MOTHER. Really? The greatest of talents has been known to fail...
gradually, or suddenly.
STRANGER. I"ve never met anyone who could so damp one"s courage.
MOTHER. Pride should be damped. Your last book was much weaker.
STRANGER. You read it?
MOTHER. Yes. That"s why I know all your secrets. So don"t try to deceive me; it won"t go well with you. (Pause.) A trifle, but one that does us no good here: why didn"t you pay the ferryman?
STRANGER. My heel of Achilles! I threw my last coin away. Can"t we speak of something else than money in this house?
MOTHER. Oh yes. But in this house we do our duty before we amuse ourselves. So you came on foot because you had no money?
STRANGER (hesitating). Yes....
MOTHER (smiling). Probably nothing to eat?
STRANGER (hesitating). No....
MOTHER. You"re a fine fellow!
STRANGER. In all my life I"ve never been in such a predicament.
MOTHER. I can believe it. It"s almost a pity. I could laugh at the figure you cut, if I didn"t know it would make you weep, and others with you. (Pause.) But now you"ve had your will, hold fast to the woman who loves you; for if you leave her, you"ll never smile again, and soon forget what happiness was.
STRANGER. Is that a threat?
MOTHER. A warning. Go now, and have your supper.
STRANGER (pointing at the table for the poor). There?
MOTHER. A poor joke; which might become reality. I"ve seen such things.
STRANGER. Soon I"ll believe anything can happen--this is the worst I"ve known.
MOTHER. Worse yet may come. Wait!
STRANGER (cast down). I"m prepared for anything.
(Exit. A moment later the OLD MAN comes in.)
OLD MAN. It was no angel after all.
MOTHER. No good angel, certainly.
OLD MAN. Really! (Pause.) You know how superst.i.tious people here are. As I went down to the river I heard this: a farmer said his horse shied at "him"; another that the dogs got so fierce he"d had to tie them up. The ferryman swore his boat drew less water when "he" got in. Superst.i.tion, but....
MOTHER. But what?
OLD MAN. It was only a magpie that flew in at her window, though it was closed. An illusion, perhaps.
MOTHER. Perhaps. But why does one often see such things at the right time?
OLD MAN. This man"s presence is intolerable. When he looks at me I can"t breathe.
MOTHER. We must try to get rid of him. I"m certain he won"t care to stay for long.
OLD MAN. No. He won"t grow old here. (Pause.) Listen, I got a letter to-night warning me about him. Among other things he"s wanted by the courts.
MOTHER. The courts?
OLD MAN. Yes. Money matters. But, remember, the laws of hospitality protect beggars and enemies. Let him stay a few days, till he"s got over this fearful journey. You can see how Providence has laid hands on him, how his soul is being ground in the mill ready for the sieve....
MOTHER. I"ve felt a call to be a tool in the hands of Providence.
OLD MAN. Don"t confuse it with your wish for vengeance.
MOTHER. I"ll try not to, if I can.
OLD MAN. Well, good-night.
MOTHER. Do you think Ingeborg has read his last book?
OLD MAN. It"s unlikely. If she had she"d never have married a man who held such views.
MOTHER. No, she"s not read it. But now she must.
SCENE VIII
THE "ROSE" ROOM
[A simple, pleasantly furnished room in the forester"s house. The walls are colour-washed in red; the curtains are of thin rose-coloured muslin. In the small latticed windows there are flowers. On right, a writing-table and bookshelf. Left, a sofa with rose-coloured curtains above in the form of a baldachino. Tables and chairs in Old German style. At the back, a door. Outside the country can be seen and the poorhouse, a dark, unpleasant building with black, uncurtained windows.
Strong sunlight. The LADY is sitting on the sofa working.]
MOTHER (standing with a book bound in rose-coloured cloth in her hand.) You won"t read your husband"s book?
LADY. Not that one. I promised not to.
MOTHER. You don"t want to know the man to whom you"ve entrusted your fate?
LADY. What would be the use? We"re all right as we are.
MOTHER. You make no great demands on life?
LADY. Why should I? They"d never be fulfilled.