Three Dramas, Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson [best e reader for academics txt] 📗

know. (She does not answer.) Business, you know. I have to go abroad.

Mrs. Tjaelde (faintly). Abroad?

Tjaelde. Only for a few days. So I will only take my usual bag with a change of clothes and one or two shirts; but I must have it at once.

Mrs. Tjaelde. I don't think your bag has been unpacked since you brought it home to-day.

Tjaelde. So much the better. Will you get it for me?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Are you going away now--at once?

Tjaelde. Yes, by the foreign boat--from the outer harbour.

Mrs. Tjaelde. You have no time to lose, then.

Tjaelde. Are you not well?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Not very.

Tiwlde. One of your attacks?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes!--but I must fetch your bag. (TJAELDE helps her over to the staircase.)

Tjaelde. You are not well, my dear--but you will be better some day.

Mrs. Tjaelde. I only wish _you_ looked better.

Tjaelde. We all have our burdens to bear.

Mrs. Tjaelde. If only we could bear more together!

Tjaelde. But you don't understand my affairs--and I have never had time to talk about yours.

Mrs. Tjaelde. No--that's it. (Begins to go upstairs slowly.)

Tjaelde. Shall I help you?

Mrs. Tjaelde. No, thank you, dear.

Tjaelde (coming forward). Does she suspect? She is always like that--she takes all my courage away from me. But there is no other way! Now--about money? I surely have some gold here somewhere. (Goes to his desk, takes some gold out of a drawer and counts it; then lifts his head and sees MRS. TJAELDE who has sat down on the stair half-way up.) My dear, are you sitting down?

Mrs. Tjaelde. I felt faint for a moment. I will go up now. (Gets up and climbs the stair slowly.)

Tjaelde. Poor thing, she is worn out. (Pulls himself together.) No--five, six, eight, ten--that is not enough. I must have some more. (Searches in the desk.) And when I run short I have my watch and chain. Twenty, twenty-four--that is all I can find. Ah, my papers! I must on no account forget them. The ground is falling away under me! Isn't she coming back? The bag was packed, surely?--Ah, how all this will make her suffer! But it will not be so bad for her if I am away. People will be more merciful, both to her and the children. Oh, my children! (Collects himself.) Only let me get away, away! Thoughts will follow me there, all the same!--Ah, here she is! (MRS. TJAELDE is seen coming down slowly, with a bag which is evidently, heavy.) Shall I help you, dear?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Thanks, will you take hold of the bag?

Tjaelde (takes it; she comes slowly down). It is heavier than it was this morning.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Is it?

Tjaelde. I have some papers to put in it. (Opens the bag.) But, my dear, there is money in this bag.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes--some gold that you have given me at odd times. I thought it might be useful to you now.

Tjaelde. There is a large sum.

Mrs. Tjaelde. I don't believe you even know how much you have given me.

Tjaelde. She knows everything!--My dear! (Opens his arms.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. Henning! (They both burst into tears and fall into each other's arms. MRS. TJAELDE whispers to him:) Shall I call the children?

Tjaelde (in a whisper). No, say nothing--till later! (They embrace again. He takes up the bag.) Go to the window, so that I can see you when I mount. (Shuts the bag and hurries to the door, but stops.) My dear!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Yes?

Tjaelde. Forgive me!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Everything! (TJAELDE, as he is hurrying out, meets in the doorway an office-boy who is bringing him a letter. TJAELDE takes it, and the boy goes out.)

Tjaelde. From Berent! (Opens the letter, stands in the doorway and reads it; then comes back into the room, with his bag in his hand, and reads it again.) "When I left your house, I saw a horse standing saddled at your door. To prevent misunderstanding, let me inform you that your house is watched by the police."

Mrs. Tjaelde (supporting herself on the desk). You can't go?

Tjaelde. No. (A pause. He puts down the bag and wipes his forehead.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. Henning, shall we pray together?

Tjaelde. What do you mean?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Pray--pray to God to help us? (Bursts into tears. TJAELDE is silent. She falls on her knees.) Come, Henning! You see that all human ingenuity is of no avail!

Tjaelde. I know that, only too well.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Well, try once, in this hour of our greatest need! (TJAELDE appears to be struggling with his emotion.) You never would! You have never confided in us, or in your God!--never opened your heart to any one!

Tjaelde. Be quiet!

Mrs. Tjaelde. But what you concealed by day, you used to talk of in the night. We mortals must talk, you know! But I have lain awake and listened to your distress. Now you know why I am no longer good for anything. No sleep at night, and none of your confidence in the daytime. I have suffered even more than you. (TJAELDE throws himself into a chair. She goes to him.) You wanted to run away. When we are afraid of our fellow-men, we have only Him to turn to. Do you think I should be alive now, if it were not for Him?

Tjaelde. I have thrown myself imploringly at His feet, but always in vain!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Henning, Henning!

Tjaelde. Why did He not bless my work and the fight I was making? It is all one now.

Mrs. Tjaelde. Ah, there is more to come.

Tjaelde (getting up). Yes, the worst is before us now--

Mrs. Tjaelde.--because it is in our own hearts! (A pause. VALBORG appears coming down the stair, but stops at the sight of the others.) What do you want, dear?

Valborg (with suppressed emotion). From my room I can see the police watching the house. Are the Receiver's men coming now?

Mrs. Tjaelde (sitting down). Yes, my child. After a terrible struggle--how terrible, his God and I alone know--your father has just sent in his declaration of bankruptcy. (VALBORG takes a step or two forward, then stands still. A pause.)

Tjaelde (unable to control himself). Now I suppose you will say to me just what Moeller's daughter said to him!

Mrs. Tjaelde (getting up). You won't do that, Valborg!--God alone can judge him.

Tjaelde. Tell me how cruelly I have wronged you! Tell me that you will never be able to forgive me--(breaking down)--that I have lost your respect and your love for ever!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Oh, my child!

Tjaelde. That your anger and your shame know no bounds!

Valborg. Oh, father, father! (Goes out by the door at the back. TJAELDE tries to cross the room, as if to follow her, but can only stagger as far as the staircase, to which he clings for support. MRS. TJAELDE sinks back into her chair. There is a long pause. Suddenly JAKOBSEN cones in from the outer once, dressed as before except that he has changed his coat. TJAELDE is not aware of his entrance until JAKOBSEN is close to him; then he stretches out his hands to him as if in entreaty, but JAKOBSEN goes right up to him and speaks in a voice choked with rage.)

Jakobsen. You scoundrel! (TJAELDE recoils.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. Jakobsen! Jakobsen!

Jakobsen (without heeding her). The Receiver's men are here. The books and papers at the Brewery have been seized. Work is at a standstill--and the same thing at the factory.

Mrs. Tjaelde. My God!

Jakobsen. And I had made myself responsible for twice as much as I possessed! (He speaks low, but his voice vibrates with anger and emotion.)

Mrs. Tjaelde. Dear Jakobsen!

Jakobsen (turning to her). Didn't I say to him, every time he told me to sign, "But I don't possess as much as that! It's not right!"--But he used to answer, "It is only a matter of form, Jakobsen." "Yes, but not an honourable form," I used to say. "It is a matter of form in business," he would say; "all business folk do it." And all I knew of business, I had learnt from him; so I trusted him. (With emotion.) And he made me do it time after time. And now I owe more than I shall ever be able to pay, all my life. I shall live and die a dishonoured man. What have you to say to that, Mrs. Tjaelde? (She does not answer him. He turns angrily upon TJAELDE.) Do you hear? Even _she_ can find nothing to say!--Scoundrel!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Jakobsen!

Jakobsen (in a voice broken with emotion). I have nothing but the deepest respect for you, Mrs. Tjaelde. But, you see, he has made me swindle other people! In his name I shall have ruined numbers of them. They trusted me, you see; just as I trusted him. I used to tell them that he was a benefactor to the whole countryside, and that therefore they ought to help him in these hard times. And now there will be many an honest family robbed of house and home by our treachery. And that is what he has brought me to! What heartless cruelty! (To TJAELDE.) I can tell I feel inclined to--. (Takes a threatening step towards him.)

Mrs. Tjaelde (getting up). For my sake, Jakobsen!

Jakobsen (restraining himself). Yes, for your sake, ma'am; because I have the deepest respect for you. But how am I to face all those poor creatures that I have ruined? It will do them no good to explain to them how it has happened; that won't help them to get their daily bread! How shall I face my own wife! (With emotion.) She has had such faith in me, and in those I trusted. And my children, too? It is very hard on children, because they hear so much talk in the street. It won't be long before they hear what sort of a father they have got; and they will hear it from the children of the men I have ruined.

Mrs. Tjaelde. As you feel how hard it is yourself, that should make you willing to spare others. Be merciful!

Jakobsen. I have the deepest respect for you; but it is hard that in my home we should never again be able to eat a crust that we can properly call our own--for I owe more than I can ever live to repay! That is hard, Mrs. Tjaelde! What will become of my evenings with my children now?--of our Sundays together? No, I mean that he shall hear the truth from me. (Turns upon TJAELDE.) You scoundrel! You shan't escape me! (TJAELDE shrinks back in terror and tries to reach the office door, but at that moment the RECEIVER comes in, followed by two of his clerks and SANNAES. TJAELDE crosses the room, staggers to his desk, and leans upon it with his back turned to the newcomers.)

The Receiver (coming up behind Tjaelde). Excuse me! May I have your books and papers? (TJAELDE gives a start, moves away to the stove, and supports himself on it.)

Jakobsen (in a whisper, standing over him). Scoundrel! (TJAELDE moves away from him and sits down on a chair by the door, hiding his face in his hands.)

Mrs. Tjaelde (getting up and whispering to JAKOBSEN), Jakobsen! Jakobsen!