Three Dramas - Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (best biographies to read TXT) 📗

/> The Princess. No. (Bursts out laughing.)

The King. Because, if you had, I should have had great pleasure is giving you a lesson in history; but on an empty stomach that would be cruel.

The Princess. Do you know--you used to be such an entertaining king, but this last year you have become so tedious!

The King. Most beautiful of princesses! Do you really mean to say that I rise and fall in your estimation according as I have my pretty royal gew-gaws on or not?

The Princess. In my estimation?

The King. Or in any one's? You know the story of "The Emperor's New Clothes"?

The Princess. Yes.

The King. We don't keep up that pretence any longer.

The Princess. But will every one understand?

The King. You understand, don't you?

The Princess. The people or I--that is all the same, I suppose! You are very flattering.

The King. Heaven forbid that I should lump your Royal Highness together with the common herd; but--

The Princess. We have already had proof of the fact that your Majesty does not hold the same place in _every one's_ estimation that you do in mine, at all events!

The King. If I occupy a place of honour in your Royal Highness's heart, your Royal Highness may be certain that--

The Princess. I will interrupt you to save you from speaking an untruth! Because the way to attain to a place of honour in your Majesty's heart is not to admire you as I do, but, on the contrary, to shout out: "I despise you!"--Au revoir!

The King. You wicked, terrifying, dangerous--

The Princess.--omniscient and ubiquitous Princess! (Makes a deep curtsey, and goes away.)

The King (calling after her). In spite of everything, my heart goes with you--

The Princess.--to show me the door! I know all about that! (To the COUNTESS.) Come, Countess! (Goes out. FALBE, an old gentleman in civilian dress, has come in from the side to which the KING'S back is turned.)

The King. How the devil did she--?

Falbe (coming up behind him). Your Majesty!

The King (turning quickly). Ah, there you are!

Falbe. Yes, sir--we have been walking about in the park for some time; your Majesty was engaged.

The King. Not engaged--I was only deadening thoughts by gossiping. My anxiety was too much for me. So they have come?--both of them?

Falbe. Both of them.

The King. Can I believe it! (Appears overcome.) But--you must wait a moment! I can't, just at this moment--. I don't know what has come over me!

Falbe. Are you unwell, sir? You look so pale.

The King My nerves are not what they should be. Is there any water near here?

Falbe (pointing, in astonishment). Why, there is the fountain, Sir!

The King. Of course! Of course!--I don't seem able to collect my thoughts. And my mouth is as dry as--. Look here, I am going that way (points); and then you can--you can bring the ladies here.--She is here! She is here! (Goes out to the left, and turns round as he goes.) Don't forget to lock the gates of the inner park!

Falbe. Of course not, Sir. (Goes out to the right, and returns bringing in the BARONESS MARC and CLARA.) His Majesty will be here in a moment. (Goes out to the right.)

Clara. You must stay near enough for me to be able to call you.

Baroness. Of course, my dear. Compose yourself; nothing can happen.

Clara. I am so frightened.

Baroness. Here is the King! (The KING comes in and bows to them.)

The King. Excuse me, ladies, for having kept you waiting. I am very grateful to you both for coming.

Baroness. We only came upon your Majesty's solemn promise--

The King.--which shall be inviolable.

Baroness. I understand that you wish to speak to Miss Ernst alone?

The King. Your ladyship need only go up to the top of that little slope. (Points.) I can recommend the view from there.

Baroness. The interview will not be a long one, I suppose?

The King. If it is, I give your ladyship permission to come and interrupt us. (The BARONESS goes out. The KING turns to CLARA.) May I be permitted to thank you again--you especially--for having been so good as to grant me this interview?

Clara. It will be the only one.

The King. I know that. You have not condescended to answer one of my letters--

Clara. I have not read them.

The King.--so there was nothing left for me but to address myself to the Baroness. She was _obliged_ to listen to me, Miss Ernst.

Clara (trembling). What has your Majesty to say to me?

The King. Indeed, I can't tell it you in a single sentence. Won't you sit down? (CLARA remains standing.) You must not be afraid of me. I mean you no harm; I never could mean you any harm.

Clara (in tears). Then what do you call the persecution that I have endured for more than a year?

The King. If you had condescended to read a single one of my long and many letters you would have known I call it a passion that is stronger than--. (CLARA turns to go. The KING continues anxiously.) No, Miss Ernst, by everything you hold dear, I beg you not to leave me!

Clara. Then you must not insult me!

The King. If that is an insult your terms are very hard.

Clara. Hard? No, but what you have done to me is hard! (Bursts into tears.)

The King. Don't cry, Miss Ernst! You don't know how you hurt me!

Clara (angrily). Do you know what it means to try and ruin a young girl's reputation?

The King. I repeat that you are doing me an injustice

Clara. An injustice?--Good God! Do you know who I am?

The King (taking of his hat respectfully). You are the woman I love.

Clara (quietly and with dignity). Your Majesty has solemnly promised not to insult me.

The King. As sure as there is a heaven above us I will not, and could not, insult you! But I will obey your wishes.

Clara. When a king says such a thing as--as you did just now, to a poor little governess, it is more than an insult! It is so cowardly, so base! And to think that you could have the heart to do it after what you have done to my father!

The King. Your father?--I?

Clara. Do you really not know who I am?

The King I don't understand--

Clara. Whose daughter I am, I mean?

The King. I only know that your father's name is Ernst. (Suddenly.) Surely your father is not--?

Clara. Professor Ernst.

The King. The republican?

Clara (slowly). Yes. (A pause.) I may remind your Majesty that he was sentenced for high treason. And why? Because he warned the young men at the university against the bad example set by the King! (A pause.) He was sentenced to a long term of imprisonment. In escaping from his prison he broke both his legs; and now he lives in exile--a cripple--supported by what money I am able to earn. (A pause.) You have ruined his life--and now you are trying to ruin mine too!

The King. I beg of you--!

Clara. I am ashamed of my tears. It is not compassion for myself or for my father that makes them flow; it is the heartless injustice of it all that overcomes me.

The King. God knows, if only I could atone for the injustice--! But what can I do?

Clara. You can let me alone, so that I may do my work in peace; that is what you can do! Neither he nor I ask for more than that--of you!

The King. I must do more than that!

Clara. No! Can you not understand that a girl who is persecuted by the king's attentions cannot be a governess? All you will achieve will be to rob me and my father of our bread!--Oh, God!

The King. But my intention is not to--

Clara (interrupting him). And you are not even man enough to be ashamed of yourself!

The King. Yes, you may say what you please to me!

Clara. I have nothing more to say to you. I have said what I have to say. (Turns to go.)

The King. No, don't go! You have not even heard me yet. You don't even know what I want to beg of you!

Clara. My dishonour.

The King (vehemently). You misunderstand me utterly! If you had only read a single one of my letters you would have known that there is standing before you a man whom you have humbled. Ah, don't look so incredulous! It is true, if there is any truth in anything. You don't believe me? (Despairingly.) How am I to--! A man who has risked your contempt for more than a year, and has been faithful to you without even being allowed to see you or exchange a word with you--who has had no thought for anything or any one else--is not likely to be doing that out of mere idleness of heart! Do you not believe that, either?

Clara. No.

The King. Well, then, there must surely be some general truths that you, as Ernst's daughter, cannot refuse to believe! Let me ask you if you can understand how a man becomes what I was at the time when I repeatedly insulted you. You must know, from your father's books, in what an unnatural atmosphere a king is brought up, the soul-destroying sense of self-importance which all his surroundings foster, until, even in his dreams, he thinks himself something more than human; the doubtful channels into which his thoughts are forced, while any virtues that he has are trumpeted abroad, and his vices glossed over with tactful and humorous tolerance. Don't you think that a young king, full of eager life, as I was, may plead something in excuse of himself that no other man can?

Clara. Yes, I admit that.

The King. Then you must admit that the very position he has to assume as a constitutional monarch is an acted lie. Think what a king's vocation is; _can_ a vocation of that sort be hereditary? Can the finest and noblest vocation in the world be that?

Clara. No!

The King. Then suppose that he realises that himself; suppose that the young king is conscious, however dimly and partially, of the lie he is living--and suppose that, to escape from it, he rushes into a life of pleasure. Is it not conceivable that he may have some good in him, for all that? And then suppose that one morning, after a night of revelling, the sun shines into his room; and he seems to see upon the wall, in letters of fire, some words that were said to him the night before--true words (CLARA looks up at him in surprise)--the words: "I despise you!" (CLARA gives a start.) Words like that can burn out falsehood. And he, to whom they are said, may long to hear again the tones of the voice that spoke them. No man has ever hated what has given him new life. If you had read a single one of the letters which I felt impelled to write even if they were refused acceptance--you would not have called it persecution. (CLARA does not answer.) And,