Three Dramas. Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Evje.—before he attacks a lifelong friend! Yes, that is so, isn't it!
Evje. Do you really think that there is any possibility then—?
The Doctor. I really can't say!
Mrs. Evje. Nothing in the world is impossible!
Evje. We were both so hot-headed.
The Doctor. Yes, it will have to be a more peaceable conversation than that of a few minutes ago!
Evje. I don't know how it is—there is something so provoking about him.
Mrs. Evje. Yes, and you have not been very well lately, either. I have often said so to you.
Evje. No, I haven't. It has been just one thing after another! And all my life I have tried to keep clear of such things!
The Doctor. I will tell you what, old friend; I am sure the best thing to do would be—
Evje. What?
The Doctor. I am sure you will not be easy in your mind until someone has talked to him.
Mrs. Evje. Yes, couldn't that be done? Good gracious, that is not sending a message to him!
Evje. But who would—? (A short silence.)
The Doctor. I don't know who would be best.
Mrs. Evje. All our old friends have deserted us; we shall soon have none.
The Doctor. Well, at all events, you have me.
Evje. Would you really be willing to—? Do you mean it? (Grasps his hand.)
The Doctor. Of course I will! He can't eat me!
Mrs. Evje. How good you are! Of course you only need tell him—what is quite true—that my husband would never be able to bear it! He, who all these years—
Evje.—have put up with an incredible amount for his sake, both from himself and from others!
Mrs. Evje. Yes, that is true! And now you will go, dear friend—our only friend!—and talk to him quite amicably and sensibly, won't you?
Evje. But don't delay! He is so hot-headed that we must find him before—
The Doctor. Oh, I will find him; he is always about the town.
Evje. And tell him—ask him—
The Doctor. Oh, I know what to say to him.
Mrs. Evje. That is right!
Evje. Thank you! I shall never forget how, at a moment when everything threatened to overwhelm me, you were the only one to stand by me! Ah, I feel as if a load had fallen off my shoulders! I feel all at once quite happy again!
The Doctor. That's right. You pull yourself together! I will see to everything else.
Evje. Thanks, thanks! But make haste!
The Doctor. I am off! My hat? (Turns, and sees HARALD, and says to himself.) A-ha! He looks as if he had had about enough of this. It would have been a joke to—
Evje. Oh, do make haste, my friend!
The Doctor. Yes, yes—if only I could find my hat.
Mrs. Evje. It is on the table.
The Doctor. So it is!
Evje. Good luck to you!
Mrs. Evje. And do it very tactfully!
The Doctor (meaningly). And I hope you three will enjoy yourselves! (Goes out.)
Evje. What a morning!
Mrs. Evje. We, who have always endeavoured to take everything quietly and indulgently—
Evje. Yes, and to conduct our family affairs peaceably and affectionately! (Jumps up and turns to HARALD.) The whole thing is your fault!
Mrs. Evje. Yes, it is Harald's fault! From the day this unfortunate engagement came about, we have scarcely had a moment's peace here.
Evje. No, no, that is not the case! We must be reasonable. At first, when Mr. Rejn had a fine future before him, when people vied with one another to catch him, then the engagement was an honour to us as well as to our daughter. But from the moment he took up these wretched politics—that is to say, from the time his brother fell ill—well, he can see for himself what the result has been to us!
Mrs. Evje. And he certainly must admit that it is not what we have deserved; indeed it is more than a respected and well-bred family can put up with.
Harald. I quite agree that it is more than a respected and well-bred family ought to put up with.
Mrs. Evje. Oh, so you feel that too?
Harald. Certainly. And the only excuse I can see is that there are many more in the same case. It is only in that way that such things become possible.
Evje. I do not understand. Many more like—?—like whom?
Harald. Like you!
Mrs. Evje. In what respect?
Harald. I will explain. Most of the successful politicians nowadays have not gained their position by means of any greatness of their own, but by the pitiable weakness of others. Another age will form a different estimate of them—see them in their proper perspective, and find them to be much smaller men!
Evje. But what has that to do with us?
Harald. Well, just try to size up that man whom a little while ago you turned out of your house and afterwards sent a message to—
Evje. We sent no message to him!
Mrs. Evje. A friend of ours has gone to talk to him. That is quite a different thing!
Harald. Well, take his measure by yours and yours by his! He went away, and he will come back like a conquering hero. Will that be thanks to his greatness, or his talent—to the loftiness of his opinions or his feelings? No—it will be thanks to your pitiable weakness.
Mrs. Evje. Upon my word!
Evje. Well, I—!
Harald. Do you think any one who has any pluck in his disposition would consent to be a party to such a contemptible state of things? Think of your own daughter, educated by that good old man who lies in there, but an obedient child to you; think how she must be perpetually torn between what she loves and respects and what she sees going on here! No wonder she is ill! But remember this—she is not ill because she sticks to me; she is ill because of your pitiable weakness!
Mrs. Evje. How can you dare to say such things! So you too—!
Evje. Such an absolute want of respect!
Harald. Listen to me, once for all. I intend, God helping me, to take up the fight that has killed my brother, the noblest man I know! And Gertrud is going to take up her share in the fight, as I do mine. But to come to this house as long as he comes here—to go through what I have gone through to-day—sullies my self-respect to such an extent, and offends my better feelings so deeply, that either he never sets foot here again, or I do not!
Evje and Mrs. Evje. But—!
Harald (quietly). When I came here to-day, I thought we should be able to arrange matters without my speaking out; but there is nothing else for it, so good-bye! (Goes out. A moment's silence follows.)
Mrs. Evje. Is he giving us our dismissal? Or does he not really mean to break with us?—My dear, what is the matter? (Goes to her husband's side.)
Evje (without moving). Tell me, my dear—am I a bad man?
Mrs. Evje. You, a bad man?
Evje. Because, if I were not a bad, wicked man, they could not behave in such a way to me, one after the other.
Mrs.