Three Dramas. Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
how shocking such behaviour in an old friend is?
The Editor. "Old friend," "old schoolfellow," "neighbour,"—out with the whole catalogue!
Mrs. Evje. I am sure you don't deserve to be either one or the other! (The EDITOR laughs.) Think what you wrote to-day about Halvdan Rejn, who is dying. A man could only write that who—who—
The Editor. Well?—who?
Mrs. Evje. Who has not an atom of heart.
The Editor. Ha, ha! "The natural affections!"—"family considerations!" Truth, my dear lady, has no family ties; it has no respect even for a "dying man."
Mrs. Evje. Yes, indeed—every decent man has some respect for suffering, and even wicked men are silent in the presence of death!
The Editor. "Sufferer"—"dying man"—"martyr," I suppose! Oh, we know all that old story!
Harald (coming forward). Let me tell you that you are a—person with whom I will not condescend to argue. (Walks away from him.)
The Editor (who has at once crossed the room). This theatrical flaunting of the "dying man" before people's eyes, that a calculating brother has permitted himself, is of course what is really shocking in the whole affair. But I will tear the mask off him.
The Doctor (following him). Listen to me, now; listen! We are gentlefolk, you know! And even if Mr. Rejn has let himself be so carried away as to mention his dying brother on a public occasion—well, I am not going to say that I approve of it, but surely it is excusable and—
Harald (coming forward). I want none of your defence, thank you!
The Doctor. The one of you is just as mad as the other! (To the EDITOR.) But what has all this to do with Evje, seeing that, after all, the whole of this affair of the Rejns'—
Evje (to the EDITOR, eagerly). I give you my word of honour that I have never approved of Harald's utterances about his brother, either. I am a man of moderation, as you know; I do not approve of his politics. Only to-day—
Mrs. Evje. And what on earth have politics to do with the Stock Exchange Committee?
The Doctor. Or with Evje's coachman!
Evje. You might just as well take it into your head to write about my clerks, or my workmen, or—
The Doctor. His carpenters, or his brewers—or his horses!
The Editor (stands suddenly still and says, drily): You may assure yourselves that things are quite sufficient as they are! (Begins to button up his coat.)
Evje. Is it so bad as all that!
Mrs. Evje. Good gracious!—what is it then?
The Editor (taking up his hat). You will be able to read it to-morrow, together with some more about the "dying man." Good-bye!
Evje and Mrs. Evje (together.) But before you go—
The Doctor. Hush, hush! Let us remember we are gentlefolk! What will you bet that the whole thing is not just a bogey to frighten you?
The Editor (holding out his hand towards the DOCTOR). I hold Mr. Evje's position in the town in the hollow of my hand!
Evje (fuming). Is your object to ruin that, then?
Mrs. Evje. You will never succeed in that!
The Doctor. Hush, hush! let us remember we are gentlefolk!
Evje. In my own house—my old schoolfellow—that he should have the audacity—!
The Editor. I have told you the truth openly. And, as far as that goes, you have stood more than that from me in your own house, my boy. Because the misfortune is that you are a coward.
Evje. I a coward?
The Doctor (laughing). Hush, hush! Let us remember we are gentlefolk!
Evje. Yes, I have been weak enough to be afraid of scandal, especially in the newspapers, it is true; that is why I have put up with you too long! But now you shall see that I am not a coward. Leave my house!
Mrs. Evje. That's right!
The Doctor. But you must part like gentlefolk, you know.
The Editor. Pooh! You will be sending me a message directly, to call me back!
Evje. You have the face to say that?
Mrs. Evje (to EVJE). Come, dear, don't provoke him any more!
The Editor (turning to go). You daren't do otherwise.
The Doctor. But part like gentlefolk—!
Evje (following the EDITOR). No, as sure as I live—
The Editor. You will be sending a message to call me back! Ha, ha, ha!
Evje. Never, never!
Mrs. Evje. My dear—!
The Editor. Yes, you will—directly—this very day! Ha, ha, ha!
The Doctor. Don't part like that! Part like gentle—
Evje. No, I tell you!
The Editor (laughing all the time). Yes!
Mrs. Evje. My dear-remember you may bring on one of your attacks!
The Editor (at the door). You are too much of a coward! Ha! ha! (Goes out.)
Evje (in a rage). No!
The Editor (sticking his head in at the door). Yes! (Goes away.)
The Doctor. What a visit! I cannot help laughing, all the same! Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Evje. Do you dare to laugh at that?
The Doctor. "Old schoolfellows"—ha, ha! "Moderation"—ha, ha! "The same party"—ha, ha, ha!
Mrs. Evje. Oh, my husband is ill!
Evje (faintly). Yes—a little water!
Mrs. Evje. Water, water, Harald!
The Doctor. One of his attacks—that is another affair altogether. Here (takes a bottle from his pocket)—smell this! That's it! Now, a little water! (Gives him some.) No danger this time. Cheer up, old boy!
Evje. What a scandal!
Mrs. Evje. Yes, you will never be able to bear it, dear; I told you so.
Evje. To think of my name appearing in the papers, when all my life I have—
Mrs. Evje.—done everything you could to keep clear of such things! And you such a dear, good, upright man!—Oh, these politics are the curse of the world!
The Doctor (laughing). As I told you, you must go through a special process of hardening before you can stand them.
Evje. And think of public opinion—my position—my connections! It is more than I can bear!
Mrs. Evje (to the Doctor). I am sure the first time he reads something about himself in the paper, it will make him really ill! He won't be able to stand it, I know.
The Doctor. Oh, he will get over it.
Mrs. Evje. No, he won't. I am frightened at the mere thought of it. He will never be able to bear it, never!
Evje. When all my life I have tried to keep clear of such things—!
Mrs. Evje. And now in your old age, though you deserve it no more than a child does, to be dragged into it! If I could prevent that, I would willingly take on my own shoulders whatever—
Evje. No, no—not you! Not you!
The Doctor. But the thing is not necessarily done because he threatened he would do it.
Evje. Do you think—?
The Doctor. He is so dreadfully