_Mrs. Ulrica_. I!--no--I"ll not be the enemy--my master"s enemy!
_Christiern_. Well, I"ll be the enemy.
_Mrs. Ulrica_. You!--Oh no, you sha"n"t be the enemy.
_Christiern_. Well, then, let the cake be the enemy.
_Mrs. Ulrica_. The cake--my cake!--no, indeed.
_Christiern_. Well, let the candle be the enemy.
_Mrs. Ulrica_. Well, let the candle be the enemy; and where was my master, and where are you--I don"t understand--what is all this great slop?
_Christiern_. Why, ma"am, the field of battle; and let the coffee-pot be my master: here comes the enemy--
_Enter Footman_.
_Footman_. Mrs. Ulrica, more refreshments wanting for the dancers above.
_Mrs. Ulrica_. More refreshments!--more!--bless my heart, "tis an _un_possibility they can have swallowed down all I laid out, not an hour ago, in the confectionary room.
_Footman_. Confectionary room! Oh, I never thought of looking there.
_Mrs. Ulrica_. Look ye there, now!--why, where did you think of looking, then?--in the stable, or the c.o.c.kloft, hey?--[_Exit Footman_.]--But I can"t scold on such a night as this: their poor heads are all turned with joy; and my own"s scarce in a more proper_er_ condition--Well, I beg your pardon--pray go on--the coffee-pot is my master, and the candle"s the enemy.
_Christiern_. So, ma"am, here comes the enemy full drive, upon Count Helmaar.
[_A call without of Mrs. Ulrica! Mrs. Ulrica! Mrs. Ulrica!_]
_Mrs. Ulrica_. Mrs. Ulrica! Mrs. Ulrica!--can"t you do without Mrs.
Ulrica one instant but you must call, call--(_Mrs. Ulrica! Mrs.
Ulrica!_)--Mercy on us, what do you want? I _must_ go for one instant.
_Christiern_. And I _must_ bid ye a good night.
_Mrs. Ulrica_. Nay, nay, nay,--(_eagerly_)--you won"t go--I"ll be back.
_Enter Footman_.
_Footman_ Ma"am! Mrs. Ulrica! the key of the blue press.
_Mrs. Ulrica_. The key of the blue press--I had it in my hand just now--I gave it--I--(_looks amongst a bunch of keys, and then all round the room_)--I know nothing at all about it, I tell you--I must drink my tea, and I will--[_Exit Footman_]. "Tis a sin to scold on such a night as this, if one could help it--Well, Mr. Christiern, so the coffee-pot"s my master.
_Christiern_. And the sugar-basin--why here"s a key in the sugar-basin.
_Mrs. Ulrica_. Lord bless me! "tis the very key, the key of the blue press--why dear me--(_feels in her pocket_)--and here are the sugar tongs in my pocket, I protest--where was my poor head? Hers, Thomas!
Thomas! here"s the key; take it, and don"t say a word for your life, if you can help it; you need not come in, I say--(_she holds the door--the footman pushes in_).
_Footman_. But, ma"am, I have something particular to say.
_Mrs. Ulrica_. Why, you"ve always something particular to say--is it any thing about my master?
_Footman_. No, but about your purse, ma"am.
_Mrs. Ulrica_. What of my purse?
_Footman_. Here"s your little G.o.dson, ma"am, is here, who has found it.
_Mrs. Ulrica_ (_aside_). Hold your foolish tongue, can"t you?--don"t mention my little G.o.dson, for your life.
[_The little boy creeps in under the footman"s arm; his sister Kate follows him. Mrs. Ulrica lifts up her hands and eyes, with signs of impatience_.]
_Mrs. Ulrica_ (_aside_). Now I had settled in my head that their father should not see them till to-morrow morning.
_Little Girl_. Who is that strange man?
_Little Boy_. He has made me forget all I had to say.
_Christiern_ (_aside_). What charming children!
_Mrs. Ulrica_ (_asid_). He does not know them to be his--they don"t know him to be their father. (_Aloud_) Well, children, what brings you here at this time of night?
_Little Boy_. What I was going to say was--(_the little boy looks at the stranger between every two or three words, and Christiern looks at him_)--what I was going to say was--
_Little Girl_. Ha! ha! ha!--he forgets that we found this purse in the forest as we were going home.
_Little Boy_. And we thought that it might be yours.
_Mrs. Ulrica_. Why should you think it was mine?
_Little Boy_. Because n.o.body else could have so much money in one purse; so we brought it to you--here it is.
_Mrs. Ulrica_. "Tis none of my purse. (_Aside_) Oh! he"ll certainly find out that they are his children--(_she stands between the children and Christiern_). "Tis none of my purse; but you are good, honest little dears, and I"ll be hanged if I won"t carry you both up to my master himself, this very minute, and tell the story of your honesty before all the company.
[_She pushes the children towards the door. Ulric looks back._]
_Little Boy_. He has a soldier"s coat on--let me ask him if he is a soldier.
_Mrs. Ulrica_. No--what"s that to you?
_Little Girl_. Let me ask him if he knows any thing about father.
_Mrs. Ulrica_ (_puts her hand before the little girl"s mouth_). Hold your little foolish tongue, I say--what"s that to you?
[_Exeunt, Mrs. Ulrica pushing forward the children._]
_Enter, at the opposite door,_ THOMAS, _the footman._
_Footman._ Sir, would you please to come into our servants"-hall, only for one instant: there"s one wants to speak a word to you.