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it.

The Editor. "Brandy and Moderation" is your watchword--eh?

Evje. Do stop talking such nonsense!--I know one thing, and that is that you seem to find the brandy from my distillery remarkably to your taste!

The Doctor (interrupting them). When you are in these provoking moods there is always some grievance lurking at the back of your mind. Out with it! I am a doctor, you know; I want to get at the cause of your complaint!

The Editor. You were not very successful in that, you know, when you said my maid had cholera, and she really only was--. (Laughs.)

The Doctor (laughing). Are you going to bring that story up again? Every one is liable to make mistakes, you know--even you, my boy!

The Editor. Certainly. But before making a mistake this time--ahem!--I wanted first of all to enquire whether--

The Doctor. Ah! now it is coming!

The Editor--whether you have any objection to my mentioning John in my paper?

Mrs. Evje. What has John to do with us?

The Editor. Just as much as the Association, where he delivered his speech, has; it--ahem!--is one of the family institutions!

Evje. I have had no more to do with making John what he is than I have had with making that Association what it is.

The Editor. Your future son-in-law made the Association what it is, and the Association has made John what he is.

The Doctor. Or, to put it the other way round: John is Mr. Evje's servant; John has become an active member of the Association; therefore Mr. Evje is a patron of the Association.

The Editor. Or this way: John, being the well-known Mr. Evje's servant, has for that reason become an active member of the Association which--as he expressed it--his employer's future son-in-law "has had the honour to found!"

Mrs. Evje. Surely you never mean to put that in the paper?

The Editor (laughing). They are John's own words.

Mr. Evje. Of course, he would never put a tipsy man's maunderings into the paper. (To his wife.) Don't you understand that he is joking?

The Editor (clearing his throat). It is already in type.

The Doctor. Oh, nonsense!

The Editor. The scene afforded an opportunity for an extremely amusing sketch, without mentioning any names.

Mr. Evje. I sincerely hope that

The Doctor (to EVJE). Oh, he is only teasing you! You know him.

The Editor. What do you think of this? "Those who indirectly support so dangerous an institution will have to face exposure."--I quite agree with it.

Mrs. Evje (getting up). What do you mean? Do you mean that my husband--?

The Editor. A little fright will be a good discipline for him!

Evje. Is what you quoted meant as an accusation against us--whether you are serious or whether you are joking?

The Doctor. He is only trying to frighten you with a bogey; it is not the first time, you know!

Evje. Yes, but what have _I_ to be frightened of? I don't belong to the Association.

The Editor. But persons who do belong to it frequent your house. A man is known by the company he keeps.

Mrs. Evje. I really begin to think he _does_ mean it seriously.

The Editor. It is too ugly a thing to jest about, you mean?

Evje. Is it possible that you seriously mean to allude to John as my servant?

The Editor. Isn't he your servant?

Evje. And to put that in the paper for every one to read?

The Editor. No--only for those who read the paper.

Evje. And you have come here to tell us that?

The Editor. Do you suppose I would do it without telling you?

Mrs. Evje. It is perfectly shameless!

The Editor. It certainly is.

Evje. Is it your intention to quarrel with me?

The Editor. Of course!

Evje. With your own schoolfellow?--one who has been it true friend to you in all your ups and downs? It is abominable!

The Editor. Perhaps it was to ensure my holding my tongue that you have been my friend!

Mrs. Evje. You _couldn't_ behave in such a fashion to a friend!

The Editor (drily). To my own brother, if he stood in my way!

Harald (to himself). This is too much! (Comes forward.) Is your hatred for me so bitter that on my account you must persecute even my future parents-in-law, your own old friends?

The Editor (who, as soon as HARALD came forward, has turned away to the DOCTOR). Have you heard how people are being beaten up to go to the meeting of electors to-night? The last political speeches of the campaign must be made with red fire burning at the wings! (Laughs.)

Mrs. Evje (coming up to him). No, you are not going to get out of it by changing the subject. Is it really your intention to put my husband in your paper?

The Editor. He is putting himself there.

Evje. I, who all my life have avoided being drawn into any political party?

The Doctor. What has Evje to do with Harald Rein's politics?

The Editor. He endorses them!

Mrs. Evje. No!--a thousand times no!

Evje. Why, only to-day

The Doctor. I can bear witness to that!

The Editor. It is no use protesting!

Evje. But you must believe our protestations!

The Editor. Bah! You will see something more to-morrow--

Evje. Something more?

Mrs. Evje. Against my husband?

The Editor. That scandal about the Stock Exchange Committee. No less than three Letters to the Editor about it have been lying in my pigeon-holes for some time.

Evje (in bewilderment). Are you going to put nonsense of that sort in your paper? The most respected men on the Exchange--?

Mrs. Evje. Members of the Committee--?

The Editor. They are only respected men so long as they respect themselves. When their chairman enters into connections which offend public opinion, the whole crew of them must be made to feel what sort of a man it is they are associating with.

The Doctor. So on Mr. Rejn's account you are going to expose Evje, and on Evje's account the Stock Exchange Committee? I suppose my turn will come soon!

The Editor. It will come.

The Doctor. Indeed!

The Editor. The letters that have been sent to me are all from highly respected men. That shows that public opinion has turned round; and public opinion must be obeyed! (Throws out his hands.)

Evje (in a troubled voice). It is quite true that I have noticed in several little ways that their temper--. (Looks round him, and checks himself. Then speaks more confidently.) But it was just at such a time that I looked for help from you, my friend. That is why I did not bother myself much about it.

The Editor (to EVJE). But you know it is you that are attacking me now!

Evje. I?

Mrs. Evje. He?

The Editor. And, besides, I have no choice in the matter. You have made your bed, and must lie on it.

Evje (growing angry again). But do you really mean that you don't feel yourself how shocking such behaviour in an old friend is?

The Editor. "Old friend," "old schoolfellow," "neighbour,"--out with the whole catalogue!

Mrs. Evje. I am sure you don't deserve to be either one or the other! (The EDITOR laughs.) Think what you wrote to-day about Halvdan Rejn, who is dying. A man could only write that who--who--

The Editor. Well?--who?

Mrs. Evje. Who has not an atom of heart.

The Editor. Ha, ha! "The natural affections!"--"family considerations!" Truth, my dear lady, has no family ties; it has no respect even for a "dying man."

Mrs. Evje. Yes, indeed--every decent man has some respect for suffering, and even wicked men are silent in the presence of death!

The Editor. "Sufferer"--"dying man"--"martyr," I suppose! Oh, we know all that old story!

Harald (coming forward). Let me tell you that you are a--person with whom I will not condescend to argue. (Walks away from him.)

The Editor (who has at once crossed the room). This theatrical flaunting of the "dying man" before people's eyes, that a calculating brother has permitted himself, is of course what is really shocking in the whole affair. But I will tear the mask off him.

The Doctor (following him). Listen to me, now; listen! We are gentlefolk, you know! And even if Mr. Rejn has let himself be so carried away as to mention his dying brother on a public occasion--well, I am not going to say that I approve of it, but surely it is excusable and--

Harald (coming forward). I want none of your defence, thank you!

The Doctor. The one of you is just as mad as the other! (To the EDITOR.) But what has all this to do with Evje, seeing that, after all, the whole of this affair of the Rejns'--

Evje (to the EDITOR, eagerly). I give you my word of honour that I have never approved of Harald's utterances about his brother, either. I am a man of moderation, as you know; I do not approve of his politics. Only to-day--

Mrs. Evje. And what on earth have politics to do with the Stock Exchange Committee?

The Doctor. Or with Evje's coachman!

Evje. You might just as well take it into your head to write about my clerks, or my workmen, or--

The Doctor. His carpenters, or his brewers--or his horses!

The Editor (stands suddenly still and says, drily): You may assure yourselves that things are quite sufficient as they are! (Begins to button up his coat.)

Evje. Is it so bad as all that!

Mrs. Evje. Good gracious!--what is it then?

The Editor (taking up his hat). You will be able to read it to-morrow, together with some more about the "dying man." Good-bye!

Evje and Mrs. Evje (together.) But before you go--

The Doctor. Hush, hush! Let us remember we are gentlefolk! What will you bet that the whole thing is not just a bogey to frighten you?

The Editor (holding out his hand towards the DOCTOR). I hold Mr. Evje's position in the town in the hollow of my hand!

Evje (fuming). Is your object to ruin _that_, then?

Mrs. Evje. You will never succeed in that!

The Doctor. Hush, hush! let us remember we are gentlefolk!

Evje. In my own house--my old schoolfellow--that he should have the audacity--!

The Editor. I have told you the truth openly. And, as far as that goes, you have stood more than that from me in your own house, my boy. Because the misfortune is that you are a coward.

Evje. _I_ a coward?

The Doctor (laughing). Hush, hush! Let us remember we are gentlefolk!

Evje. Yes, I have been weak enough to be afraid of scandal, especially in the newspapers, it is true; that is why I have put up with you too long! But now you shall see that I am not a coward. Leave my house!

Mrs. Evje. That's right!

The Doctor. But you must part like gentlefolk, you know.

The Editor. Pooh! You will be sending me a message directly, to call me back!

Evje. You have the face to say that?

Mrs. Evje (to EVJE). Come, dear, don't provoke him any more!

The Editor (turning to go). You daren't
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