The Red Room, August Strindberg [the mitten read aloud txt] 📗

disinclined to enter into conversation, the headwaiter wiped the table with his napkin; when that was no good, he refilled the match-stand, and said:

“Supper tonight, the small rooms! Hm!”

“Of whom and of what are you talking?”

“Of him who’s just gone out.”

“I see! But that’s unusual, he’s generally so mean. Supper for one?”

“For two,” replied the headwaiter, winking. “In the small rooms, hm!”

Falander pricked up his ears, but at the same time he felt ashamed to be listening to gossip and dropped the subject; but that was not what the headwaiter wanted.

“I wonder who it is? His wife is ill, and.⁠ ⁠…”

“What does it matter to us? Let the monster sup with whom he likes! Have you an evening paper?”

The headwaiter was saved a reply. Rehnhjelm was approaching the table, radiant, like a man who sees a ray of light on his path.

“Leave the absinthe alone tonight,” he said, “and be my guest. I am happy, I could cry.”

“What has happened?” asked Falander uneasily. “Surely, he hasn’t given you a part?”

“He has, you pessimist! I’m to play Horatio.⁠ ⁠…”

Falander’s face clouded.

“And she’ll play Ophelia.”

“How do you know?”

“I feel it.”

“You and your premonitions! But after all, it wasn’t so difficult to guess. Don’t you think she deserves it? Have they a better Ophelia in the whole company?”

“No, I admit that! Do you like your part?”

“Oh! It’s splendid!”

“It’s extraordinary how opinions differ.”

“What do you think?”

“I think that he is the greatest rascal at the whole court; he says Yes to everything: ‘Yes, my prince; yes, my good prince.’ If he were really Hamlet’s friend, he would sometimes say No, and not always agree with him like any other sycophant.”

“Are you going to overthrow another of my ideals?”

“I will overthrow all your false idols! How can you⁠—as long as you look upon all paltry creations of man as great and splendid⁠—strive after the eternal? If you see perfection and excellence in everything here below, how can you yearn for the really perfect? Believe me, pessimism is the truest idealism! It is a Christian doctrine too, if that will salve your conscience, for Christianity teaches us that the world is a vale of tears from which death will deliver us!”

“Can’t you let me believe that the world is beautiful? Can’t you let me be grateful to Him who is the giver of all good things, and rejoice in the happiness life has to offer?”

“Yes, yes, my boy, rejoice, rejoice and believe and hope! As all men strive for the same thing⁠—happiness⁠—you will have the 1,439,134,300th part of a chance of winning it, seeing that the denominator of this fraction represents the number of people on this earth. Is the happiness which has come to you today worth the torture and humiliations of the last few months? And moreover⁠—what is this great piece of luck? You have been given a part to play, a part in which you cannot make a success⁠—by which I don’t mean that you necessarily need be a failure. Are you sure that.⁠ ⁠…”

He paused for breath.

“That Agnes will have a success in the part of Ophelia? She may make good use of the rare chance and get as much out of the part as most actresses do. I am sorry I made you feel sad; don’t believe what I said; after all, who knows whether I am right or wrong?”

“If I didn’t know you better, I might believe you that you’re jealous.”

“No, my boy; nothing would please me more than to see yours and all men’s wishes speedily fulfilled; then the thoughts of men might turn to higher things. Perhaps that is the meaning of life.”

“You can afford to say that so calmly; you have had success long ago.”

“Isn’t this a state of mind much to be desired? We do not yearn for happiness so much, as for the faculty of being able to smile at our ardent efforts. I say ardent advisedly.”

Eight strokes thundered through the room. Falander rose hastily as if he were going to leave, brushed his hand across his forehead and sat down again.

“Has Agnes gone to see Aunt Beata tonight?” he asked casually.

“What makes you think so?”

“I’m merely supposing it because you are sitting here so quietly. She told you she would read her part to her, as the time is so short, didn’t she?”

“Yes; have you seen her tonight?”

“No! On my word of honour, I haven’t! Only I can’t think of anything else which would prevent her from spending a free evening with you.”

“You guessed correctly. She urged me to go out and spend the evening with friends; she thinks I’m too much at home. The dear girl! She has such a tender and loving little heart.”

“Yes, very tender!”

“I only once waited for her in vain; her aunt had kept her till late and forgotten to send me word. I thought I was going mad and couldn’t sleep all night.”

“You are referring to the evening of the sixth of July, I suppose?”

“You startle me! Are you watching us?”

“Why should I? I know of your engagement and aid you in every way I can. And why shouldn’t I know that it was Tuesday the sixth of July? You’ve told me about it more than once.”

“That’s true!”

Neither of them spoke for a while.

“It’s extraordinary,” said Rehnhjelm, suddenly breaking the silence, “that happiness can make one feel melancholy; I feel uneasy tonight, and would much rather have spent the evening with Agnes. Let’s go to the small rooms and send for her. She could say that friends had arrived from the country.”

“She wouldn’t do that; she couldn’t tell a lie.”

“Oh, nonsense! The woman who can’t isn’t born yet!”

Falander stared at Rehnhjelm with so peculiar an expression, that the latter felt puzzled.

“I’ll go and see whether the little rooms are vacant,” he said after a short pause; “we can send her a message, if they are.”

“Come along then!”

Rehnhjelm made ready to follow him, but Falander kept him back.

“I’ll be back in two minutes!”

He returned with a very white face, but perfectly calm.

“They