MRS. TJAELDE, his wife.
VALBORG and SIGNE, their daughters.
LIEUTENANT HAMAR, engaged to Signe.
SANNAES, Tjaelde"s confidential clerk.
JAKOSSEN, manager of Tjaelde"s brewery.
BERENT, a lawyer.
PRAM, a custom-house official.
An Agent.
The VICAR.
LIND, a guest.
FINNE, a guest.
RING, a guest.
HOLM, a guest.
KNUTZON, a guest.
KNUDSEN, a guest.
FALBE, a guest.
ACT I
(SCENE.--A sitting-room in the TJAELDES" house, opening on a verandah that is decorated with flowers. It is a hot summer"s day. There is a view of the sea beyond the verandah, and boats are visible among the islands that fringe the coast. A good-sized yacht, with sails spread, is lying close up under the verandah on the right. The room is luxuriously furnished and full of flowers. There are two French windows in the left-hand wall; two doors in the right-hand. A table in the middle of the room; arm-chairs and rocking-chairs scattered about. A sofa in the foreground on the right. LIEUTENANT HAMAR is lying on the sofa, and SIGNE sitting in a rocking-chair.)
Hamar. What shall we do with ourselves to-day?
Signe (rocking herself). Hm! (A pause.)
Hamar. That was a delicious sail we had last night. (Yawns.) But I am sleepy to-day. Shall we go for a ride?
Signe. Hm! (A pause.)
Hamar. I am too hot on this sofa. I think I will move. (Gets up. SIGNE begins to hum an air as she rocks herself.) Play me something, Signe!
Signe (singing her words to the air she has been humming). The piano is out of tune.
Hamar. Read to me, then!
Signe (as before, looking out of the window). They are swimming the horses. They are swimming the horses. They are swimming the horses.
Hamar. I think I will go and have a swim too. Or perhaps I will wait till nearer lunch-time.
Signe (as before). So as to have a better appet.i.te--appet.i.te--appet.i.te.
(MRS. TJAELDE comes in from the right, walking slowly.)
Hamar. You look very thoughtful!
Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, I don"t know what to order.
Signe (as before). For dinner, I suppose you mean?
Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes.
Hamar. Do you expect any one?
Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, your father writes to me that Mr. Finne is coming.
Signe (speaking). The most tiresome person possible, of course.
Mrs. Tjaelde. How would boiled salmon and roast chicken do?
Signe. We had that the other day.
Mrs. Tjaelde. (With a sigh). There is nothing that we didn"t. There is so little choice in the market just now.
Signe. Then we ought to send to town.
Mrs. Tjaelde. Oh, these meals, these meals!
Hamar (yawning). They are the best thing in life, anyway.
Signe. To eat, yes--but not to cook; I never will cook a dinner.
Mrs. Tjaelde (sitting down at the table). One could put up with the cooking. It"s the having always to think of something fresh!
Hamar. Why don"t you get a chef from one of the hotels, as I have so often advised you?
Mrs. Tjaelde. Oh, we have tried that, but he was more trouble than it was worth.
Hamar. Yes, because he had no invention. Get a French chef!
Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes, and have to be always beside him to interpret!--But I am no nearer this dinner. And lately I have been finding such difficulty in getting about.
Hamar. I have never in my life heard so much talk about meals as I have in this house.
Mrs. Tjaelde. You see, you have never been in a prosperous business-man"s house before. Our friends are mostly business-men, of course--and most of them have no greater pleasures than those of the table.
Signe. That"s true.
Mrs. Tjaelde. Are you wearing _that_ dress to-day?
Signe. Yes.
Mrs. Tjaelde. You have worn a different one every day.
Signe. Well, if Hamar is tired of both the blue one and the grey one, what can I do?
Hamar. And I don"t like this one any better than the others.