow, too; but—I don’t think she will get very far.

BERNICK.

What do you mean?

KRAP.

Excuse me, Consul, that door is ajar, and I think there is some one in the room——

BERNICK.

[_Shuts the door._] There then. But what is the meaning of all this secrecy?

KRAP.

It means this: I believe Aune intends to send the _Indian Girl_ to the bottom, with every soul on board.

BERNICK.

Good heavens! how can you think——?

KRAP.

I can explain it in no other way, Consul.

BERNICK.

Well then, tell me as shortly as you can——

KRAP.

I will. You know how things have been dragging in the yard since we got the new machines and the new inexperienced workmen?

BERNICK.

Yes, yes.

KRAP.

But this morning, when I went down there, I noticed that the repairs on the American had been going at a great rate. The big patch in her bottom—the rotten place, you know——

BERNICK.

Yes, yes; what about it?

KRAP.

It was completely repaired—to all appearance; plastered up; looked as good as new. I heard that Aune himself had been working at it by lantern-light the whole night through.

BERNICK.

Yes, yes, and then——?

KRAP.

I was a good deal puzzled. It happened that the workmen were at breakfast, so I could ferret about as I pleased, both outside and inside. It was difficult to get down into the hold, among the cargo; but I saw enough to convince me. There is rascality at work, Consul.

BERNICK.

I can’t believe it, Mr. Krap. I cannot and will not believe such a thing of Aune.

KRAP.

I’m sorry for it, but it’s the simple truth. There is rascality at work, I say. Not a stick of new timber had been put in, so far as I could see. It was only plugged and puttied up, and covered with plates and tarpaulins, and so forth. All bogus! The _Indian Girl_ will never get to New York. She’ll go to the bottom like a cracked pot.

BERNICK.

Why, this is horrible! What do you think can be his motive?

KRAP.

He probably wants to bring the machines into discredit; wants to revenge himself; wants to have the old workmen taken on again.

BERNICK.

And for that he would send all these men to their death?

KRAP.

He has been heard to say that the crew of the _Indian Girl_ are brute beasts, not men.

BERNICK.

Yes, yes, that may be; but does he not think of the great loss of capital?

KRAP.

Aune is not over-fond of capital, Consul.

BERNICK.

True enough; he is an agitator and mischief-maker; but such a piece of villainy as this——. I’ll tell you what, Mr. Krap: this affair must be looked into again. Not a word of it to any one. Our yard would lose its reputation if this came to people’s ears.

KRAP.

Of course, but——

BERNICK.

During the dinner-hour you must go down there again; I must have absolute certainty.

KRAP.

You shall, Consul. But, excuse me, what will you do then?

BERNICK.

Why, report the case of course. We cannot be accessories to a crime. I must keep my conscience clear. Besides, it will make a good impression on both the press and the public, to see me disregard all personal interests, and let justice take its course.

KRAP.

Very true, Consul.

BERNICK.

But, first of all, absolute certainty—and, until then, silence.

KRAP.

Not a word, Consul; and you shall have absolute certainty.

[_He goes out through the garden and down the street._

BERNICK.

[_Half aloud._] Horrible! But no, it’s impossible—inconceivable!

[_As he turns to go to his own room_ HILMAR TÖNNESEN _enters
from the right._

HILMAR.

Good-day, Bernick! Well, I congratulate you on your field-day in the Trade Council yesterday.

BERNICK.

Oh, thank you.

HILMAR.

It was a brilliant victory, I hear; the victory of intelligent public spirit over self-interest and prejudice—like a French razzia upon the Kabyles. Strange, that after the unpleasant scene here, you——

BERNICK.

Yes, yes, don’t speak of it.

HILMAR.

But the tug-of-war is yet to come.

BERNICK.

In the matter of the railway, you mean?

HILMAR.

Yes. I suppose you have heard of the egg that our editor-friend is hatching?

BERNICK.

[_Anxiously._] No! What is it?

HILMAR.

Oh, he has got hold of the rumour that’s floating about, and is coming out with an article on the subject.

BERNICK.

What rumour?

HILMAR.

Why, about the great buying-up of property along the branch line, of course.

BERNICK.

What do you mean? Is there any such rumour about?

HILMAR.

Yes, over the whole town. I heard it at the club. They say that one of our lawyers has been secretly commissioned to buy up all the forests, all the mining rights, all the water-power——

BERNICK.

And is it known for whom?

HILMAR.

They thought at the club that it must be for a syndicate from some other town that had got wind of your scheme, and had rushed in before the prices rose. Isn’t it disgraceful? Ugh!

BERNICK.

Disgraceful?

HILMAR.

Yes, that outsiders should trespass on our preserves in that way. And that one of our own lawyers could lend himself to such a transaction! Now all the profit will go to strangers.

BERNICK

But this is only a vague rumour.

HILMAR.

People believe it, at any rate; and to-morrow or next day you may look for some editorial comments on the fact. Every one is indignant about it already. I heard several people say that if this rumour is confirmed they will strike their names off the lists.

BERNICK.

Impossible!

HILMAR.

Indeed? Why do you think these peddling creatures were so ready to join you in your undertaking? Do you think they weren’t themselves hankering after——?

BERNICK.

Impossible, I say; there is at least so much public spirit in our little community——

HILMAR.

Here? Oh yes, you are an optimist, and judge others by yourself. But I am a pretty keen observer, and I tell you there is not a person here—except ourselves, of course—not _one_, I say, that holds high the banner of the ideal. [_Up towards the back._] Ugh, there they are!

BERNICK.

Who?

HILMAR.

The two Americans. [_Looks out to the right._] And who is that with them? Why, it’s the captain of the _Indian Girl_. Ugh!

BERNICK.

What can they want with _him_?

HILMAR.

Oh, it’s very appropriate company. They say he has been a slave-dealer or a pirate; and who knows what that couple have turned their hands to in all these years.

BERNICK.

I tell you, such innuendoes are utterly unjust.

HILMAR.

Yes, you are an optimist. But here we have them upon us again of course; so I shall get away in time.

[_Goes towards the door on the left._

LONA HESSEL _enters from the right._

LONA.

What, Hilmar, am I driving you away?

HILMAR.

Not at all, not at all. I really oughtn’t to have been wasting time here; I have something to say to Betty.

[_Goes out by the second door on the left._

BERNICK.

[_After a short pause._] Well, Lona?

LONA.

Well?

BERNICK.

What do you think of me to-day?

LONA.

The same as yesterday; a lie more or less——

BERNICK.

I must clear all this up. Where has Johan gone to?

LONA.

He will be here directly; he is talking to a man outside there.

BERNICK.

After what you heard yesterday, you can understand that my whole position is ruined if the truth comes to light.

LONA.

I understand.

BERNICK.

Of course I need not tell you that _I_ was not guilty of the supposed crime.

LONA.

Of course not. But who was the thief?

BERNICK.

There was no thief. There was no money stolen; not a halfpenny was missing.

LONA.

What?

BERNICK.

Not a halfpenny, I say.

LONA.

But the rumour? How did that shameful rumour get abroad, that Johan——?

BERNICK.

Lona, I find I can talk to you as I can to no one else; I shall conceal nothing from you. _I_ had my share in spreading the rumour.

LONA.

You! And you could do this wrong to the man who, for your sake——?

BERNICK.

You must not condemn me without remembering how matters stood at the time. As I told you yesterday, I came home to find my mother involved in a whole series of foolish undertakings. Disasters of various kinds followed; all possible ill-luck seemed to crowd in upon us; our house was on the verge of ruin. I was half reckless and half in despair. Lona, I believe it was principally to deaden thought that I got into that entanglement which ended in Johan’s going away.

LONA.

H’m——

BERNICK.

You can easily imagine that there were all sorts of rumours in the air after you two had left. It was said that this was not his first misdemeanour. Some said Dorf had received a large sum of money from him to hold his tongue and keep out of the way; others declared she had got the money. At the same time it got abroad that our house had difficulty in meeting its engagements. What more natural than that the scandal-mongers should put these two rumours together? Then, as Madam Dorf remained here in unmistakable poverty, people began to say that he had taken the money with him to America; and rumour made the sum larger and larger every day.

LONA.

And you, Karsten——?

BERNICK.

I clutched at the rumour as a drowning man clutches at a straw.

LONA.

You helped to spread it?

BERNICK.

I did not contradict it. Our creditors were beginning to press upon us; I had to quiet them—to prevent them from doubting the solidity of the firm. I let it be thought that a momentary misfortune had befallen us, but that if people only refrained from pressing us—if they would only give us time—every one should be paid in full.

LONA.

And every one _was_ paid in full?

BERNICK.

Yes, Lona; that rumour saved our house and made me the man I am.

LONA.

A lie, then, has made you the man you are.

BERNICK.

Whom did it hurt, then? Johan intended never to return.

LONA.

You ask whom it hurt? Look into yourself and see if it has not hurt you.

BERNICK.

Look into any man you please, and you will find at least _one_ dark spot that must be kept out of sight.

LONA.

And you call yourselves pillars of society!

BERNICK.

Society has none better.

LONA.

Then what does it matter whether such a society is supported or not? What is it that passes current here? Lies and shams—nothing else. Here are you, the first man in the town, prosperous, powerful, looked up to by every one—you, who have set the brand of crime upon an innocent man.

BERNICK.

Do you think I do not feel deeply the wrong I have done him? Do you think I am not prepared to atone for it?

LONA.

How? By speaking out?

BERNICK.

Can you ask me to do that?

LONA.

How else can you atone for such a wrong?

BERNICK.

I am rich, Lona; Johan may ask for what he pleases——

LONA.

Yes, offer him money, and you’ll see what he will answer.

BERNICK.

Do you know what he intends to do?

LONA.

No. Since yesterday he has said nothing to me. It seems as if all this had suddenly made a full-grown man of him.

BERNICK.

I must speak to him.

LONA.

Then here he is.

JOHAN TÖNNESEN _enters from the right._

BERNICK.

[_Going towards him._] Johan——!

JOHAN.

[_Waving him off._] Let _me_ speak first. Yesterday morning I gave you my word to be silent.

BERNICK.

You did.

JOHAN.

But I did not know then——

BERNICK.

Johan, let me in two words explain the circumstances——

JOHAN.

There is no necessity; I understand the circumstances very well. Your house was in a difficult position; and I was far away, and you had my unprotected name and fame to do what you liked with——Well, I don’t blame you so much for it; we were young and thoughtless in those days. But now I need the truth, and now you must speak out.

BERNICK.

And just at this moment I require all my moral authority, and therefore I _cannot_ speak out.

JOHAN.

I don’t care so much about the falsehoods you have trumped up at my expense; it is the other thing that you must take upon your own shoulders. Dina shall be my wife, and I will live here, here in this town, along with her.

LONA.

You will?

BERNICK.

With Dina! As your wife? Here, in this town?

JOHAN.

Yes, just here; I will stay here to outface all these liars and backbiters. And that I may win her, you must set me free.

BERNICK.

Have you considered that, if I plead guilty to the one thing, I plead guilty to the other as well? I can prove by our books, you say, that there was no embezzlement at all? But I cannot; our books were not so accurately kept in those days. And even if I could, what would be gained by it? Should I not figure, at best, as the man who, having once saved himself by falsehood, had let that falsehood, and all its consequences, run on for fifteen years, without taking a single step to retract it? You have forgotten what our society is, or you would know that that would crush me to the very dust.

JOHAN.

I can only repeat that I shall make Madam Dorf’s daughter my wife, and live with her here, in this town.

BERNICK.

[_Wipes the perspiration from his forehead._] Hear me, Johan—and you, too, Lona. My position at this moment is not an ordinary one. I am so situated, that if you strike this blow you destroy me utterly, and not only me, but also a great and golden future for the community which was, after all, the home of your childhood.

JOHAN.

And if I do not strike the blow, I destroy all that makes my own future of value to me.

LONA.

Go on, Karsten.

BERNICK.

Then listen. Everything turns upon this question of the railway, and that is not so simple as you think. Of course you have heard that last year there was some talk of a coast-line? It had many powerful advocates in the district, and especially in the press; but I succeeded in blocking it, because it would have injured our steamboat trade along the coast.

LONA.

Have you an interest in this steamboat trade?

BERNICK.

Yes; but no one dared to impugn my motives on that account. My spotless name was an ample safeguard. For that matter, I could have borne the loss; but the town could not. Then the inland line was determined on. As soon as the route was fixed, I assured myself secretly that a branch connection between it and the town was practicable.

LONA.

Why secretly, Karsten?

BERNICK.

Have you heard any talk of the great buying-up of forests, mines, and water-power?

JOHAN.

Yes, for a company in some other town——

BERNICK.

As these properties now lie, they are as good as worthless to their scattered owners; so they have sold comparatively cheap. If the purchaser had waited until the branch line was known to be in contemplation, the vendors would have demanded fancy prices.

LONA.

Very likely; but what then?

BERNICK.

Now comes the point which may or may not be interpreted favourably—a risk which no man in our community could afford to incur, unless he had a spotless and honoured name to rely upon.

LONA.

Well?

BERNICK.

It is I who have bought up the whole.

LONA.

You?

JOHAN.

On your own account?

BERNICK.

On my own account. If the branch line is made, I am a millionaire; if not, I am ruined.

LONA.

This is a great risk, Karsten.

BERNICK.

I have staked all I possess upon the throw.

LONA.

I was not thinking of the money; but when it comes out that——

BERNICK.

Yes, that is the great point. With the unblemished reputation I have hitherto borne, I can take the whole affair upon my shoulders and carry it through, saying to my fellow citizens, “See, this I have ventured for the good of the community!”

LONA.

Of the community?

BERNICK.

Yes; and not a soul will question my motives.

LONA.

Then there are some people, it seems, who have acted more openly than you, with no private interests, no ulterior designs.

BERNICK.

Who?

LONA.

Why, Rummel and Sandstad and Vigeland, of course.

BERNICK.

To make sure of their support, I had to let them into the secret.

LONA.

And they?

BERNICK.

They have stipulated for a fifth of the profits.

LONA.

Oh, these pillars of society!

BERNICK.

Can you not see that it is society itself that compels us to adopt these indirect courses? What would have happened if I had not acted secretly? Why, every one would have thrown himself into the undertaking, and the whole thing would have been broken up, frittered away, bungled, and ruined. There is not a single man here, except myself, that knows how to organise an enormous concern such as this will become; in this country the men of real business ability are almost all of foreign descent. That is why my conscience acquits me in this matter. Only in my hands can all this property be of permanent benefit to the many whose subsistence will depend upon it.

LONA.

I believe you are right there, Karsten.

JOHAN.

But I know nothing of “the many,” and my life’s happiness is at stake.

BERNICK.

The welfare of your native place is no less at stake. If things come to the surface which cast a slur upon my past life, all my opponents will join forces and overwhelm me. In our society a boyish error is never effaced. People will scrutinise my whole career, will rake up a thousand trifling incidents and interpret and comment upon them in the light of these disclosures. They will crush me beneath the weight of rumours and slanders. I shall have to retire from the railway board; and if I take my hand away, the whole thing will fall to pieces, and I shall have to face not only ruin but social extinction.

LONA.

Johan, after what you have heard, you must go away, and say nothing.

BERNICK.

Yes, yes, Johan, you must!

JOHAN.

Yes, I will go away, and say nothing; but I will come back again, and then I will speak.

BERNICK.

Remain over there, Johan; be silent, and I am ready to share with you——

JOHAN.

Keep your money, and give me back my good name.

BERNICK.

And sacrifice my own!

JOHAN.

You and your “community” must settle that between you. I must and will make Dina my wife. So I shall sail to-morrow in the _Indian Girl_——

BERNICK.

In the _Indian Girl_?

JOHAN.

Yes; the captain has promised to take me. I shall go across, I tell you, sell my farm, and settle up my affairs. In two months I shall be back again.

BERNICK.

And then you will tell all?

JOHAN.

Then the wrong-doer must take up his own burden.

BERNICK.

Do you forget that I must also take upon me wrong-doing of which I was _not_ guilty?

JOHAN.

Who was it that, fifteen years ago, reaped the benefit of that shameful rumour?

BERNICK.

You drive me to desperation! But if you speak, I will deny everything! I will say it is all a conspiracy against me; a piece of revenge; that you have come here to blackmail me!

LONA.

Shame on you, Karsten!

BERNICK.

I am desperate, I tell you; I am fighting for my life. I will deny everything, everything!

JOHAN.

I have your two letters. I found them in my box among my other papers. I read them through this morning; they are plain enough.

BERNICK.

And you will produce them?

JOHAN.

If you force me to.

BERNICK.

And in two months you will be here again?

JOHAN.

I hope so. The wind is fair. In three weeks I shall be in New York—if the _Indian Girl_ doesn’t go to the bottom.

BERNICK.

[_Starting._] Go to the bottom? Why should the _Indian Girl_ go to the bottom?

JOHAN.

That’s just what I say.

BERNICK.

[_Almost inaudibly._] Go to the bottom?

JOHAN.

Well, Bernick, now you know what you have to expect; you must do what you can in the mean-time. Good-bye! Give my love to Betty, though she certainly has not received me in a very sisterly fashion. But Martha I must see. She must tell Dina—she must promise me——

[_He goes out by the second door on the left._

BERNICK.

[_To himself._] The _Indian Girl_——? [_Quickly._] Lona, you must prevent this!

LONA.

You see yourself, Karsten—I have lost all power over him.

[_She follows_ JOHAN _into the room on the left._

BERNICK.

[_In unquiet thought._] Go to the bottom——?

AUNE _enters from the right._

AUNE.

Asking your pardon, Consul, might I speak to you——?

BERNICK.

[_Turns angrily._] What do you want?

AUNE.

I wanted, if I might, to ask you a question, Consul Bernick.

BERNICK.

Well, well; be quick. What is it about?

AUNE.

I wanted to know if you’re still determined—firmly determined—to turn me adrift if the _Indian Girl_ should not be ready for sea to-morrow?

BERNICK.

What now? The ship _will_ be ready for sea.

AUNE.

Yes—she will. But supposing as she wasn’t—should I have to go?

BERNICK.

Why ask such useless questions?

AUNE.

I want to make quite sure, Consul. Just answer me: should I have to go?

BERNICK.

Am I in the habit of changing my mind?

AUNE.

Then to-morrow I should have lost the place that rightly belongs to me in my home and family—lost my influence among the workmen—lost all my chances of helping them as are lowly and down-trodden?

BERNICK.

We have discussed that point long ago, Aune.

AUNE.

Then the Indian Girl must sail.

[_A short pause._

BERNICK.

Listen: I cannot look after everything myself, and be responsible for everything. I suppose you are prepared to assure me that the repairs are thoroughly carried out?

AUNE.

It was very short time you gave me, Consul.

BERNICK.

But the repairs are all right, you say?

AUNE.

The weather is fine, and it is midsummer.

[_Another silence._

BERNICK.

Have you anything more to say to me?

AUNE.

I don’t know as there’s aught else, Consul.

BERNICK.

Then—the _Indian Girl_ sails——

AUNE.

To-morrow?

BERNICK.

Yes.

AUNE.

Very well. [_He bows and goes out._

[BERNICK _stands for a moment irresolute; then he goes quickly
towards the door as if to call_ AUNE _back, but stops and
stands hesitating with his hand on the knob. At that moment
the door is opened from outside, and_ KRAP _enters._

KRAP.

[_Speaking low._] Aha, he has been here. Has he confessed?

BERNICK.

H’m——; have you discovered anything?

KRAP.

What need was there? Did you not see the evil conscience looking out of his very eyes?

BERNICK.

Oh, nonsense;—no one can see such things. I asked if you had discovered anything?

KRAP.

I couldn’t get at it; I was too late; they were busy hauling the ship out of dock. But this very haste proves plainly that——

BERNICK.

It proves nothing. The inspection has taken place, then?

KRAP.

Of course; but——

BERNICK.

There you see! And they have, of course, found nothing to complain of?

KRAP.

Consul, you know very well how such inspections are conducted, especially in a yard that has such a name as ours.

BERNICK.

No matter; it relieves us of all reproach.

KRAP.

Could you really not read in Aune’s face, Consul——?

BERNICK.

Aune has entirely satisfied me, I tell you.

KRAP.

And I tell you I am morally convinced——

BERNICK.

What does this mean, Mr. Krap? I know very well that you have a grudge against the man; but if you want to attack him, you should choose some other opportunity. You know how essential it is for me—or rather for the owners—that the _Indian Girl_ should sail to-morrow.

KRAP.

Very well; so be it; but if ever we hear of _that_ ship again—h’m!

VIGELAND _enters from the right._

VIGELAND.

How do you do, Consul? Have you a moment to spare?

BERNICK.

At your service, Mr. Vigeland.

VIGELAND.

I only want to know if you agree with me that the _Palm Tree_ ought to sail to-morrow?

BERNICK.

Yes—I thought that was settled.

VIGELAND.

But the captain has just come to tell me that the storm-signals have been hoisted.

KRAP.

The barometer has fallen rapidly since this morning.

BERNICK.

Indeed? Is a storm threatening?

VIGELAND.

A stiff breeze at any rate; but not a contrary wind; quite the reverse——

BERNICK.

H’m; what do you say, then?

VIGELAND.

I say, as I said to the captain, that the _Palm Tree_ is in the hands of Providence. And besides, she is only going over the North Sea to begin with; and freights are pretty high in England just now, so that——

BERNICK.

Yes, it would probably mean a loss if we delayed.

VIGELAND.

The vessel is soundly built, you know, and fully insured too. I can tell you it’s another matter with the _Indian Girl_——

BERNICK.

What do you mean?

VIGELAND.

Why, she is to sail to-morrow too.

BERNICK.

Yes, the owners hurried us on, and besides——

VIGELAND.

Well, if that old hulk can venture out—and with such a crew into the bargain—it would be a shame if we couldn’t——

BERNICK.

Well well; I suppose you have the ship’s papers with you.

VIGELAND.

Yes, here they are.

BERNICK.

Good; then perhaps you will go with Mr. Krap——

KRAP.

This way, please; we shall soon put them in order.

VIGELAND.

Thanks.—And the result we will leave in the hands of Omnipotence, Consul.

[_He goes with_ KRAP _into the foremost room on the left._
DOCTOR RÖRLUND _comes through the garden._

RÖRLUND.

What! You at home at this time of the day, Consul!

BERNICK.

[_Absently._] As you see!

RÖRLUND.

I looked in to see your wife. I thought she might need a word of consolation.

BERNICK.

I daresay she does. But I, too, should be glad of a word with you.

RÖRLUND.

With pleasure, Consul. But what is the matter with you? You look quite pale and upset.

BERNICK.

Indeed? Do I? Well, can you wonder at it, with such a host of things crowding upon me all at once. Besides all my usual business, I have this affair of the railway——Give me your attention for a moment, Doctor; let me ask you a question.

RÖRLUND.

By all means, Consul.

BERNICK.

A thought has occurred to me lately: When one stands on the threshold of a great undertaking, that is to promote the welfare of thousands,—if a single sacrifice should be demanded——?

RÖRLUND.

How do you mean?

BERNICK.

Take, for example, a man who is starting a large manufactory. He knows very well—for all experience has taught him—that sooner or later, in the working of that manufactory, human life will be lost.

RÖRLUND.

Yes, it is only too probable.

BERNICK.

Or suppose he is about to open a mine. He takes into his service both fathers of families and young men in the heyday of life. May it not be predicted with certainty that some will perish in the undertaking?

RÖRLUND.

Unhappily there can be little doubt of that.

BERNICK.

Well; such a man, then, knows beforehand that his enterprise will undoubtedly, some time or other, lead to the loss of life. But the undertaking is for the greater good of the greater number; for every life it costs, it will, with equal certainty, promote the welfare of many hundreds.

RÖRLUND.

Ah, you are thinking of the railway—of all the dangerous tunnellings, and blastings, and that sort of thing——

BERNICK.

Yes—yes, of course—I am thinking of the railway. And, besides, the railway will bring with it both manufactories and mines. But don’t you think that——

RÖRLUND.

My dear Consul, you are almost too scrupulous. If you place the affair in the hands of Providence——

BERNICK.

Yes; yes, of course; Providence——

RÖRLUND.

——you can have nothing to reproach yourself with. Go on and prosper with the railway.

BERNICK.

Yes, but let us take a peculiar case. Let us suppose a blasting has to be made at a dangerous place; and unless it is carried out, the railway will come to a standstill. Suppose the engineer knows that it will cost the life of the workman who fires the fuse; but fired it must be, and it is the engineer’s duty to send a workman to do it.

RÖRLUND.

H’m——

BERNICK.

I know what you will say: It would be heroic if the engineer himself took the match and went and fired the fuse. But no one does such things. So he must sacrifice a workman.

RÖRLUND.

No engineer among us would ever do that.

BERNICK.

No engineer in the great nations would think twice about doing it.

RÖRLUND.

In the great nations? No, I daresay not. In those corrupt and unscrupulous communities——

BERNICK.

Oh, those communities have their good points too.

RÖRLUND.

Can you say that—you, who yourself——?

BERNICK.

In the great nations one has at least elbow-room for useful enterprise. There, men have the courage to sacrifice something for a great cause. But here, one is hampered by all sorts of petty considerations.

RÖRLUND.

Is a human life a petty consideration?

BERNICK.

When that human life is a menace to the welfare of thousands.

RÖRLUND.

But you are putting quite inconceivable cases, Consul! I don’t understand you to-day. And then you refer me to the great communities. Yes, _there_—what does a human life count for there? They think no more of staking life than of staking capital. But we, I hope, look at things from an entirely different moral standpoint. Think of our exemplary shipowners! Name me a single merchant here among us who, for the sake of paltry profit, would sacrifice one human life! And then think of those scoundrels in the great communities who enrich themselves by sending out one unseaworthy ship after another——

BERNICK.

I am not speaking of unseaworthy ships!

RÖRLUND.

But I am, Consul.

BERNICK.

Yes, but to what purpose? It has nothing to do with the question.—Oh, these little craven qualms of conscience! If a general among us were to lead his troops under fire, and get some of them shot, he would never sleep o’ nights after it. Elsewhere it is very different. You should hear what he says——

[_Pointing to the door on the left._

RÖRLUND.

He? Who? The American——?

BERNICK.

Of course. You should hear how people in America——

RÖRLUND.

Is he in there? Why did you not tell me? I shall go at once——

BERNICK.

It’s of no use. You will make no impression on him.

RÖRLUND.

That we shall see. Ah, here he is.

JOHAN TÖNNESEN _comes from the room on the left._

JOHAN.

[_Speaking through the open doorway._] Yes, yes, Dina, so be it; but don’t think that I shall give you up. I shall return, and things will come all right between us.

RÖRLUND.

May I ask what you mean by these words? What is it you want?

JOHAN.

I want the girl to whom you yesterday traduced me, to be my wife.

RÖRLUND.

Your——? Can you imagine that——?

JOHAN.

She _shall_ be my wife.

RÖRLUND.

Well, then, you shall hear——[_Goes to the half-open door._] Mrs. Bernick, will you be kind enough to be a witness——And you too, Miss Martha. And bring Dina with you. [_Sees_ LONA.] Ah, are _you_ here, too?

LONA.

[_In the doorway._] Shall I come?

RÖRLUND.

As many as will—the more the better.

BERNICK.

What are you going to do?

LONA, MRS. BERNICK, MARTHA, DINA, _and_ HILMAR TÖNNESEN
_come out of the room on the left._

MRS. BERNICK.

Doctor, nothing I can say will stop him from——

RÖRLUND.

I shall stop him, Mrs. Bernick.—Dina, you are a thoughtless girl. But I do not blame you very much. You have stood here too long without the moral support that should have sustained you. I blame myself for not having given you that support sooner.

DINA.

You must not speak now!

MRS. BERNICK.

What is all this?

RÖRLUND.

It is now that I must speak, Dina, though your conduct yesterday and to-day has made it ten times more difficult for me. But all other considerations must give place to your rescue. You remember the promise I gave you. You remember what you promised to answer, when I found that the time had come. Now I can hesitate no longer, and therefore—[_To_ JOHAN TÖNNESEN]—I tell you that this girl, whom you are pursuing, is betrothed to me.

MRS. BERNICK.

What do you say?

BERNICK.

Dina!

JOHAN.

She! Betrothed to——?

MARTHA.

No, no, Dina!

LONA.

A lie!

JOHAN.

Dina—does that man speak the truth?

DINA.

[_After a short pause._] Yes.

RÖRLUND.

This, I trust, will paralyse all your arts of seduction. The step I have determined to take for Dina’s welfare may now be made known to our whole community. I hope—nay, I am sure—that it will not be misinterpreted. And now, Mrs. Bernick, I think we had better take her away from here, and try to restore her mind to peace and equilibrium.

MRS. BERNICK.

Yes, come. Oh, Dina, what happiness for you!

[_She leads_ DINA _out to the left;_ DOCTOR RÖRLUND _goes along
with them._

MARTHA.

Good-bye, Johan! [_She goes out._

HILMAR.

[_At the garden door._] H’m—well, I really must say——

LONA.

[_Who has been following_ DINA _with her eyes._] Don’t be cast down, boy! I shall stay here and look after the Pastor.

[_She goes out to the right._

BERNICK.

Johan, you won’t sail now with the _Indian Girl_.

JOHAN.

Now more than ever.

BERNICK.

Then you will not come back again?

JOHAN.

I shall come back.

BERNICK.

After this? What would you do after this?

JOHAN.

Revenge myself on the whole band of you; crush as many of you as I can.

_He goes out to the right._ VIGELAND _and_ KRAP _come from the
Consul’s office._

VIGELAND.

Well, the papers are in order now, Consul.

BERNICK.

Good, good——

KRAP.

[_In a low voice._] Then it is settled that the _Indian Girl_ is to sail to-morrow.

BERNICK.

She is to sail.

_He goes into his room._ VIGELAND _and_ KRAP _go out to the
right._ HILMAR TÖNNESEN _is following them, when_ OLAF
_peeps cautiously out at the door on the left._

OLAF.

Uncle! Uncle Hilmar!

HILMAR.

Ugh, is that you? Why don’t you stay upstairs? You know you are under arrest.

OLAF.

[_Comes a few steps forward._] Sh! Uncle Hilmar, do you know the news?

HILMAR.

I know that you got a thrashing to-day.

OLAF.

[_Looks threateningly towards his father’s room._] He sha’n’t thrash me again. But do you know that Uncle Johan is to sail to-morrow with the Americans?

HILMAR.

What’s that to you? You get upstairs again!

OLAF.

Perhaps I may go buffalo-hunting yet, uncle.

HILMAR.

Rubbish! such a young milksop as you——

OLAF.

Just wait a little; you shall hear something to-morrow!

HILMAR.

Little blockhead!

[_He goes out through the garden._ OLAF, _catching sight of_
KRAP, _who comes from the right, runs in again and shuts the
door._

KRAP.

[_Goes up to the Consul’s door and opens it a little._] Excuse my coming again, Consul, but it’s blowing up to a hurricane. [_He waits a moment; there is no answer._] Is the _Indian Girl_ to sail in spite of it?

[_After a short pause._

BERNICK.

[_Answers from the office._] The _Indian Girl_ is to sail in spite of it.

[KRAP _shuts the door and goes out again to the right._

ACT FOURTH.

_The garden-room in_ CONSUL BERNICK’S _house. The table has been
removed. It is a stormy afternoon, already half dark, and growing
darker._

_A man-servant lights the chandelier; two maid-servants bring in
flower-pots, lamps, and candles, which are placed on tables and
brackets along the wall._ RUMMEL, _wearing a dress-coat, white
gloves, and a white necktie, stands in the room giving
directions._

RUMMEL.

[_To the servant._] Only every second candle, Jacob. The place mustn’t look too brilliant; it’s supposed to be a surprise, you know. And all these flowers——? Oh, yes, let them stand; it will look as if they were always there——

CONSUL BERNICK _comes out of his room._

BERNICK.

[_At the door._] What is the meaning of all this?

RUMMEL.

Tut, tut, are you there? [_To the servants._] Yes, you can go now.

[_The servants go out by the second door on the left._

BERNICK.

[_Coming into the room._] Why, Rummel, what is the meaning of all this?

RUMMEL.

It means that the proudest moment of your life has arrived. The whole town is coming in procession to do homage to its leading citizen.

BERNICK.

What do you mean?

RUMMEL.

With banners and music, sir! We should have had torches too; but it was thought dangerous in this stormy weather. However, there’s to be an illumination; and that will have an excellent effect in the newspapers.

BERNICK.

Listen, Rummel—I will have nothing to do with all this.

RUMMEL.

Oh, it’s too late now; they’ll be here in half an hour.

BERNICK.

Why did you not tell me of this before?

RUMMEL.

Just because I was afraid you would make objections. But I arranged it all with your wife; she allowed me to put things in order a little, and she is going to look to the refreshments herself.

BERNICK.

[_Listening._] What’s that? Are they coming already? I thought I heard singing.

RUMMEL.

[_At the garden-door._] Singing? Oh, it’s only the Americans. They are hauling the _Indian Girl_ out to the buoy.

BERNICK.

Hauling her out! Yes——! I really cannot this evening, Rummel; I am not well.

RUMMEL.

You’re certainly not looking well. But you must pull yourself together. Come, come, man, pull yourself together! I and Sandstad and Vigeland attach the greatest importance to this affair. Our opponents must be crushed by an overwhelming utterance of public opinion. The rumours are spreading over the town; the announcement as to the purchase of the property cannot be kept back any longer. This very evening, amid songs and speeches and the ring of brimming goblets—in short, amid all the effervescent enthusiasm of the occasion—you must announce what you have ventured to do for the good of the community. With the aid of effervescent enthusiasm, as I said just now, it is astonishing what one can effect in this town. But we must have the effervescence, or it won’t do.

BERNICK.

Yes, yes, yes——

RUMMEL.

And especially when such a ticklish point is to be dealt with. Thank heaven, you have a name that will carry us through, Bernick. But listen now: we must arrange a little programme. Hilmar Tönnesen has written a song in your honour. It begins charmingly with the line, “Wave th’ Ideal’s banner high.” And Doctor Rörlund has been commissioned to make the speech of the evening. Of course, you must reply to it.

BERNICK.

I cannot, I cannot this evening, Rummel. Couldn’t you——?

RUMMEL.

Impossible, much as I should like to. The Doctor’s speech will, of course, be mainly addressed to you. Perhaps a few words will be devoted to the rest of us. I have spoken to Vigeland and Sandstad about it. We had arranged that your reply should take the form of a toast to the general welfare of the community. Sandstad will say a few words on the harmony between the different classes of the community; Vigeland will express the fervent hope that our new undertaking may not disturb the moral basis upon which we stand; and I will call attention, in a few well-chosen words, to the claims of Woman, whose more modest exertions are not without their use in the community. But you are not listening——

BERNICK.

Yes—yes, I am. Tell me, do you think the sea is running very high outside?

RUMMEL.

Oh, you are anxious on account of the _Palm Tree_? She’s well insured, isn’t she?

BERNICK.

Yes, insured; but——

RUMMEL.

And in good repair; that’s the main thing.

BERNICK.

H’m.—And even if anything happens to a vessel, it does not follow that lives will be lost. The ship and cargo may go down—people may lose chests and papers——

RUMMEL.

Good gracious, chests and papers don’t matter much——

BERNICK.

Not matter! No, no, I only meant——Hark—that singing again!

RUMMEL.

It’s on board the _Palm Tree_.

VIGELAND _enters from the right._

VIGELAND.

Yes, they are hauling out the _Palm Tree_. Good-evening, Consul.

BERNICK.

And you, who know the sea so well, don’t hesitate to——?

VIGELAND.

I don’t hesitate to trust in Providence, Consul! Besides, I have been on board and distributed a few leaflets, which I hope will act with a blessing.

SANDSTAD _and_ KRAP _enter from the right._

SANDSTAD.

[_At the door._] It’s a miracle if they manage to pull through. Ah, here we are—good-evening, good-evening.

BERNICK.

Is anything the matter, Mr. Krap?

KRAP.

I have nothing to say, Consul.

SANDSTAD.

Every man on board the _Indian Girl_ is drunk. If those animals ever get over alive, I’m no prophet.

LONA _enters from the right._

LONA.

[_To_ BERNICK.] Johan told me to say good-bye for him.

BERNICK.

Is he on board already?

LONA.

He will be soon, at any rate. We parted outside the hotel.

BERNICK.

And he holds to his purpose?

LONA.

Firm as a rock.

RUMMEL.

[_At one of the windows._] Deuce take these new-fangled arrangements. I can’t get these curtains drawn.

LONA.

Are they to be drawn? I thought, on the contrary——

RUMMEL.

They are to be drawn at first, Miss Hessel. Of course you know what is going on?

LONA.

Oh, of course. Let me help you. [_Takes one of the cords._] I shall let the curtain fall upon my brother-in-law—though I would rather raise it.

RUMMEL.

That you can do later. When the garden is filled with a surging multitude, then the curtains are drawn back, and reveal an astonished and delighted family. A citizen’s home should be transparent to all the world.

[BERNICK _seems about to say something, but turns quickly and
goes into his office._

RUMMEL.

Well, let us hold our last council of war. Come, Mr. Krap; we want you to supply us with a few facts.

[_All the men go into the Consul’s office._ LONA _has drawn all
the curtains over the windows, and is just going to draw the
curtain over the open glass door, when_ OLAF _drops down
from above, alighting at the top of the garden stair; he has
a plaid over his shoulder and a bundle in his hand._

LONA.

Good heavens, child, how you startled me!

OLAF.

[_Hiding the bundle._] Sh, auntie!

LONA.

Why did you jump out at the window?—Where are you going?

OLAF.

Sh, don’t tell, auntie. I’m going to Uncle Johan; only down to the pier, you know;—just to say good-bye to him. Good-night, auntie!

[_He runs out through the garden._

LONA.

No! stop! Olaf!—Olaf!

JOHAN TÖNNESEN, _in travelling dress, with a bag over his
shoulder, steals in by the door on the right._

JOHAN.

Lona!

LONA.

[_Turning._] What! You here again?

JOHAN.

There are still a few minutes to spare. I must see her once more. We cannot part so.

MARTHA _and_ DINA, _both wearing cloaks, and the latter with a small
travelling-bag in her hand, enter by the second door on the left._

DINA.

I must see him! I must see him!

MARTHA.

Yes, you shall go to him, Dina!

DINA.

There he is!

JOHAN.

Dina!

DINA.

Take me with you!

JOHAN.

What——!

LONA.

You will go?

DINA.

Yes, take me with you. The other has written to me, saying that this evening it is to be announced to every one——

JOHAN.

Dina—you do not love him?

DINA.

I have never loved that man. I would rather be at the bottom of the fjord than be engaged to him! Oh, how he seemed to make me grovel before him yesterday with his patronising phrases! How he made me feel that he was stooping to an abject creature! I will not be looked down upon any more. I will go away. May I come with you?

JOHAN.

Yes, yes—a thousand times yes!

DINA.

I shall not be a burden on you long. Only help me to get over there; help me to make a start——

JOHAN.

Hurrah! We shall manage all that, Dina!

LONA.

[_Pointing to the Consul’s door._] Hush! not so loud!

JOHAN.

Dina, I will take such care of you.

DINA.

No, no, I won’t have that. I will make my own way; I shall manage well enough over there. Only let me get away from here. Oh, those women—you don’t know—they have actually written to me to-day, exhorting me to appreciate my good fortune, impressing upon me what magnanimity he has shown. To-morrow, and every day of my life, they would be watching me to see whether I showed myself worthy of it all. I have a horror of all this propriety!

JOHAN.

Tell me, Dina, is that your only reason for coming? Am I nothing to you?

DINA.

Yes, Johan, you are more to me than any one else in the world.

JOHAN.

Oh, Dina——!

DINA.

They all tell me that I must hate and detest you; that it is my duty. But I don’t understand all this about duty; I never could understand it.

LONA.

And you never shall, my child!

MARTHA.

No, you shall not; and that is why you must go with him, as his wife.

JOHAN.

Yes, yes!

LONA.

What? I must kiss you for that, Martha! I didn’t expect this of _you_.

MARTHA.

No, I daresay not; I didn’t expect it myself. But sooner or later the crisis was bound to come. Oh, how we suffer here, under this tyranny of custom and convention! Rebel against it, Dina! Marry him. Show that it is possible to set this use-and-wont at defiance!

JOHAN.

What is your answer, Dina?

DINA.

Yes, I will be your wife.

JOHAN.

Dina!

DINA.

But first I will work, and become something for myself, just as you are. I will give myself; I will not be simply taken.

LONA.

Right, right! So it should be.

JOHAN.

Good; I shall wait and hope——

LONA.

——and win too, boy. But now, on board.

JOHAN.

Yes, on board! Ah, Lona, my dear, a word with you; come here——

[_He leads her up towards the back and talks rapidly to her._

MARTHA.

Dina—happy girl! Let me look at you and kiss you once more—for the last time.

DINA.

Not the last time; no, my dear, dear aunt—we shall meet again.

MARTHA.

Never! Promise me, Dina, never to come back again. [_Seizes both her hands and looks into her face._] Now go to your happiness, my dear child—over the sea. Oh, how often have I sat in the schoolroom and longed to be over there! It must be beautiful there; the heaven is wider; the clouds sail higher than here; a larger, freer air sweeps over the heads of the people——

DINA.

Oh, Aunt Martha, you will follow us some day.

MARTHA.

I? Never, never. My little life-work lies here; and now I think I can give myself to it wholly and unreservedly.

DINA.

I cannot imagine being parted from you.

MARTHA.

Ah, one can part from so much, Dina. [_Kisses her._] But you will not have to learn that lesson, my dear child. Promise me to make him happy.

DINA.

I will not promise anything. I hate this promising. Things must come as they can.

MARTHA.

Yes, yes, you are right. You have only to remain as you are—true and faithful to yourself.

DINA.

That I will, Aunt Martha.

LONA.

[_Puts in her pocket some papers which Johan has given her._] Good, good, my dear boy. But now, away.

JOHAN.

Yes, now there’s no time to be lost. Good-bye, Lona; thanks, thanks for all you have been to me. Good-bye, Martha, and thanks to you too for your faithful friendship.

MARTHA.

Good-bye, Johan! Good-bye, Dina! And happiness be over all your days!

[_She and_ LONA _hurry them towards the door in the background._
JOHAN TÖNNESEN _and_ DINA _go quickly out through the
garden._ LONA _shuts the door and draws the curtain._

LONA.

Now we are alone, Martha. You have lost her, and I him.

MARTHA.

You—him?

LONA.

Oh, I had half lost him already over there. The boy longed to stand on his own feet; so I made him imagine that _I_ was suffering from home-sickness.

MARTHA.

That was it? Now I understand why you came. But he will want you back again, Lona.

LONA.

An old step-sister—what can he want with her now? Men break many a tie when happiness beckons to them.

MARTHA.

That is true, sometimes.

LONA.

Now we two must hold together, Martha.

MARTHA.

Can I be anything to you?

LONA.

Who more? We two foster-mothers—have we not both lost our children? Now we are alone.

MARTHA.

Yes, alone. So now I will tell you this—I have loved him more than all the world.

LONA.

Martha? [_Seizes her arm._] Is this the truth?

MARTHA.

My whole life lies in the words. I have loved him, and waited for him. From summer to summer I have looked for his coming. And then he came—but he did not see me.

LONA.

Loved him! And it was you that gave his happiness into his hands.

MARTHA.

What else should I do, since I love him? Yes, I have loved him. I have lived my whole life for him, ever since he went away. What reason had I to hope, you ask? Oh, I think I had _some_ reason. But then, when he came again—it seemed as if everything were wiped out of his memory. He did not see me.

LONA.

It was Dina that overshadowed you, Martha.

MARTHA.

It is well that she did. When he went away we were of the same age; when I saw him again—oh, that horrible moment—I realised that I was ten years older than he. He had lived out there in the bright, quivering sunshine, and drunk in youth and health at every breath; and here sat I the while, spinning and spinning——

LONA.

——the thread of his happiness, Martha.

MARTHA.

Yes, it was gold I spun. No bitterness! We have been two good sisters to him, Lona, have we not?

LONA.

[_Embraces her._] Martha!